#One day I will unlock the secret of good writing
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Cinnabon
Summary: (mall rats 7, final part!) Joel ruins a special moment, leading to another stupid argument, leading to him fucking the daylights out of you on his couch. Lovingly.
Tags: AU where yeast is not dead and we can all bake and be happy. Cordyceps is no longer in the flour/sugar either (work with me) Cinnabons, 69, dirty talk, unprotected Piv, creampie because it’s me, strang3lov3. soft dom joel because again, it’s me, strang3lov3. Strange highs and strange lows, that’s how my love goes. You get it.
A/N: As always, thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️ you’ve helped me so much on this series and you have no clue how thankful I am for that. Definitely abusing your talents for the next shit I wanna write! And thank you to everyone who’s read and reblogged, commented, all of that good stuff. This was a blast to write!!!
This may not be the absolute end of these two, so you might get an update on them here and there, most likely in the form of yet another lovers quarrel. But I have so much stuff planned and I hope you continue to keep up with me ❤️ excited for the new year and to share what else i've been writing with all of you 🩷
It’s early in the morning in late December when you’re walking up to Joel’s porch, holding a basket full of ingredients and a dusty copy of Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. You knock on the door, no answer. With Joel’s poor hearing, sometimes it’s better to knock on his back door. He seems to hear it better, closer to his bedroom and all that. You make your way to his back door, where you find Ellie quietly opening the window next to the door, no doubt sneaking back from a friend’s house. You startle each other, “Ellie, hi,” you say. You wrinkle your nose, she smells like weed. You can’t help but smirk.
“Oh,” she says, “Hi. I’m not– I’m just–”
“I won’t tell Joel,” you smile. Ellie’s staring at your basket of goodies, where one of your lacy Victoria’s Secret thongs sits on top of a blue Cinnabon apron. “I’m just…baking. For Joel. Are you gonna be home today?”
It’s Ellie’s turn to smirk at you, as she opens the window the rest of the way and lifts herself inside the house. You hear her heavy footsteps before she unlocks and opens the door for you. “I can disappear,” she replies, “I require payment, though.”
“I’ll leave you a plate outside your door.”
“Deal.”
Ellie goes to her room probably to change clothes, and you go toward Joel’s kitchen. “I want two of whatever you’re making,” Ellie calls out before slamming the back door again, probably going back to her friend’s house. That girl certainly knows how to negotiate. You can’t help but love her for it.
Joel usually wakes up early, but he’s not on his recliner where you expect him to be. Must be in bed. You smile to yourself, picturing Joel coming downstairs in his pajamas, hair messy and sighing in pleasure at the sweet aroma of butter and cinnamon.
You’re making Cinnabons this morning. Well, cinnamon rolls, as Betty Crocker puts it. When you and Joel were in the Barnes and Noble at the mall picking up books for Jackson’s library, you had stumbled across Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. Flipping through the pages, you found a recipe for cinnamon rolls and thought back to that first time in the mall with Joel, where he explained what a Cinnabon was, and then lied about his sweet tooth.
There were loads of recipes, many interesting pictures too. You brought the book to Joel and pointed at a picture of some odd, translucent dome-shaped food item. He told you it was called Jell-O, and that no one misses it. You wanted to take the cookbook back with you, but there wasn’t room in the duffel bag. And you couldn’t bear to rip out a single page for one recipe. That would just be cruel.
At the end of the day, you went back to Tommy’s office with Joel. Joel usually walks you home, but he didn’t that day. Said he was running late for game night with Ellie, so he took off quickly. Tommy told you he’d walk you home, though.
As you and Tommy went through some of the books, he heard you sigh disappointedly, “What’s gotcha down, hon?”
“There was this book I wanted, but we didn’t have room.”
“What book?”
“Cookbook,” you replied, “I wanted to make a recipe for Joel.”
“Ah,” Tommy murmured, flipping through the pages of an old picture book, “Which recipe?”
“Cinnamon rolls.”
“Oh man,” Tommy groaned. He checked his watch, then looked at you with a light in his eyes.
“I’ll take you back there right now to get that book.”
“You’d do that?”, you asked.
“For you, of course. But I got my motives. Ya gotta hook me up with some of those rolls.”
There are few things that make you feel as loved and appreciated as when Tommy’s eating your food, showering you in the sweetest compliments and praises. No problem, you’d gladly share your baking with him. So Tommy took you back to the mall. You led him to the bookstore, picked up your book and went on your merry way. Tommy still hadn’t gotten to check the mall out for himself, though. So he wandered through the same areas you did, through the food court you and Joel picked through all that time ago. At the Cinnabon stand, he tossed you a blue apron with the word ‘Cinnabon’ embroidered at the chest. “Bet ya could make Joel turn bright red with this.”
You picked up what he was putting down immediately. And, thinking about it, you had a lacy thong that would match the apron perfectly. You remembered the blush on Joel’s cheeks as you tried on lingerie at Victoria’s Secret, how he mumbled something about lingerie being a waste of time before fucking you in the dressing room, still wearing your pretty pink chiffon babydoll. You wondered if faced with a big, gooey cinnamon roll sitting in front of him, and you in nothing but an apron and a thong, he’d still lie about that sweet tooth of his and his disdain for lingerie. Cause for an experiment.
–
In Joel’s kitchen, you prepare the recipe. You prepped the dough last night, giving it plenty of time to rise. All you have to do this morning is prepare the cinnamon-sugar mixture and the icing. Oh, and put on that apron and thong. Not too hard.
Once the rolls are assembled in the pan, you put them in Joel’s oven and change into your little outfit, feeling a little breeze on your bare ass. Good thing Ellie’s gone. As you’re waiting for the rolls to bake, you lean over Joel’s kitchen table and flip through the pages of your cookbook. The Jell-O still has you perplexed.
Some time goes by. You’re reading about the Jell-O, how Betty Crocker said that it was great for parties and baby showers and other things like that. The slam of the glass door behind you startles you. You whip around, and there’s Joel with bright red cheeks, looking shocked and horrified. Through the glass door, you see Tommy in Joel’s yard. He waves at you, smiling. You wave back.
“Jesus Christ,” Joel grumbles, quickly pulling the blinds over the glass door to protect your modesty, “You gonna explain why you’re bare assed in my kitchen?”
“I thought you were sleeping,” you reply.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” he grumbles, as the egg timer you set prior goes off with a ding. You open the oven and pull out the cinnamon rolls with a pair of potholders, giving Joel a perfect view of your entire ass. “Oh my god,” he groans. When you turn around, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, always so dramatic. You reach for the Pyrex measuring bowl full of icing you prepared and begin drizzling it over the warm cinnamon rolls. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy. You’re somethin’ else, you know that? I never know what–”, Joel stops speaking, and you look back at him once more. He’s intrigued, eyes wide. The pastry has pulled his attention away from your nearly-bare body. “Those uh– those cinnamon rolls?”
“Cinnabons,” you correct him, pointing to the embroidered logo on your chest, “But yeah– cinnamon rolls.”
“Right,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. He reaches into one of his drawers for a fork and pushes you out of the way.
“Joel,” you complain as he steals a bite of the cinnamon rolls, right out of the pan. He blows on it first, careful not to burn his tongue. When he tastes the pastry, his eyes flutter shut. He moans softly. “You said once that you missed Cinnabons,” you explain, speaking softly. Joel reaches for another bite, right out of the pan.
“Mhm,” he mumbles, mouth full of dessert.
“What’s the verdict?”
“Cinnabon’s better,” he answers plainly.
Your face drops. “What?”
“Yeah this–”, he takes another bite, “S’no good at all.”
He’s fucking with you. Probably gonna say something dumb like how you should give him the pan, let him dispose of those no good cinnamon rolls for you. “Dick,” you punch his arm for scaring you like that. He doesn’t mind.
“You made these for me?”
“Yeah,” you say quietly, “For you.”
“For me,” he repeats, a soft smile on his face. You’re kind of baffled at his mood change, but you know what they say about men and food; the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, all that stuff. He steps closer to you, backing you against the countertop and turning off his oven, still wearing that smile, like he knows something you don’t.
“But I owe Tommy and Ellie one, too,” you continue, voice a little shaky. You’re nervous, why is he making you nervous? Joel sets his fork down and stares at you, lovingly, tenderly. “I made two batches before this, fucked both of those up. And then I ran out of sugar, actually. Tommy had to steal me some more.”
“I love you.”
His words hit you like a ton of bricks. He says it plainly, no frills. Just out with it.
“You do?”
“Mhm,” he hums, “I do. Still would like an answer as to why you’re half-naked, though.”
Your face heats up. What were you saying? The cinnamon rolls, right.
“I was– I don’t know. I had to knead the rolls by hand. The recipe said a stand mixer would be easier, but I didn’t…”, you trail off, feeling a little fuzzy, like you can’t think straight, your train of thought slipping away from you, “Didn’t have one. I love you too, actually.”
“I know,” he replies softly. He never doubted it for a second. Lord, he’s so handsome. His eyes sparkle more than usual, his fluffy curls untamed. The flannel he’s wearing suits him perfectly, and you can’t help but stare, stammering quietly. He reaches for your face with one hand, wrapping the other around your waist and pulling you close to his body, “I’m gonna kiss you now.”
Oh, fuck. You squirm out from his hold, away from the counter he held you against. Joel looks absolutely baffled as you smile sheepishly. “Can you grab me a plate for the Cinnabons?”, you ask, “I need to leave one by Ellie’s door.”
“I’d like to kiss you first, if you don’t mind,” he says, walking towards you. You keep walking backwards, around the kitchen table. Joel follows you as you look through his drawers for a spatula, opening and closing cabinets with shaky hands as you try to find a plate. Where are his fucking plates? Joel reaches for your hand to stop you. “Will you let me kiss you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
Joel’s missing something here. Has to be. You love Joel. Joel loves you. That’s been established, just like, two minutes ago. And you’ve been intimate with him many times before. The next logical step in this series of very out of order steps would be to kiss you. Unless…“Are you nervous?”, he asks.
“About what?”, you ask, “Kissing?”
“No, underwater basket weaving. Yes, kissing,” he sighs, “You seem nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” you lie, “I’d just like to be the one to do it first.”
“Oh,” Joel replies, still a little confused, “Yeah, naturally. Makes sense.” He takes you by the hand and leads you to his living room, sits you on the couch and takes his place next to you. “Lay it on me, then.”
“I can’t just–”
“You can,” he interrupts, coaxing you gently, “Come closer.” You scoot closer, but it’s not enough for Joel. Still wearing nothing but a thong and an apron, he lifts you by your ass and places you on his lap. Joel wears an expectant look on his face as you adjust yourself on his lap, feeling so awkward and out of your element. You’ve kissed people before, this should be no big deal. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous with Joel, especially when you’ve done everything else with him.
“Joel, I– I don’t know where to put my hands.”
“Right here,” he whispers, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Or here,” he moves your hands to his jaw, his patchy beard prickly under your fingertips. “Wherever you want.”
“I like your shoulders,” you whisper, dropping your hands back to his shoulders. One of your hands slides to the back of his neck, playing with his soft curls.
“S’good,” he says. And oh, his eyes. Brown and so warm, inviting, so beautiful.
“Close your eyes,” you demand, intimidated by his stare. “Sorry. Close your eyes,” you repeat, softer.
“My bad,” Joel replies, his eyes now shut. You’ve never noticed how pretty his lashes are before now. They’re gorgeous, so long. “They’re closed now.”
“Okay,” you breathe.
