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astonmartinii · 4 months

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if you need me, let me know, gonna be around [mamma mia part seven] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso & fernando alonso

flo has finally given y/n the experience of motherhood, but she’ll never forget about her overgrown kids

MAMMA MIA MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and 1,934,033 others

tagged: jensonbutton

yourusername: venturing out from christmas hibernation and adding to the already overflowing collection of teddies. oh, and getting pics like that of jens while he's out "having a job"

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user1: i am a simple woman, i see dilf jenson, i lose all sense of reality

user2: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

jensonbutton: oh wow who is that handsome specimen on the last slide?

sebastianvettel: the man who carelessly abandoned his family !!!

fernandoalo_oficial: a man who couldn't handle that i was the best driver in the family

jensonbutton: what ???

sebastianvettel: i'm sorry... is that the ghost of the man we once knew

jensonbutton: i'm not dead

fernandoalo_oficial: to me you are

yourusername: okay guys ... the bit is up !! we do miss you jense but we're happy you're happy :)

sebastianvettel: sure.... well at least you won't try and worm your way into the crochet club

fernandoalo_oficial: as long as you still come to some of my races :)

user3: glad to see parenthood has not changed these fools

charles_leclerc: why do my selfies never make the instagram :(

yourusername: charlie, if i posted every time you sent me a picture of you crying that's all my instagram would be

charles_leclerc: but ........ i thought i was your favourite

yourusername: you know i don't have a favourite

charles_leclerc: sure if that's what you want to tell yourself

maxverstappen1: we all know you say that to not hurt charlie's feelings because i'm your favourite

fernandoalo_oficial: you people are so dramatic

maxverstappen1: says you old man, i can scroll up you know

sebastianvettel: well you're all second to flo

charles_leclerc: she's disqualified from this competition, she's your actual child you have to say she's your favourite

jensonbutton: it's more who annoys us the least

user4: 2024 and nothing has changed here

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,045,388 others

sebastianvettel: love being miles away, missing my baby and getting a running commentary of how my "grid kids" are terrorising y/n

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user7: seb is on a mission to pick up every dad hobby ever. first beekeeping and now sailing

user8: don't forget the gardening and the crochet

user9: he's collecting the infinity stones of dilfism

yourusername: a full eight hours of sleep looks so good on you

sebastianvettel: so i don't look good all the time 🤨

yourusername: of course you do handsome. me and flo miss you :((

sebastianvettel: don't say that i miss you all so much

fernandoalo_oficial: maybe that's your sign to come home?

jensonbutton: yeah i think you should listen to the universe seb, you like all that crystal and salt of the earth stuff

yourusername: sebbbbbbbbb :(((((

sebastianvettel: STOP

user10: they are so precious to me

yourusername: no but seriously if i have to teach another grid kid how to iron i might lose my mind

charles_leclerc: ummmmm stop blasting me on main?

yourusername: learn to iron then

sebastianvettel: you still don't know how to iron? i thought i taught you in 2019?

charles_leclerc: clearly not well enough !! and y/n please name and shame the others so i'm not alone

yourusername: @landonorris @logansargeant sorry

landonorris: WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU Y/N? I CALLED YOU IN CONFIDENCE

logansargeant: i don't have any excuse, thank you for the lesson y/n :)

jensonbutton: at least one of our kids is well mannered

charles_leclerc: i am well mannered, sorry i love my grid mum and her kid. i do semi-know how to iron but needed an excuse to see flo :(

user11: free my girl from these incompetent men

mickschumacher

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoao_oficial and 921,743 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: thanks nurse y/n and nurse flo for helping me - sorry about your mug

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user12: the plaster :((((((((

jensonbutton: IT WAS YOU WHO BROKE MY I <3 NASCAR DILFS MUG

mickschumacher: sorry !

jensonbutton: nuh uh mister @sebastianvettel sort your kid out

sebastianvettel: mick said he was sorry jenson, leave him be

jensonbutton: but when lando put the rubbish in the wrong recycling he had to go litter picking with you I WANT A NEW MUG

yourusername: you guys know they aren't actually your kids, you can't put them in time out

yourusername: you can barely put your own child in time out

fernandoalo_oficial: she's too cute i don't want to make her cry

landonorris: but it's fine to make me cry?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes. in fact, it's quite fun

landonorris: Y/N!!!!

yourusername: okay, babies let's all put the phones down for this evening.

user13: nooooo y/n please i could watch these idiots argue all day

yourusername: the main thing is that your finger is all okay and that you got a cute plaster out of it

mickschumacher: i very much love my lil cat finger

yourusername: so does flo, i think you might be stuck doing puppet shows for the forseeable future

mickschumacher: anything for miss flo

user14: mamma mia family dynamics you are everything to me

fernandoalo_oficial: why did mick get a kitty plaster and i got told to do it myself :(

yourusername: because you're a grown man and you injured yourself by tripping with darts in your hands

fernandoalo_oficial: mick is a grown man - HE CAN VOTE just because he needs seb's help with the paperwork does not change that

mickschumacher: you said yourself they are confusing !!

sebastianvettel: ignore him mick

fernandoalo_oficial: booooooooo

user15: i know these men provide the best entertainment for flo even if she doesn't understand a word they're saying

yourusername: she finds them very entertaining which then starts a competition to who can make her laugh the most

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,447,734

tagged: alexalbon, lilymunhe

yourusername: sometimes even my most competent grid kid needs some help, happy anniversary alex and lily x

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user16: UGH this is so cute

alexalbon: grid mum or emotional support retail assistant?

lilymunhe: so how much of the heartfelt gift was really you

alexalbon: 90% !!! i swear

yourusername: it was all alex he just needed the support (idk he said that jewellery shops are stressful)

alexalbon: they are !! i don't know how big fingers are :(

lilymunhe: thank you y/n wouldn't want the 27 year old man to get lost at the mall

yourusername: no worries, i somehow gained at least 15 extra children along with flo, i just go with it. he's less hassle than charles and max

charles_leclerc: rude.

maxverstappen1: gasp!

user17: i love how much y/n has really embraced the grid mum life

user18: i don't think she had much choice 😭

user19: the way she's like "oh i'll help you all with anything you need" and takes flo on all of these side missions and the guys just leave them to die 😭

user20: they're such dad's who don't want the cat but end up attached but don't want to show it

jensonbutton: wait which one of us claim alex? is it me? why was i not invited?

alexalbon: ur my williams dad :) and i think this trip needed a woman's touch (and flo's touch obvs)

jensonbutton: rude i give great gifts

fernandoalo_oficial: considering he's one of the least feral and has lily, i want to claim alex

sebastianvettel: i have too many kids you guys can have alex

alexalbon: sebastian! did our gardening afternoons mean nothing ?

lilymunhe: we'll take it nando

sebastianvettel: did you or did you not just make it a competition with george to see who could plant potatoes the fastest and then make a mess of my vegetable garden

georgerussell63: GUILTY

yourusername: soz but you all have to claim all of them, my rules now

user21: y/n and flo going to rule that house with an iron fist

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, jensonbutton and 1,309,244 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

fernandoalo_oficial: glad to be back on the podium, but even more proud to call you my grid kid. we all love you, especially flo :)

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user24: THEY HAVE MATCHING MIFFY PLUSHIES

user25: miffy is dutch so that might be why max got them matching ones :)

yourusername: and flo is surgically attached to her miffy (she has named her maxi, even if she can barely say it)

maxverstappen1: you are one of my heroes and it was a pleasure to share the podium with you. there's no one else in the world i'd love to dedicate my podium to than lil mia x

fernandoalo_oficial: you've got me crying again

maxverstappen1: get it all out old man

fernandoalo_oficial: already back to the old man 🤨 i guess i'll take the nice messages while i can

user26: nando getting all mushy is so cute i can't believe this is where we are

charles_leclerc: let it be known that if i had a car fast enough i would also dedicate a win to flo, but for now she'll have to settle for a song

fernandoalo_oficial: is silvia going to kill you? because seb and y/n might kill me if they get your ass over this

charles_leclerc: but it's true, no?

fernandoalo_oficial: you will not trick me into slandering my old team charlie

maxverstappen1: LOL YOU SNOOZE YOU LOSE

charles_leclerc: YOU KNEW THAT WAS MY IDEA THIEF

sebastianvettel: charles why am i getting a call from silvia?

maxverstappen1: LOL

charles_leclerc: brb just going to lourdes

jensonbutton: lol way to get outshined by your kid

fernandoalo_oficial: at least i was in the position to be outshined by my kid

jensonbutton: ERGH you know you can't bring that up

fernandoalo_oficial: you said that you couldn't wait to get away from us

jensonbutton: oop.

yourusername: my wonderful boys!

maxverstappen1: :D

fernandoalo_oficial: i love you both :)

maxverstappen1: awww thanks nando

fernandoalo_oficial: i meant y/n and flo but sure love you too buddy

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,610,449 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: maxy, this means more than you could know, flo very much enjoyed watching 'blu' go fast :)

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user27: is this family going to make me cry? maybe.

user28: side note, how many animal onesies does flo have they're so cute

user29: she's like a lil teddy bear

maxverstappen1: glad to have officially won the title of flo's favourite brother

charles_leclerc: NOT SO FAST MISTER

maxverstappen1: maybe if you were faster you would've dedicated a win to flo :P

charles_leclerc: LOW BLOW

danielricciardo: don't even get me started on the daniel ricciardo erasure

maxverstappen1: shush daniel let the problem children talk

charles_leclerc: yeah daniel, problem children only

sebastianvettel: should we intervene?

yourusername: no, i'm intrigued as to where this is going to go

jensonbutton: i for one love watching these dummies fight

fernandoalo_oficial: let me get my popcorn

maxverstappen1: are we just entertainment to you?

jensonbutton: yes!

charles_leclerc: the minute flo can talk ASK HER WHO IS HER FAVOURITE

sebastianvettel: sure?

user30: they can never ask that question, one of them might never recover

maxverstappen1: for real though, i love you guys and i love flo. i'll send nando home with the trophy as well :)

yourusername: awwww thank you maxy :) @sebastianvettel @fernandoalo_oficial @jensonbutton new shelf needed please

jensonbutton: i'll leave this one to "the woodwork king"

sebastianvettel: am i the only one who does anything in this house?

fernandoalo_oficial: you can't be called the woodwork king and not do the work

yourusername: you don't even let them help seb

sebastianvettel: UGH.

jensonbutton

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 912,774 others

tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo

jensonbutton: day 4,000+ of losing our actual girlfriend to our overgrown kids

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user31: PICTURE OF DANNY WITH FLO ALERT ALERT

yourusername: not my fault you guys picked up so many stray cats while in the sport

jensonbutton: i only claim lando and alex, the rest are the others' faults

yourusername: i know you love it really

jensonbutton: not when the little tornadoes hit our house, eat all of our food and steal my baby

danielricciardo: whoops

jensonbutton: and terrorise my pets DANIEL

danielricciardo: they terrorise each other jenson, maybe they aren't as well trained as you thought

yourusername: oh god...

jensonbutton: HOW DARE YOU !!!! BECKETT, SALMON AND CREAM CHEESE ARE VERY WELL TRAINED AND WELL BEHAVED

user32: old men are going crazy we love to see it

sebastianvettel: are we a bed and breakfast?

yourusername: i fear so. you need to run back from whatever ocean you are in we are low on staff now jenson is back racing. flo might be cute but she's a liability in the kitchen

fernandoalo_oficial: maybe we should just kick them out

yourusername: noooo :( not my babies

fernandoalo_oficial: can we at least charge them?

maxverstappen1: you people are the most stingy millionaires i have ever met

charles_leclerc: i pay you in piano sorry

yourusername: don't listen to them boys, flo and i love having you over

user33: so like is there any way we could open the mamma mia bed and breakfast to the public

fernandoalo_oficial: why do the grid kids see our family more than us?

yourusername: come home more often then :(

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm working on it the plane is delayed :(

jensonbutton: personally i would just run home but that's just me

sebastianvettel: i would simply just walk on water

fernandoalo_oficial: shut up. see you later

yourusername: yay !!!!

fin.

note: writer's block has really been beating my ass so there's always mamma mia to get it flowing again. i'm still working on requests, hopefully they'll come along a little faster now! also - i started an instagram for my small business i am opening it's @badlydrawnf1cats, feel free to follow x

edit: mamma mia will return

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa @tagteamedbitch@imagandom@mypage-myfandoms@mehrmonga@asparklysoul @unstableplant @motorsp0rt@multilovebot@lili-flower03 @its-elias-world @jolixtreesunn@nothingfuninthislife@rileynicol3@kodzuvk@mochimommy2002@fluffyspaceprincess@roseseraj@black-swan-blog27@nyrasslut@justdreamersdream@asfaraslifegets@why4anne@ineffableperson@leilanixx@lunyyx @pupbistro @gaypoetsblog@rafaaoli@champomiel@sadsierra2 @rainerax @lokietro @thecubanator2 @nzygftoji @rockyhayzkid @nmw-am @slytherheign @erikasurfer @turn-around-look-at-what-you-see @greigreyhiyyih @duck-duck-goose-18 @dark-night-sky-99 @ironcowboycopnickel @sizzlingghostoperatorbagel @2bormaybenot @42ndbrokencompass @whotfisvale @lichterfee @sticksdoesart @glitterf1 @turn-around-look-at-what-you-see @lighttsoutlewis @tagteamedbitch @glow-ish @sadg3 @kagatinkita @litoriaxu

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #mamma mia au #sebastian vettel instagram au #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #fernando alonso instagram au #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso #jenson button instagram au #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine #f1 social media au

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jen-with-a-pen · 3 months

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𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is.

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter– to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day.

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week.

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together.

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door.

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger.

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder.

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit.

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip.

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing.

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink.

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it.

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time.

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell.

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear.

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below.

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost.

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape.

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully.

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium.

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form.

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.”

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan.

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear.

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours.

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.”

You wanted to take his finger and break it.

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.”

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion.

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance.

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles.

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously.

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side.

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?”

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward.

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard.

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body.

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!”

“No! Fuck– Get off me!”

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.”

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone.

“Is that all, Sergeant?”

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.”

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged.

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you.

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.”

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why.

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame.

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door.

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy.

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however.

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?”

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release.

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core.

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs.

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass.

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.”

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him.

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure.

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you.

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!”

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you.

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode.

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

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ruh--roh-raggy · 6 months

Text

Pretty Little Wife (William Afton x Wife! Reader SMUT)

Hi everyone, this is my first fic for the FNAF fandom, AU where William isn't a murderer, he just owns the pizzeria with Henry. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS STORY CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, mirror sex, soft dom William, slightly possessive William, fingering, multiple orgasms, throat holding/slight choking but not really, hand job, praise, fluff at the end, William is just really obsessed with being your husband, she/her pronouns used, AFAB reader, sweetheart, honey, baby, bunny used as pet names. I hope you guys enjoy!

If anyone knows who came up with this head cannon originally please let me know so I can tag them! William Afton absolutely fingers his wife with the hand his wedding ring is on, the thought has been making me feral for days.

You can find my Masterlist here! ~ AO3 Link!

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William loved nothing more than showing off his pretty little wife. Having you holding onto his arm, giving his bicep a tender squeeze whenever you joined in about one of his accomplishments. It was nights like tonight when he wished he had turned down his friend's request to join him and his wife for dinner. Every small shift in your movements highlighted something he absolutely adored about you; how you crossed one leg over the other, causing your dress to ride up slightly and show off the plush flesh of your thigh, how you would lean your head on his shoulder and he would catch the intoxicating scent of your perfume, how your much smaller hand would fidget with his when prompted to talk about yourself. “Will, I still don't know how you managed to pull a dime like that.” Henry chuckles as he pours the both of them a glass of whiskey. He hands him the crystal glass, the dark amber liquid swirling around inside.

“What can I say? I'm a lucky guy.” He smiles as the sound of your laughter drifts in from the other room.

“To our beautiful wives, my friend.” The glasses clink together as they toast. William eyed his business partner with disdain. He had noticed his lingering gaze on you the entire night, the sight alone was enough to nearly throw him into a jealous rage. How dare he look at you in such a disgusting manner, his best friend of all people.

“We should probably get going.” William forces a casual grin of dismissal. “I'm sure (Y/N) is getting pretty tired, she's had a long day.”

“Of course.” William nods courteously. “I wouldn't want to keep you and the Mrs. out too late.” The pair make their way back into the dining room where you sat chatting excitedly with William’s wife, Emilie. Your bright smile sent a surge through Williams veins, your bright eyes landing on him the instant he had entered the room. “Honey, you want to start heading home?” You nod, rising from your chair and molding into his side. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, shooting a possessive look towards the other man.

“Goodnight, it was wonderful to see you.” The pair make their goodbyes before you head out the door with your husband. “We should do that again soon.” You smile up at him as you cuddle into his side. A brief scowl flashes across his features as he thinks of the way his friend looked at you.

“Of course honey, I know how much you love spending time with Emilie.” His thumb languidly trails over the bare skin of your shoulder. You pause, your husband halting in time with your stopping movement. You gaze up at him lovingly, your hand sliding over his stomach as you turn him to face you.

“I love you, Mr. Afton.” You say softly and with a smile.

“And I love you, Mrs. Afton.” His head drops lower, allowing his lips to meet yours as he pulls you into a sweet kiss. The ride home was spent with you tucked comfortably into his side as he drove. You pulled up in front of your house, your gaze drifting up to meet his. “I can't get over how beautiful you are.” Your breath shudders from your chest as you feel yourself drowning in him. William always seemed to have this effect on you, his strong and dominant gaze holding you firmly in place as he admired your beauty. His hand slowly slid over your thigh, a shiver running up your spine at his subtle movements. His hand drifts to your face, tilting your chin up slightly as he brings his lips to yours. “Let’s head in.” He whispers.

“Okay.” You respond in the same tone as a smile creeps across your lips. William slides out of the driver's seat, taking long strides around the front of the car to open your door for you. You giggle as he offers his hand to help you out, allowing him to spin you around before he pulls you into his side. “I’m going to make some tea, do you want some?”

“That would be great, baby, thank you.” He kisses your forehead, both of you lazily walking to your shared bedroom to change into something a bit more comfortable. You had opted for one of your husbands button down shirts, the loose fabric cascading off one shoulder as you left it half unbuttoned, the lace of your lingerie peeking out just below the hem. William was forced to suppress a groan as he caught sight of you in the mirror, admiring the way you looked in his clothes with a giddy expression on your face. “Sweetheart,” you perk up at the sound of his voice before turning to face him, “come here.” You saunter over to him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you look at him with bright, excited eyes. He gently takes hold of your waist, turning you around and guiding you back into his lap. You could see both of your reflections in the full length mirror across from you, your husband’s massive stature easily dwarfing your smaller frame. You sigh softly as you feel his lips press against your shoulder, your eyes meeting his in the mirror as you watch him trail kisses over your exposed skin. You feel his hand slide over your thigh, the cool shock from his wedding band drastically contrasting his warm skin. William always loved the way the gold band looked as his hands roamed your body. You push your back into his broad chest as he eases your legs open, “I think you look even better in this shirt than I do.” He breathes next to your ear. You squirm in his lap as he languidly trails his fingers up and down the inside of your thigh.

“I don’t know about that.” You run your hand over his strong forearm. “You’re always very nice to look at.” Your eyes drop to his lips before slowly raising to meet his again. His chest rumbles as he lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Is that so?” His hot breath fans over your lips. His finger trails along the edge of your underwear before he hooks into them, slowly easing the lace down your legs. He holds your face in his hand, directing your attention to the mirror in front of you. “You seem to forget how beautiful you are, sweetheart.” His massive hand wrapped around your thigh, massaging your soft skin as he presses a kiss to your cheek. Your head falls back against his shoulder as he finally runs his fingers over your dripping folds. “Look in the mirror, bunny.” He growls. You struggled to meet your reflections gaze, warmth immediately spreading across your cheeks at the sight of your husband's fingers quickly becoming covered in your arousal. Moans fell effortlessly from your lips as he gradually increased his pace. You cried out his name as he suddenly sinks his teeth into your neck. Your body jolts as his thumb grazes over your clit. “Look how pretty my girl is, already so loud from just my fingers.

“W-Will-” You gasp out his name, struggling to keep your eyes on the mirror as you watched him relentlessly fucked into your soaked cunt. He whispers sweet praises in your ear in an attempt to keep your mind from getting too hazy.