“You got it,” he encourages.
God, this is daunting. You close your eyes, lean forward…and smooch him right on the cheek. There. Easy.
“Doesn’t count,” Joel murmurs through a smile, eyes still closed. Fuck. You adjust yourself on his lap, lean forward and…nothing. Joel waits. And waits. And waits.
“I’m gonna kiss you now,” you say, trying to will yourself to just do it.
“Okay, sweetheart. You got it,” he whispers. But you don’t kiss him yet, and Joel keeps waiting, feeling himself beginning to grow hard as you keep squirming on his lap, adjusting yourself some more. “Hon?”
“Yeah?”
“Any minute, now.”
“I know,” you say, “I’m gonna kiss you.” But you adjust again. A minute passes with you on Joel’s lap as he waits patiently for you to finally kiss him. Another minute. And then you lean forward and – nothing.
“I’m gonna count down from three, and then you’ll kiss me. How about that?”
Yeah, sounds like a plan.
“Okay,” you reply.
“Three…two…”, Joel counts, and you prepare once more to kiss him, “One,” Nothing. Joel sighs, “You’re killin’ me here.”
“I was about to do it, Joel.”
“Uh huh.”
“I was,” you argue, “You just keep talking and–”
“Oh, you’re so full of shit. You’re the one doin’ most of the talkin’, like usual.”
“That’s not true,” you argue, but are interrupted when he opens his eyes. That’s not supposed to happen. He wears a mischievous grin as he sits up and his hands begin to slide up your sides. Your already pounding heart begins to beat even harder, faster, because Jesus Christ, he seems like he’s about to kiss you. “What are you doing?”
“Ya got three more seconds to kiss me. Three…”
“Joel, not funny,” you scold as he takes your face in his hands.
“Two…”
You’re beginning to panic, “Joel–”
And then he fucking kisses you, the bastard! No tongue, just a sweet, gentle peck. It’s despicable. You shove him back on the couch and glare at him, “You kissed me!”
“How awful,” Joel says with mock sympathy before he leans forward and kisses you again. You shove him again, harder.
“You asshole. I was gonna do it.”
“No, you weren’t,” he replies plainly. He tries to kiss you again, but you keep your hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the couch cushion. Joel’s smirking, but you’re scowling.
“Yes, I was.”
“Okay,” Joel laughs, “We can redo it, then.”
You sigh, “No, Joel, we cannot redo it. You already ruined it.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“Shit. S’too bad,” Joel feigns a sympathetic pout as he wraps both hands around your wrists that pin his shoulders, removing them from his body. He pushes your hands behind your back, holding them tightly as he kisses you again. And again, this time a little longer. Your lips begin to slide against his, and…god, they’re soft. The bastard.
“You’re ruining–”
“For the love of god, you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ nuts,” Joel mumbles against your lips.
“I was supposed to–”
“No. You had your turn. We’re doin’ it my way now,” Joel says, “That means,” he kisses you, “M’gonna kiss you,” another kiss, “And fuck you,” another kiss, “As I please, because I love you,” he whispers. He kisses you before he maneuvers you to lay across the couch cushions, now pinning your wrists above your head under just one of his hands “And you can’t do a thing about it. Got it?”
“I–”
He doesn’t let you argue further. Always so stubborn, you. “Good girl. Yeah, you got it,” Joel kisses you again. It’s different this time. Deeper, hungrier, messier. So much tension, time spent dancing around feelings, and it’s all out there now. His tongue slides past your lips and he tastes like cinnamon and sugar. You’ve been depriving yourself of him for too long. “And after all this, I’m gonna eat some of them cinnabons you made. And I won’t share, either.”
With his free hand, Joel unzips his pants to free his cock. “You know what you do to me, trouble?” he asks, breathing heavily. “Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that squirmin’ ya did instead of kissin’ me,” Joel lifts the bottom of your apron up, exposing yourself to him, already dripping wet as he pulls off your soaked thong. You could have expected the ensemble wouldn’t have lasted long. And how are you already wet? One second you’re arguing about a stupid kiss and the next, he’s got you pinned beneath him and you’re dripping. You gasp as Joel gathers your slick with his fingers before stroking his cock, dipping his head back down to kiss you. He kisses your lips sloppily, then your cheek and down your jaw, your neck, nipping at the skin and soothing the marks with his tongue. It feels hot and passionate, and loving and dirty; all the best things at once.
“Oh, god,” you moan as he kisses further down your body, still stroking his cock. He pauses momentarily to pull the strap of the apron over your head, then lifting your ass to untie the apron in the back. He pulls the fabric away from you quickly, tossing it on the floor. He kisses your chest, dividing his attention equally between your breasts. Pinching, twisting one nipple, kissing and licking the other, then switching. He leaves them wet with his spit as he kisses down your body, stopping before he reaches your pussy. “Joel,” you whine, “Please– need your mouth on me.”
“Oh, convenient. Now you want my mouth,” he breathes, teasing you.
“Please, I need it, need you,” you beg.
“Wouldn’t ya know it, I need your mouth too.”
“So? Me first.”
“God, you’re a brat. Nice try,” Joel pulls away from your body, taking off his clothes quickly, “Said we’re doin’ things my way. Tryin’ somethin’ new today. Scoot,” he motions for you to move to the side. “On all fours, now. Come on, up,” you scoot to the side where Joel tells you to, slightly confused as you take the position. Joel takes his place next to you, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to his face. “Sit,” he tells you.
“Joel,” you begin to protest. Surely he doesn’t want you to actually sit on his face, right?
“You trust me.” It’s not a question. He knows you trust him, he knows you know he’ll take care of you. Of course he will. His voice is firm, confident, “I need you to sit,” as he pulls your center to his mouth, wasting no time in pressing kisses into your folds, slick and sticky with your growing arousal. Your breasts are pressed against his soft stomach, hands gripping his meaty thighs. Freeing an arm from its place at your hip, Joel wraps his hand around his cock, rock hard with a swollen blushed tip. He uses his other hand to reach for your head, pushing your face towards his member. “Take me in your mouth,” he says. “See? We’re compromising. S’what people in love do.” What an asshole.
Wrapping a hand around his thick cock, you guide his tip to your mouth, pressing wet kisses against the smooth skin. He tastes like he always does, familiar and masculine, salty and sweaty, as you trace over his swollen veins with your tongue. Joel groans against your cunt as he parts your lips, your tongue still painting delicate swirls on his skin.
“Yeah, attagirl,” he praises in a raspy voice, “Best of both worlds, ain’t it?” Joel laps at your cunt, moaning softly at the way you taste, your arousal almost as sweet and delicious as your cinnamon rolls from earlier. He keeps you held firm against his face as he licks you, alternating between drawing firm lines with the tip of his tongue and fat stripes with his tongue flattened.
“Mmmm,” you moan, voice muffled by his cock. You’ve got him as deep as you can take him, your nose nudging his balls slightly as you cup them gently in your hand. Joel surprises you when he dips his tongue into your pussy, tasting every bit of your pussy. You stop what you’re doing, the only thing your mind can focus on is the feeling of his tongue working magic inside you.
He swats your hip, “Know it feels good, but it goes both ways, sweetheart.”
“Please, Joel,” you beg.
“You know the rules,” he says, “You stop, I stop. Keep goin’, you’re suckin’ my cock so good, sweetheart. So good. Always do, you know that?” You begin to bob your head on his cock once more, Joel rewarding you with wet, sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your pussy. It takes everything you have to focus on his pleasure when he attaches his lips to your clit, sucking gently on the sensitive spot and humming against you. It’s not long before that familiar feeling begins to build in your stomach, your first orgasm washing over you.
You gasp for air, “Oh my god, Joel,” as he works you through your climax. Joel never lets up, not once. He keeps sucking, licking your clit, his facial hair tickling your skin and only adding to the overwhelming sensation. Once more, your peak begins to build. “I’m– fuck, I’m gonna come again.”
“S’the fuckin’ point, my love,” Joel mumbles quietly, and you can feel his smirk. Despite the rules, you’re not even sucking his cock anymore, your face instead resting on his body, haphazardly stroking his length as pleasure erupts from your core. You’re a moaning mess, pussy dripping and soaking Joel’s face.
Joel gives you a moment to catch your breath. Underneath you, he places one last kiss right on your clit before he gently slides himself out from your body. You’re hardly coherent as he meets you once more, this time his face inches above yours, caging you in his arms. His cock bounces between your legs and he leans down to kiss you again. His lips are wet and you can taste your arousal on his tongue. “Look at that, I stole another one,” he taunts.
“You’re a dick,” you breathe against his mouth, your body betraying you as you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips.
“Yeah, yeah,” and in one swift motion, Joel lines himself up with your entrance and pushes into you. He kisses you again, swallowing your gasp as he parts your insides, letting you feel every inch of him. God, he feels good. You’ll never tire of that stretch, that delicious feeling of being completely full of him.
“Oh, Joel,” you moan. He pulls out slowly, then slides back in at a harsher pace, grunting when he bottoms out inside of you. He takes both of your hands in his own, pinning them above your head as he rocks his hips. It’s tender yet dominant, just how everything is with Joel. Just how you like him.
“Love this pussy,” he purrs, “An’ I love you so much,” as he fucks you deeply, intensely. You whimper through his thrusts, each stroke fluid and firm and intentional. He knows your body like his own. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. You always do.”
You writhe underneath him, relishing in the pleasure he gives you. His name and sweet whisperings of love are all you can speak, each word coming out in soft, broken cries. The wet, sticky noises of your pussy fill the room, along with your moans and Joel’s grunting, groaning, and heaving breaths. You tilt your head to the side, arms still pinned beneath Joel’s hands. You kiss his wrists and bite his skin there gently.
“Come with me, baby,” he coos, adjusting the angle and finding that sweet spot inside you, that spot he knows and loves. He lets go of your arms, one of his big, masculine hands now on your waist, the other thumbing your clit. “Give me one more, sweetheart.”
It’s all it takes. His words send you over the edge, your pussy squeezing him, walls fluttering and pulsing with every thrust of his cock. “Fuck, Joel,” you whimper as he fucks you through your orgasm. You wrap your legs around his body, the heels of your feet bouncing against his ass, simultaneously pulling him into a tight embrace with your now free arms. Everything about this moment with Joel is perfect, the way he smells, his hot skin, how close and safe you feel with him. It sends Joel over the edge, too. With your name on his lips, your cunt gushing and pulsing around his cock, he spills inside you, painting ribbons of himself deep inside you as he helps you ride out your own climax as long as he can.
He pulls out of you with a soft groan. He cleans you quickly with his t-shirt, a warm smile on his lips. He kisses your forehead, then sits back against the couch, catching his breath. You sit up too, and Joel holds out his arm as an invitation for you to curl into his side. Your head resting on his shoulder, you stare at him. All of his beautiful features, warm brown eyes, his smile lines, his aquiline nose. And then, you do it. You kiss him. Long and deep, passionate. Hours could be passing, you don’t know.
Joel breaks the kiss. He pulls away from you, no longer smiling warmly. Instead, he wears his teasing grin. “Finally,” he smirks. He holds up his hand for a high five. Fucker. You roll your eyes, lifting yourself off the couch and buttoning Joel’s flannel over yourself. You make your way to the kitchen, finding a plate and placing two cinnamon rolls on them. You reach for an old pencil that sits on the window sill, scribbling ‘Ellie’ on a piece of nearby scratch paper and leaving it next to the plate. A deal is a deal, after all.