“You know, I never get tired of seeing my wedding ring disappear inside of you.” He hums. You could faintly make out the glint of the gold band in the dim lighting of the bedroom. William felt your walls flutter around his fingers. “Cum for me sweetheart.” He speeds up his pace rubbing your clit, your orgasm crashing over you not long after. You screamed as white hot pleasure ripped through you, William taking your chin in his hand to force you to look in the mirror. Your legs shuddered, your hips desperately grinding against his drenched hand. “That’s it honey, good job.” He praises you gently. “Think you can give me a few more.” He grins mischievously at you. A whine escaped your lips as he slowly began to pick up his pace again, your throbbing cunt already growing oversensitive from his touch. You squirmed, keening at his touch as he grazed your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your body jolted at the smallest stimulation, your husband very easily able to bring you to the brink of your second orgasm. He chuckled slightly as you pushed yourself further down onto his fingers.

“Fuck.” You groan, your climax just out of reach.

“Just relax honey, let me take care of my pretty little wife.” He says as he nips at your neck, causing you to yelp. He caresses your jaw, guiding your eyes to meet his in the mirror. He traces a finger down your throat before wrapping his hand around your neck. “Who do you belong to honey?” You feel the smirk spread across his lips as they press to the corner of your mouth.

“My husband.” You suppress a grin as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. You hear a growl rise in his throat, hearing you call him your husband always did something to him. You scream as his fingers begin to fuck into you at a relentless place.

“Such a sweet little wife I have, look at how well you’re taking my fingers baby. Fuck, I love you so much.” You feel him start to rut his hips into you, his hard member pressing into the curve of your ass. He somehow managed to understand you begging to cum through the sobs that cracked free from your throat. The light pressure he was putting on your throat was making you delightfully lightheaded. You watched as his fingers slid in and out of your soaked core. Your body went rigid as he thrusted perfectly into a spot inside you that turned your vision white.

“Shit, that’s it, right there.” You gasp out. He places hot open mouthed kisses to your jaw. After a few more pumps of his fingers you screamed out his name, begging him to keep fucking you as you rode out your second orgasm. Your husband curses under his breath, you feel him struggling to pull off his pants. His hands wrap around your waist, moving you to sit on his stomach, guiding your hand to wrap around his cock. He hissed as you gave him a few tentative pumps. You moan as his fingers slip back inside of you, his rhythm matching your strokes.

“Faster.” He groans out a command, both of your rhythms increasing. You whined, resting a hand on his thigh as you struggled to stay upright. His hips stuttered as he tried to resist fucking into your fist. Your legs trembled as you fought against your impending orgasm, wanting to finish at the same time as him. You felt his cock twitch in your palm.

“I’m gonna cum.” You moan, rolling your hips against his hand.

“Finish for me sweetheart.” He holds on tightly to your hip with one hand, keeping you in place as the other pounded into you. You hear his breathy moans and strangled gasps as his own climax begins to creep up on him. He growls out your name as hot ropes of cum shoot from his aching member and splatter on his stomach, You collapse onto the mattress, his hold on you the only thing keeping your hips in the air as he forced one more orgasm out of you. You sobbed into the sheets, hot tears trailing down your cheeks as the intense pleasure became almost painful, your gummy walls clenching around his fingers as your whole body shook. Your body slumped as you came down from your high, William gently eased his fingers out of you and laid you down. He pulls you into his arms, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. He carefully tilts your chin up, kissing you softly as he holds you close.

“I love you Mr. Afton.” You smile sleepily, your eyelids already feeling heavy as you sink into the mattress. He chuckles at your fucked out state. He helps you out of his shirt before fully stripping down himself. He pulls your back to him, placing a kiss to your shoulder.

“I love you Mrs. Afton.” You laid in silence, the two of you just enjoying the quiet intimacy. It wasn’t long until you drifted off into a dreamless sleep wrapped up in your husband’s embrace.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my tag list drop a comment below! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated!

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djarincore · 4 months

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Down by the River

summary: Gale accidentally finds you bathing in the river.

pairings: Gale x reader

word count: 1k

tags: suggestive themes, nudity, fluff

a/n: am I a weirdo for loving the trope where someone finds a beautiful maiden bathing in a river and is entranced by the rivulets of water tracing down the curve of her spine??? I dunno....

Wyll's version

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

All Gale wanted was a refreshing bath. Gods, he missed his warm baths in his tower back in Waterdeep where he would have a good book in one hand and another cradling a fine glass of wine.

Alas, such luxuries could not be afforded on the road with mind flayer parasites burrowed in his skull.

When he found the slow, winding river, he halted upon hearing a low melodic hum. He would have thought it were harpies again with their hypnotic melody if not for his own eyes.

There—back turned to him, just toeing the edge of the river, completely bare—was you.

The full moon washed your body in a soft, ethereal light, reminding him of the intimate magic lesson you shared. The way the Weave shrouded you in a soft glow. He recalled how bright your eyes looked as magic danced around you for the first time. The soft caress of hands as they met and lingered at your sides. How you imagined kissing him before the magic fell away all too soon.

Your toes grazed the crystal shore, rippling the gentle current, to test the water's temperature—cold, from the way your body tensed and a soft gasp disrupted your soothing hum.

Gale could not move—could not breathe—as heat swam through his body and rose to his cheeks. Your hums continued as you slipped into the water slowly, completely unaware of his presence so far.

It was wrong of him to be here, watching you in a quiet moment of peace and completely vulnerable. He would not break your trust, not when he already found himself holding you so close to his heart.

Unfortunately for Gale, his departure was not as silent as his arrival. A cursed stick snapped beneath his feet when he backed away.

The noise alerted you, who snapped around and attempted to cover yourself with your hands. Your arms pressed tightly against your breast and your legs were positioned sideways to cover your lower half.

“Who's there?!” You demanded, voice quivering. Your eyes scanned the forest to find a figure attempting to slip into the bushes. But, you recognized those purple robes. “Gale?”

“My apologies,” he called back, sheepishly, raising his hands in surrender. The blush on his cheeks grew hotter now that he was caught. This was dangerous territory for a man who had a sensitive bomb in his chest. “I-I promise you, I didn't mean to find you here.”

Your gaze fell away to the water at your feet. “You came to bathe?”

“Yes! Though I'm sure I can find a suitable spot elsewhere. It's a long river, after all. Though I’m certain I won't find any more beautiful nymphs there,” he rambled. He didn't know how to stop.

Your eyes were wide when you looked at him again, a shy smile pulling at the edge of your lips.

He cleared his throat and turned his gaze to the sky. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He turned, prepared to leave and berate himself for making a fool of himself, but stopped when he heard you call after him.

“Wait, Gale! Y-You don't need to leave.” You sounded as nervous as he felt. “Stay.”

How could he ever ignore one of your requests?

Shedding his clothes seemed like a blur and suddenly he was just as bare as you, standing at the edge of the river.

You had turned away as he stripped and sunk deeper into the river, chest deep now, busying yourself with washing up. Your hand ran along your opposite arm and up your shoulder.

Gale watched, mesmerized by the curves that your hand danced along. You were beautiful, enchantingly so—a true goddess to behold.

He slipped into the chilling waters, a safe distance away from you. He hoped you weren't uncomfortable. You hadn't looked at him since you asked him to stay. The two of you bathed in silence, backs turned to one another.

After a while, you said, “I never thanked you for that magic lesson. It was wonderful.”

Pride burned through his body as he smiled. “You had an excellent teacher, after all. But, you were a wonderful student too.”

He dared to turn his head, just to look at you from the corner of his eyes. You were already facing him. There was always kindness and compassion in your eyes that never failed to draw him closer to you. The way you looked at him—he felt seen. It was almost too much sometimes.

His eyes followed the slow rivulets of water that slid down your neck and further down your chest.

“I was… glad to share a moment of magic with you,” he confessed when his eyes returned to yours.

“I hope that lesson wasn't the last.”

“Of course not! I’d be more than happy to show you more illusory magic. We can start with a simple spell I learned when I was young. Tara taught it to me in fact.”

Gale failed to notice you inching closer as he went on about what he would show you next—he was getting lost in his own words. He only slowed to a stop when your hand lightly brushed against his underwater. His fingers tensed before relaxing and allowing your fingers to drift along his knuckles.

You uttered his name softly and he couldn’t help the hitch in his throat. “I hope we get more than just a moment.”

Before he could respond, you leaned forward and kissed him. Your lips pressed against his, slow and careful, but it was over before there was time to properly savor the feeling. You pulled back, your hand still resting on his.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I should have asked before doing that. Are you okay?”

Gale nodded, feeling all sense slowly coming back. For the first time in more than a year, he felt wanted. “More than okay.”

There was a hunger growing in his chest, he realized, but it didn't yearn for magic.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: im not entirely happy w this but i might revisit it one day :)

#gale x reader #gale x tav #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fluff #bg3 headcanons

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fettuccin-e · 7 months

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It's About Power, Baby

Kinktober Day 26: Face Sitting

Tags: Marc Spector x Reader, afab!fem!reader, cunnilingus, face riding, subby!Marc because he needs to be dominated because I said so (w/c: 903)

A/N: A short lil drabble for some of my late Kinktober stuff. I am a firm believer in switch!Marc okay. He likes when a woman takes control because no one marries Layla El-Faouly without being a little bit of a sub okay, I'm right and you know it!! (For Kinktober I've been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

There’s just something about it that drives Marc fucking wild.

It’s something about the way you grind onto his face, gripping hard into his hair as you chase his tongue and dig your clit into his nose.

It’s in the way you taste, warm and musky and so fucking good on his tongue. He aches to have you like this, begs you for it, even though he never really has to beg for anything.

You can't say you understand it, but you certainly can’t complain when he pulls you down to his mouth, licking into you like he wants to drown in your wetness.

The first time you did this, you’d been so nervous, hovering lightly over his face and refusing to let your weight rest on him.

“Marc, I’ll crush you,” you’d said, swaying slightly on your knees as Marc grazed his hands up your thighs.

“You won’t, baby, promise,” he’d murmured. “C’mon, just relax. I’ll make you feel so good.” He’d nipped lightly at your inner thigh, and you’d moaned softly.

“I have no doubts about that, I just don’t want to kill you with my pussy, Marc.”

“But what a way to go,” he’d breathed, almost dreamily, and you’d wanted to smack him. But you couldn’t, you’d barely had a chance to breathe before he was using his strength to pull you down to his mouth.

And fuck, if you had known how good it would feel, you would have smothered him with your pussy without a second thought. It’s so different like this, the way you just let gravity do the work for you, spearing yourself deep on Marc’s ravenous tongue.

He moans loud when you rest your weight on him, the folds of your cunt spreading apart on his face and making a fucking mess, dripping down his cheeks, down his chin.

His nose digs into your clit so perfect, so right from this angle, and you can’t help it when your hips twitch forward, grinding into it. His thick fingers dig into your thighs hard enough that the tips of them turn white, and you’ll probably find dark bruises later from the strength of his grip.

But it doesn’t matter, not at all. Not when Marc groans into you and sends vibrations reverberating up your spine, and your hips twitch forward again, dragging your slick pussy across his face.

“Fuck, oh my God, Marc,” you whimper, and Marc only answers with a moan, his tongue working against your dripping entrance, drinking you in. A sharp grind of your hips into his face makes you cry out, your hands snapping forward to grip onto the headboard.

There’s a heady sense of control that flows through your blood, making your mind hazy and the feeling of his mouth against your cunt so much more electric.

“It’s so fucking good like this,” you whimper, your hips twitching instinctually to rub Marc’s nose back and forth against your throbbing clit. You should let him breathe, lift off of him so he can suck a substantial breath into his lungs, but you can’t fucking stop. You can hear movement behind you through the rush of blood in your ears, and glance behind you. The sight nearly makes you black out.

Marc’s hips undulate into the air, an obscene tent in his boxers as he humps into nothing. He licks into your pussy as his cock searches for friction, desperate and needy and so fucking hot you could cry.

Marc is a man who doesn’t like to show weakness, but this? This is clear as crystal, the way his eyes flutter shut as he savors the taste of you on his tongue, the way he needs you so badly he fucks into empty air as you sit on his face like a queen. Marc Spector is not a weak man, but God, he is weak to you.

The knowledge that you are the only one who knows him like this, to have this kind of power over him, makes your head spin.

“You’re so fucking hard, Marc,” you whisper, and Marc grips onto your thighs like a fucking lifeline, whining beneath you. You reach a hand down to curl your fingers back into his hair, rocking your hips into his searching tongue. “Make me cum and I’ll ride you so hard you’ll see stars, baby.” You feel him nod between your thighs, moaning softly.

Marc tilts his head up beneath you to suck your aching clit into his mouth, and you nearly scream as he throws you over that edge, soaking his face as you tremble and clench above him.

You practically stumble away from his face as he continues to lick at your overstimulated entrance, pulling back to sit on his stomach. You watch with wide eyes at the way his chest heaves, how he licks at his lips and tastes the cum you left behind.

He lifts his head to look at you, a blush high on his face and his mouth shiny with your slick. He looks fucking ruined and oh so gorgeous.

He sits up on his elbows, wordlessly asking for a kiss, which you gladly give him, even though his lips taste like you.

“My turn,” you murmur, grinning against his mouth, and Marc’s chuckle quickly morphs into a moan as you squeeze his neglected cock. You smile.

He looks pretty damn good at your mercy like this.

#marc needs a woman to dominate him #do not argue with me #i am right #marc spector x reader #marc spector smut #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #moon knight x you #moon knight smut #moon knight x reader

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wonderlandwalker · 5 months

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Frozen Solid | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Your past is haunting you, but Finnick is there to remind you it's going to be okay

Content Warnings/Tags: Nightmares, trauma, ANGST, character death, happy ending though dw, hypothermia, mentions of violence

Word Count: 2.6k

Requested by Anon: Do you think you could do something fluffy with Finnick Odair x Víctor! Reader where the readers games were in the extreme cold and they say something like “I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again” to Finnick

A/N: Please send me more requests! I am dying to keep writing but I don't have any more ideas. Also my spell check keeps telling me it's 'realized' not 'realised' and now I'm doubting my entire knowledge of the English language. Did not read this after writing it so praying my brain worked properly

To say the games left you with issues would be an understatement. But this particular memory always seemed to keep haunting you. Maybe that was because this had happened before you taught yourself to close yourself off from your problems. Maybe it was because you hadn't figured out how to find closure yet.

Maybe it was because you were still afraid. Afraid of the tribute towering over you. Even though you weren't a kid that hadn't hit your grow spurt anymore. Even though you weren't that defenseless, innocent child anymore. The tribute was still bigger, and simply the memories made you feel powerless.

The familiar trees surrounded you, but they didn't make you feel safe like they used to before. A layer of snow covered the leaves like a warm blanket, except it was anything but. You were shivering, trembling, not sure which one. So you ran, your fight or flight instincts trying to contradict the memory

So you ran from the man who had said he would help you. You ran from your problem. You ran from your fear.

But it didn't work, it never did. You ran out of the forest, but before you even realized, you were right back inside. Every time you ran you just got stuck again. But they were all different spots. All the ones where you had camped for the night, all the places where you sat silently, too scared to light a fire to warm yourself, not willing to take the risk of eating any food that needed cooking. They all made their way into your imagination, but they all had one thing in common, they made you feel afraid. For most, you thought, childhood memories should resemble a sense of ease, of making you feel secure.

But that feeling had disappeared for you when you first entered the arena. You could still see it in front of you as if it was a crystal clear picture. Your platform had come to a stop, and at first, you were blinded by the light, the bright sun. Your mind had tricked you into thinking the sun meant warmth, and comfort. But when your eyes adjusted, and you saw the frozen lake you were placed over. You saw the cornucopia, on a frosted island in the middle. It had weapons and food, but most importantly, it had thick coats and fur blankets. You wonder sometimes if you should have gotten one, if it would have helped you, but the risk was too great, so once you heard the canon, you immediately ran in the opposite direction, for the forest behind you.

The first thing you did was look for a freshwater source, but everything, everything, was frozen. When you had become desperate, you had started to punch a hole into the thick ice. It took a long time before you broke through the surface, your hands weren't strong enough, but you didn't give up. There was a small crack, and it gave you hope to continue. When you had managed to get to the water, your knuckles were bleeding, and you could see bruises starting to form. But it didn't matter. You had done it. You cupped your hands into the water and felt the cold come over them once again. It was soothing, in a way. Your hands had become warm from the strain, but it was the first time you had felt any sense of warmth since you entered, so you were disappointed to lose it.

You brought the water to your lips, and took a sip from it. You could feel it course through your body, and while it satisfied your thirst, it felt as if there was ice inside your veins. You had been cold up to now, but it was nothing compared to this. You could feel your insides losing temperature from the icy water.

You saw him walking your way, and even if you tried to forget, you could see his face in so many details. From his freckles that you had always admired to the dark look that filled his eyes as he came closer

You knew there was no use in running, but you still did, not wanting to confront him, having avoided doing so for as long as you can now remember. But all it did was pull you back into the forest.

He came from the same district as you, he had said you reminded him of his little sister, and he had offered a pact. You still weren't sure why, you didn't have much to offer him. But now you guess it must have been his own memories, his own innocence wanting to help the girl that you made him think of, made him think there was still good left in him. And so you accepted, and in a way, you were grateful, because you never would have won without him, but the turmoil that stuck with you was heartbreaking. Maybe it would have been easier if it had all been over then.

He was still walking towards you, and even though he wasn't saying a word, you could tell what was going on inside his head. You could see it by the way he walked, how his arms stayed tightly next to his body. You could even hear him yelling at you in your head.

You walked backwards until you hit one of the trees. You started calling out for help, even though you were fully aware no one would come. There was no one else left. You screamed, asking for someone to help you, and the fear made your voice shiver. You knew it was the fear this time. Your body had stopped shaking from the cold after a few days. You had thought that was it, your body had given up, the cold finally having overpowered it.

You stood up, scrambling to your feet. For once, you felt warm again, you felt the blood dilating your vessels, but you knew better than to get hope. You have seen this. You had seen this in other tributes. Your body making a last attempt to warm you up, giving you a boost of power right before it would all be over. In a way you were grateful, it would finally be over. You didn't even want to win anymore, you just wanted to be warm.

But your instincts still told you to run, and with the extra energy coursing through you, you did.

You ran to the frozen lake, to where it had all begun, it was the only thing you could think of to go to. You ran, you ran until could no longer even feel your legs moving. He followed behind you, of course he did. He was close behind, but you were smaller, you were leaner, and you might not have as much stamina, but when it came to a fast sprint you could only just outrun him. You didn't even watch where you were going anymore. The more you ran, the colder you started to feel again. You wanted to stop, to not lose any more. To keep this little bit you had been given, but you weren't sure it would even stay if you did.

The trees started to disappear, and before you knew it, you were on the lake. When you had first gotten here, the lake had seemed peaceful, tranquil. But now, it was nothing short of a battlefield. The bodies might have been taken away, but the blood still stained the ice, and the axes and spears still stuck out of it like weeds disturbing the carefully crafted landscape.

You ran as far as your fleeting body could carry you. You felt it before you saw it. Ice freezing cold. This was it, this was the end. It wasn't a haven to be at peace, it was even colder than you had been. Your clothes were clinging to your body like the blankets of snow you had first noticed. Your hair was stuck to your forehead and your neck.

You remember in the beginning, when you would run, and you would sweat. It was the first time you had carefully appreciated it in your life, the warm droplets gracing your skin. But not anymore, if your body even had the energy to sweat, it was cold, it stuck to you like the first rain of autumn. The brisk wind in combination only making you shiver more.

So you opened your eyes, if this was the end you had hoped for, you didn't want it anymore. You opened your eyes and focused on your senses. You saw the lake, but it had risen. You had fallen in it. You looked around you and saw the cracks in the frozen surface.

The fights, the violence, it hadn't just taken a toll on you. The ice was suffering just as much. It was hard to see from the snow that covered it, but from where you were, you could see it from the footsteps that had disturbed it. You looked behind you, and you saw him again. He had seen you fall in, and halted. You could see relief come over him. Relief that he wouldn't be the one to have to kill you, that the water would do it for him. You almost felt bad for him, he hadn't wanted any of this either. And if you had been in his situation, you weren't sure you wouldn't have done the same thing.

But the water was your friend, at least it used to be.