“Don’t leave me hangin’, now,” Joel calls out to you from the living room. You turn around and he’s waving his hand, nagging you about his abandoned high five.
You flip him off. Asshole.
#strang3lov3#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller#strang3lov3 recs#the last of us#pedro pascal#the last of us hbo#pedro pascal joel miller#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal characters#mall rats!joel#mall rats joel#mall rats
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My Sun, My Star- Part 3
A/N: I feel like I’ve been writing and editing this forever but I think I’m finally done! I had a lot of requests for the Winter Soldier meeting his baby and so here we are! Besides a small epilogue this will probably be the last direct chapter of My Sun, My Star. Hope you’ve enjoyed!
Pairing: Bucky X Reader / Winter soldier!Bucky x Reader
Words: 4996
Warnings: Blood, fear of kidnapping/death, threats of violence, swearing, pregnancy/labor/birth, GN reader (no pronouns), but pregnant reader, blood, canon-level violence, rare use of Y/n (let me know if I missed things)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue | Bucky Masterlist
Buy me a Ko-fi?
________
“And you promise this is safe?” Bucky asked tentatively, his brow drawn together as he frowned in concern. His arms would have been crossed tight across his chest had one hand not been occupied holding yours.
“It’s the safest thing anyone could do,” Maria assured him from across the table, “it should only take about 40 minutes. We just need someone to make sure everything is set up properly in the safe house. There's some light cleaning and we need to make sure that the locks are good, the thermostat works, and the signal jammers are functional” she explained at length.
Today they were receiving a low-tier HYDRA agent that had recently defected. Fearing for his and his partner's life they sought refuge with what remained of SHEILD, promising to spill whatever secrets he needed to keep them safe. However, in the off chance it was all a ruse, they set up signal jammers so there’d be no chance of the agent alerting HYDRA or anyone else that may compromise the location.
“If it helps we can even keep the house under surveillance just in case. There’s plenty of cameras on the surrounding houses we can use to keep an eye out,” Maria continued, looking across the table to you this time.
You rubbed your enlarged belly, nearly bursting at the seams as you were due just a few days from now. Bucky had been the perfect companion while you were stuck at home, getting you anything you could possibly need, making sure you didn’t tip over, and keeping you entertained while you were mostly couch and bed-bound.
But now you were bored out of your mind, beyond tired of sitting on the couch at home all day and night, so why wouldn’t you take an easy job and the bit of money that goes with it? You can waddle around for a while to check some things out. You might be a little slow, but it couldn’t be more than an hour at most. What’s the harm in that?
“I’d love to, when do I start?”
Bucky did not have a good feeling about this.
____
It started as any other day; fairly quiet and mundane, and although it would be boring to anyone else, you were just happy to see something other than the inside of your apartment. You pulled the car to a stop in the driveway, looking up at the nice yet bland little house that sat before you. It was a good-looking neighborhood just an hour outside of the city, with decently spaced houses and gardens dotting the lawns here and there. And if you were anybody else it’d be your perfect suburban dream.
After a brief moment of struggling to squish your belly past the steering wheel you finally managed to hobble out, “Ha ha! See? Pregnancy isn’t so hard… I make this look easy,” you boasted to yourself with a grand smile as you stepped out of the car. You took a moment to dig your knuckles into your lower back as you exited, trying to chase away the pain you felt. It had started aching something awful on your way out here, cresting and falling in small waves, but it was nothing you couldn’t work around. You’d lay down eventually and you're sure it would right itself in no time.
You waved to the cameras pleasantly as you walked to the front door, clicking the key into the lock and punching in the ever-changing security code Maria gave you. Unlocking with a lighthearted mechanical chirp you stepped inside and looked around.
It was pretty bare bones; just the basic necessities- food, water, a couple of games, and a shelf of books to pass the time with. Curtains were drawn tight over the windows, keeping the place veiled in shadowy darkness and prying eyes out as you took your first few steps in. Closing the door behind you with a soft click you pulled out your phone to text Maria.
‘Testing testing 123,’ you sent, pausing a moment before giving a satisfactory nod as it refused to go through. The jammers seemed to be working just fine.
Bucky had been thoroughly against it when he heard there’d be signal jammers; he did not want you anywhere you couldn’t contact him with your due date so soon. But Maria assured him (as much as she could) that you’d still be able to call if needed- and vice versa- but that you’d have to use the tapped landline hanging inside the kitchen.
You hummed softly as you went about your work, ignoring the discomfort that ran down your back and stomach as you moved. You were just about halfway through your list when you felt your belly begin to quake, “Ohhh, hey. Okay, I know you probably wanna sit down, but we’ve barely started,” You winced as you rubbed your stretched-out skin, only to be met with a sharp kick.
“Ow! Okay! okay, maybe 5 minutes on the couch first…,” You held both your back and your stomach as you waddled toward the couch slowly, surely looking like quite the sight had anyone been around to see it.
Clink clink clink
You paused as you heard the front door jiggle.
No one was supposed to be here for hours yet.
It jiggled again, and this time you heard the voices of several people standing outside.
“There’s a car outside, he’s got to be here” you barely made out as the first voice mumbled, “if not him, then his partner- And I won’t be going back empty-handed,” another chimed in.
“We’ll find a way to keep him silent. Whether with his blood or theirs.”
Your stomach dropped.
They must’ve been HYDRA agents. Were they here for the defector? How on earth did they find this place?
But there was no time to think as the landline rang loudly from the kitchen. Wincing, you prayed to anyone who would listen that they wouldn’t hear it- but no such luck.
The door rattled again, violently this time, and was followed by mumbled threats to an agent you had never met.
Panic coursed through your body as you waddled quickly through the house, head turning this way and that as you searched desperately for a place to hide.
‘Can’t fit under the bed, the bathroom is too obvious, the kitchen is too open, I can’t go outside, and I can’t fight my way out…’ Your brain ran through endless possibilities, unhappy with each one as you clutched your stomach.
Pew pew
You recognized the sound of muffled gunshots immediately, they were quieted by a silencer- a terrifying thought- but you recognized them all the same as they shot through the security pad outside the door.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you cursed as you bolted toward your last choice, darting into the closest bedroom and tucking yourself behind the closet’s sliding doors, pulling them closed with a swift slam just as the front door busted in.
‘Deep breaths… Deep breaths…,’ You tried to slow your frantic breathing as footsteps entered the otherwise silent house. You desperately wished there were clothes, anything, in this closet you could hide beneath but it was as bare as the rest of the house. Sitting down, you curled into the furthest corner of the closet you could, forcing your heavy breaths into silence as you raked your brain for any solution you could.
‘Ah! My phone!! I can text for help!’ You scrambled to pull your phone from your pocket and quickly typed out a message to Bucky. Hopefully, he’d alert the others and be the first to come to your rescue.
“No, no, no, no…” you groaned quietly, “Why isn’t it sending?” You shook your phone angrily as it continued to refuse you and sighed in defeat when you finally remembered the jammers set up throughout the house. Your only hope now was the landline in the kitchen….
“Spread out,” the HYDRA leader commanded as he made his way into the house, picking up your bag that you so carelessly left out, “Find whoever’s here, and do whatever you need to bring them in. As long as they’re breathing, I don’t care how they come back,” He ordered, several pairs of feet breaking away immediately to search through the house.
You pulled your knees as close to your chest as you could, tears prickling your eyes as you tried to think of a way out. You weren’t even sure when the tears started to run, your mind growing numb as you thought of bad ending after bad ending. Doors slammed on the floor above you, making you flinch as you knew that at any moment it could be yours. You were trapped
But you had to be calm- Bucky would want you to remain calm. You could think of a way out, you knew you could, you just needed to take a deep breath. What would Bucky tell you to do?
You had just managed to get yourself somewhat calm again when a sudden wetness took over your lower half. Panic set in again as you scrambled to see over your ballooned belly, fearfully wishing this wasn’t what you thought it was. But as an even worse pain tore through you, like knives jabbing into your pelvis, you knew you weren’t mistaken.
Your water just broke.
——-
Technicians clacked away at their keyboards with lightning speed as Maria Hill entered the room. They had called her not too long ago, alerting her of an urgent matter- but even she couldn’t have guessed what this was about.
“There’s been a security breach…” the head technician announced as she flicked across their various screens to show her. “They weren’t subtle about it, I’m not sure if they wanted us to know or if they just didn’t care, but-“
“What did they take?” Maria interrupted, trying to get to the point.
“That’s the thing… they bypassed all our important files, the only file they actually opened was the one containing the safe house addresses…” she looked up at Hill with an expression that could only be described as nauseous, “We tried calling Y/n, but there was no answer…,” she bit her lip as she finished, even she obviously expected the worst.
Maria’s jaw clenched. She knew Barnes was going to kill her as soon as he found out, but she couldn’t just keep it from him either- “Pull up the security footage of house #6… now. Right now….” Her pen clicked nervously in her hand as she waited for it to come up, her stomach dropping as she saw a dark SUV in the driveway, the front door left partially open, and the security panel completely down.
“Rewind it…” she ordered, clicking her pen faster and- “Shit. This is…. Not ideal…” Maria said, obviously trying to keep her voice level and professional.
She stood behind her technicians, watching the back-tracked security film play the video of trained agents pulling up to the safe house and shooting in the door.
“Alert the team… I need to make a call.”
She slowed the clicking of her pen as the phone rang, barely getting out one full ring before it was immediately answered.
“Where do I need to be?” His voice was low, anger barely being held back on its tight leash. He already expected the worst and unfortunately, this time he was right.
“Sargeant Barnes, we have a situation... I’m sending you the address now.”
————
Horns blared as Bucky swerved onto the shoulder, speeding past traffic as he made his way to the safe house. His knuckles were a ghastly white as he gripped the steering wheel like a vice, the creaking of steel beneath his hands the only thing keeping him connected to the present.
He should have never let Maria talk you into it, or at the very least he should have been there to help you.
“Sergeant Barnes, we have a situation… I’m sending you the address now” Maria said.
“What kind of situation…?” His voice had been deathly low, barely restraining the anger it held. He made a beeline for the car as soon as he saw Maria’s name flash on the screen. He’d had his phone in hand all morning just for this exact scenario.
He could hear her frown through the phone and his skin burned with worrisome anger as she spoke, “HYDRA’s broken into the safe house… we’ve tried to contact Y/n but there was no answer. They’re still there, no one has left, and as far as we know there’s been no shots fired besides at the front door.”
He nodded curtly as he hung up, putting the car into gear and peeling out of the lot with a roaring screech of his tires. He couldn’t count the number of laws he broke as he tore through the city’s endless streets racing against an invisible clock.
Out of nowhere his arm jerked to the side, pulling him from his thoughts as he narrowly missed a stopped car before him. Stunned breaths caught in his chest as he realized what a close call it was, literally inches from disaster.
His body had acted without thinking, moving almost like it had a mind of its own… it was only when the back of his mind began to itch and squirm did he know why.
“Shit...” he sighed. The Winter Soldier must’ve sensed what was going on, digging himself toward the forefront of Bucky’s mind to take over. Bucky was still in control for now, but he wasn’t sure how much longer it would last.
“I guess I owe you a thanks,” he begrudgingly mumbled to himself, focusing once more on the road ahead. He was just 25 minutes out and he prayed he’d get there in time.
Continuing down the road he shifted uncomfortably; the Winter Soldier’s presence didn’t fade, but it didn’t press any further either. It was almost like he was… waiting for permission?
Bucky shook his head. 23 minutes out.
He knew you trusted the assassin, and after watching the videos of your last interaction he… trusted him too- to a point. But even with this iota of trust, his instincts still had him hesitating to relinquish control. What if it didn’t have a happy ending this time? What if he went too far? What if he couldn’t come back…? The fear had been ingrained in him so long ago that he wasn’t sure he could ever fully give it up.
But he may not have a choice anymore. If what Hill said was right then there were at least 6 agents waiting for him and he was completely unarmed. There was only one person he knew that could bring both of you out in one piece…
“Fuck,” Bucky swore. He knew what he had to do. Speeding passed the last car in his way, he pulled out into the empty straight-away before him. Bright blue eyes stared back at him through the rear-view mirror as he sighed, “Don’t make me regret this…”
Pain rippled through his skull, ringing as if his head was stuck inside a church bell. Haze crept into his sight as the edges of his vision blurred and he let himself fully slide into the backseat of his consciousness. His shoulders shifted slowly, rolling as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter. The soft material caved under his metal fingers with a wretched creak, leaving ripples in the leather-covered metal.
As the cloud of pain finally passed, burning away like early morning fog, he pulled the rear-view mirror down. A familiar dark aura surrounded his gaze as he watched himself, trained and sharp as he nodded to his reflection.
He wasn’t Bucky anymore.
“Вы не будете [you won’t].”
————
“No no no no…. Not right now, please. Anything, but this-“ you paused your mumbling as footsteps passed right in front of the room, “-Okay maybe not anything, but still….”
You held your breath, tensing as another contraction passed through you and you willed yourself not to make a sound, but it was getting harder and harder each time. It dawned on you that you must have been having contractions this whole time. That pain in your back when you started driving down, the quaking of your belly, it was all a part of your labor- you just didn’t realize until your water finally broke.
Tears flowed freely from your eyes, not at the pain but at the horror of your situation; There was no way to get out without being seen, you were far too slow for that in your current state and you were bound to be bagged and shoved in a van as soon as they caught you. However, you couldn’t wait and hope to give birth in this closet either; the moment she comes out she’s going to be a screaming mess and then you’ll both be in a vulnerable state.
‘Where is Bucky…?’ You thought as tears clouded your vision, your fingers redialing him from memory alone even if you knew it would never go through, ‘please, please… I have to do something…’
You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes as you furiously rubbed the tears away, again trying to remain calm. ‘Okay, think… think… maybe I can slip out through the window…? If I’m quiet enough maybe I can take my time with it?’ You thought as you peeked through the slats in the closet doors.
You hoped that the windows wouldn’t be locked as you looked down at your phone again, trying to time out your contractions, ‘Okay…. After the next one hits we’ll just make a break for the window.. that should be more than enough time to get myself out, right? Thank god I hid on the first floor.’
You waited until your next contraction hit, biting down on your lip to keep yourself quiet. You breathed furiously through your nose to try to keep your composure and began to taste iron as blood spilled into your mouth. But you didn’t care- you couldn’t afford to.
“Shit, shit, okay…” you breathed as it finally passed, slowly shifting onto your hands and knees, reaching for the knob when-
Click
You heard the door to the room click open and footsteps come inside. Quickly covering the gasp that threatened to escape, you eased back down slowly. Fear froze your entire body, you didn’t even realize when you started holding your breath, but you weren’t about to let it go now.
You wasted your time and now you were stuck here; dear god were you gonna die in a closet? This is not how you imagined yourself going.
Through the slats in the closet doors, you watched the agent check the room, under the bed, under the desk- he had just started to leave when he stopped in front of the closet doors, his feet turning to face you.
Your heart squeezed painfully as every part of you waited with bated breath. You heard his hand fall on the knob. This was it. The moment he opened it he was bound to see you. You had nowhere left to hide.
You only hoped it would be quick.
You closed your eyes as you heard the closet door begin to open. You were sure you had been seen until-
“Hm?” The agent said as he turned toward the commotion happening in the other room. His hand left the knob and you watched as his shadow quietly slink away toward the sound of growing struggle and gunfire.
Was now your chance..?
BANG
‘NOPE!’ You screamed in your head as gunfire went off right outside the room's door, accompanied by the heavy thud of a body and cloth on tile as it was dragged away. Boots squelched against the hall's sleek floors, coming closer until they transitioned to the sound-absorbing carpet of the room.
Braving a peek through the thin slats you saw blood-covered boots, different ones than the agent just before, but the same terror filled you as you noticed them facing you.
Your breath burned as you held it still in your lungs, your whole body tense with anxiety. Did someone hear you? Did they know you were here? You had kept yourself so hidden, how did they know?
“Ты не сможешь спрятаться от меня, дорогая... Я узнаю свое солнце где угодно [you can’t hide from me, darling… I’d know My Sun anywhere].”
You knew that voice... You knew that voice..!
Cautiously, holding your stomach close you peeked past the sliver of an opening, “My Star…?”
He was covered in smatterings of blood from his head to his boots, yet thankfully none of it seemed to be his own. Despite his slightly battered and blood-covered appearance, his darkened eyes swam with reverence and relief as his strange little smile shined brighter than his namesake. You couldn’t be sure exactly when the assassin’s persona had come out, but you were beyond glad he was here.
“My star!” You beamed and scrambled to your feet to launch yourself at the Assassin, only making it halfway off the floor before crumbling back into a tight ball. You yelled, tears flowing once more as you finally put voice to the pain of your contractions, they were coming on much quicker now.
Obvious worry flashed across his face as he rushed in to catch you, gently easing you onto the floor. Hands roamed over you in a cursory search as he spoke, trying to find the source of your pain, “My Sun? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
You whimpered as the pain lingered, wisps of it swirling across your stomach and hips before finally settling away, “Ah…. No, I’m fine- mostly fin…” you shuddered as you clung tight to his arms, trying to stand.
“I’ve got you…” The Soldier soothed with a murmur, his voice surprisingly sweet in your ear as he whispered soft words, “You’re okay now….” Careful eyes scanned over your body again as you were scooped off the ground by two strong arms, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he saw you were indeed unharmed.
You couldn’t find it in yourself to care for the way blood stained your clothes and smeared across your skin as you were held fast against his chest. He held you like you were everything delicate about the world, and to him you were. Turning his face into your neck he breathed in every part of you- the fear, the sweetness, the grime, the love; he wanted to breathe in every moment that he had missed.
“My Sun, how long has it been..? You’ve grown so much…,” Adoration pooled in his once frigid eyes as they washed over you. As steady as he could manage he settled you on the small heap of pillows making their home on the bed. His large warm hand was like a godsend as he pressed it against your aching belly, his touch seeming to quell everything- even for just a moment.
“4 months…” you replied, all your focus was on breathing through your nose while your hands absentmindedly went to remove your pants, finding difficulty when your nearly 9-month belly got in the way.
“4 months… so this-” His voice paused as he stepped in to help remove your pants. His eyes cast down to your belly, seemingly searching for a moment before looking back up at you, and for once you saw the Winter Soldier’s darkened gaze filled with never-ending light. “I finally get to meet her..?” his voice was uncharacteristically soft as he spoke, his words filled with disbelief, “I get to meet our girl…?” he whispered as if he was scared that speaking too loud would surely jinx it.
Your lips cracked into a small smile as you watched him, your heart fluttering all the more as he spoke in hushed tones. You nodded as you took his hand against your quaking belly, “It’s time… But I can’t do this on my own,” you looked up at him with big eyes, ones that spoke of urgency and need, “I don’t know if anyone else is coming, and I don't know if we have time to wait for them either,” you said, looking at him in hopes that he’d begin to understand. “I need you to help me when she comes, okay? I… I think I need you to deliver her.”
Light-filled blue eyes faltered as he looked from you to your stomach and back again. His hands were used to taking life from this world, not bringing it in. Not to mention that, unlike Bucky, He did not have the time nor the resources to read parenting books; he was completely unprepared for a mission like this and for once he actually found himself scared.
“Ah… My Sun, I-” he started. What if he messed it up? What if he hurt her? … What if he really was only good at one thing- killing? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if this went wrong- and he knew his gentler half wouldn’t either.
“I’ll try to walk you through it, okay? Please?” you begged as you squeezed his hand. You were terrified, plain and simple, but between the two of you- you were the only one with hours of anxiety-filled Google searches under your belt and for now, that would just have to do.
His eyes shot back up to yours, searching your gaze for a moment before nodding, “Okay, My Sun… anything you ask…” he promised. And he did, anything and everything you asked of him he was quick to get, whether it was more pillows, washing the blood from his face, or giving you his hand so you could break it as you squeezed.
Your contractions began getting closer and closer until they were only mere minutes apart. Pain ripped through every fiber of your muscles, every shard of your bone, and every cell of your organs as your baby girl squirmed to be free.
“I can’t… I can’t hold her in anymore…” you said wearily, your hair probably this way and that, but all you knew was how tired you were already. Your eyelids hung half-lidded as you looked up at him, pressing his cool metal hand further into your flushed cheek. You were a mess, you were damp all over and red in the face and grouchy beyond belief but you were still a shining sun in the vibrant sky of his blue eyes.
He nodded and quickly moved between your legs, not letting the sight phase him as he readied himself exactly as you instructed. He was going to be calm for you, despite the way the assassin inside him yelled that he was unprepared. He had done plenty of missions with only a sliver of knowledge to go on- he wouldn’t let it stop him now.
“You’ve done great, My sun. The long part is over and now you have just a little bit more,” he said, giving you words of encouragement- just as you instructed. “You're going to do amazing, and I know that she is going to be as perfect as you in every way,” Despite your request for encouragement there was nothing but complete honesty in his tone. He believed every word he said to you and for the first time in this entire pregnancy, you truly thought you could do this too.
It took only 4 pushes and the cost of feeling in the Soldier’s fingers before the most blessed cries filled the air. Your baby’s sweet chubby face wailed the world’s sorrows as the Soldier held her delicately in his once-bloodied hands. Despite her red face and angry cries, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He would have taken down a hundred agents- a thousand if it meant he got to see her face for the first time again.
“Моя прекрасная девочка... Несмотря на то, что ты плачешь и кричишь с первых вдохов, ты - самое замечательное существо, которое я когда-либо видел. [My beautiful girl… even though you cry and scream with your very first breaths you are the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen],” he whispered to her writhing little form, quickly cutting and tying the cord before wrapping her snuggly in your jacket. Her cries quieted and her kicking feet slowed to a stop as the soothing rumble of his voice reached her ears- almost as if she recognized it.
After a few more frustrated grunts, her formerly closed eyes slid open. Radiant blue’s gazed back at him, like a still ocean they seemed to reflect his own perfectly. “У нее мои глаза... Дорогая, у нее мои глаза [She has my eyes… Darling, she has my eyes],” he looked up at you with a joy so innocent you could never have imagined the things he had done in his lifetime. There was another piece of him in the world now, a piece beyond the bloodshed and dark shadows he knew- something clean and new, and perfect.
Your heart swelled beyond measure as you watched the Winter Soldier hold his tiny daughter, his gaze filled with adoration as if he had never known anything less. He was a sight to behold as he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against her little one as she gazed up at him in wonder.
Despite the tiredness you felt deep in your bones you fought hard to stay awake, utterly transfixed by the scene before you. In all your life you couldn’t have imagined today going the way it did, but you couldn’t have asked for a better end to it.
As you watched the once fearsome Winter Soldier laugh as she gripped his finger with all her might, you could think of nothing to do except pull your phone out and snap a photo- you were going to cherish this photo forever as a memory that would always last.