In your district, you grew up surrounded by it. Going to the sea in the summer, swimming until the sun went down. You remember you used to get so cold when it disappeared and you were left on the beach alone. But now you longed for it.

So you swam, you swam until you felt your hands meet the solid surface of ice again. You had been light before you came here, the lack of food taking a toll on everyone you know, but it was worse now. The only thing you knew how to get was fish. You knew how to fish, but anything else you had counted on was not there. There were no berries on trees, there were no plants that could survive in this environment. And so your frame had become even slimmer. Your arms were trembling as you tried to lift yourself. You weren't sure if you would manage. This couldn't be the end. If it ended like this, your body would float away in the water like the ice that was floating on it, and you would always be cold.

With a surge of motivation, you lifted yourself onto the surface and as soon as you did you fell down on your back. You looked up, thinking you had done it, you could rest now. You looked up at the sky, the sun was there, but you didn't trust it anymore.

You heard something else move, and it made your head snap up. He was still there.

He considered his steps, he couldn't reach you from where he was. But it was just the two of you, and something had to give. So he walked around the hole you had fallen into. He traced around it. He stood in the footsteps that had already been placed in the snow.

But you didn't care anymore. You had gotten yourself out of the water, and you laid your head back down, looking back at the sun. Trying to recall the memories it held. But you couldn't feel it anymore, you couldn't feel the radiating heat. So you made peace with being cold, at least it would be over soon.

If he had left you be, your body probably would have given up before his did. But he wanted it to be over too, he didn't want to wait any longer. He took another step, and you could hear the crack that echoed through the empty space. You looked at him, and you saw him realising his mistake as it happened. The footsteps had looked like a path, but really, they were weak spots. The steps had caused the ice strain, and it had decided it had had enough.

The cracking sound continued, until you could see the ice start to get lopsided. It started to slide towards the open water you had fallen into. You could see his eyes plead, he had convinced himself he had already won, and he was watching all his hopes disappear with one shift of snow. He fell in the water, but he wasn't friends with it. He trashed and tried to move forward, but his body was too broad, and all it did was exhaust him further. You wanted to reach out for him, to help him. You knew the cold that engulfed the water and you didn't want him to die that way. But all it would do was drag you in with him, and you found yourself watching. You watched him as his head sank under, you kept watching as if he'd come back out. You watched until you heard the last canon.

It made you feel even colder. You thought it was over. But you could feel your heart stop, it didn't stop beating, it stopped giving you warmth. The last piece you had, had sunken down with him. Your head was filled with panic. You would never feel warm again, you don't think your body knew how to anymore, and your mind was too frozen over to even try. And just as you felt your heart slow down, just as you thought you would die in this permanent state of despair, you heard a voice calling out to you

It sounded familiar, but you couldn't place it. It felt like a star calling to you, telling you to follow it into the sky, to fly, to be free, free of this fear.

It told you to wake up.

Before you knew it the smell of pine left you, being replaced with a mix of sea salt and jasmine, it smelt like home

You felt someone shaking you lightly, and you realised the smell wasn't bound to your surroundings, but the person that was next to you.

"Sweetheart, you need to wake up, you keep shaking." He told you in a sleepy, but still gentle voice.

As you started to get a better concept of your environment, you realised that in your distraught state, you had woken him up.

"I didn't mean to wake you I'm sorry, I know you haven't been sleeping well lately." You said, guilt already entering your mind.

"Hey, look at me, don't you dare apologise" He looked at you as if your worry pained him, and you couldn't stop the next words from leaving you.

"I'm scared I'll never be warm again Finnick" You started to cry, and he took you into his arms.

"If you're having nightmares, I will stay up with you until the sun rises again." He smiled down at you. And that's when you realized, he wasn't a star in the sky, he was the sun, he was your sun. His smile warmed you, and his arms around you made you believe again. He was your sun, and as long as you had him, he would warm you.

#finnick odair fic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #finnick angst #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #finnick fluff #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #angst #fluff

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aphroditelovesu · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day Twenty-Six — Wedding Night

❝ ☀️ — lady l: day twenty-six of kinktober! Yes, I know I'm late with the last ones and I apologize! But here it is now and I hope you like it!

❝ ☀️pairing: soft yandere!apollo x female!reader.

❝warnings: smut, NSFW, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering.

❝☀️word count: 1,340.

❝tag: @compulsiivedreamer

On the wedding night of the wedding of the god Apollo and (Y/N), Olympus shone with a special luminosity. Zeus, the King of the gods, prepared a heavenly room for the couple. The walls were adorned with golden frescoes depicting the heroic deeds of Apollo.

A white silk canopy fluttered over the bed, which was covered in crimson rose petals. The gentle melody of Apollo's lyre echoed in the room as he expertly played it, creating a magical soundtrack for the night.

The ceiling, decorated with twinkling stars, gave the feeling that they were under the sky itself. A crystal chandelier hung in the center, casting dancing reflections of light throughout the room.

You were nervous about your first time with your new husband. Not just because you were inexperienced but because he was a god. So nervous wasn't the right word, perhaps, but rather scared.

And you felt your hands shaking a little as Apollo guided you to the large bed, his gaze softening when he saw how nervous you were.

"I won't hurt you." He said, stroking your face gently as you sat down. You smiled at him and nodded.

"I know."

Apollo kissed your forehead, "Then there's no need to be so nervous. I'll take care of you and make you feel good."

Apollo kissed your lips carefully, a gentle and soft kiss that quickly turned passionate. The god's arms wrapped around your waist and brought you closer to him, his tongue touching yours in a possessive and dominant way. You moaned into the kiss when you felt him take one of your hands to the clasp of your wedding dress.

You took a deep breath as you pulled away, your lips swollen and Apollo's face glowed with desire. Apollo skillfully removed your dress and kissed your neck, sucking the sensitive, soft skin gently. You gasped and took a deep breath, your hands gripping his arms.

Apollo purred and caressed your thigh, his hands squeezing the soft, warm flesh, eliciting sighs from you. The god kissed the hollow of her breasts, his teeth lightly marking the sensitive skin.

"Ah…" You sighed and leaned back against his chest, and he smiled and kissed his earlobe. You closed your eyes when you felt his hand on your thigh come up and rub your pussy covered in the thin panties you were wearing.

"I didn't know you liked that kind of clothes, my sunshine." He purred in your ear and his index finger slid down your slit, rubbing with a little force, making you moan softly.

"Only for my husband." You smiled mischievously and Apollo purred in approval, sucking on your neck and squeezing you tightly. You gripped the muscles in his arm, holding yourself steady as your wetness was touched by the god's slender fingers.

Apolo pulled your panties to the side and inserted a finger into your tight heat, making you bite your lip to hold back a moan.

"No." He said disapprovingly, "I want to hear your sounds."

You sighed as he shook his finger and rubbed it over your clit. You moaned softly, feeling your pussy tighten around his finger.

"You swallow my fingers so well… I imagine what it must be like with my cock." Apollo licked his lips in anticipation and kissed your lips tenderly in a perfunctory kiss. You gasped in pain as he introduced a second finger, spreading you wider.

"It will pass… The pain will pass, my love." He whispered and kissed your cheek, moving his fingers into your heat slowly. It still hurt a little, but as you relaxed under his touch, you began to feel a little pleasure.

Apollo took one hand to your bare breast and squeezed it, squeezing your breasts affectionately. You sighed as he came closer and licked the your nipple, his tongue bringing you sensations you never thought you could feel. You tried not to think about what his tongue would feel like licking you further down.

The god removed his fingers from inside you and you whimpered in frustration. Apollo smiled and licked his fingers, tasting you. He laid you down on the bed and removed your panties completely, sliding them down your legs. Apollo spread your legs and placed his head between them, you gasped as you felt his hot breath being blown against your exposed pussy.

"Oh…" You moaned softly when Apollo dove into you, his tongue licking all over your most intimate and private part. You sighed in pleasure when he licked your clit. He held your thighs and penetrated you with his tongue, making you moan his name like a prayer, "Apollo… Please!"

You begged him, begged him to take you at once.

"As my wife commands." Apollo smiled mischievously, reluctantly pulling away from your pussy and quickly removed your chiton and you sighed with desire at the sight of his naked body. The body you so desperately wanted.

You leaned back a little on the bed when he approached you like a predator and took a deep breath, placing your head against the soft pillow. Apollo got between your legs and rubbed the tip of his cock against her wet slit.

Apollo stretched his body and took your lips in a passionate and lust-filled kiss, you opened your mouth a little and allowed him to put his tongue in it, touching yours in a possessive way. You wrapped your arms around your husband's waist, pulling him close to you.

When you pulled away, your lips were slightly swollen and your face was flushed. To Apollo, you were a goddess. He licked his lips and gently pushed his cock into your tight cunt, immediately feeling how your inner walls clung to him.

You held back a groan of pain, not being used to this sensation. It wasn't bad, but just weird.

As Apolo pushed himself even deeper, you began to feel a burning sensation in your private part and you held back a groan of pain. You closed your eyes tightly and bit your bottom lip.

Apollo kissed your forehead affectionately and held your hands, intertwining your fingers and squeezing them lightly.

"Open your eyes, my love." He whispered against your lips, "I want to see your beautiful eyes."

You obeyed him and opened your eyes, looking into Apollo's blue ones who smiled lovingly at you. You took a deep breath when he moved his hips a little harder, squeezing your hand instinctively.

Apollo moaned your name as your pussy squeezed him and he kissed your neck, fucking you a little harder. Your inner walls clung desperately to the god, who moaned against your soft skin.

You moaned when Apolo let go of your hand and brought it to your clit, rubbing it slowly. It sent waves of pleasure through your body and you opened your mouth, sighing in pleasure.

Apollo, feeling your body relaxing under his touch, accelerated his movements and began to hit you, eliciting moans and sly little screams from you.

"A-Apollo!" You moaned his name. Apolo fucked you hard and rubbed your clit harder, extracting pleasure from your aching body.

Apollo moaned your name loudly as he came inside you, his cum being released inside your tight pussy. He rubbed your clit for a few more minutes when you finally came on his fingers.

You were panting and sweaty, feeling pleasantly satisfied. Your first time with your husband had been very pleasant.

Apollo smiled and kissed your hand, staring at you with lust and love. You felt your pussy throb at the sight and knew that the night was far from over.

And you were happy about that.

The god of sun, with his golden radiance, (Y/N), with her deadly beauty, met under the canopy, swearing eternal love in the starlight. As Apollo and (Y/N) fell into love, their wedding night shone with the intensity of the sun and the passion of mortals and gods united in eternal love.

#kinktober #kinktober day 26 #kinktober 2023 #greek mythology #greek gods #apollo x reader #yandere greek mythology #yandere greek gods #yandere apollo #yandere apollo x reader #smut

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duskyvenus · 7 months

Text

1207: What you don't see about yourself

This is a general intuitive reading meant for entertainment purposes. Take whatever resonates. Three piles left to right. Photos are not mine. GIF credit in tags

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Pile 1

You have this aura of being very put together. Everything is prim and proper, there isn't anything bold or eye catching, very subtle enhancement of features. "That girl". People think you have perfect skin, perfect taste, perfect nails, perfect life. You probably practice manifestation and law of attraction. I'm seeing crystals too. If you don't relate to this, it's probably because this is your potential and you just need to put in the effort. "Everything you touch turns into gold." Also, you have the power of sweet talk. You also might have the gift of creating beautiful works of art with your hands? Also it seems that people feel happy/ safe around you and think that you have a lot of love in your heart. (I'm seeing that you might act indifferent but you actually care).

Things that might be relevant: pink, ribbons, hearts/ heart shaped objects, flowers (especially lily)

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Pile 2

You have an innocent heart that wants to know many things about the world. Your curiosity is genuine. You are curious about cultures, languages, art, food from across the world. You are also very open minded and accepting. People think that you know how to put yourself in someone else's shoes. There is something very calm and blue about you. You are easy to approach and talk to. Elderly folk might like talking to you or you do. You are capable of making a safe place or community. Conversing with you is never tiring or intimidating, you are open minded and don't beat around the bush. You might be a good teacher? It doesn't have to be at a school or uni, you could even work at an ngo or work with people with special needs. I see that you are good at solving conflicts too.

Things that might be relevant: blue, shoes, beaches, coffee

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Pile 3

You understand your own value and I think that is something others wish they could. You don't dwell on situations that are gone. You are a "go with the flow" person. "Either it ends or it changes" You might have good fashion sense? People who don't know you might think you're really innocent lol. I'm seeing that you don't make yourself easily available to people, you don't want people to waste your time. Honestly, good for you! You are good at pointing out things that others don't see. You have an eye for art as well. Might be an artist? You also appreciate nature and animals. If you have pets or plants at home, they love you and are grateful to have you too :)

Things that might be relevant: black and white, beanies, fashion, jellyfish, pets or animals

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Thank you for reading! 😊

#pick a card #divination #pick a card reading #intuitive readings #pick a pile #psychic readings #tarot #pac #gif1 aomine-ua #gif2 ydotome #gif3 owarinaki #duskyvenus

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moonyswritinq · 16 days

Note

charles x american!reader? inspo from the song so american by olivia rodrigo? like him just making fun of an american accent lol

so american — charles rowland x gn reader

❝ SO AMERICAN ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Headcanons for Charles with an American reader, based on Olivia Rodrigo’s song ‘So American’.

PAIRING ➢ charles rowland x american gender neutral reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ pining, banter, implicit sex, ish-canon timeline, no use of y/n

WORD COUNT ➢3.3 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ I didn’t know if you wanted a one shot or headcanons, but I felt like this would best fit as a mix of the two. I sort of got carried away. thank you for the request and hope you enjoy!

And if you do enjoy, I URGE you to like, reblog AND comment!!! It's so important to me as a writer.

MASTERLIST, TAG LIST

Drivin' on the right-side road He says I'm pretty wearin' his clothes And he's got hands that make Hell seem cold Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote I wish I wrote

Charles had a habit of taking everything lightly and making jokes to play off serious situations, something that could bother you at times.

The first time you met, for instance, was one of those times.

You were driving down the road of your little town and had to slam the brakes as to not run over the incredibly handsome, but incredibly stupid, boy that had just tried to cross the road.

You had honked at him and he looked up in surprise before immediately being pulled back by the hands of a red-headed girl. He broke out in a grin as you drove off with a scoff, internally cursing him.

The next time you saw him was only later that same day, surprisingly at your family friend’s, and the local butcher’s, shop.

You had walked in an immediately let out a sigh of annoyance, one of which he heard and turned around with that same grin plastered on his face.

“Well, if it isn’t the boy with a death wish,” you muttered, ignoring him and his friends to go up to the counter. Unluckily for you, Jenny was not there.

The boy scratched his neck bashfully. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Forgot you lot drive on the right side of the road, which is technically the wrong side of the road. Just wasn’t looking.”

An eyebrow raised in his direction. English.

He stepped forward with a hand outstretched. “The name’s Charles. Pleased to meet you.”

You took it as a shiver ran up your spine, weirdly so cold to the touch he felt warm. It was the first time you managed to get a proper look at him, admiring his stylish clothes and sharp features. And his eyes were as warm as his hand was, deep swirling pools of darkness that seemed to emit nothing but light. You smiled back, introducing yourself.

“Pleasure. And this is Edwin, Crystal, and Niko,” he introduced his friends behind him, who all gave you a smile except for the uptight-looking Edwin.

“Well, I’ll let you guys get back to it,” you said, turning back to the counter as Jenny came out. You handed her the keys to the car with a wink. “Thanks for letting me borrow your car, Jenny. Told you I would return it without a scratch.”

She raised a doubtful eyebrow. “That is left to be seen, kiddo.”

You were about to turn around just when you caught the end of the other teenagers’ conversation. “Did you guys just say ‘Point No Point?” you asked and swivelled around to face them.

Niko nodded enthusiastically, briefly glancing at the boys. “Yeah, we’re going there for a—um, to meet someone there.”

“That’ll take ages without a car,” you remarked.

Crystal sighed. “Well, I can’t drive. How are we gonna get there?”

Your lips lifted into the beginning of a smirk as you turned back to Jenny. She heaved a deep sigh and threw back the keys into your hands.

Your smile broke out as you thanked her and motioned for the others to follow you. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

Charles insisted on sitting in the front seat beside you, his feet up on the dashboard, tapping his finger along to the music in the car. You thought it was oddly charming.

You had asked what their whole deal was and Niko had inevitably revealed that they were the Dead Boy Detectives and that Charles was, in fact, dead. Upon hearing it, you almost slammed the breaks again in pure shock but managed to keep driving as if nothing.

And he laughs at all my jokes And he says I'm so American

It also started raining on your way there, making you groan in frustration as you remarked that “all this water is going to get Jenny’s car so muddy.”

“‘Wa-der,’” he had chuckled under his breath.

In an instant, you had turned to him with a harsh glare. “What?”

“Nothing,” came his amused reply. “You’re just so American.”

It wasn’t nothing, though. It was the first of many remarks against your American accent.

You had arrived at the lighthouse and very warily gotten out of the car. Somehow you had gotten roped up in their case and was now there to help them out through the end.

Charles had noticed your shivering in the cold rain and offered you his jacket which, despite ghost physics, was quite heavy and warm. You supposed ghosts couldn’t really get wet by normal rain, as both Edwin and Charles seemed unbothered by it.

You had tried to argue against taking it, claiming that you wouldn’t want to ‘strip him of any of his Britishness’, to which he had only scoffed and heaved the thing onto you while saying, “so American of you to assume my Britishness can be stripped away merely by my coat.”

Charles had then given you an appraising look and, while the others were distracted by the ghosts on the pier, bent down slightly to say, “You look pretty wearing my clothes.”

Your cheeks had warmed immediately and you’d turned away to not give it away, earning a chuckle. It made you smile though.

He learnt quickly that complimenting you would earn him a blush and a soft nudge against his ribcage, which made him do it even more.

That was also when he liked pointing out your accent. It started as a small observation, but eventually evolved into insults and bits.

He did it every chance he got; saying ‘lit-er-ally’ with an over-exaggerated vocal fry; ‘aloominum’; ‘hey, y’all’; and, his absolute favourite of them all, ‘i’m walkin here!’. Half of them made you laugh incessantly and the other half made you drag a hand over your face in frustration.

The worst was when he would parrot you personally, making you half wondering if you should be ashamed of your accent. When you had asked him about it, though, he had been quick to assure you that he loved your accent.

And that was when you started doing it back to him.

It became a game for the two of you, often just imitating each other’s accents.

“Are you ‘schewpid’?” you asked, turning to him.

He chuckled dryly, cocking his head in your direction. “Yeah, yeah, while you’re throwing insults at me I am just going to go grab a ‘kawfee’.”

You scoffed. “You’re a ghost, Charles. You can’t have coffee.”

“I can, but it just tastes disgusting.”

“Okay, well, while you’re at it, ‘kan I please ‘ave a cupa wa’a’?” you said, meeting his defiant gaze before he burst out in laughter. It made your insides warm knowing you were the cause of that laugh.

“Would you two please stop it?” came Crystal’s irritated reply. Edwin only rolled his eyes at your antics but you knew he agreed with Crystal’s discontent. You caught Charles’ gaze and broke out in a smile.

“I don’t know,” said Niko, fiddling with her fingers, “I think it’s cute when they do that.”

And just like that, you both fell silent and turned away from each other.

Oh, God, it's just not fair of him To make me feel this much I'd go anywhere he goes

You knew you liked him, a lot. But you hadn’t dared admit anything to him or anyone else and tried your best to hide it—not that you were doing a very good job.

The only thing that knew what you felt were the thrown-away poems you had written on a whim, his beaming face starkly imprinted in your mind.

You didn’t think it was fair for him to make you feel that much, enough to actually write poems about him. God, you were whipped (Charles would have definitely made fun of your using that word if he heard it).

You came with the Dead Boy Detectives on all their cases, now an honorary member in their Detective Agency. You enjoyed a lot of detective stories, like Sherlock Holmes and so seemingly had absorbed some of it, because you were quite good at figuring out clues.

It was all practically worth it to see Charles' smile directed at you after you had discovered something.

God, I'm so boring, and I'm so rude Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you The way you dress, and the books you read

And despite it all, you didn’t feel quite enough for him. He was a charismatic and vibrant person, while you thought of yourself as quite rude and boring.

Sometimes you wondered if you were too harsh in your remarks at Charles’ britishness, but then remembered his always-present smile that met your gaze and your worries fell away.

Nothing had happened up until that point, but it became increasingly more difficult denying anything being between you two.