__________
Bucky Taglist:
@writingmysanity@simpxinnie@mirtaqueen@blackhawkfanatic@mcira@aagn360@nialiuwanderlust@waywardhunter95 @goldylions
thanks to everyone who wanted to be tagged this chapter! If you want to be added to the general Bucky taglist please DM me!
#I got tired of editing it so hopefully it’s not bad#bucky imagine#bucky fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#Bucky Barnes x y/n#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes imagine#james bucky barnes x y/n#james bucky barnes x you#james bucky barnes x reader#james barnes x y/n#james barnes x you#james barnes x reader#james buchanan barnes x reader#winter soldier!bucky x reader#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier x y/n#winter soldier!bucky x you#so many fucking tags for this man good gods
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Catching Fire | Eris x Reader
summary: When word of Sawyer's nightly endeavors reaches Beron, he summons you both to his office. Meanwhile, Eris is away on a secret mission where he discovers a troubling truth about you.
warnings: violence, mentions of blood and homophobia (bc Beron is an asshole toward his son); A hint of dark Eris torturing your father
a/n: This is part five to my Like An Angel Series, where Eris falls in love with his brother's betrothed. I do try to write each imagine as a stand alone but I don't think this one can.
Eris moves with silent grace as he steps out from the shadows and into the grounds of your family’s home. His father had sent him to Dawn to handle some unfinished business with Nuan so of course, he took advantage and paid the Night Court a visit too. Now, on his way back home, he decided to stop and pay your father a surprise visit.
Determination burns bright in his eyes as he observes the guards patrolling the perimeter. He reaches for his bow and arrow, placing an enchantment over the sound. Each arrow released is laced with a poison, weak so it doesn’t kill but strong enough to knock someone out for hours. A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips as the guards fall one by one.
Given his status, he knows he could’ve requested to see your father at the gates and easily been granted it. But it’s important that no one but your father knows of his visit.
Eris allows the moonlight to guide him down the cobblestone path, leading to the entrance of your house. He uses his magic to unlock the front door and slips in.
The hour is late but Eris keeps his senses on high alert, in case there are still servants lurking through the halls. Your house is great and vast, adorned with expensive furniture and sculptures. One would think this was a lord’s house and not a merchant’s. He can’t help but notice the fabrics wrapped around some furniture and the random boxes littering the floors. Some boxes are filled with stuff, others still empty. Almost as if your father is planning to move.
He stops for a brief moment when he finds himself in the sitting room. Torches line the walls, enveloping the room in a dim glow. It’s bright enough to discern the family portrait hanging on top of the mantelpiece. Immediately, his eyes are drawn to you. A softness envelops his features, his heart skipping a beat.
It’s only been a couple of days since he had to leave the Forest house and he misses you already.
As he looks at the painting, he admires how the artist managed to capture the brightness of your presence well. Beside you stands an older female, unmistakably your mother. The resemblance between the two of you is striking and the notable absence of resemblance in all ways to the male seated in the portrait leaves Eris feeling a sense of relief.
He forces himself to carry on, tearing his gaze off the painting. His keen senses guide him down a certain hallway and as he walks forward, he takes in every detail. It becomes apparent that the portrait in the sitting room must have been the most recent, for older depictions of your family adorn the walls of the hallway he traverses, each one offering a glimpse of you through the ages.
When he finally reaches the door he was looking for, he takes a deep breath and then reaches for the handle.
**
Casting a glance toward Lady Raelynn, you take a deep breath and then mimic her stance. True to her words, she had taken it upon herself to teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow. Her movements are graceful and effortless as she notches an arrow onto her bow.
“You’re so good at this,” you say in admiration when the arrow hits its target.
“I’ve had centuries of practice, my dear,” Lady Raelynn smiles warmly at you, easing her stance. Though subtle, a hint of sadness flickers in her russet eyes once more, causing a pang of guilt to tighten your brow.
During your first practice session, you had asked her why she pursued archery, dancing around the real question you had meant to ask…How did Beron allow it? Considering the strict standards of the Autumn Court, you're certain that archery wasn't deemed appropriate for ladies such as yourselves.
Her answer had been short and simple, “it saved my life once.” You’ve heard some stories from the war centuries ago, how Lady Raelynn’s family estate was attacked by Hybern’s forces and she was the only one to escape. You didn’t ask any questions after that, sensing it was a sensitive topic.
“Your turn.”
You nod and then steady yourself. This time, you’re relieved to find your hands steady, lacking the nervous tremble that plagued previous sessions. Slowly, you draw the string of your bow back and then release. It sails through the air, missing the target by a small margin. With a sigh, you lower your bow. You were so close.
“Is that the best you got?”
Your head whips around. You recognize the voice but still, you can’t help but hope maybe you heard wrong. Reality deflates your hope as your gaze falls upon a disheveled Sawyer. Some irrational part of you had been clinging to the hope that it was Eris. Even though he had left a note for you in the book he promised to bring you, telling you he would be gone for a week. The note had burst into ashes after you read it but the words he had written were still engraved in your mind.
Angel, I’m afraid I have some business to partake in for the next week. Allow my book to keep you company and reach out to my mother, should you need help. Until then, I’ll be thinking about you and those sweet lips of yours.
-E
Sawyer lets out a tut in disapproval, pulling you out of your thoughts. He seats himself on one of the lawn chairs in the gardens, squinting at the blinding light of the sun. His hair is a mess, bags under his eyes are heavy and the clothes he wears are wrinkled and not fitting for a male of his status. If High Lord Beron could see him now, you fear what would become of him.
“Sawyer.” Lady Raelynn says in what appears to be a warning, a frown etching onto her features as she takes in the sight of her son.
Your nose crinkles as the stench of alcohol and something else reaches you. He must’ve gone out. Again. When you had bargained with Sawyer and offered to cover for his night endeavors, you hadn’t expected how frequent they would be. Sawyer was becoming reckless, as if each night closer to your wedding drove him further and further into despair. You weren’t handling it well either. The judgmental looks sent your way often followed by scoffs and rude comments as you walked around the Autumn estate weren’t helping your situation.
“What a shame,” they’d say. “I heard Sawyer hates her.”
“There must be something wrong with her. Or him.”
“Clearly, she’s not worthy. I doubt she’ll last long.”
Your fingers tighten against your bow. You didn’t care that Sawyer had no interest in you nor for the rumors that circled around him of his preferences. It was the fact that he was being careless with his actions and you worried about what it would mean for the both of you, if the High Lord finds out.
Sawyer’s lips tug up into a smirk. He leans back onto the chair, grabbing a ripe red apple from the basket of fruit laid out on the table beside him. With newfound focus and determination, you raise your bow. You’re thinking before even acting, and in the blink of an eye, the arrow is soaring. It pierces straight through the apple in Sawyer’s grasp, sending it flying and pinning it to a nearby tree.
“I was going to eat that!”
Your eyes widen in surprise, the bow falling from your grasps and onto the floor. You didn’t miss. Your mouth parts, the beginning of an apology about to roll off your tongue. Not toward Sawyer but toward Lady Raelynn.
“Good aim,” she says before you can even speak, soothing your worry.
She then approaches Sawyer, a disapproving look on her face. She brushes his hair back and gives a small tug, tilting his head to look up at her. “Please go bathe and freshen up before anyone else sees you. Or worse, your father.”
Hurried footsteps draw near and immediately, a tight knot twists in your stomach as a servant who cannot look any of you in the eyes comes forth. She keeps her head bow, shaky hands clasped before her.
“High Lord Beron requests Lord Sawyer’s and Lady Y/n’s presence.”
It's already too late.
**
Eris’s teeth clench as he reads over a letter that had been left in an open box atop your father’s desk. It’s a letter addressed to his father and as his eyes skim through the page, he feels a dark heat seeping into his bones.
Dear High Lord Beron,
By the time this letter reaches you, I will be far out from your grasp. I sense you’ll be angry but I urge you to not bother looking for me. The thing you seek most is already with you. It’s been with you all this time, coursing through my daughter’s veins. The essence of the sundrop flower lives within her. Not the original intention but when my wife found out I planned to sell it to the highest bidder, she decided to foolishly take matters into her own hands.
Attached to this letter is a journal where I’ve kept all records of the sundrop flower and my daughter. Do with this information as you will. She’s all yours now.
Best wishes,
Jareth
Eris's hands are immediately reaching out for the journal that lies in the box, fingers tightening around it so harshly his knuckles are turning white. He opens it, eyes skimming over the pages and reads just enough to know what’s so precious about this sundrop flower.
When he closes the book, he’s furious. It was no surprise to him to confirm that your father was not a good male. However, it was surprising that he sold you, his one and only daughter, out. He probably killed your mother, too. With the journal still in his hand, he quietly finds and sneaks his way to your father’s room with an urge to seek out more answers.
The sun is beginning to rise when Eris makes himself comfortable on the grand armchair. It had originally been facing the window but he moved it to face your father, who was currently still sleeping. A muscle in his jaw tightens at the peaceful expression on your father’s face.
Not wanting to waste any more time, his magic yanks the covers off from your father. Your father jumps to wakefulness with a startle, eyes wide and frantic as he sits up in bed. The blood leaves his face as he spots Eris.
**
The heir to the Autumn Court reclines on the armchair as if it were his throne. There’s an air of practiced arrogance around him. He’s dressed in a fine suit, every thread woven with the finest fabrics of deep navy, highlighting the richness of his crimson hair that cascades around his broad shoulders. His amber eyes, gleaming with an unsettling intensity, pierce through the dimly lit room with an almost predatory glint.
“Call for help and I’ll slit your throat.”
“Lord Eris,” your father breathes, blinking back at him in surprise. His gaze lowers to where Eris’s ring clad fingers tap on the journal in his lap. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I came to relay a message from my father. I’m sure you’re well familiar with his impatience. But then, I found this,” Eris says, holding up the letter he found and taking pleasure in the fear that flashes through your father’s eyes. “Planning on going somewhere?”
**
It’s eerily quiet as you and Sawyer step into the High Lord’s office. You pray to the Cauldron that the glamor Sawyer placed over himself is strong enough to mask the evidence of whatever he got himself into last night. But as you turn around to face Beron, your heart sinks to your stomach. The pure anger simmering in those brown eyes of his is enough to let you know he sees right through it.
“Father, I can–”
You flinch, curling into yourself as a loud cracking sound echoes through the room followed by the sound of Sawyer’s body falling to the ground. He grunts in pain, struggling as he turns on his side to sit up. But a sharp kick from Beron sends him back to the floor, his head banging against the floor.
“You continue to disgrace this family,” Beron seethes with another powerful kick and you hear something crack. “Tarnishing the family name I spent centuries bringing up! Where is duty? Where is honor?”
Sawyer’s brown eyes light with an indignant fire. “Fuck honor,” he manages to spit out, setting Beron alight.
Tears sting at your eyes as you watch the scene unfold before you in horror. You knew the High Lord of the Autumn Court was cruel and violent. But this? And toward his own blood? This was unforgivable. Unjust and absolutely terrifying. It confirmed all your suspicions over the bruises and scars you'd seen on Eris.
Oh, Eris.
A scream catches in your throat and your entire body freezes as Beron continues to unleash his wrath on his son.
“I’ve been generous in offering you a solution and you dare make a mockery out of it?”
“There is no solution for who I am,” Sawyer cries defiantly, despite the blood trickling from his mouth.
The hurt, the agony in his voice tears at your heart–
“I dare curse the Cauldron for making you the way it did!”