Even Edwin started catching on and asking if something was between you two, which lead to some very awkward silences where Charles would drag Edwin away with an apologetic smile thrown your way.

Until finally it got too difficult to deny.

Niko would ask you something about a case and somehow you would end up talking about Charles’ smile, his eyes, the way he dressed and what he was interested in. She finally got so sick of it and decided to just call you out on it.

“You like Charles.”

You opened your mouth to protest but she put a finger against your lips, causing you to be too stunned to speak.

“And don’t say that you don’t, because it’s obvious,” she said, removing her finger.

“It’s not that obvious, is it?” you asked. You refused to meet her gaze and instead tried to look anywhere but her.

“Yes, it is.” She sighed, bringing her hands up to clasp your shoulders. “We all know it. Even Charles. But he won’t admit it either, so please go talk to him before we all die.”

You rolled your eyes, but felt a small smile start to form on your lips. “OK, just a little dramatic there?”

Niko shook her head with a serious expression on her face. “No. Now go find him.”

She had shooed you away after that, making sure that both Edwin and Crystal were distracted enough so that you could slip out to talk to Charles privately.

You found him in the other room, rooting through his backpack to find something ridiculously large, no wonder.

And he says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry him If he keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love

He seemed to have heard your footsteps as you were coming in because he tilted his head in your directing, flashing his trademark smile.

The sight of it made you swoon and you had to take a deep breath in order to collect your thoughts. When he finally asked what was up, your words came out jumbled and very much not like you had planned them to come out.

“Hey, hey,” he said, taking ahold of your shoulders and meeting your nervous gaze with his steady one. “Take a deep breath. C’mon, breathe with me.”

You did as he said, breathing with him, trying and failing to ignore the shivers that spread along with his touch. When you had collected yourself, he smiled and let go, much to your disappointment.

“That’s it. Now, what’s on your mind?” he asked.

You strode past him, opting to face the window instead of seeing his face. It only made it harder to get out any coherent sentences. “Why’d you think anything was on my mind?”

“Well,” remarked Charles, strolling after you, “it’s not everyday you storm in here as if the world is ending and then end up babbling like a stroke patient.”

You stared at him in horror before rolling your eyes. “Stop being so British, Charles.”

“Sorry, no can do, love.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” you muttered to yourself.

“What?” he asked immediately, striding right in front of you so he could look you in the eyes.

“Look,” you started, refusing to meet his eye and instead looking anywhere else. Although, you could feel his gaze burning into your skull. “I might have developed some… feelings for you.”

Charles’ eyes widened at your words and you tried to turn again but he grabbed your shoulder to hold you in place. You sighed and finally met his gaze. His eyes were the same mysterious pools of darkness that you were used to, but you might have fooled yourself to imagine something else in them—something hopeful.

You decided to continue your confession because you were far past the point of redemption and might as well get it all out in one go.

“And the problem is, Charles, that however hard I try not to, I keep developing feelings for you. Even your annoying habits and antics cause me to fall for you. And, I swear to God, that if you keep this shit up I’m going to be properly gone for you.”

You waited a breath for his reaction, but when nothing came you were forced to ask him again. “Charles?”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammered out, his voice suddenly dry and cracked. “Sorry, I—uh, I was not prepared for that.”

You shrugged. “That’s alright. We’ll just go back to being friends. Nothing needs to change.”

He shook his head violently. “That’s absolutely not OK.”

You had but a moment to be surprised before he went in for the best kiss you had had yet in your short life. He held you like he had never touched anything before in his life and kissed you like he was a dying man and you were the cure. You weren't sure how much of it he could feel, but the psychological effect was immediate and mind blowing.

He may be dead but he had never felt more alive than in that moment.

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me When he's with me

Your relationship escalated quickly after that first kiss. You didn’t define it as anything, but it made you happier just knowing he was there by your side—and you could all him yours.

And you wasted no time in physically progressing your relationship—AKA you did not get much sleeping done.

It was a different kind of vulnerable, allowing yourself to give your soul and body to Charles, and him trusting you with himself.

Because of his being a ghost, it felt like so much more an emotional and psychological experience which only made you appreaciate it, and him, more.

By the looks of it, he enjoyed it as well—more than enjoyed it. He couldn’t stop smiling at you afterwards, while he laid on the bed beside you and gazed at you with half-dazed eyes.

Charles let himself curl around you, embracing you. You weren’t sure if ghosts could get tired, but nonetheless he whispered out a, “I’m knackered.”

You had nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “You’re so British.”

He kissed your forehead softly, and you felt it more than you had ever felt him before. “And you’re so American.”

You only chuckled and let yourself drift off to sleep in his arms holding you close.

You never wanted to get out of bed or leave him, and he utilised that fact to his every advantage.

He did everything he could to keep you in bed with him, even though he probably didn’t sleep much, just wanting to hold you close.

It wasn’t fair how easy he made your heart melt.

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon But if the conversation ever were to come up I don't wanna assume this stuff But ain't it love? I think I'm in love

It didn’t take long for you to know that it wasn’t merely affection you felt for Charles, but something much deeper.

You didn’t want to presume Charles felt anything close to what you felt, though.

So you continued acting like whatever the two of you were—kissing and hooking up—not quite a couple but not quite friends with benefits, but something in between that went deep between you two.

Without any real definition for what you two were, it frightened you out of saying anything to him.

So you kept going with the featherlight kisses, the quiet giggles after one of you said a joke and were trying to cover it up as to not disturb the rest of the group, and the endless nights where you could be in his arms and have not a care in the world.

But it was on your mind, constantly.

Oh, how you just wished to say those three words to him, to just have it out in the open. So he could have you with the truth staring into his face and do with you what he pleased.

You wanted to splay yourself open for him, vulnerable and unafraid, show him yourself and let him love you back with the same ferocity with which you loved.

And finally, it became too much.

He was on his way out for one of the cases, one of which you chose not to go with them to. He had just collected all his belongings in that backpack of his and went in for a goodbye kiss.

“Be careful,” you whispered between parted lips, leaving the ghost of your words on his mouth. He smiled through it and pulled away.

“Always am,” came his cheeky reply, winking at you before turning to the door. “Bye.”

“Bye,” you called, and then, without thinking, “Love you.”

It took a mere moment for his brain to register your words before he halted and slowly turned in his step.

“What?”

Your own eyes widened in surprise of yourself and you were quick to come up with a way to play it off as a mistake or a stumble upon your words. But he crossed the distance between you with long strides, dropping his backpack and bringing his hands up to hold your cheeks tenderly.

“What did you just say?” he whispered, eyes shifting back and forth between yours trying to find the truth in your words. Your mouth fell agape, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him again, so close now so that you could feel his short breaths of air on your skin. “Please,” he said again, voice so soft you had to strain to hear him.

“I mean, it might be a little too much, too soon, and I don’t want to assume anything, but..” Your voice trailed off, breaking. Your lips fought to form the words that so desperately wanted to make their way out of you. “But I—I love you, Charles.”

He breathed out huge sigh of relief and captured your lips with his. “I love you too,” he whispered between breaths, barely audible.

Your smile could not be hindered as he kissed you back, fiercely and passionately. He kept pressing kisses on your mouth, on the corner of your lips, trailing to your cheeks, to your neck, down to your shoulders and your chest. All the while he kept repeating those same three words, “I love you,” over and over again, pressing them into your skin. Into your soul, essentially.

Your hands were grasped in his hair, fingers curling around his locks as you felt every touch of his lips that brought forth a shiver down your spine. Not from the coldness, though, but from the feeling of his soul connecting to yours.

He kept pressing featherlight kisses to you with small ‘I love you’s, and you couldn’t fight the laugh that escaped its way through you.

“Okay, stop it” you whispered, pulling his head away to grasp his face in your hands. You met his eyes with a smile and his beaming grin made your insides melt. “I love you so much, Charles.”

He laughed, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I love you too.”

“Now, come on, you got a case to solve.”

Charles let himself be lead away to the others, refusing to let go of your hand. He even pressed kisses to the back of it every chance he got, and you were roped into going to the case with the rest of them, if only not to leave Charles’ side.

Tag list: @a-gay-dumbass @eunxhan @loverclear @shobolanya @edit-me-prettyplease @bookholichany @heartsfromcoco @scriblezz

#moonyswritinq #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detective spoilers #charles rowland #charles rowland x reader #charles rowland x gn reader #x reader #x male reader #x gn reader #dbd #dbd fanfic #dbd x reader #dead boy detectives x reader

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starrierknight · 7 months

Text

𝟎𝟐𝟕. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝❟ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

You don’t work or play by the rules. So what if that’s unfair? This is a dog-eat-dog world, and the losers get left behind.

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 4.4k

Pairing— femme fatale!dom!gn!reader x CEO!sub!nanami

cws/tags— dub-con, blackmail (non-consensual filming), sadistic & manipulative reader, reader is gn but has the femme fatale personality, handjob, denied orgasm, very dialogue heavy, petnames (“mister”—it’s ironic, I swear), seduction, porn w/ plot, nanami is def ooc but we move

Stepping into Nanami Kento’s office, you were greeted by an aura of opulence. Mahogany desks and leather chairs exude sophistication. Sunlight filtered through expansive windows, casting a warm glow on plush carpets. A massive desk stood at the centre, impeccably organised with high-tech gadgets. Bookshelves held volumes on leadership and success. A cosy seating area boasted a plush sofa for informal discussions. Crystal decanters held aged spirits atop a sideboard. The atmosphere is both commanding and comfortable, a reflection of power and accomplishment, much like the CEO himself.

“You're late,” Nanami said, his voice monotone.

His words slid out with the click-clack of his keyboard, his gaze fixed on the screen as he typed away. You stepped into the room, the gentle swish of your clothing brushing the air as you approached.

“I'm not late,” you responded, your voice a composed counterpoint to his. “You’re just early.”

The subtle rustle of paper on the desk danced beneath the weight of your words. A faint huff of a sigh escaped him, a sound as controlled as his meticulously timed schedule. Disciplined. Unflappable. A smile ghosted across Nanami's lips, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“You're my personal assistant,” he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of authority, “and I'm the CEO, ergo, I am always on time.”

"My, my," you remarked playfully, "Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today."

You glided across the expanse of the office, the soft rustle of your steps harmonizing with the gentle fluttering of a neatly organised stack of colour-coded papers as you set them down in a tray. A wry smile tugged at his lips.

"You're well aware that my patience for idle chatter is limited, and yet you persist in indulging in it," his voice rippled, a controlled undertone of exasperation tracing each syllable.

A subtle sigh slipped from your lips, and you found yourself easing against the edge of his desk, a connection between you and the polished surface. His fingers danced across the keyboard, a symphony of clicks and clacks that held his full attention, leaving you in the periphery.

"Any luck in your pursuit of the elusive mole?" Your words held a touch of frustration, "It's as if the leaks are gaining a life of their own, more persistent with each passing day."

In response, Nanami emitted a contemplative hum, a low note that resonated like distant thunder. "No luck so far," he mused, his voice a steady rhythm. "I’m having the matter investigated."

“You keep saying that, but nothing’s changed. You’re no closer to finding them, are you?” you spoke with a hint of weariness.

"That's classified information," he responded absentmindedly, his attention still tethered to the computer.

A wisp of frustration danced through your tone, like a fleeting shadow cast by a cloud passing over the sun. “I’m your personal assistant. I work for this company. Don’t you think I should know?”

"No," his response fell with the weight of finality, a single syllable that seemed to close the door on any further discussion. “Oh, and please rearrange my appointments and schedule them to be spread out over next week. Make sure they’re at quieter times,” Nanami's voice rolled out, a desert breeze carrying his words with a touch of dryness.

His instructions hung in the air, like a solitary tumbleweed drifting through the vast expanse of conversation. Tense. Stiff.

“Right. Of course, I’ll handle that,” you said with a tight smile.

✦•···················•✦•···················•✦

As you stepped into Nanami's office once again, the day's familiarity seemed to have taken a toll on him. The air felt different, thick with a weariness that hung around him like a heavy shroud. Unlike his usual poised stance, he now slouched in his chair—an uncommon sight that hinted at the cracks beneath his composed exterior. His blazer lay discarded, and his tie now hung in a relaxed loop, an admission of defeat.

"Hey, mister?" your voice was a gentle note, carrying with it a touch of casual familiarity.

A low, almost exasperated groan rumbled from his throat. "I've reminded you before not to address me like that," he muttered, his response laced with a note of resigned annoyance.

Your lips curved into a playful smile as you ventured further into the office, a glimmer of mischief dancing in your eyes. "You know, deep down, you don't mind it."

A heavy sigh accompanied his response, a mixture of exasperation and resignation. "I assure you, I do indeed mind it."

Your retort danced through the air like, a sing-song lilt that brushed against his ears. "Oh, but I beg to differ. It's just one of those little things that make our interactions all the more interesting, mister."

A grumbled complaint slipped from his lips, a muttered protest that bore the weight of his vexation. Your soft laughter swirled in response, a ripple of amusement. Despite his discontent, there was a subtle warmth in the air, a familiarity that seemed to soften the edges of his irritation.

Taking purposeful steps, you approached his desk with an air of ease, your movements a graceful choreography as you began to tidy the scattered papers, pens, and stationery that lay strewn across its surface. You leaned your phone against a stack of folders, propping it up. The soft clinks and rustles of objects finding their proper places formed a familiar symphony of order being restored.

Seated now on the edge of his desk, your presence became the focal point of the room as you regarded him with a tilt of your head. Your gaze held a mixture of intrigue and amusement, a silent reminder that amidst the rigors of his role, a moment of reprieve was found in your interactions.

“You’re looking a little worse for wear. Is something the matter?”

Nanami’s response was a heavy exhalation that held a burden of weariness too profound to be carried by mere words.

"Another breach occurred not long ago," his words carried the weight of a confession, spoken with a tinge of resignation. His eyes remained closed, a refuge from the world's chaos that seemed to press upon him relentlessly. "This time, it's worse. The most sensitive data yet has been exposed to the public. PR is grappling with the fallout, and Finance is in utter disarray."

"And so soon after the last one," you murmured, the words gentle. “You look tired, mister. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

He rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers, a gesture of both fatigue and frustration, and at last, his eyes lifted to meet your gaze. Even from a distance, the telltale shadows under his eyes were evident, testimony to the toll his responsibilities had exacted.

"Don’t call me that," his voice emerged rough and worn. Exhausted.

Undeterred, your inquiry persisted, soft yet insistent. "So, tell me—have you been caring for yourself?"

A moment of stillness hung in the air, punctuated by the weight of unspoken thoughts. Then, his reply emerged, a sentence that bore the weight of conviction. "My primary duty is to safeguard the company."

A playful glint sparked in your eyes, and your expression shifted into a mockingly stern glare. You smoothly slid off the edge of the desk, your movements fluid and graceful, as you began a deliberate saunter towards his side of the desk. With each step, a subtle sway graced your hips, a movement that was both confident and teasing in nature. The air seemed to carry a touch of lightheartedness, a momentary diversion from the weight of the situation at hand.

A theatrical tsk escaped your lips, carrying with it a sense of exaggerated disappointment to playfully scold him. "Oh dear, dear mister. Letting yourself go to ruins is simply unacceptable. As your ever-watchful PA, I can't stand by and let you suffer."

With purposeful steps, you rounded the desk, your movements fluid and deliberate. The air seemed to hold a hint of anticipation, a quiet thrill woven into the atmosphere.

As you stood behind his chair, your hands found their way to his shoulders, their presence an assertion of care. Your touch was confident, fingers dancing with practiced skill as they worked to knead away the knots of tension that had taken residence in his muscles. He stiffened beneath your touch, a reflexive reaction to the unfamiliar sensation, yet your assurance seemed to melt the resistance away. While surprise lingered in the air, there was also a sense of yielding, a quiet acceptance of the relief you offered.

Nanami's words carried a note of reluctance, a protest against the unexpected intrusion of your care. "I didn't ask for this," his voice murmured, a touch of reservation threading through his words.

A knowing smile curved your lips, your fingers working with practiced ease as you continued to knead away the knots in his shoulders. "You didn't need to ask," you replied smoothly, your tone carrying a touch of reassurance that seemed to seep into the very air around you.

A brief silence settled between you, punctuated by the rhythm of your touch. Then his voice emerged once more, a murmur tinged with both realization and resignation. "You're my PA."

"And what does PA stand for?"

His reply held a touch of understanding, a recognition that seemed to settle the matter. "Personal assistant."

"Exactly," you whispered, “I’m your personal assistant.”

You let the silence hang in the air. Your hands continued their gentle ministrations, the cotton fabric of his shirt crinkling beneath your fingertips. As your fingers traversed the landscape of his shoulders, they encountered the subtle contours and defined edges of a physique sculpted by discipline.

Time seemed to melt, a river that flowed at its own unhurried pace. Slowly, the tension in him began to yield, a reluctant surrender that mirrored the reluctant acceptance in his posture. The weight of his responsibilities seemed to wane, at least momentarily, under the soothing spell of your touch.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, a melodic note that floated through the air as your hands continued their soothing dance.

"You really ought to take better care of yourself, mister," your words held a touch of playful admonishment, a reminder woven with concern. "Your muscles are like a stone wall."

The response that came was curt, his voice carrying a note of irritation as he pushed back against your insistence. "I'm fine, and I've asked you not to address me that way."

"How many nights have you found yourself working overtime again?" Your question hung in the air like a gentle nudge, an invitation for him to acknowledge the reality of his situation.

A pause, and then his voice emerged, a touch gruff yet revealing of the underlying truth. "It doesn't matter."

A note of knowing crept into your voice, “Doesn’t matter? You hate working overtime.”

"I'm the CEO, and I must prioritize what's in the best interest of the company, regardless of the personal cost."

A contemplative hum escaped your lips as your skilled fingers traveled to his neck, where tension seemed to have found another stronghold. His reaction was a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, his gaze meeting yours with a furrowed brow and a hesitant parting of his lips that hinted at a forthcoming objection, yet it remained unspoken.

The soothing pressure of your fingers worked its magic, coaxing the knots to unravel beneath your touch. As you continued your massage, a question emerged from your lips, gentle yet probing. "So, if you don't take care of yourself, then who takes care of you?"

Nanami’s response held an air of stubborn independence, a declaration of self-sufficiency against the encroachment of care. "I'm an adult. I don't need anyone to look after me."

Your voice dipped to a murmur, a whisper that seemed to bridge the gap between you and him, and your warm breath brushed across the nape of his neck. "Who takes care of you?" you repeated, your words a gentle caress against his skin.

His response, however, was unwavering, a declaration that seemed to echo with an unyielding determination. "I take care of myself.”

A playful smirk curved your lips as your fingers wove through the strands of his sleek, blond hair, a gesture that seemed to stir a reaction deep within him. His breath caught in his throat, a shuddering exhale that betrayed the impact of your touch.

“Some things are better done by yourself… some things.”

You leaned in closer, your presence enveloping him as the back of Nanami’s head nestled against your chest. The warmth of your body radiated against his back as your skilled fingers continued their massage, now tracing delicate patterns across his scalp. Your nails grazed along the tender areas, setting off a cascade of sensations that seemed to quicken his breath.

The combination of your sinuous touch and the implications woven into your words created a heady tension in the room. His heart responded with an erratic beat, a rhythm that threatened to betray the carefully impassive expression he wore. Yet, he remained composed, a façade of control in the face of the enticing distraction you presented.

“Is it hard?”

His breath hitched, and he coughed. “P-Pardon?”

You let out a soft, knowing laugh. Leaning closer, your lips brushed the delicate shell of his ear, your words a sultry whisper that set his skin ablaze. “Being CEO. Is it hard, Kento?” you murmured, uttering his name with a familiarity that had been absent for far too long.

It was as if a barrier had crumbled, a threshold crossed, and the effect was electrifying. The weight of his name on your lips seemed to hang in the air like a revelation. After a year of playful nicknames—of godforbidden “mister”—and dances around formality, this simple act held a weight of significance. Oh, his name had never sounded so sweet in his entire life.

With an effortful composure, he replied, his voice carrying a veneer of forced calmness. "It's perfectly within my control."

The sound of your voice, the proximity of your breath, seemed to amplify the tension in the room. He closed his eyes, as if seeking refuge from the turmoil that swirled within him, struggling to steady his breathing.

But your words, like a siren's song, continued their subtle seduction. "Stressed, Kento?" you purred, the name a velvet caress against his ear.

As your hands slid down, tracing the contours of his neck and finding their way to the concealed muscles beneath his shirt, his heart quickened its rhythm. A smile, hidden from his view, danced upon your lips, a sign of the satisfaction you derived from the effect you had on him. You pressed a kiss upon the sensitive skin just below one of his earlobes, a gesture that sent a shiver through him. The tension in the room seemed to thicken, the air electrified by an unspoken desire.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered.

“You want me to,” you murmured back, “And you want it badly.”

Your hands continued their exploratory journey, tracing a path of tantalizing sensation down his chest, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. They ventured lower, gliding over the firm expanse of his abdomen, mapping the contours of his physique.

As your fingers descended further, they encountered the defined muscles of his thighs, your touch igniting a web of sensations that seemed to pulse through his body. He remained still, his breathing now increasing, his body responding to the magnetic allure of your touch. The room pulsed with a charged energy, begging to be acknowledged.

His hands closed around your wrists, putting a halt to the tantalizing journey of your hands, but they didn't push you away. The tension in the room hung thick, a precarious balance between restraint and desire.

"This is a workplace," Kento protested, his voice carrying a note of caution.

A playful spark danced in your eyes as you retorted, your words dripping with a seductive undertone. "Who says this won’t be for work?"

With a tantalizing grace, you lowered your head and pressed your lips to his neck once more, trailing kisses along the warm, sensitive skin. Your tongue and teeth teased over the surface, each movement a deliberate exploration that sent a shiver of longing through him.

“Oh, c’mon. You know you want it. I can feel it—you sure as hell can. Why deny yourself the satisfaction?” you murmured into his ear.

You lightly bit his neck and he gasped, his heart skipping a beat, and his grip on your wrists faltered. You took the opportunity to slide your hands to his thighs again, caressing the inner and most sensitive parts. He made some noise of desire in the back of his throat, his breathing growing ragged.

A low, sultry chuckle accompanied your whispered words, the sound a velvet invitation that seemed to stir the air around you.

"Don't be coy," you murmured into his ear, your voice a honey-like whisper that washed over him. "You want this as much as I do, Kento. I can feel it, and so can you. Why deny yourself the satisfaction?"

Your teeth grazed his neck lightly, a tantalizing nip that sent a shiver coursing through him. His grip on your wrists faltered, and you seized the opportunity, your hands slipping back to the sensitive terrain of his thighs. Your touch was delicate yet insistent, caressing the innermost and most sensitive parts. A guttural sound of desire escaped him, a primal expression of longing that mingled with his ragged breathing. The office walls seemed to close in around you, as if the world outside had ceased to exist, and it was just you and Kento’s desire.

A low, tormented groan escaped him as his eyes fell shut, his internal struggle evident in the furrow of his brow. “This is so wrong.”

Your voice was a velvet caress as you posed your question, a tempting proposition that seemed to hang in the air like a forbidden fruit. "Is pleasure so wrong, Kento?" you purred, "Don't you deserve this?"

Desire ignited like a blazing fire, consuming every trace of resistance that had remained. As your dominant hand found its way to the growing bulge concealed by the fabric of his trousers, he couldn't help but release a breathy groan. His hips, almost imperceptibly, moved in response, a subconscious plea for more. Desire coursed white-hot through him, pooling between his thighs.

His hoarse mumble was a plea, a desperate attempt to reassert control in the face of mounting desire. "You should stop," he rasped, his voice trembling with a mixture of longing and restraint.

Your laughter, low and seductive, rippled through the air, brushing against his ear and sending shivers cascading down his spine.

"You don't want me to stop," you countered, your words a teasing assertion that seemed to strip away the last shreds of his resistance.

Kento's hands gripped the armrests of his chair with a desperate intensity, his knuckles whitening as he fought to maintain his grasp on composure in the face of overwhelming temptation.

Your words were a siren's call, a sultry enticement that seemed to draw him deeper into the vortex of desire. "C'mon now," you coaxed, your voice a velvet temptation, "You want me to touch you, to make a mess of you, to take care of you like no one else ever has."

With a confident touch, you rubbed the growing bulge between his thighs more firmly, causing his breath to hitch and a shuddering groan to escape his lips.

His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"

You met his vulnerability with a promise that dripped with seductive allure. "Yes," you affirmed, your words a whispered caress, "Like no one else ever has."

Or will… You smirked.

As you unzipped the fly of his trousers and began to tug them down his strong thighs, Kento obediently lifted his hips to assist you in the tantalizing descent. The anticipation in the room was palpable, the air thick with desire.

The hard, throbbing length beneath the thin fabric of his boxers was damp along a certain path, evidence of his heightened arousal. Your finger pressed against the dampness, and Kento hissed sharply through his teeth. It was as if a current of electricity shot through every nerve in his body, pooling at the base of his spine, aching need pulsating within his throbbing cock.

With a tantalizingly deliberate movement, you pushed his boxers away, unveiling the long, aching length of his erection as it sprung free from its confinements. His breath caught in his throat at the sudden sensation of freedom and your touch.

One of your hands ventured down his body, seeking the source of his arousal, and you began to stroke him with a measured pace that balanced comfort and intensity. A deep, throaty moan escaped him, and he couldn't help but push his hips forward ever so slightly, a silent plea for more, tempered by the fear that you might pull away if he was too insistent.

His eyes remained shut, his body leaning into you as if seeking the reassuring pressure of your chest against his back. Every stroke of your hand sent waves of pleasure rippling through him, building an exquisite tension that threatened to tip him over the edge.

Your words dripped with wicked allure, a sultry taunt that sent shivers of desire racing through him. "You can't even deny how badly you need this," you cooed, a wicked smirk gracing your lips, your voice a seductive melody.

“Please…”

A guttural plea escaped him, his voice strained with longing as he groaned, his brow furrowing in desperation. Beads of perspiration formed on his skin, glistening in the office light.

Your touch was a maddening tease, the soft pad of your thumb tantalizingly swiping across the aching head of his cock. It was a taste of what you could do, a whisper of the pleasure you could elicit, the gentle pressure of your fingers a torment that electrified his sensitive length.

Kento's breathing grew more ragged, his body quivering with anticipation and desire. Every stroke of your thumb sent jolts of pleasure coursing through him, a tantalizing promise of the ecstasy that lay just beyond reach.

His hips bucked urgently into your hand, a desperate quest for the all-consuming release that eluded him. A guttural moan erupted from his lips, echoing through the room, and you silenced it with your free hand, your fingers pressed against his lips. In his ear, you whispered teasing, shushing sounds, a sensuous torment that only served to stoke the flames of his desire.

The tension in the room was palpable, a relentless crescendo of longing that seemed to spiral upward with each passing moment. His body quivered with anticipation, his heart raced, and he could feel the precipice of his orgasm looming ever closer.

"You know," you breathed, "I've waited a long time for this moment."

As if to emphasize your words, you slowed the pace of your hand, your touch a slow, torturous caress that seemed to drive him to the brink. He groaned in response, his head hanging low, his hips stubbornly seeking the pleasure that danced just beyond his reach. The room seemed to hum with desire.

In the throes of ecstasy, just as the climax threatened to wash over him, you removed your hand with cruel precision, a disdainful gesture as you wiped it casually on the shoulder of his expensive shirt. Kento all but cried out at the sudden loss of sensation, his whole body shuddering in response.

He groaned in frustration, his eyes filled with pleading confusion as he looked at you, the desperate desire still flickering in their depths. The room seemed to hang in a suspended moment, a tableau of torment and longing that left him on the brink of fulfillment, yet denied the release he so craved.

Your laughter, low and sardonic, filled the room, a taunting echo that seemed to reverberate in the air. With a saunter, you circled around his chair, moving to his desk and retrieving your phone, which had been propped up against a stack of folders. The video on the screen was ended, freezing the moment of his desperate longing.

"Quite the performance, Kento," you taunted, your words a playful mockery that laced with satisfaction.

The boundaries of the office had been breached, and the power dynamics had shifted in a way that left no room for doubt—you openly held the upper hand.

With a bold flourish, you lifted your phone high, turning the volume up to ensure every nuance of the recorded encounter could be heard. You skipped through selected sections of the video, each moment meticulously chosen to capture the essence of the temptation and desire that had unfolded within the confines of the office.

As the video played, the room seemed to resonate with the sounds of his seduction, his pleas, his moans—each intimate detail laid bare for him to witness. There was no avoiding it; the evidence was undeniable, and it hung in the air.

His chest rose and fell with the turmoil of emotions, and a betrayed expression contorted his typically composed features. The question escaped his lips like a lament, a whispered plea for understanding: “Why?”

Your posture exuded an air of casual indifference as you leaned against his desk, a playful tilt to your head that underscored your enjoyment of his discomfort. His question seemed to hang in the air, unanswered, as you chose to focus on the task at hand.

"So, Kento," you murmured, your tone a seductive tease, "What should I leak next: more of the company's closely guarded data, or this scorching little video?"

A mixture of disbelief and regret tainted his muttered words. "How... H-How could you?"

Your laughter was a sharp retort, a mocking response to his question. "How could I? Oh, Kento, you're so fucking naїve."

His gulp was audible, his voice barely above a whisper as he ventured, "How much is it you want, exactly? What's your price?"

A sly grin curled upon your lips as you leaned closer, your words dripping with seductive allure. "I want everything you can give me."

a/n: he (effectively) lost his job by getting a handjob LOL. poor guy. jokes, idc, this was written out of spite. Happy Kinktober :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

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mysteryshoptls · 1 month

Text

R Ace Trappola - Luxe Couture Vignette

"My perception just lagged hard"

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Ace: Alright, it's finally the free roam time I've been waiting for! That brand-name shop looks good, and so does that one… But I think I'll have to pass on 'em!

Azul: Oh? You don't plan on visiting those stores?

Ace: I mean, I'm not anywhere close to being able to afford all those high-brand clothes. But you already knew that when you asked, right, Azul-senpai?

Ace: But it's not like I've completely given up on doing any shopping, though. I'm thinkin' about checkin' out some of the secondary line shops.

Azul: Ah, yes, there are many high-end brands that are developing products aimed at the broader marked instead of just their main audience.

Ace: Yeah, yeah. I did some digging after heading back to the hotel yesterday, and…

Ace: Looks to me like those secondary line shops have fits that suit me better.

Azul: Hm. And what sort of look do you tend to like, Ace-san?

Ace: I guess my likes reflect my usual getup. I dress pretty casual.

Ace: I like clothes that are easy to move around in, and aren't really high-maintenance. And I can't really deal with looks that are too stiff.

Ace: I'd probably say that most of my outfits have a splash of the current trends, but also have a bit of an edge to it.

Ace: On the other hand, I can only imagine you wearing pretty stiff and formal stuff.

Azul: I suppose. Of course, it does depend on the time and occasion.

Ace: Maaan, I know you got some real good sense about these things. It'd be greaaat if you could tag along and pick out some clothes for me～

Azul: Well, let me see… I do have some interest in how those secondary line brands develop their merchandise.

Azul: There's no reason for me to not join you as I observe their establishments. HOWEVER! You will, of course, be paying for yourself.

Ace: Tch. Guess he saw right through me. Suuucks.

Ace: Oh well, let's go, then.

Ace: Hmmm, where's the store I was checking out yesterday…? Oh, found it. Azul-senpai, it's over here.

Azul: The store does seem to have a grand appearance, yes… But I can see that the designs here are rather different from the signature line.

Ace: Looks pretty good, huh? Let's go in!

Ace: Woah, check out this stylish sweater! The shape's pretty good, and I bet it'd work with all sorts of outfits. And the price…

Ace: ONLY 30,000 MADOL [300 Thaumarks]! THAT'S SO CHEAP!

Azul: Calm yourself, Ace-san. Is 30,000 Madol for one sweater considered cheap to you?

Ace: ACK, WAIT, NO, THAT'S NOT CHEAP! WHEW, THAT WAS CLOSE～

Ace: After seeing all those Luxe prices set for the rich and famous, I guess my perception just lagged hard.

Ace: But I think I should be able to buy at least one thing from this shop with my pocket money.

Ace: Azul-senpai, I'm countin' on you to pick out something nice for me.

Azul: What do you think about that black blazer on the mannequin over there? It has a stunning silhouette.

Ace: Ooh, you're right. It's got a pretty slender and sleek profile!

Azul: Underneath it… How about this collared white shirt? It would probably look good with a striped tie, as well.

Azul: If you combine it with these center-pressed slacks and leather shoes, you would do well in any establishment that requires a dress code.

Ace: Cool, I woulda expected nothing less from something you've selected, Azul-senpai. Pretty formal and mature.

Ace: It's a pretty different look than what I normally would go for, but I guess I should at least give it a try.

Azul: I am pleased you like it.

Ace: If I were to buy everything that you chose for me… Urgh, that's over 100,000 Madol [1,000 Thaumarks]!

Azul: Well, this might be a secondary line, but it is still a brand-named shop.

Ace: Hrrrngh, maybe I'll do just this blazer… It's not really something I already own or anything.

Ace: And black pretty much goes with anything, so it makes it easy to come up with outfits…

Ace: It's a shorter style, too, so it might actually go for a casual look with my hoody and jeans.

Azul: That is a combination that hadn't even crossed my mind… Yet, I agree, I'm sure it would suit you immensely.

Ace: So that look would be like a combination of our two fashion senses, then.

Ace: If it's just the blazer, I think I could just barely afford it, but… My funds when I return to campus'll be pretty low…

Ace: Ooh, I have an idea! Can you let me work some hours at the Mostro Lounge?

Ace: I can be pretty good with my hands. You've seen that before, right, Azul-senpai?

Azul: Yes, of course. And we have a mountain load of tasks to be done. I look forward to your wonderful hard work, Ace-san.

Ace: …Shoot. Did I just put myself up for something I shouldn't have?

Ace: Uhhh… Hope you'll go easy on me～

Requested by @ordinaryanon.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #azul ashengrotto #twst ace #twst azul #twst translation #twst tapis rouge

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

Note

Hello to one of my favorite writers! I saw requests are open. If I may request one in the mafia au with Steve x reader x Bucky. I'm currently sick and clumsy so I have a broken wrist on top of it. Could I request the boys taking care of sick or clumsy reader please? Fluff and sexy times with them melt my heart!

No Touching // Mafia!Stucky x fem!reader

A/N: thank you so much for the request (and the compliment ღ). I hope you are feeling better soon! x

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, fluff, smut, hurt/comfort, injured reader, anxiety, dom/sub, size kink, size difference, sir kink, daddy kink, hint of subspace, edging, oral sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise kink, begging, pet names

Words: 6666

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“Are you sure you have to go in today?” you asked in a hopeful tone, following Bucky around your home, almost like a lost puppy as he and Steve prepared to leave for work.

“Sorry Doll, but you know it's shipment day and if anything goes wrong, Fury will be on our asses and that’s not a sight I particularly want to see”, Bucky joked, leaning down to peck your lips before walking past to stand by the front door, easing each glove onto his hands.

Your shoulders sagged, resorting to childish tactics by sticking out your bottom lip but that only caused Bucky to chuckle and continue to get ready to leave. “Are you sure both of you need to go? I’m sure they could survive this one time without one of you there”.

“I don’t want Fury on my ass either”, Steve quipped, as he descended the stairs, kissing your cheek as he passed, pulling on his own leather jacket and zipping it up. Glancing between both of your boyfriends, you decided to do your next tactic, tiptoeing over to Bucky as he waited for Steve to finish getting ready.

From only your expression, he knew you were up to something, particularly as you raised further on your toes, hands on his shoulders to kiss him gently on the lips, breathing in the faint scent of his aftershave mixed with his leather jacket. “You know… I think Steve’s just saying you can’t do the job by yourself Buckaroo”, you tease with a sly smile, eyes flicking between his crystal blue eyes.

Bucky laughed, his gloved hands cupping your cheeks tenderly, muttering against your lips, “nice try hot mama, but we are both still going”. He released his hold as you sighed in defeat, leaning into his chest as the brunette kissed your temple.

“Just please be careful and drive slowly, the snow from last night is starting to turn into ice and if anything happens I will personally trek through this winter storm and-”.

Any further threat was cut off as another warm body slide behind you, two hands gripping your hips, swiftly turning you on the spot and distracting you with soft lips which you melted into instantly. You could have stayed like that for the rest of the day but Steve pulled back first, amused at your flushed expression as he stroked a finger down your cheek.

“We’ll be careful, I promise”, Steve reassured, standing to his full height, passing the car keys to Bucky over your shoulder.

Bucky had a different reaction to your threats however as he whispered, “such a mother hen” into your ear, briskly kissing your cheek and opening the front door causing a shock of icy wind to brush over your skin. Turning, you leaned against the door, watching both men walking towards the car but Steve had one more reminder for you.

“You know that your little threat goes both ways. No leaving the house - or at least if you do, ask one of the guards out front to come with you just so you have someone to hold onto”.

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean? My feet are very sturdy thank you” you glanced down at your sock-covered feet.

Both Steve and Bucky seemed to disagree with the deadpan expressions they both held as they looked at you, still not getting into the car. Bucky was the first to remind you, “you do remember a couple of months back-”

“Yes ok, one time I tripped over and scrapped my knee but that doesn’t make me a liability”.

“Did you also forget about the time in Montana-?”

“Fine there’s been more than a couple of times, but your lack of faith in me is really shocking boys”, you teased, not being able to hide the smile spreading across your face.

“We have all the faith in you baby” Steve agreed with his own smile, finally getting into the car.

“Yes, all the faith to fall over so please don’t leave the house!” Bucky shouted cheekily as he too climbed into the car, only to receive a playful shove from Steve as he started the car. Giving them one last wave before shutting the door and shivering, trying to feel any warmth.

Having the Rogers mafia leader and the second-in-command as your boyfriends did mean you led a very protected life which sometimes could be frustrating by rarely being alone. However, for the topic of today, you were fine with playing along with their requests, not wanting to be out in the cold at all.

For the next half an hour, you watched the car's location on your phone closely which was one of the perks of being with overprotective boyfriends. They wanted your location which means you could have theirs so could watch as they had arrived safely at the warehouse and then were swiftly followed up by a text from Bucky reiterating that they had arrived safely.

This meant you could relax for the day, put your feet up and not have a worry in the world. However, this was not how it proceeded as it was spent finishing the menial chores such as responding to emails, washing clothes and cleaning the house. It was also a nice distraction to keep busy, even though there were no potentially dangerous meetings, anything involving the gang could go wrong so instead of sitting and worrying, you liked to stay busy.

As the sun began to set and the evening rolled around, you decided to cook some chilli, something that could easily be left to simmer or reheated for when the boys returned. As you left the pot on the stovetop, you casually began emptying the trash bag, tying it up and walking towards the back door.

The frozen backyard was enough to have you standing and contemplating your next steps. The bin was only a few steps outside, and you’d only be outside for 30 seconds, it wasn’t like going for an actual walk and there was no way you’d call a guard to walk you to the trash bin.

This was the deciding factor for you, moving to find your trainers, not needing a coat as you were only going to be in and out quickly. Of course, however, the boys seemed to have a sixth sense as your phone began to ring and a picture of Bucky graced your screen.

“Hey Buckaroo,” you answered, smiling as you held the phone to your ear.

“Hello beautiful”, he answered, and you could almost hear his smile.

“Did everything go ok?” as you spoke, you multitasked by pulling your trainer onto your foot, and balancing the phone against your shoulder.

“Yeah, everything went peachy surprisingly. I was just calling to say we’re heading home soon”.

“Good! Please be careful driving, I think it’s snowed a little more since you left earlier - oh and I have some food ready for you both”.

“God I love you” he praised making you grin giddily.

“If I knew it was this easy to please you, I would cook more often” you responded, easing your other foot into the trainer.

“Oh trust me, mama, you please me in lots of different ways, especially when you flick your tongue right over-”

“Bucky! I know for a fact you’re surrounded by other people, can you not!” your whole body warmed at Bucky’s words.

Your boyfriend chuckled deeply down the phone, “trust me, it’s nothing they haven’t heard or seen before”. He had a very good point, but this wasn’t the point you were trying to make.

“Just- I-, I’ll see you later Bucky, drive safe please,” you tried to move on from the smutty talk and hang up.

But Bucky quickly asked, “what are you doing?” From his tone of voice, he had his suspicions, almost like he could see that your hand was on the back door’s lock.

“Cooking”.

“So you’ve not been outside?”