“I don’t.” You’re taken aback at the firmness of your own voice.
Beron turns to you sharply, your words reminding him of your presence. You swallow thickly but stand your ground as he walks toward you. While Sawyer has not been the kindest to you, he does not deserve any of this. If anything, you now understand him more. Why your marriage came to be, why Sawyer hates you. It has your heart aching for all the suffering he must’ve endured and is still currently living through.
“You,” he hisses with a pointed finger. “You just marked your death sentence.”
Fear creeps into your heart and a sickening smirk begins to form on the High Lord’s face. He can sense the terror filling your veins. Still, you hold his gaze, though it’s threatening to burn you alive at any given moment.
“You’re undeserving of all the blessings the Cauldron has bestowed upon you," you say.
A harsh slap sends a stinging pain to your face. Your body stumbles backward but Beron holds you steady, gripping onto your arm. His nails cut through the thin fabric of your gown and pierce into your skin. His other hand grips your face sharply by the chin as he studies you.
“What a terrible disappointment you are. I would kill you right now but much to my discontent, I have to wait until after the wedding,” he threatens and then lets out a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. The way he’s looking at you. You’re almost sure he’s thinking of all the ways he’ll enjoy torturing you to death. Your body is screaming internally in panic and there’s a strange sensation stirring in the depths of your chest.
“You could’ve had it all, you know? What every female of your status wishes for. Money, jewels, a good family name."
“No,” Sawyer groans out, keeling over. “None of this is her fault. It’s all mine. I was careless. Eris warned me but I threatened her to stay silent.”
You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Beron releases his cruel grip on you. He turns back to Sawyer, who remains on the floor and you’re quick to come between them. A foolish move but you worry Sawyer doesn’t have it in him to take any more blows. Nor do you want him to.
“I do not care who is at fault for I am putting the blame on both of you anyway. But,” Beron pauses to lift a finger. “Let this be clear to you both that this is a warning. One more mishap from either one of you and it’s over. You think you know pain? I will have you longing for something as sweet as pain.”
Beron looks over at you both, delighted in the sight of your trembling form and his son, who remains on the ground. Bleeding. He’d say his message is pretty clear but just in case...
“Oh. One more thing,” he says as he makes his way toward the door. His hand grasps the door knob but he pauses, wanting to make sure you hear his next words well.
“There will be a bedding ceremony at your wedding.”
**
Eris wasn’t above inflicting pain onto your father. He meant it when he said he’d do anything to keep you safe. What a harsh twist of fate it was that the person who helped bring you into this world was also the same person content with you leaving it.
Your father didn’t deserve you. Eris feared he, himself, did not deserve you either. But he’d be damned, if he allowed the ruthless hand of fate to have you at its grasps.
This thought crosses his mind as he gazes down at your own father’s hands. Eris had brought your father to his study, forcing him to sit at his desk while the Autumn heir loomed over his shoulder like an oncoming storm of darkness.
His hands reach for his belt, where he keeps his favorite dagger sheathed at all times. “What hand do you write with?”
Jareth’s body tenses. He turns his head to look up at Eris with wary eyes. “My right, my Lord,” he replies with quiet hesitancy.
“Good,” Eris says. The only warning Jareth got before Eris brought his dagger down, piercing through your father’s hands. He muffles his scream with his free hand as he twists the dagger further into his skin. “That means you won’t need your left hand anymore.”
“Here’s what I need you to do if you wish to live.” Eris roughly pulls Jareth’s head taut to his chest, forcing his gaze upwards. The hand at Jareth’s mouth lifts and finds its place against his throat. Eris gives a tight squeeze in warning.
“I need you to write a letter to your daughter. Confess the truth. Apologize for all the wrongs you’ve done. Then, you pray to the Mother that y/n has it in her to forgive you… because I sure as hell never will.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Jareth mutters hurriedly, desperate to live. His right hand shakes as it finds his quill, eyes glistening with fright under the intense gaze of Eris.
How pathetic, Eris sneers quietly as he sits himself on the chair directly across from Jareth. Though small, he needed to put some distance between them both. He fears if he didn’t, the primal instinct urging him to protect and defend you would consume him whole.
Eris leans back into the chair, bringing the journal filled with details of your father’s twisted experiment with you to his gaze. Every so often, he casts a glance toward your father, who continues to scribble words down with haste. The more and more he learns of the truth, the more it sickens him. And the more he wishes to give in to that primal instinct, to unleash the beast that lurks deep within him.
But he knows how much it’d hurt you if he killed your father. Even if your father deserved it. Ironically, Eris can only pray to the Mother himself that you would find it in you to forgive him for what he has planned for your father instead.
After what feels like an eternity, Jareth lets out a deep exhale. “Done.”
Eris lifts his gaze, slowly taking in the sight of your father like the calm before the storm. The older male’s face has turned ashen, coated with a sheen layer of sweat that Eris can scent.
The Autumn heir rises from his seat, leaning over to take a brief look at the contents of the letter. The corner of his lips lift into a sinister smirk.
“Looks like you won’t be needing your right hand either.”
**
Eris watches from a distance, bright flickering flames casting an eerie reflection in the darkness of his eyes. Your house is catching fire with a ferocity that thirsts to devour everything in its path. The letter your father had written to you is secured into the breast pocket of his coat along with the journal.
It all makes sense to him now. Why on that night he rushed to comfort you, you had not been concerned at all with your bleeding hand. Why the scar on his lower abdomen had magically disappeared after you touched it that same night. Why the yellow flower you had embroidered and proudly showed him looked familiar. Why your father would refer to you as a flower a lot. Why his father was obsessed with obtaining it for himself.
The sundrop flower surged through your veins.
A long, long time ago, it was whispered that a solitary drop from the Cauldron had spilled over in what is now known as the Dawn Court, giving birth to the radiant sundrop. The golden flower was no ordinary bloom as it possesses the ability to heal any ailment or injury. It blooms at a different location within the Dawn Court every fifth century or so. A phenomenon carefully overseen by the reigning High Lord of Dawn. As it is rumored that whoever beholds the flower is immortal, for nothing can harm or kill them.
Eris has no idea how your parents managed to not only find but obtain the flower before Thesan could. The sundrop is a divine creation, blessed by the Cauldron itself. A divine creation whose essence is intertwined with your very being. As Eris’s thoughts drift back to you, he feels a stirring deep in his chest.
His hand instinctively reaches for his heart, his breath catching as a tumultuous wave of emotions washes over him. Fear, panic, anger—all swirling within him. Yet not his own. No, these emotions are coming from you, echoing loudly through the bond.
A sense of foreboding settles over him. Something is terribly wrong.
a/n: Sorry for the lack of Eris x reader interactions in this one and the lack of softness this series usually holds but it was necessary to build up to the future parts. The next part will make up for it. Hope you still enjoyed! and also hoped you enjoyed the continued Tangled references lol and the one quote from the Avengers as well as some House of Dragon ones. I know a lot of information was dropped in this part so if you have any questions, just let me know. There's just three more parts to this and the bond snapping for reader is coming soon 👀
tagging: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria, @glitterypirateduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @acourtofbatboydreams, @mal-adaptive-dreams, @dandelionfairyyy
if you asked to be tagged and I didn't, please know it was a mistake and just let me know again so I can add you!
you can find a sneak peak to the next part here
#eris x reader#eris x you#eris x y/n#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra x you#eris vanserra x y/n#eris vanserra imagine#eris vanserra fanfic#acotar imagines#acotar x reader#acotar fanfiction#eris vanserra angst
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Forbidden Fruit: Shanks x F!Reader (Part 2)
Tags: nsfw, modern!AU (therefore Shanks has both arms and no scar on his face because he’s not doing pirate stuff lol), Age gaps, phone sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, creampie, squirting, daddy kink, dirty talk, and sex toys
Co-written with @littleblueeyedmoon
Thank you @aces-sweetheart for making this post which inspired me to write this fic!
Click here to read part one!
Heaven existed.
After calling Akagami for a few weeks, you were sure of it. You still didn’t have a boyfriend, but you weren’t frustrated anymore; you still hadn’t gotten laid either, but your numerous talks with Akagami gave you the best orgasms you had ever had, so you had no complaints.
You were in a really good mood; you had just finished college, and you were moving back home with your dad until you found a job, which meant that not only could you call Akagami whenever you liked, but you’d also get to see Shanks often, your dad’s best friend. He was ridiculously handsome.
You thought to yourself as you continued packing the stuff in your dorm; you were excited for the day ahead. A knock on the door interrupted your train of thought. When you went to open your door, you gasped in surprise.
Shanks was leaning against your doorframe, an amused smile decorating his face, “Hey, kid.”
“S-Shanks?! What are you doing here? Where’s dad?”
He chuckled, “Lucky had an emergency and needed your old man’s help. He asked me to pick you up, little girl.”
He laughed at you in good fun as your face flushed slightly. He looked around at your packed-up boxes and grinned, “You in a rush to get home?”
“I guess I’m feeling a bit homesick.”
“Aww, don’t worry, kid. Just get the stuff in the car,” Shanks smiles warmly, “I’ll bring down the rest of your boxes.”
You nodded and went to his car as Shanks began stacking up boxes to bring downstairs.
As he finished up, he accidentally stumbled, causing one of the boxes to burst open. He quickly scrambled to put its contents back but froze when he saw a bunch of sex toys on the floor.
He laughed loudly. Who would’ve thought you were a perverted little thing? But no matter, your secret was safe with him.
As he finished putting the toys back in the box, he suddenly realized most of these toys seemed familiar; His little princess had described toys to him over the phone that kind of looked like these ones.
Small world… Shanks thought to himself as he brought the last box to the car.
Even though the toys were yours, he couldn’t help thinking of his little princess and how his world changed once she started calling him.
Working as a phone sex operator was a fun thing to do. It got him off, and he also got to help other people. It was a fun, casual thing to make some extra cash. But then, once she called for the first time, everything changed. Shanks began looking forward to hearing her voice every time the phone rang.
She was a naughty little thing, a girl young enough to be his daughter who wanted him to take advantage of her; she even called him “Daddy.”
He’d had clients call him more than once before, but her calls became regular. He felt almost possessive of her; she was a slutty needy little girl who needed her Daddy to guide her.
He almost growled at the thought of her getting off with another man.
He had spent the last few weeks fantasizing about his little princess and what she would look like in person. What color were her eyes? Was she curvy or slender? How would her body writhe for him when he showed her how to properly squirt? What would her face look like when he shoved his cock inside her tight pussy?
The thought of her was driving him crazy.
Shanks was brought out of his train of thought when you looked up at him, patiently waiting for him to unlock the car’s front doors. He fished the keys out of his pocket, opening the door to you.
He suddenly remembered something when the two of you were buckled up in his car.
“Ah! Before I forget, I brought you something, kid, here!” He smiled widely as he handed you your favorite candy bar.
You smiled brightly at him in return as you quickly opened the candy.
“This is so good; you’re the best, Shanks!” You moaned in pleasure as the flavor of the candy hit your tongue.
Shanks’ brain stopped working for a moment.
He needed to get himself together; for a millisecond, an image of his little princess moaning for him flashed in his mind as you savored the candy.
Seeing your toys must’ve thrown him off.
Yes, that had to have been it, he reasoned. After all, if you were his sweet princess, he would’ve been tangled in such a complicated web. You were his best friend’s daughter. He and Beckman had been buddies since college, so if he were to go after his daughter…
Shanks swallowed, sweat building on his brow.
“Is everything okay?” You asked, leaning forward a bit, “You look stressed.”
You laughed, and Shanks laughed along with you, “No, it’s nothing, don’t worry.”
Shanks tried changing the subject quickly.
“So, how was college? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“College? It was a piece of cake.” You shrug off sarcastically.
Shanks laughed, and the sound warmed your heart. For a moment, you even forgot about Akagami.
Shit, Akagami.
You felt bad, you had been fantasizing about him for months, but now Shanks would be back in your life.
You and Akagami weren’t together, even though some part of you felt emotionally attached to him. But at the same time, your heart still yearned for Shanks, even though you knew it would never happen between you two.
You let out a sigh.
Shanks eyed you before asking, “What’s on your mind, kid?”
“Nothing; why?” You shrugged
Shanks smiled, “Well, because now you look down in the dumps.”
You hummed, “I guess I’m dealing with some pretty complicated feelings.”
“What, is there someone you like?” He smirked, looking back at the road again.
You shifted in your seat, “Well, yeah…”
Shanks let out a laugh, “And who could this mystery man be who stole the sweet princess’s heart, huh?”
You blushed, “Well, that’s the problem… there are two guys. And… I don’t know how to choose.”
Shanks hummed, “That’s a tough spot to be in, kid.”
After a few moments of silence, Shanks’ curiosity got the best of him.
“So, who are they?”
“Huh?”
“The guys you like, who are they? Maybe I can help you decide” He winked playfully.
“W-Well, uh,” you hummed as you thought how to describe them to Shanks without letting it spill that one of the guys is closer than he thinks, “One guy I’ve known forever… and the other I met just a few months ago.”
Shanks nodded, and you kept talking, “This new guy gives me lots of attention, but the guy I’ve known forever barely seems to know I exist.”
“Then go for the new guy!” Shanks smiled, “If he treats you well, then that’s who you should stick with.”
A long silence hangs between you and Shanks in the car as you drive past buildings on the road’s edge. You cleared your throat.
“W-Well, uh, that’s kind of the thing: we haven’t met in person...” Shanks raised his eyebrow at you.
“You haven’t met? Then how does he give you all the attention you were just telling me about?”
“Uh,” you had to think fast, “W-We’re Internet friends!”
Shanks hums, “Be careful about guys online, kid. They could be anyone, you know? This guy could be an old guy trying to creep on girls like you.”
You blushed when he came closer to the truth than you would’ve liked, “W-Well, we’ve talked on the phone. He’s not a creep, believe me.”
“But he is old, huh?” He chuckled, “Ah, I’m just kidding. I know you’re a good kid who wouldn’t go for that sort of thing.”
You looked away from him as you blushed harder.
“R-Right, of course not!” Your response had Shanks raising his eyebrow at you again, but he let the comment slide.
A long silence settled again as you couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound even more suspicious.
Shanks smiled, “Anyways, I’m going to be staying with you and your dad at your house tonight.”
Your head whipped to look at him so fast Shanks thought you might’ve pulled a muscle.
“What? I thought you and Dad were staying at your house!”
Shanks raised his eyebrow at you again. You were acting strange; you were usually eager and excited to see him, and you loved spending time with your dad.
“What’s gotten into you, kid? Do you need your dad and me out of your house or something?”
“What? N-No, I just thought, you know…” you trailed off, not really knowing what to respond with.
You wanted to get out of the car as fast as you could; this was getting embarrassing.
As you neared your house, the silence made things even more awkward.
You sighed, “I was going to talk on the phone with my online friend.”
“And your dad and I can’t be home for you to do that? Are you sure he’s not a creepy old guy, kid?”
“He’s not creepy,” you pouted, crossing your arms, “Can’t a girl just want some time alone with a guy she likes?”
“Easy, tiger,” he chuckled, “Just stay in your room. Your dad and I won’t barge in.”
You pout, “You promise? I really want to talk with Akagami tonight, and I don’t want Dad or you to interrupt us.”
Shanks slammed on the brakes, causing you to jerk forward.
“Shanks?”
“What did you just say?”
You blink, furrowing your brows, “I asked if you promise not to barge in ’cause I wanted to talk to my friend Akagami-“
Shanks’ heart begins pounding, and sweat falls down his brow.
Oh shit.
He was so fucked.
The toys, the moan, the voice, the friend’s name.
He’s been dirty-talking his college friend’s daughter for months.
“Are you okay? You’re sweating.” You eyed his sudden change of behavior, a bit frazzled.
Suddenly, Shanks is taken out of his head by the sound of drivers honking behind him, reminding him that he stopped dead in the road. He quickly regained his composure and started driving again.
Shanks cleared his throat, “Uh nothin’, it’s just that name… I once knew a guy named that a long time ago, that’s all.”
Your eyes widened a bit. Did Shanks know Akagami? Did your dad? You bit your lip as you imagined a world where Akagami was much closer to you than you thought.
“You still keep in touch with him?” You prod, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“Uh,” Shanks hesitates, “No, not anymore.”
You try not to look upset, “I see…”
The ride back to your house is filled with silence. It’s as if bringing up the name “Akagami” was a mistake in itself. Did this guy die young or something? Get in a tragic accident? Shanks’ face seemed to lose color at the name.
When you arrived home, your dad was waiting for you outside. You bolted out of the car, hoping to eliminate the awkwardness.
“Dad!” You jumped into his arms.
“Hey kid, how was the ride home?” He chuckled while hugging you tightly.
Before you could respond, Shanks beat you to it.
“It was good,” he grinned, ruffling your hair, “She was all packed up and ready to go, so we were in and out pretty quick.”
Beckman smiled widely, “Good. Shanks and I are going out for a bit, but he’ll be staying the night with us, and tomorrow the three of us will go out and have a celebratory breakfast.”
“Great, uh-I’ll be talking with a friend on the phone later, so please don’t barge into my room, please, and thank you!”
You ran to Shanks’ car, grabbed a few boxes, and bolted inside the house under the stare of Shanks and your dad.
Your dad raised his eyebrow at Shanks, “What was that about?”
Shanks smiled awkwardly at him, “Kids these days, no?”
You unpacked for the rest of the afternoon while Shanks thought deeply about what to do. You were his little princess. He had spent months wondering how you looked, how you’d feel, and he fantasized about you constantly...
And now he found out you were his best friend’s daughter.
You were going to call him later; he needed to decide what to do. But the more he thought about it, the more enticed he was by you, the more he wanted to ravish you, care for you.
You were forbidden, after all, and that’s what made you even more appealing.
Hours passed, and your dad and Shanks came home, their laughter carrying throughout the house as you set up everything for your phone call with Akagami. You rolled your eyes, hoping they would settle down soon.
Your wish is granted in moments as you hear someone come up the steps and into the guest room. You assumed it was Shanks. You had to be quiet if he was staying across the hall…
Finally, your time slot came around for when you usually called, and you called up Akagami.
You waited for the phone to ring, and soon enough, Akagami answered.
“Hey there, little princess.” already familiar with his greeting, you smiled.
“Hey, Daddy! I’ve been thinking about you.”
He chuckled, “Have you now? Have you been a good girl for Daddy, sweet thing?”
You pouted teasingly, “When am I not a good girl Daddy?”
He chuckled, amused, “Fair enough… But listen, little princess; Daddy has a surprise for you.”
You clenched your thighs together, “A surprise?”
Your mind was imagining multiple possibilities. What could he have up his sleeve?
“Mhm, think of it as a little graduation present from Daddy.” He hummed, well aware of your moving out day as you had told him ahead of time.
“Now, sweet girl, is the door of your room unlocked?” His deep voice rasps, and you furrow your brows in confusion.
“U-Unlocked? Uh, yes, Daddy, it’s unlocked; why?”
“It’s part of the surprise, little girl. Now, get your favorite toys out for Daddy, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” you got out your favorite clitoral vibrator and dildo.
“Good, little princess, now I want you to tease yourself, okay? Take your top off, grab your nipples for Daddy, and pinch them. Make them really hard for me.”
“O-Okay, Daddy”
“Good, keep that up, little girl. Are they perky enough, or have you not listened to Daddy?”
“No, Daddy! They’re really hard. They feel so good.”
He hummed, “Good, very good, little girl. Now lose your pants and underwear. Tell Daddy how wet you are.”
You lay naked on your bed, perky nipples exposed as your fingertips grazed your wet pussy.
“Really wet, Daddy,” you panted, “I barely touched, and the cum’s all over my fingers…”
“Is that so? Then ease in your dildo for me, princess,” He growls lowly, “Tell Daddy, are you wet enough for it to just slide in?”
“Yes, Daddy, it eased right in. I think I’m so wet that I might get it on the bed...” You bit your lip and mewled, “I was so worked up while I was waiting to call you. My panties have been soaked all afternoon…”
He chuckled amusedly, “What a slutty and needy little girl Daddy has…”
“Now, princess, turn your vibrator on. Put it in the lowest setting while fucking yourself slowly with your dildo.”
You pressed the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you obeyed your Daddy’s command.
“Does it feel good, little girl? Let Daddy hear your moans as you describe how you’re fucking yourself.”
You mewled harder as you slowly moved the toy in and out of yourself with one hand while pressing the vibrator harder on your clit with your other.
He laughed softly, “I take it my little princess feels good?”
“Yes-” Your voice came out broken, “Yes, Daddy. I missed you so much-”
“Sweet girl…” He cooed, “We just talked last week... you missed Daddy that much?”
“Yes…” You mewled, and suddenly you froze up as you heard footsteps in the hallway.
“Sorry, I think someone is walking by… I’m back home now, so my dad and his friend might be around. I’ll have to be quiet…”
You could almost feel his smug grin through the phone.
“Is that so? Is my naughty little girl afraid of getting caught?”
You nod and say, “Yeah, It’d be awkward if my dad heard me… Plus, it’s his cute friend that’s over too…”
Shanks tsked, “You’re still on about that guy? I thought you were loyal to me, princess?”
You whine, “I-I am! I want to be yours, only yours, Akagami.”
He hummed, “I don’t know, little girl, I might have to make you forget all about this man…”
“Daddy, I promise!” You bit your lip, “After thinking about it, I realized that it’s you that cares for me and gives me the attention I love. You’re the one I want, really!”
You felt your heart stop as someone opened your door.
Shanks entered quietly and closed the door behind him, then he turned to face you, his eyes never leaving your body as he pulled his phone up to his ear.
“You really mean that, princess?” He murmured into the receiver, and your eyes grew wide as you realized that Shanks was the one on the other end of the phone, “You wanna belong to a perverted old man like me?”
Your heart pounded as blood rushed to your ears. You dropped your vibrator, and the phone slipped from your shoulder, falling onto the covers below you. Shanks gave a smug, toothy grin.
“Shanks? You’re...?” Your body lay frozen on the bed.
He hummed, “I am, and now that you’re in front of me, I want to show you everything I’ve wanted to do to you…”
You stammered, trying to find your words as he slinked closer to you, crawling onto the bed, “But first… it looks like I have a naughty little girl to punish, isn’t that right?”
That caught your attention as you looked at him, “Punish?”
He hummed, crawling in between your legs as he grabbed your forgotten vibrator.
“Naughty girl,” He teased, “I have to punish you because your loyalty wavered… You were thinking about someone else. The other man you mentioned in the car.”
“N-No, Daddy, it’s a misunderstand-” You were cut off by your own gasp as he turned the vibrator up a notch, bringing it towards your needy clit.