“No, I’ve been good and stayed in” you responded far too quickly, glancing around the kitchen area for any cameras that you definitely knew weren’t there.

“I’m shocked I thought you would have been outside just to prove a point”.

You tried to laugh convincingly, “your lack of faith in me is really starting to become offensive, Barnes”.

“Yeah well, I’m sure I’ll make it up to you with my own little tongue trick-”

“Alright I’m hanging up now! Have a safe drive both of you, love you”. Quickly you hung up to the sounds of Bucky laughing loudly. Damn that man and his wicked words because now not only were your cheeks warm but in between your legs were dampening.

Shaking your body, you tried to continue with your task of taking out the trash, the back door opened wide and the cold wind almost took your breath away. Luckily it wasn’t snowing anymore but there was a thick, icy layer on the floor that crunched underneath your trainers as you took a step outside, holding the trash tightly.

Just as predicted, it didn’t take you long to reach the trash bin, discarding of the bag into the container and then start the short journey back, the kitchen lights being the only luminosity that you had.

Only a couple of steps away from the door did your luck run out as the fresh covering of snow coated a puddle that had frozen over. It all happened so quickly that you hadn’t any time to put your arms out to soften the blow, instead as your feet slipped back, you managed to fall onto your side, your right arm tucked into your ribs which also meant it was the first thing to collide with the floor.

Not only this but as your elbow then took the impact of your ribs causing the wind to be knocked out of you, taking a minute before you were able to take in a breath of air and the pain was excruciating. It started in your wrist, travelling the length of your arm and down the right side of your rib cage.

As the initial shock wore off, it wasn’t long and you were crying from the pain, attempting to stand as adrenaline and the cold were causing you to shake which only made the pain worse. Somehow, you’d managed to walk your way back into the house, closing and locking the back door with your uninjured arm as silent tears rolled down your cheeks.

Trying not to lose composure completely and have a complete meltdown, you even managed to take off your trainers before walking into the bathroom and staring into the large mirror above the sink.

The entire right side of your body was drenched from lying in the snow, the whites of your eyes were red from crying and the wet streaks left behind by the tears were obvious to anyone that you were in pain. You’d been too scared to look at your wrist in case it was broken but from what you could see in the mirror, there wasn’t any obvious bone sticking out of the skin, thank god.

Beginning with your fingers, you moved each one slowly and then all together. Next was your hand which ached a little bit but again this wasn’t broken, but as you attempted to straighten your arm, you audibly shouted in pain as the burning hot sensation spiked through from your elbow to your shoulder.

Having dealt with Steve and Bucky and their multitude of injuries, you were sure there was nothing broken, possibly just a strain, needing to keep it wrapped up with some ice and painkillers. You attempted to sigh in relief but as you sucked in a deep breath, more aching pain shot through your ribs. Again you were sure there were no broken bones as the pain wasn’t as significant as how the elbow felt but it was enough that you’d be in discomfort for a while.

With your left hand, you began to clean your face, attempting to brighten yourself up and then returning back to the kitchen to take some Advil and check the food wasn’t burning which thankfully it wasn’t.

Then it dawned on you. Steve and Bucky.

Luckily your clothes were beginning to dry from the heat on the stovetop but how were you expected to hide this injury from them? And should you even keep this a secret, maybe they wouldn’t freak out if they heard you sprained your elbow?

Ok that was a lie, of course, they were going to overreact, as well as being injured from something they explicitly asked you not to do and it was embarrassing, if they could go without knowing you had slipped over, that would be wonderful. All you needed were a few days as you contemplated the excuses, making yourself feel sick with the nerves that were building.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed loudly, knowing there was no use. Whenever you were around either man they were always touching you, no excuse would stop them. If it was your period they would be massaging your abdomen to help the cramps. If you said you were feeling unwell, they would lie in bed with you, stroking your hair and being at your side until you felt better. There was nothing Steve and Bucky wouldn’t do for you so you’d have to just face the consequences for your actions.

Switching off the stove and leaving the food to sort out later, your hands began to tremble slightly as you decided to call them and tell them, at least you wouldn't have to say it to their faces. Steve would most likely be driving so you clicked on Bucky’s name, lifting the phone to your ear as a heavy sensation filled your stomach, biting your lip to try and distract yourself.

The first ring hadn’t even finished before his gruff voice was answering, “we really have to stop meeting like this Doll, people are going to think you like me” Bucky teased.

You attempted a half-laugh under your breath, he always found a way of making you feel at ease. “Wouldn’t want them thinking that” you responded quietly, staring at a spot on the floor.

“What’s up anyway, sweet mama?” he asked casually.

“How far away are you?” you asked, feeling the full weight of your anxiety throughout your body, feeling almost nauseous.

“Only a couple of minutes, just a block or two away now. I told you we weren’t going to be long”, he politely reminded you. “Why? Did you need anything from the shops or something?”

You found yourself shaking your head rather than answering, not entirely sure what to say. Apparently, you had not answered for a suspicious amount of time because Bucky spoke up again, sounding worried. “Sweetheart? Is everything ok?”

In the background, you could hear Steve as he asked, “put her on speaker. Honey? What’s wrong?” he sounded more serious than Bucky had.

You could feel your eyes filling with tears again as your nerves got the better of you, “don’t be mad at me”.

“Mama you’re scaring us, what’s wrong?” Bucky was using his “work voice now”, with no hint of sarcasm or joy as you could hear the car’s engine revving louder in the background to show that Steve had begun driving faster.

“Don’t rush, please be careful still, I’m ok! Well I’m not but I um- fuck!” you exclaimed, your anxiety causing you to stutter and panic more. “I did something stupid and I don’t want to tell you because you’re going to be mad at me but I also can’t hide it either” you rushed out, still pacing across the kitchen.

“Baby girl, I’m going to need you to take a deep breath for me and try and explain what's going on, do I need to get some of the guards to come in?” Steve asked. You tried to take some deep breaths but this only caused the ache to return to your ribs.

“No, it’s ok, I don’t need them. I just wanted to tell you on the phone because I don’t think I could say it in person because it’s embarrassing and you told me not to and-”

“You went outside didn’t you”, it was Bucky who made the point and you hated how quick it was for him to guess that you’d done something you’d been told not to.

“Yes”, you whispered into the phone, tears still slipping down your cheeks.

You’d expected them to groan in exasperation or even laugh at your stupidity but they didn’t, both asking questions along the lines of, “are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance? Have you hit your head? Are you ok?”

“I didn’t hit my head and I don’t need an ambulance, I think I’ve just sprained my elbow and bruised my ribs that’s all,” you explained to them.

“We’re just pulling into the drive now mama, can you still move your fingers?” he continued the conversation, even as you heard them exiting the car outside.

“Yes, and I can move my hand still”, you began walking towards the front door sheepishly as it opened, Steve rushing through first followed by Bucky who hung up the phone. You weren’t sure what to have expected, maybe a frown of displeasure or anger but instead, it was only worry as their eyes frantically searched you up and down.

“I’m sorry” was your automatic response, wishing you could run and hug them both but not wanting to move your arm and risk the pain. Steve reached you first, cupping both of your cheeks, his thumb wiping away any of the tears that were still there.

“Shh, it’s ok, just show us where it hurts,” he said in a much softer tone than anticipated. Glancing down at your arm that was still kept close to your side to reduce the pain, you wiggled the fingers of the injured hand.

“It’s this one but as I said, I don’t think it’s broken, I can still move it but it just really hurts”.

Bucky delicately placed your hand in his, inspecting every inch of skin with his eyes first then his own fingers, checking for any lumps or tender spots. Once satisfied, he too agreed that it was most likely a sprain, even noticing that the area had begun to swell slightly. “Think it’ll be best to wrap it up and place your arm in a sling to stop it moving as much, maybe some ice as well to help with the swelling”.

So this was exactly what the two of them did. Over the next half an hour, they helped you out of your shirt which became too painful to manoeuvre off so Steve ripped it off instead, promising to buy a new one. Then Bucky delicately wrapped the area and placed your arm into a sling, before helping one of their larger plain t-shirts over your head the wrapped arm remaining inside of the t-shirt.

Then after returning downstairs, Bucky dished up the chilli you’d cooked earlier, as Steve placed some ice into a towel and helped to hold it against your arm. This he did for the entirety of the meal, even after you’d said it would be fine and could do it after, he insisted on holding it to the injured area.

Sometime later, you were in a warm sandwich on the couch, Bucky to your left and Steve to your right, careful as to not touch your arm or rib, the TV showing some random show that Bucky had been recommended by Sam.

“Thank you, for not freaking out about my arm and not being angry with me”, you said glancing between your two boyfriends with a thankful and relieved smile.

“I don’t know why you always assume the worst of us, we’d never be angry with you mama”, Bucky’s voice was gentle, his own smile glistening in the shallow light.

“It’s not assuming the worst, it’s just the whole ‘I told you so’ scenario spiralled in my head. I mean, I’d be angry if you didn’t drive carefully and got into an accident”.

Steve’s finger delicately traced over your jawbone as he leaned down to kiss your temple, mumbling against your forehead, “I’d love to see you try and be angry with us”. You raised an eyebrow at his teasing, looking towards him as his lips dipped to gently caress yours before he continued on. “Anyway, we don’t need to say I told you so for you to feel the repercussions for your actions and ignoring our warnings”.

Your smile dropped, pulling away from his kiss to try and get a better understanding of what this meant. “What repercussions?”

Steve leaned back fully, watching the TV as he spoke. “Well of course you need to heal, and that’s going to take quite a few days by the looks of things which means no touching.”

No touching… what was he talking about? You found yourself frowning now, looking at the mafia boss. “What do you mean no touching?”

It was Bucky who spoke next though, his metal hand moving a few strands of hair away from your face as he addressed you. “Exactly what he said, no. touching.”

“But you’re touching me now, I don’t understand-”.

Oh.

Oh no.

“But….but that part of me isn’t injured?” It felt like you were watching tennis with how fast you were turning your head between Steve and Bucky who were both smirking as they watched the TV.

“Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart,” Steve asked in a light tone, clearly finding the situation funny.

“But I can’t, my ribs hurt”.

“Exactly, do you really think you could handle one of us, let alone both of us fucking you? Now, we could use our mouths, a couple of fingers or even a toy but that’s only going to hurt you more when you’re taking deep breaths to scream our names”.

Even just talking about it was causing you to feel turned on, thighs rubbing together just thinking about all of those scenarios, all of which apparently you would not be experiencing until you felt better.

“But…but that’s not fair, I think I could handle it!” you sounded unbelievably needy but you didn’t care.

“Shall we test out that theory? If we take you upstairs and you flinch or gasp in pain, even once, neither of us will be making you cum until you are better” Bucky threatened but you were past the point of no return, needing to feel him, watching his hands on your body so you were instantly agreeing, letting them help you to stand.

It was definitely not the most attractive you’d ever looked getting ready for bed, deciding to keep the t-shirt on as it meant your arm could stay close to your chest but Steve had to help pull your joggers, panties and socks off as it was difficult with only the one arm.

Finally, however, you were lying in the middle of the bed, and a leg was thrown over Bucky’s shoulder as he ran his tongue up your dripping cunt. Your ribs were already aching from breathing at a faster rate but the flicks that the tip of his warm tongue, something he had promised to do earlier on the phone, were distracting you enough from the pain.

He was taking it nice and slow, making sure to touch every area between your legs with his mouth, building your arousal up but it already felt like you were going to orgasm. Bucky could also tell from where he was between your legs, his eyes watching your every moan and movement, the same with Steve whose lap your head was laid in.

You were trying to relax your face as you desperately wanted to flinch but you were so so close, just a few more minutes. This was when Bucky decided to seal his lips around your clit and suck, causing you to both suck in a deep breath and arch your back.

Not only did you scrunch your face up but also hissed from the pain, reaching with your good arm to hold your ribs.

Bucky was instantly moving away, making sure you were ok but now you were shouting in frustration for another reason. “No, please! Don’t stop I was so close!”

Steve tutted above you, stroking your cheek, “we did warn you, baby girl, we just need to make sure you’re feeling better first”.

It felt like you were being punished for something, and in a way, you were but to be edged so closely to have it all taken away and for this to go on for a few days! You were half tempted to lock yourself away in the bathroom and finish it yourself but they also would be kicking down the door to stop you.

Admitting defeat, you sulked further up the bed, wanting to just go to sleep and forget about the whole ordeal. Even worse was having to lie on your back to protect your arm and ribs which meant that you couldn’t be properly spooned by either boyfriend, only having room for Steve to place one arm across your thighs.

Just as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, Steve’s fingers began to wander up and down the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Steve stop that” you whispered tiredly, clenching your thighs together and trapping his fingers.

“Hmm?”

He stopped for only a few minutes before continuing his actions which were causing small bursts of pleasure to spark in your abdomen. This time you batted away his hand causing him to chuckle.

“Stop that, you know I’m sensitive there, I thought you said no touching”.

“Maybe we should have been more specific. Remember when we said there would be repercussions, maybe we wouldn’t be saying ‘I told you so’ but you did do something stupid even after we told you not to for exactly this reason, and you get hurt. So I stand by no orgasms but these touches? These are your punishments for not listening”.

24 hours later and you were wishing they’d come home angry instead, wished that they had shouted at you or said I told you so because this punishment was near torture for your pussy.

Neither went to work the next day, instead, they continued to look after you, checking over your arm which was still slightly swollen and still very painful and once it was rebandaged, the torment continued.

It started in little ways, a hand high on the thigh whilst sitting at the table for breakfast, lingering kisses up the column of your neck or eyes wondering too low along the neckline in a suggestive manner that all had your cheeks burning and panties dampening. However, as the day progressed it only increased which only made it more difficult as they were being so caring in other ways such as helping hands to stand, being cooked for, helping to get changed or getting painkillers whenever you asked.

By the time it was bedtime, their teasing had reached a new level of torment however after finishing brushing your teeth, you found both of your boyfriends lying on the covers, completely naked, mouths gaped open in loud moans as they wanked themselves off.

Your eyes were wide and unblinking as you moved from watching Steve, taking in every detail of his naked body, over to Bucky who you now realised was moaning your name.

Your knees felt unsteady and they pumped both of their cocks, a light sheen of sweat coating their bodies, something you wish you could lick up, as well as the small drips of precum on the tips of their cocks.

“Like what you see?” Steve asked, snapping you out of the horny trance you seemed to be stuck in.

“This- this isn’t fair!” you shouted, watching as Steve thrust his hips up to meet his fist, wish it was your mouth he was thrusting into, wanting nothing more than to taste him.

Not being able to watch anymore, you quickly returned to the bathroom and shut the door, hoping to drown out the noises they were both creating but they were still very audible so you also turned on the tap.

Even then you could still hear their deep moans and you desperately tried to pull down your joggers but the movements only caused pain to flare up in your still-healing ribs and arm. You sighed aggressively, unbelievably horny and frustrated and not able to do a single thing about it so you sat on the toilet lid and hoped the next few days would fly by.

Of course, it didn’t though and with their teasing it seemed to make the days drag by and at one point, you’d even begun to feel slightly floaty from being so horny. The overwhelming sensations in your abdomen and in between your legs were driving you insane and as the fourth day was coming to an end and the word “daddy” began to slip from your lips, Steve and Bucky decided maybe they would tease as much as they had been.

By the sixth day, your ribs were feeling a lot better, even being able to stretch as you woke up. Your arm was still tender when moving but it didn’t need to be in a sling anymore, the sprain having been quite mild in comparison.

Still, however, you continued with the day, trying to distract from the uncomfortable feeling in your cunt and having a restless night's sleep once more.

On the seventh day, your ribs were nearly back to normal and you could move your arm as you had before, maybe you couldn’t rest your weight on it but this was as best as it was going to be.

Steve and Bucky were still sleeping on either side of you, and as you turned on your side to look at Steve on his side facing towards the centre of the bed, you could feel how drenched in between your legs were. Your juices had spread over the top of your thighs and ruined your pyjama shorts.

Hating the sensation, you tried to shuffle out of them in the centre of the bed, thankful that you were finally able to use your other arm to do so. Your movements were not subtle either, hoping to wake either of your boyfriends.

Thankfully this master plan worked as Steve grunted, “what are you doing baby?”

You didn’t answer, instead reaching for his hand and bringing it up to your thighs, letting him feel your arousal. He peaked one eye open at the wet sensation, a cunning smirk creeping across his lips, “did someone have a good dream?” he teased.

Once again you didn’t say anything, your thoughts on one thing only as you moved down his naked body which was also another punishment that she had to sleep in clothes and they slept naked, feeling their warm soft bodies against her side but not being able to touch. Until now that is as your mouth was finally level with one of the objects you desired most and his flaccid cock was being sucked into your mouth

Steve sucked in air quickly, cursing under his breath and then he was pulling back your head as you could already see his cock hardening. This didn’t stop you however as you pushed back on his hips so he was now lying on his back, batting away his hands, crawling to sit between his legs and continues to suck his cock.

With your once pained arm, you held down one of his wrists that was starting to make its way to pulling you off him again and then it clicked for him

“I see someone is feeling better” he muttered before groaning and closing his eyes as your tongue lapped up the underside of his now fully erect cock. “Fuck you’re good at that”, his praises were like music to your ears as his hand settled lightly on your head as you began to take his length into your throat, trying to take every inch of him, needing to taste everything he had to offer.

“Well good morning to you two” Bucky’s deep morning voice had your attention snapping towards him as he watched you closely, his attention on your arm that was still holding down one of Steve’s wrists. Releasing Steve’s cock with an audible pop, your eyes drifted lower on Bucky, seeing the visible tent under the sheet, smiling slightly at the awaiting treat.

“What do you want mama?” Bucky asked, sitting up, causing the sheet to pool around his hips.

“I want you both”, you admitted desperately, eyes flicking between the blonde and brunette.

“Come and sit on Daddy's lap, that way you can taste Bucky and still have me, baby” Steve demanded, sitting up as well, helping as you were instantly moving to sit in his lip, not wasting another second as your hand wrapped around his cock and aimed it for your awaiting entrance.

Your dripping arousal was all the lube you needed as you sat on his cock, the girth stretching you out completely, eyes rolling to the back of your head in overwhelming desire.

Again, you weren’t waiting around, needing them both now so as your cunt adjusted to Steve’s cock, you reached out for Bucky who was standing on the bed so his hard member which was throbbing in the air, was now eye level with you.

Hungrily you reached for it, pulling him straight towards your mouth, starting with a long lick up the underside before flicking the tip of your tongue over the head of his cock causing him to grit his teeth in pleasure, “fuck I have missed that tongue of yours”.

You grinned before taking a couple of inches into his mouth and sucking whilst simultaneously beginning to move your hips up and down Steve’s cock.

This had to be the closet you’d been to being in charge, normally at the complete submission to them both but the days of teasing had caused any sort of sanity to leave your body, your arousal doing the only thinking for you now.

The boys were just as eager to help you out as Bucky held back any hair that was getting in the way, and Steve began to move your hips up and down, your juices causing obscene noises to come from between your legs but it only matched perfectly to the ones coming from your throat.

You tried to take as much of Bucky’s cock into your throat as you could before gagging and the moans he was producing as he stared down at you were pure perfection. But before long you were pulling away, having to suck in air quickly, not having time to ask permission before shouting, “I'm cuming!”

You had to hold onto Steve’s shoulders tightly as your body was rocked with your first orgasm in a week, your cunt contracting around his cock in waves that last longer than usual.

You were thankful for Steve as he basically held you up, waiting patiently for you to catch your breath, kissing along your shoulder causing shivers to erupt through your body. “Do you want to have a break?” Steve asked gently.

Shaking your head against his shoulder, you responded, “I want you both to cum inside of me, please sir”.

He chuckled, kissing you just below the ear where you were most sensitive, feeling your cunt tighten around him. “I’m sure we can both do that for our best girl” he praised, wrapping both arms around your back, and switching positions, lying you in the centre of the bed and this was where you stayed.

It started with Steve, you thought he was going to continue fucking you but instead he dropped his face between your legs, lapping up all the extra juices you’d produced, not stopping until you were cuming again before he finally began to fuck you again.

Starting slow and then building up the pace until your hips were slapping together, his large thumb brushing back and forth against your clit until your third orgasm was trembling through your body. Enough so that you’d not even noticed that Steve had came with you, his hot seed dripping out of you and onto the sheets below as smiled happily up at him.

Steve leaned down, kissing your lips once before rolling off and watching his best friend, move to take over his position.

Bucky took a minute to appreciate your body, his metal hand gliding over the skin causing goosebumps to appear. “I’ve been waiting all week for this” he grunted as he too dropped his face between your legs and instantly was sucking your already oversensitive clit into his mouth, much like he had seven days before.

Your guttural scream echoed around your bedroom, hands gripping his hair tightly, keeping him them. Bucky licked up every drop of Steve’s cum from your cunt before inching two of his fingers in and as he curled them, his mouth and tongue played with your clit.

With all the previous stimulation it wasn’t long before you screamed out his name in pleasure experiencing yet another orgasm. It took a while for you to catch your breath after this one but you still wanted Bucky to also cum inside of you, “please sir, I still want you!”

He was more than happy to complete your request as he knelt between your legs, lifting one of them up until your foot rested on his shoulder and then he was easing his cock into your sensitive hole.

Your bodies moved frantically, and you desperately tried to reach him with your hands so he repositioned himself so you could wrap both legs around his waist, using his forearm strength to rest on either side of your head. His hips continue to move at a quick pace as he plunged his tongue into your mouth, mixing the taste of him and Steve’s cum with your taste and you were moaning in a constant stream, fingers gripping into his hips.

Bucky gasped loudly, pulling away from the kiss to rest his forehead on yours as your cunt desperately fluttered around his cock, nearly yet another orgasm. He knew it was most likely your last before you needed a rest so he frantically demanded, “don’t cum, not yet hot mama, I’m so close, just a little bit longer”.

You grunted in exasperation, needing that release and tried to will your body to do as you wanted but it was no use. “I- I can’t, I’m going to cum Bucky”.

“Ah, that’s ok baby, I’m cuming, cum with me, that's a good girl, fuck!” You had to push yourself away from Bucky your cunt contracted that hard and was so sensitive, causing his streams of cum to cover your abdomen but you didn’t care. Your entire body felt like it was floating in euphoria, everything felt perfect and truly satisfied, the sensation you’d been wanting all week.

In your exhaustion, you hadn’t heard anything Steve and Bucky had said between one another. Only noticing when a warm flannel was being brushed between your legs to try and clean you, a feeling that you tried to get away from but Steve was quick to calm you, “shh it’s ok, I’m just cleaning you, just relax”.

You did as instructed, allowing him to clean the rest of you off including the drying streaks of Bucky’s cum.

Bucky on the other hand had returned with a glass of water, encouraging you to drink it all and then climbing back into bed, pulling you into his side. Steve also did the same, his fingers grazing over your naked spine in a comforting manner.

“That’s the last time I ever don’t listen to you both,” you mumbled against Bucky’s chest, half asleep.

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #mafia bucky #mafia steve rogers #mafia stucky #mine*#marvel smut #marvel fanfic

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pandorxxx · 11 months

Text

Sweet mind of yours…

Lo’ak x metkayinan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: fluff, smut, cursing, creampie, orgasms, p in v, belly bulge.

Synopsis: you and lo’ak had been close ever since he came to your clan seeking Uturu. It was clear that you both liked each other, but you were scared. Scared of what might happen if you finally let him in. What happens when you finally do?

“Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His words rolled off of his tongue like molasses with a bright smile. His baritone knocking you out of your trance.

You picked your head up, meeting his soft gaze. His eyes were pools of rich honey…inviting, almost too inviting. You were falling hard, and you knew other girls were too. He was the shiny new toy around the clan, but it seemed as if he wanted to spend all of his time with you.

His strong, calloused hands were delicately placed in his lap. His posture slightly slouched as he sat next to you on the edge of the rock. You’d normally bring him here to watch the sunset, but the sunset wasn’t the only view.

His freckles danced under the dimly lit sky, like painted constellations across his broad chest. His braided hair, placed in a loose ponytail as one braid covered his eye, courtesy of you. Once you told him how handsome he looked, he never stopped with the style.

His smile, so sweet and delicate. It made your heart flutter every time you saw him. And tonight seemed to prove no different.

“Thinkin’ about how dull my life was…before you came along.” You smiled back, a dusty purple tint staining your cheeks in nervousness.

“Is that so?” He asked playfully, bumping your shoulder with his gently. You let out a soft giggle, smiling down at your feet, swishing the ocean water around beneath you. You nodded in response.

“Yup. Know what else?” You turned to look at the side of his face briefly before turning away, avoiding eye contact at all costs. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell me, huh?” He chuckled, now staring at the side of your face, hoping you would give him the gift of your beautiful blue eyes. It was like you two were playing a game of tag. You were never good with direct eye contact, especially with lo’ak.

“How every girl here is probably frothing at the mouth for you.” You joked, but nothing about it was a game to you. It was scary to know that this could all end in the blink of an eye. He cocked an eyebrow, staring out into the crystal blue water.

“Nah. I'm not too much interested in any of those girls. Plus, I’ve got my eyes on a beauty already. Just wish she had her eyes on me…” the last sentence trailed off into the air as his eyes met the side of your face again. And you could feel the heat radiating on your cheek. He let out a patient sigh, kicking his feet languidly in the water.

“Why don’t you look at me?” He asked with a concerned tone. His hand engulfing yours. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you unintentionally pulled away from his embrace.

“I-I wasn’t trying to- Im sorry.” He panicked, before face palming, followed by a shake of his head in embarrassment. It became awkward, and you couldn’t help but think you ruined the moment.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to look at him for too long, or that you didn’t want him to touch you. In fact, you wanted all of those things more than anything else. You were just scared. Scared that if you stared at him for a second too long, you’d fall in love. Scared that if his fingertips grazed your skin the right way, you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself. And although he was sending you all of the right signals, what if you misread them?

It was scary for you, all of it. There were so many worthy girls here. Why would it be you? How could it be…you? The silence filled the air, and he couldn’t take it. It was all too much for him.

He couldn’t read you even if he tried. He had a feeling that you liked him, but you never really let him in. Never opened up. He needed to know how you felt about this. Even if that meant pushing the boundaries of your friendship by making the first move.

“Y/n…” he sighed, shifting his entire body to face you. You swallowed thickly, as it seemed that he wasn’t going to let this go. You slowly shifted your entire body to face him as well, crossing your legs on the rock. He did the same, pulling you alittle closer to him by your waist. Being as gentle as possible with you.

“You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on in that sweet mind. I can’t read you, as much as I would like to.” He spoke softly, engulfing your hands in his, still searching for your eye contact. Your heart ached in fear, knowing that this was quite literally now or never.

“I-I can’t. Please don’t make me.” You shook your head, tears clouding your vision. So many feelings coming to the forefront. Feelings that you’ve worked so hard to suppress. It was safe to say that you were madly in love with him, so much that it hurt.

“Yes you can, please. I-I need to know what’s behind those beautiful eyes that you like hiding from me so much.” His hands trailed up to caress your cheek. An audible gasp escaped your lips. Your body began to heat up, and not in the way you’d think. Not so much with lust…it was deeper than that. It was as if you had finally found what you’d been searching for. The touch you’d been yearning for, but was too afraid to reach out and take. He was your missing piece, and it was evident now more than ever.

“Y/n, I don’t know what you’ve done to me. But I can't seem to shake the feelings I have for you. Can’t seem to shake the feeling that we belong together. I just wish I knew how you felt about me. It’s like I know you…but I don’t. I can’t make sense of this. So maybe we can help eachother.” He confessed, a hopeful smile creeping across his lips. And just like that, he had your attention.

Your eyes met his after his confession. Your ears flicking in the wind while your tail swayed high behind you. “There’s my girl…” he smiled, watching in awe at your reaction. Finally confirming what you felt for him, you didn’t even have to say it…but you felt the need to.

“Lo’ak, you just kinda came in and swept me off of my feet. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I don’t know what this is either, but I know that I just wanna be with you. That’s all I wanna do, lo’ak.” You finally confessed, still maintaining that eye contact he’d been craving ever since he laid eyes on you.

He bit his lip with a cheesy smile. His hands finding your dainty arms, caressing them in a way of praising you for finally opening up to him. You shifted to your knees, reaching a hand out to caress his cheek. His face was soft, yet his cheek bones were prominent and sharp. Your eyes traced over his intricate freckle pattern, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Lastly, your eyes trailed over his lips. Your thumb gently brushing over his bottom lip. Now his tail was swaying high, patiently waiting for you to make the first move. He was just happy to witness you coming out of your shell. Just happy to be in your presence. He’d wait forever for you…

“If you wanna kiss me, I won’t stop you.” He chuckled. You bit your bottom lip, deciding that you wanted to do alittle more than that. You straddled his lap, holding onto his shoulders for support.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, eyebrow cocked as his hands found their place on your waist. Your lips crashed into his, essentially answering his lingering question. He let out a satisfied groan, shifting his hands down to your hips. You grabbed the sides of his head to deepen the long overdue kiss, instinctively grinding into him.

His huge hands guided your hips to create the right amount of friction. You both moaning into the kiss at this point. You could feel his cock growing by the second, and he could feel the pool between your legs. It was absolutely bliss.

“May I?” Lo’ak asked in between kisses, tugging on the back of your loincloth. “You can do whatever you want to me.” You spoke breathily, moving down to his neck, leaving hickeys on his skin.

“Mmm baby, don’t get me started.” He grunted, planting sweet pecks on your shoulder as he untied your loincloth from around your tail. He tapped your thigh, signaling for you to sit up briefly for him to pull the loincloth from underneath you, and you happily obliged.

An immediate flow of your slick trickled down to his thighs. You were more than ready for him, and had been for some time now.

“Take this off.” You whispered in his ear as you tugged on his loincloth with great force. He let out a soft chuckle at your sudden eagerness. He shifted you to your back, with him now kneeling between your legs. His eyes trailed your entire body, your freckles glistening in the night sky.

“So beautiful.” He shook his head in awe, reaching behind himself to untie his loincloth, the fabric dropping to the ground beneath him. His cock sprung up, hitting his belly with a loud, heavy slap. A string of precum oozing out of his tip. The freckles on his shaft

dancing individually in anticipation. Your legs had intentionally opened alittle more. You reached out, your fingertips just barely grazing over the base in wonder. He let out a soft gasp, his tail hitting the ground with force repeatedly in excitement.

“So beautiful.” You smirked, leaning back on the ground, ready for him to take you as his. Ready for him to have his way with you. He smiled at you, grabbing his cock to jerk it off slowly.

He then proceeded to thrust in between your wet folds, earning a soft moan from you. “Please, give it to me.” You whined, grabbing his cock to line it up with your aching hole. His eyes widened in anticipation, letting you take control for right now. With one simple push, you slide him into you slowly, your walls immediately sucking him in. You both letting out a series of moans.

“Fuuuck, baby girl.” He whimpered, gripping your hips to thrust into you expertly. Immediately hitting all the right spots in a matter of seconds. Your back bowed to the rock, exposing the large print In your lower belly with every hard thrust into you.

“Y-You’re in m-my fucking stomach, lo’ak.” You whined in pleasure, head tilted all the way back as your eyes rolled. Your dainty hand dancing around the print.

“I-I know, I know mama. Taking it so well, too.” He grunted, running his hand over the bulge briefly. The pleasure was consuming the both of you, more so you. You couldn’t seem to control the sounds that came out of your mouth, or the faces you made. It’s like lo’ak had completely control over you.

Your hands found their way to your face, trying to hide yourself from him. Your screams becoming muffled instantly. His thrusts quickened, and deepened. His tip constantly slamming against your sweet spot.

“No, no, no baby. I wanna see you.” He spoke lowly, gently grabbing your hands, holding both of your wrists in one of his large hands as he continued to fuck into you like it was the last time he’d see you.

You tucked your bottom lip into your mouth. Eyebrows furrowed, and face screwed in pleasure as you tried desperately to hide your cries.

“Oh come on, mama. Don’t hide from me. Let that shit out. You know you can’t hold it forever.” His baritone soothing your eardrum just right. He sent you slow, hard strokes. So intense that you had no other choice but to drop your jaw. Small whimpers escaping through with every meeting of his pelvis to yours.

“Yesss, juuust like that baby. Open up.” He nodded, licking his bottom lip as he stared into your eyes. He shifted your legs over his shoulders, before placing his hands on either side of your head. You were nearly folded in half. His face hovering just over yours, so there was no excuse not to look at him. He was deeper than he’d ever been, closer than he’d ever been.

“Lo’ak- t-oooo deep.” You whimpered, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He just watched you in awe. You were so pretty taking all of him, and he couldn’t get enough.

“I know, baby. You’ve gotta take it for me. You’re too pretty like this.” He moaned, rolling his hips into you as he stared down at your flustered face, waiting for a reaction.

“Ohhh my- lo’ak! I-I love you! I love youuuu!” You screamed, legs beginning to shake. He nodded in satisfaction, his breaths becoming short and heavy.

“Mmm, I love you too baby.” He confessed, a slight whine in his tone before his bottom lip found comfort between his teeth. You could feel it, your stomach began to contract, almost like you were exercising. Every stroke was revealing trickles of your arousal flowing down to the surface beneath you, and it was becoming too much for lo’ak to bare as well.

“Shiiit, y/n. You’re gonna make me fucking cum. You’re d-driving me crazy baby.” He whined, before his lips crashed into yours. You both muffling eachothers loud moans as your peeks neared. “Lo’aaaak. I-I” you moaned deliriously between kisses.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me. I wanna feel that shit, you hear me?” He asked, a tinge of aggression in his tone. You nodded frantically, eyes locked on his.

“Cum in me. Pleaseeee!” You begged, pulling him in for another kiss. He sent you one hard thrust, rolling his hips into yours again with a loud growl against your lips. Your eyes crossed in pleasure. Your legs began to tremble uncontrollably, slipping off his shoulders and to the side of his hips. You pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let go on him.

“Yessss, I-Im cumming lo’ak. I’m cumming!” You whimpered, walls fluttering around his sensitive shaft. He let out a series of low groans and growls as he emptied himself inside of you. Thrusting into you languidly as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Take it all, baby. Milk me dry.” He moaned, rubbing his head into your neck, scenting you to claim you as his. He sent you one last stroke before leaving himself inside of you. You both catching your breath as he laid ontop of you.

“That was…” he started.

“Amazing” you finished.

He flipped you both over, you were now ontop of him and he laid flat across the rock. You two were now face to face. Sharing the same breath. It was beautiful. “If you’d let me. I’d love to see what’s going on in this beautiful mind of yours.” He smiled, grabbing his queue, bringing it In between you two. You watched his trendils dance. You lazily reach behind you, grabbing yours to bring it to the forefront. It was almost like a magnetic force, the way both of your trendils pulled towards eachother like they belonged together.

You both watched as they connected. Pupils blown with an audible gasp from both of you. It’s like your memories of eachother were in sync. A little movie playing of all the moments you spent with eachother. Only things that’s you two would share, now and forever.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you more, lo’ak.”

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina @yeletta @blueslxt-primary @jackchampismybbg @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut @bee782916 @atxxokirina @taylormarieee @sweethoneycn

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l0v3tast3 · 1 year

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More young!reader and 141 maybeeee? I feel like I just need more headcanons and drabbles

Also maybe like, 141 reacting to reader randomly dropping information like "well, my mum's an alcoholic and she used to beat me"

And this is me speaking from experience cause I do that and like 🥲

✎ i think i got this request like almost a month ago now i am. so sorry lmao but i'm actually getting to it and that's what counts right? right. i pumped this out in like 2 hours which if you knew how i write you would be very impressed 😎

✎ tags: young!reader, military!reader, not proofread im too cool for that, just general fluff like one mention of simon being angsty about u dying ig?

♡ so soap and the reader are definitely really good friends. i don't really think he's like super "mushy"? i guess? like some people make him out to be (not that there's anything wrong with that i love that trope) because like, look at him. i love him but some of the stuff he says in the games is like super fucking #militaryman if that makes sense lmao

♡ you're friends in a sibling kind of way. you make fun of each other all of the time and play pranks with (and on) each other. he goes rough on you when you're sparring but always makes sure you're okay afterwards. a lot of the time he talks to you like you're a little kid in an annoying tone just to piss you off.

♡ simon definitely didn't really want to like you at first, partly because he didn't want to get close to you in case you died or got seriously injured or captured or whatever else could possibly happen. but you literally weaseled your way in as his friend.

♡ after a few weeks of being with the team, you picked up on their likes and dislikes. in particular, you learned which foods simon liked at the cafeteria, you learned what kind of books he read, etc. etc. and so ensued you doing nice things for him.

♡ you would grab him the protein bar he liked from the vending machine when you went to grab yourself or someone else something. if you went somewhere with cheap books, you would grab him one that was similar to what you saw him reading last. you always made it a point to get him cheap things so you could refuse if he tried to pay you back.

♡ most of the time, though, he would say he didn't want it when you handed it to him. you would just shrug and tell him to give it to someone else (you see him with whatever you got him not long after). other times, you'll just sit down next to him and talk to him out of nowhere. towards the beginning, it was more of you talking at him, but that was okay with you. it took longer than the others, but you wormed your way into his cold heart.

♡ price is your new father. he gives you advice on literally everything, whether or not you ask for it (you almost never do). he does the dad thing of the hands on the hips and legs kinda spread while he explains the topic in depth. he has a very vast wealth of knowledge, you come to learn.

♡ i feel like one time you would comment on price's outfit, saying it looked good and matched well one day and he would kind of take it to heart. from then on he'll occasionally ask you how his outfit is that day. he'll play it off as if he's joking, but deep down he's actually curious. you always make fun of him for the hat that's seemingly glued to his head, though.

♡ gaz fully leans into becoming your older brother. he doesn't deny it, he just laughs when someone says anything. also i feel like he'll literally do anything you want to do. he'll go shopping with you, he'll go to bookstores or antique stores or crystal places, literally anywhere. it's gotten to the point where you just tell him to go with you and he just grabs his coat.

♡ he also will play any video game with you and he always beats you at it. it literally does not matter if he's never even heard of this random game you just pulled out of some alternate dimension, he'll be better than you at it. he's also absolutely clueless about his natural talent; if you ask him what the hell he's doing right, he's just like "huh? 🤨🤨"

♡ yeah in regards to randomly dropping trauma like it's nothing, it's definitely a smack in the face to all of them. they talk about the time they almost died in a firefight or when they got shot several times over, but they don't talk about the "deep" stuff.

♡ so it's like, you say some shit like "yeah my [super close person] died when i was really young that was #rough lol" and they all just slowly turn their heads to you like "what the actual fuck did you just say" and you're just like "what's going on why did we stop talking 🧐"

♡ they either move on to a new conversation after several long moments of silence or you just don't notice and continue talking like you didn't just give them mental whiplash.

♡ also so like i'm the type of person that loves clutter and just wants to decorate the hell out of my apartment n shit right? so like if you're also that kind of person and you just amass all this stuff in your room and put in shelves and lamps and posters and pictures covering every wall (even though it's probably against some military code or rules or whatever) and they got a peek they're just like "what the fuck"

♡ every time price sees it he tells you to clean it up but it's half-hearted at best. you tell him he's just jealous of all of your cool stuff, and he secretly is (if you're a mini-fridge kind of person he would definitely want to steal it from you).

♡ if you don't really decorate your room that much or just don't have a lot of stuff, they all get you little things to clutter up your space with. kyle and you come up with a system of buying each other a gift whenever you go shopping together, and he's good at remembering what you like.

♡ i think simon likes carving wood in his spare time, and you'll see him doing this and say that's really cool and good, and he's always just like "ya want it?" and tosses it at you. you don't bother asking if he's sure he wants to give it to you because he already pulled out another block of wood to carve into.

♡ they all also will fight literally anyone for you once you all get closer. you're probably one of, if not the youngest person working in the entire compound and they know how people talk, and if they hear anyone saying anything bad about you for any reason they shut that shit down immediately. you are good, in every aspect, and they all will let everyone know that.

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syoddeye · 2 months

Text

useless, part three

Part three (and the finale!) of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. As a reminder, I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. I finally used my third prompt.

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

66. Price or Reader is auctioned off for a date as part of a fundraiser

cw: one pregnancy mention (Reader does not get pregnant, has never been pregnant)

Read Part One, Part Two. Tag list: @v1x3n @kiranezra

~4.2k words, Price x f!Reader. This is the most self-indulgent shit I've written in awhile. Please enjoy.

It's past midnight when you limp through the front door of your flat, dropping belongings and articles of clothing alike, shedding both the weight of personhood and your eighteen-hour day. You set your keys down on the end of the counter, ignoring the thin folder for the umpteenth time. James will undoubtedly text about it in the morning, his patronizing messages more reliable than any alarm clock. A half-hour commute home, and you didn't even glance at your phone in fear of accidentally seeing another email from his lawyer. Solicitor. Whatever.

Hamhock slinks out from his lair beneath the bed, weaving between your ankles when you drag yourself into the bathroom.

"Hello Hammy," You whisper, eyeing the newer crop of gray hairs near your roots with a weary neutrality. Definitely the fundraiser's fault. Your hair started to change long before this year's planning began, but this is the longest period you've gone without dyeing it. One thing to thank James for. Not only did his departure give you a crystal clear focus, it freed you from his ridiculous expectations. He'd've commented the moment he spotted the wisps of silver, then casually worked something like anti-aging cream into the conversation.

The prick poisoned the well, and now the only man in the world for you currently lies at your feet. How it should've been from the start, really.

After checking the orange menace's automatic feeder, you slip into bed, allow him to assume his nocturnal throne—your armpit—and plug your phone in one-handed. Your eyes glaze over at the sight of notifications, thumb swiping by muscle memory, and set an alarm. With two weeks left until the big day and more than a hundred unsold tickets, you need every moment you can get. You sigh, counting the tasks of the day ahead instead of sheep.

You'll sign the divorce papers tomorrow.

Naomi practically forces the granola bar into your hands. The assistant stage manager and the props lead—the younger woman is the glue to your glue. A newer fixture at the Bramble Theatre, she was you to an extent, maybe a decade ago: fresh-faced, eager, and optimistic.

"I didn't like how you were looking at the wax fruit."

"We should swap the oranges for plums. Or pears."

"We've been through this. The oranges fit the palette, from the paintings to Dotty's–oh, quit pulling my leg."

You grin, then jut your chin at the stack of slips in her hand. "Are those the waivers? Did all the volunteers sign?"

"Yes, I can post headshots today on socials, so that should boost sales."

"Good. That's one fire extinguished," Rubbing your temple, you lean back in your chair. "I feel gross about it, though. I mean, we run shows that are hundreds of years old, but a date auction? Why don't we raise a guillotine out front and sacrifice effigies to raise money?"

Naomi blinks and whips out her phone. "...Okay, one, I'm noting the effigy idea for next year, but two, the auction won the vote, and everyone participating volunteered."

You grimace. "I know, it's just–"

The sudden opening of the door to your shoebox office interrupts. Theodore, business manager, director, and occasional movement coach, bursts in. Everybody's a multi-hyphenate.

"Terrible news!"

Wonderful. A new fire. You squint, chewing, and watch Naomi try to stifle a laugh valiantly. "Whatever could this be about?"

The older man slams his palms onto your desk, his layered pendants tinkling. "I've punched the numbers, including a best scenario, stars aligning–"

"Teddy. Out with it."

"–we're going to be £40,000 short. Even if we sell out, even if we raffle off the company like cattle, we are circling the drain!"

The tired amusement leaves your body, and in its wake sits a five-digit number and the distant idea to schedule a salon appointment.

The annual fundraiser for the theater, your hard-won home, is a dramatic, demanding, and near-disastrous event every year. The theater has continuously operated a hair above the red, but the laundry list of expenses from the last year cannot be ignored. The new light rig, the stage flooring replacement, the curtain repairs—they never stop. Sponsors and grants only go so far.

Originally, you took this job for its laughable but slightly higher pay and because running around like a madwoman between four gigs at a time wasn't as thrilling or charmingly bohemian as it was in your twenties. Your livelihood depends on the playhouse's success. And the economy. And the general public's attitude toward the arts. All wildly variable. It made you resourceful, and already, you were composing a mental list of people to politely bully for pledges promised in years past. You need time and a phone charger.

"Teddy," you set the half-eaten granola bar down. "Go get ready for afternoon rehearsal. Naomi, cover for me today?"

"'Course."

Theodore swipes his spindly fingers over his brow, nodding fervently at your resolve. "If anyone can pull it off, it's you. Do tell if there is anything yours truly can do." With a flourish, the director departs your office, but Naomi lingers.

"You know if it's donations we need…"

You shake your head, immediately knowing what she intends to suggest. "Out of the question."

"But think of her–"

"I'd rather debase myself and resort to dinner theatre."

"I'm just saying–"

"Naomi," You stress. "I am not calling my mother."

She frowns. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Are you really so proud you wouldn't leverage your family's connections to save the Bramble?"

It makes you pause. As usual, she's right. Irritatingly so. You could take another salary cut, but you'd need to find a flatshare, a humiliating idea. Hammy wouldn't survive it, the sensitive thing. You sigh and dismiss her with a wave.

"Fine I won't rule it out. But I'm going to shake down half the city first."

An hour later, you've managed to secure a percentage. Not too shabby, but far from the goal. You take a break to read James's team's latest, vaguely threatening missives and entertain the idea of withholding your signature until he makes a donation. What's a little extortion in the name of art?

You know it's wrong to delay this ugly process. How close relief is should you simply sign the papers. But it's another failure, another black spot in your life's ledger. Another dream crushed beneath the boot of reality. With a wave of bitterness, you type out a curt reply, ensuring you will sign the papers and ask them to arrange for a courier tomorrow.

Naomi's suggestion takes advantage of your mind's lethargy, testing the strength of your will and stubbornness. The last time you phoned your mother was months ago, on the anniversary of dad's death. The old man took his last bow five years back, and it destroyed the last bridge between you and your formidable mother. In retirement, she still holds court with major political players stateside…and across the pond.

Before you let your loathing catch up, you pull up her contact card and dial. It's after noon in D.C., the middle of the week. You might get lucky and reach her voice–

"Is everything alright? You're not in the hospital, are you?" Her donnish, sharp voice hurtles you through time and space to your teenage years.

"No," You answer with gritted teeth. A headache waits in the wings. "No, I'm fine, mom."

"Then why are you calling?"

This is why dad handled conversations. You stand, swiftly shutting the door to your office and locking it. "Can't I just call my mom?"

"Of course. Historically, you do not," There's a low murmur of chatter in the background. She's at a luncheon or at the club. "So I assume there is a reason."

Having an ex-ambassador for a mother is a joke. All that practised charm for everyone else in the world, none of it reserved for you. "Okay, yes, there is a reason."

"Thought so. Well, darling, what is it? Is it James? Don't tell me you're pregnant."

You return to your desk and eye the bottle of bourbon on the corner. "No. James and I are divorcing, remember? This is about my work."

There is no acknowledgement of the separation. Instead, your mother pulls the phone away from her mouth, excuses herself from wherever she is, and the background noise dissipates.

"Your work."

"Yes, the Bramble? Look, we're two weeks out from our big annual fundraiser, and–"

"Oh, you need me to write a check." The clicking of her heels halts abruptly, and if you didn't know any better, she wilts. "Fine. How much do you want?"

Your face heats with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. "I am not asking for money. If you would stop interrupting me…Ugh, mom, I need help contacting some of your old friends here. If there's anyone you know looking for tax deductions or a pet project to brag about, the Bramble is in a bad spot financially."

In the past, whenever the theatre and, by extension, your chosen profession came up, your mother took the opportunity to lecture. She reminded you of the wasted opportunities she afforded you. She brought up your old schoolmates and their current positions. And most insulting of all, she always, always compared you to a certain soldier. Bracing yourself for her monologuing, you reached for the bottle.

"Why didn't you open with that, darling?"

Your fingers close around empty air, and you nearly pitch out of your seat in surprise. "What?"

"Send me the information. I've been meaning to reconnect with some old friends. When is the fundraiser?"

"In two weeks," You repeat, scrambling to pull up your email on the ancient desktop. "Tickets are–"

"Email it. I'll book my flights today and let you know when I'm getting in."

Your hands hover over the keyboard, and your neck protests the angle it bends to keep your phone lodged between ear and shoulder. "Oh, no, mom, you don't need to come."

"Nonsense. I'll, of course, make my own donation, and as a donor, I ought to see where my money is going."

Christ. For the Bramble, you remind yourself and exhale. "Okay. You do that. Listen, I have to get going…but mom?" It kills you to say it. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome. Oh, this will be so much fun. I haven't visited since before your father. You know, on the topic of reconnecting, I happened get an email from the Prices the other day, and John–"

There it is. You kick into fourth gear, rattling off your exit. "I've really got to run. Thanks again mom, send me your flight info. Love you. Bye!"

You feel like you've run a marathon and dodged a bullet. And yet, as you send the email and file the waivers, your mind snags on your mother's words. On a name. His name. It's not the first time your unhelpful brain's waylaid you with a trip down memory lane. Admittedly, it's happened more since James asked for the divorce. Most nights, if it isn't life's stresses hounding you, it's an endless parade of what-ifs behind your eyelids.

What if you studied economics instead? What if you stayed in America? What if you hadn't gone to that stupid New Year's party? What if you hadn't kissed John? If you didn't get on the train?

The people in your circle frequently speak about living life without regrets. It's a romantic notion and a highly unrealistic one.

Your phone buzzes—Naomi. You're needed. Pushing the past where it belongs, back on a dark shelf, and head out to put out another fire.

Three days before the fundraiser, your mother lands in London and hosts you at her hotel for dinner. Playing catch-up is a professional sport with a whirlwind of names you barely remember and memories you remember very differently.

You pick at dessert, listening to another story.

"–and he was so insistent that that school of yours was a breeding ground for monsters, and I told him, isn't that what's needed in today's society? People need thick skin in politics and business. You'll be happy to know, though, he bought four tickets to the fundraiser."

You don't remember who you're talking about but smile and nod. It's a tough pill to swallow, your mother's success at rallying old friends with deep pockets. Teddy's practically in love with her despite having never met her, popping his bald head into your office to sing her praises whenever another pledge arrives.

Your response is rote. "That's wonderful, mom. Thank you."

She prattles on for another half hour before you decide it's time to return home to Hamhock and burn the midnight oil on the fundraiser's date auction. You asked the company for fifty-word bios and actors, bless them, struggle to contain their self-praises. When she finally pauses to take a sip of wine, you rise. "I should head home, lots to do–"

Ignoring you outright, her head turns, and she grins. "There you are!"

Following her gaze, your brow lowers in confusion until you clap eyes on a trio headed in your direction in the company of a server. Very briefly, you consider the melodramatics of matricide. You've been set up.

Mr. and Mrs. Price look well for their age, puttering toward your mother. They are greyer and a little shorter, but the warmth is there.

John, however…

The universe is intent on humbling you.

The hair is the first thing you notice. Short, kempt, and annoyingly a dark shade of brown. It's crept southward onto his face in a beard of a choice style. There is comfort in the finer details that clarify as he nears. He hasn't escaped time's passing with a face marked by crow's feet, frown lines, and forehead furrows. Beneath his shirt, there's a slight suggestion of a belly, though, with his thick arms and the narrowing of his waist, he's clearly a wall of muscle.

The worst part is how infuriatingly kind his smile looks. It's the beard. Softens him. Once an arrogant prick, always an arrogant prick.

John rumbles your name in a whisper, reeling you in for a polite peck on the cheek. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

You're years beyond fifteen and twenty-five, but how swiftly the impulse to snark resurfaces is alarming. Maturity tempers you. "You look good, too."

After a few minutes of greetings, the two of you are tasked with heading to the bar to fetch drinks. Wholly unnecessary what with a server, but it's a clear command to let the 'adults' talk for a spell. Nevermind being shy of forty. John's quick to try conversation when the order's in.

"You haven't changed a bit," He observes, leaning against the bar beside you.

"Now there's something a woman wants to hear after a decade." You huff, casting your eyes across the restaurant, finding it difficult to look at him. The dark blue of his sweater makes his eyes pop.

"Fourteen years, actually," He corrects. "Drinking martinis, actin'…"

You snort. "You're half right. The Martini half."

His elbow gently knocks into yours atop the bar. "Apologies. My mother told me you'd been in My Fair Lady last summer."

That draws your attention. "No. The theater put it on, but I'm the stage manager. I haven't been on stage in ages." Your eyes flicker to the table, then back to him. Heat crawls up your collar. What other information has your mother passed along? Glancing down at your bare ring finger, you turn the conversation. "Not so different from a Captain, I reckon. How's that going?"

John squints a little, and his mouth pulls into a familiar smirk, tugging at old strings in your stomach. "Can't complain."

"Riveting stuff," He chuckles at that, a deep rasping sound, and you find yourself grinning. "Don't suppose that bit of clandestine, secret agent-type shit your mom's talked about?"

"Secret agent?"

"Yeah. Mentioned it in a Christmas card maybe three years ago?" You smile triumphantly into your glass. Seems both your mothers have a penchant for dressing up the truth.

His jaw works a tick, and something heavy passes behind his eyes. "Well, 'm not. Not exactly."

"Let me guess. If you told me, you'd have to kill me?"

He refocuses some, and a short laugh leaves him. "Something like that."

It's all painfully familiar, but it feels different with a little more life under your belt. His mere presence keeps you on your toes, yet you haven't felt this comfortable in months. For all the history and tension, talking to him is easy. A silence passes, the drinks arrive, and you ferry them to the table.

The night passes better than you expected when you first saw the Prices. They express belated condolences over your father, you chat about the fundraiser, and John politely navigates questions about his work. It frightens you when he briefly mentions Piccadilly to know he'd been there in the carnage. Part and parcel of military life, you guess.

"John, be a gentleman and walk her to the station," His mother chides as the five of you congregate in the hotel lobby.

"He doesn't need to do that," You hastily say. Not again.

"'Course."

There is something dreadfully giddy to how your parents wish you both goodnight.

At least you do not need to take his arm this time. Still, there is no way John isn't thinking about that night. Not when that look of quiet desperation he wore is seared within your memory. It's silly, but you peeked at his hands earlier, and like yours, they're naked.

You break the silence to fish. "How long are you on leave?"

"A week. Got in yesterday."

"Do you normally visit your parents?"

"Often."

Doesn't mean there isn't a woman in his life. 'Often' is not 'always'.

"Visit anyone else? Friends?"

He chuckles. "Sometimes."

You roll your eyes. "You know, you haven't changed much either. Aside from the beard and smoker's lung. Still a stunning conversationalist."

John smirks down at you. "Picked it up in the army."

Oh, yes. He remembers.

The conversation lulls, and the walk is short. You figure John's keen on a repeat when he wordlessly escorts you to the platform. But today's not a holiday, and the station is reasonably busy. He watches like a hawk, nonetheless, when you check the time.

"Brings back memories," He quietly comments.

Nodding, your thumb rubs where your wedding band used to rest. "Sure does." You respond and meet his gaze.

You studied theater, moved back to London, went to the party, and kissed John. You didn't regret those choices—only one.

The invitation flies out of you as your train emerges from the tunnel.

"Do you want to meet Hamhock?"

"He's…certainly orange."

"Don't rush to spend all your compliments at once," You glare, arms full of Ham, then coo at the cat. "John's jealous because he's going grey in the beard."

"I am not."

"Saw them on the Tube. Can't those from me," You tease and set the cat down, giving your kitchen a quick glance. A silver lining of work eating up your schedule is that you last cleaned two weeks ago, and it's held.

"What're those on your head then?" He gestures with a finger and toes off his shoes.

"Details of a person ageing gracefully." You play it confidently, but part of you holds a breath.

He hums and sidesteps Hamhock. "Suits you. It's pretty."

Maybe inviting him over is a mistake. The bolt that runs through you from the compliment pokes at something you thought buried. "What a gentleman," You try to inject as much sarcasm as possible, but your voice quivers. "I'll be right back. Sit tight?"

You leave John in the kitchen to retreat to the bathroom to regroup. Come on, you scold yourself over the basin for getting worked up. It's just John.

And yet, what remains of your confidence perches on a cliffside at the sight of John pointedly staring at the folder of your copies of the divorce papers on the counter. Fantastic.

His small smile is genuinely sympathetic. It's enraging.

"Y'know, I knew you were married…When I didn't see a ring at the hotel, though, I wondered."

Your chest tightens, and you shove the folder into a bookshelf. "Yep. Finalized the divorce two-ish weeks ago."

You're not in the mood to be reminded of your failures.

"Sorry it didn't work out," John murmurs.

"That's life. That's how it works sometimes," You exhale, then force a smile. "Want a drink? Bourbon? Wine?"

He lets you change the subject, and you let him have a glass of whiskey.

You sit on opposite ends of your short couch, Hamhock acting as a gentlemanly barrier. The conversation rekindles itself after a few fingers of liquor, and eventually, John migrates to the floor, idly playing with the cat. You confide in him about your worries about the event and whether the funds raised will be enough, and he listens. There is no condescension, no bulldozing. Not a trace of smugness at all when he makes suggestions. You don't realize how you've slipped into an old, practically ancient formation until he peers back, eyes creasing from laughter. You're fifteen again, and it is useless to deny it – you are regrettably in love with John Price.

"Can I confess something?" He suddenly asks as your cat waddles off with a catnip toy in his mouth.

Your heart lurches. "If it's a crime, I'm a terrible conspirator."

"No. Nothin' like that, but I lied earlier." He chuckles, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. "My mother didn't tell me about My Fair Lady."

"What do you mean?"

John turns sheepish. "I came an' saw it when I was on leave last summer. Thought I'd surprise you, but I got to the theater and lost my nerve."

Instantly, you pick through scraps of memories from the production. There is no way you would have known he was in attendance, not with how hellishly busy you are.

"You, Captain John Price, lost your nerve?"

Color blooms high on his cheeks, and he turns on the floor, rubbing his neck. "I knew you're not acting but I didn't know how to mention it without soundin' like a prick." His eyes look soft. Different from how they looked that night in his parent's garden. Steady, unwavering, but soft. "I know I'm not good with words. I seem to have a talent for making you angry. But I really am happy to see you. Didn't think I'd get another chance after how I bungled it all those years ago at the train–"

At your grown ages, the angle of the kiss is inadvisable. The two of you fix it without parting, and his hands cup your face when you're finally standing toe-to-toe.

He touches your foreheads together when breathing becomes necessary. "Change anything?"

You don't answer. You lead him to your bedroom and exile the cat.

The fundraiser goes off with a predictable amount of hitches. The caterer is an hour late and forgets half the hors d'oeuvres. The bar runs out of red wine early. Two actors from the children's company slap-fight on stage. Nothing you, Naomi, and Teddy can't fix with elbow grease and stage magic. The caterers re-course. Naomi calls in a favor from her bartender girlfriend. And the children forget their quarrel when they're called upon to defeat Captain Hook.

What you are not prepared for is one of the actors calling out sick, leaving you one date short for the auction. You waste an hour trying to convince one of your fellow techies to step in.

Naomi corners you when you stress-eat a comically tiny piece of toast swiped from a tray.

"You know, if one person is all we need…"

"Your girlfriend won't be mad?"

"Ha-ha, don't get cheeky. C'mon, isn't it time you got back out there?"

You suppress a smug smile. Naomi has no idea. Nobody does. You've gotten back out there and then some.

"Did I not tell you I was grossed out by the auction?"

She's relentless. "Are you really so proud you wouldn't debase yourself a little for the Bramble?"

"Absolutely not."

You'd said it with such conviction, so it's a puzzle when you find yourself waiting in the stage wing, makeup hurriedly refreshed. It takes all your courage and grace not to stumble to Teddy's side when he calls your name. He improvises an introduction on the fly, and you nearly laugh when you realize this is the first time you've been on the stage, under a spotlight, in years.

The bidding opens, and you hold your breath, letting it go when a few unfamiliar voices call out numbers. A humbling embarrassment clutches you by the throat. But then a paddle raises more confidently in the front row. The light is bright, but you know whose hand hoists it high.

He collects you at the end of the night as you lock up.

"There's my prize."

You can't stop the grin that splits your face. "It's just a date, John."

"Yeah, doin' things a bit out of order, aren't we?" A glimmer of his younger, puffed-up self shines through, and his hand envelops yours.

As you walk, your elbow digs into his ribs, "What will our mothers say?"

"That a big deal to you?"

"To some people."

"Well, love, you're not 'some people'."

#ocaptainchallenge #john price #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #price x reader #price x f!reader #lieutenant john price #cw alcohol #i love love #i love corny shit #i needed to write something soft okay?#lightly edited bc i don't think i'll have time to write tomorrow and the deadline is tomorrow!

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