“Misunderstanding, you say? No, I don’t think so, little girl.” You gasped again as he started fucking you with the dildo with his other hand as he pressed the vibrator harder against your clit.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, princess. Let Daddy see you cry.” You released a broken gasp as he fucked you harder and turned the vibrator up another notch.
“Aww, is this too much for my little princess? I have to prep you, sweetheart. If not, Daddy might not fit in your tight little pussy. And nobody likes to break their toys before they get to use them, right?”
You whimpered as your hands flew to your mouth to cover your moans. Your eyes rolled back as Shanks fucked you relentlessly with the toy. Your legs shook as he guided you to the edge, your body instinctively catapulting off of it. You couldn’t help it, you were already so close and Shanks' presence made it all the more overwhelming.
“Now, what is this? Did my little slut come without her Daddy’s permission?”
Your chest heaved, “S-Sorry, Daddy… I was just… so excited that the man I always wanted was you all along.”
Shanks’ ears perked up at that, “What do you mean, baby?”
He dropped the vibrator and rubbed his thumbs into your hip bones, the dildo still packed inside your tightness.
“The men I was stuck between… Was Shanks and Akagami.” You laughed breathlessly.
Shanks smiled a bit at your words, “Yeah? I guess you’ve fallen for me twice…”
You nod, and he crawls up your body, kissing you sweetly. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer to you. A muffled moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue dart over your lower lip. You willingly opened your mouth to him, allowing you to explore it. Your tongues slid over each other, your bodies seeming to melt together as they mingled.
“Shanks-” You moan happily between kisses, “Ah, feels like…”
You blushed when you reached between your legs, feeling his hardness grind into your palm. He looked at you, a dark interest in his eyes, “Can’t you tell I’m happy to see you?”
He winked, and you looked away sheepishly, “I-I can see that now…”
“Here,” He pulled away, “Let me get out of my clothes too.”
He makes quick work of his shirt and pants, leaving him in only his underwear. You reach forward timidly before looking up at him with innocent eyes, “Can I, um…”
“Go ahead, princess, it’s all yours.”
You slowly tugged down his waistband and gasped when he came springing out. His giant, thick cock was throbbing and red. It looked desperate. You held it tenderly, the girthy dick pulsing in your hands.
“Woah…” You gasped, looking him over. He’s even better than you imagined.
As if lust possessed you, you sat up and situated yourself between his legs, eager to please him.
You looked up at him with innocent eyes while tentatively giving little kitten licks to his dick. As he hissed and fisted your hair with one hand, you hollowed your cheeks and took him in your mouth. Then, without thinking, you swallowed him down as far as you could, your nose brushing against his light pubic hair. He moaned out for you, tilting his head back.
“Fuck, that feels so good, sweetheart...”
You smiled to yourself, bobbing up and down his length as fast as you could, gagging all the way as little tears started to pool in your eyes. Still, you persisted, wanting to make your Daddy feel good.
You pulled off for a moment, watching his cock twitch in the open air. The way it throbbed and twitched made your pussy wetter than ever before. Drool escaped the corners of your lips and you wiped it off with the back of your hand before diving between his legs, lapping at his full balls.
“Fuck-” He growled, grabbing at your hair even tighter, “Not leaving a single inch untouched, are you, princess?”
You pulled off his balls for a moment, your face red as your hands continued stroking his shaft.
“Nuh uh,” You shake your head, “I want Daddy to know how much I love his cock…”
He let out a hearty laugh before you went back to work, licking him from base to tip before swallowing him up again. With each movement upwards, you swirled your tongue around his aching tip. Shanks groaned happily.
“That’s it,” He encouraged, “You’re good at this, sweetheart. How many boys have you practiced on, huh?”
You pulled off him, stroking his leaking tip, “I-I’ve only had sex with one person before you, Daddy… But I wish I saved myself for you. I just- I figured you never would’ve done this with me, no matter how much I fantasized…” You shook your head, “I tried to move on.”
“Oh, honey…” He smiles softly, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Let’s make up for lost time then, alright?”
He picked you up and laid you on the bed, kissing your inner thigh softly. “Let Daddy take care of you, alright, princess?”
You gasped when you felt him lick a long stripe of your pussy. “D-Daddy!”
“Just relax, baby.” Shanks mumbled into your cunt, “Let Daddy show you what a lifetime of experience feels like…”
He groaned as he pressed delicate kisses to your clit, making your pussy clench around nothing. You tossed your head to the side as Shanks kissed your sensitive nub, his tongue eventually teasing it as well. Your legs relaxed as his warm, rough hands stroked your thighs, soothing you.
“What a pretty little pussy…” He kisses your cunt again, “So sweet… So swollen…”
“Ngh,” You tilted your head back, “Daddy…”
He continued pressing kisses to your clit. The action was surprisingly sweet and tender, his lips feather light on your sensitive, swollen nub. Eventually though, his tongue peeked out from his lips, the kisses feeling wet. His facial hair tickled your pussy lips, the feeling completely foreign to you.
Shanks then guided his hand to your slit, rubbing your hole with his fingers. Slowly, he pressed one inside, his middle finger instinctively hooking upwards. You arched your back, loving how he rubbed that special spot inside you.
“Ah, Daddy-!” You whimpered, and he looked up at you, long hair falling in his face.
“Quiet, don’t want your dad to come knocking, right?” He chuckles, “Man, this is reminding me of high school… Fucking girls while their parents were home… It’s so fucking hot, isn’t it?”
You nodded, placing a hand over your mouth as Shanks teased that bundle within you.
With deft fingers, he continued teasing your g-spot as his tongue busied itself with your clit. Sweet soft kisses turned to absolutely messy licking, his tongue swiping over your clit with drool dripping from his mouth. His movements were quick as the flat of his tongue worked you over and over. Your legs trembled, your second orgasm approaching much faster than your first now that you were so sensitive.
“D-Daddy, stop-”
“What’s the matter, princess?” He stopped, worried about you.
“I-I feel like-” you stuttered, “Like I have to pee-”
Shanks’ eyes light up, “Yeah? That’s good, baby. Let it go; that means you gotta squirt. You’re gonna do it for Daddy, right? You know how much he loves that.”
“I’ll try, but-” You whined, “I-I’ve never done that before-”
“It’s alright,” he shushed you, “I know just what to do, alright? It’ll feel so good once you do it, princess- just trust me.”
You nodded quickly, “I-I trust you, Daddy.”
Shanks smiles and inserts a second finger into your hole, two fingers rubbing your g-spot smoothly. You whimper as his other hand touches your clit, rubbing the bud. His fingers begin to pick up speed, causing you to clench your teeth.
“S-Shanks-” You moan, “I-I feel it- I-It’s coming-”
“That’s it, baby, let it happen-”
Your eyes shut tight, and you felt all the pressure inside release. You heard it, too, the sound of your juices wetting the bed sheets underneath you. You tried opening your eyes, but everything was spinning. You attempted to catch your breath as Shanks praised you.
“That’s it…” he cooed, “You did so well. You’re definitely ready for Daddy’s dick now, pretty girl…”
Shanks kissed your clit one last time before readjusting himself so he was leaning over you. He took his desperate, swollen cock in hand and rubbed it against your sopping-wet hole, your hip in his other hand.You whimpered as his fat head slid over your desperate, yet overstimulated clit. Even though you had already cum twice, your body couldn’t get enough of him.
“This is it, princess. You sure this is what you want?”
You nodded eagerly, “Yes, more than anything.”
Shanks sighed, “Here goes…”
He eased himself inside inch by inch, only stopping once he bottomed out within you. You gasped and reached for his back, gripping his shoulders tight. Meanwhile, both of his hands held your waist.
Shanks cooed at you, “Alright, pretty girl, Daddy will go slowly, okay? Let him know when he can move. He knows it’s been a while for you, so he wants to be gentle… at least at first.”
Shanks hissed, feeling how tightly your snug walls pressed around him.
As he was sheathed entirely within you, he pressed his forehead against yours, staring deep into your eyes.
“You’re the best little girl. Daddy is so proud of you. You are such a good girl, fuck-”
Shanks’ little ramble about you was cut short when your walls tightened a bit more.
You kissed him deeply and once you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his, “Y-You can move, Daddy.”
Shanks nodded and started pulling out slowly, his thick length stretching you out. He only pulled out halfway before thrusting back inside, causing you to whine. You gripped his back even more, wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Mm, Daddy-” You moan, “More-”
Shanks chuckled a bit before pulling out halfway again, this time forcing himself into you even rougher.
You let out a louder whine at the feeling.
As you were going to beg for more, Shanks shoved three fingers inside your mouth. Your eyes widened as you were taken by surprise.
“Now, little girl, didn’t Daddy tell you to be quiet? Do you want your dad to find us like this? Do you want him to see his daughter under me crying and begging for my cock?”
You shook your head as he started pounding a bit rougher into you.
“Then be a good girl for Daddy and suck on his fingers as he fucks your little pussy raw, yeah?”
His words made your needy cunt clench around him like a vice. You shut your eyes tight, eagerly sucking his fingers as he stretched you out.
Shanks’ hips are desperate, his balls smacking against your lips as he rammed himself inside you. You felt as though you were ascending to Heaven with how he was fucking you. Your toes curled and your back arched, your body desperately needing more of him.
You opened your eyes timidly to see his dark red hair hanging in front of his face, his brow furrowed as he put all his energy into pounding you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, no doubt leaving red marks on his tanned flesh.
You let out a disappointed groan when Shanks’ hips stop moving.
“Let Daddy show you a position that’ll let him give your cervix kisses…” Shanks mumbled before folding your body into a tight mating press.
When he slammed back inside, you let out a loud moan around his fingers. You had never felt so full before in your life. Nothing compared to this feeling.
When you heard Shanks laugh, you opened your eyes to look at him. He slipped his fingers from your mouth, drool connecting his fingers to your lips.
“Now look at that, little girl, you can see Daddy’s cock in your stomach. How cute…” You looked down to see the faint outline of his dick poking out of your stomach.
You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying as he pressed down your stomach, feeling his cock through you.
The pleasure was getting too much, having already cum twice. You started tearing up a bit at the overstimulation.
Shanks cooed at you, “Is this too much for my little princess? But Daddy hasn’t come yet, sweetheart. We can’t have that now, can we?”
You shook your head, more tears falling down your cheeks as you pressed your hand to your mouth to avoid making too much noise now that Shanks’ hands were occupied.
“You look so cute with little tears in your eyes, princess. Are you gonna let Daddy fuck you raw until he’s satisfied? Will you let Daddy creampie your little pussy?”
Shanks’ thrusts were getting rougher each second. Your eyes roll back as he rams his cock into your further walls, the curve of his cock brushing your g-spot along the way.
You took your hand off your mouth so you could whisper, “Yes, Daddy, please creampie my pussy, fuck me until you’re satisfied. I-I’ll take it like a good girl.”
Shanks growled lowly at you as your pussy clenched harder.
Life felt like eternity as Shanks pleasured you. Your bodies fit together perfectly, your hushed sounds like a muted symphony. Everything was perfect.
Until there was a knock at the door.
“Sweetheart?”
Shit, it was your father.
“Y-Yes, Dad?”
“Have you seen Shanks?”
“Uhm-” You looked up at Shanks who had a wild grin on his face. You reached for his stomach, trying to push him away, but he only pounded faster, making your head fuzzy. Your legs quivered as you tried to come up with an excuse.
“H-He’s- uh- in the bathroom!” You squeaked out, hoping that would satisfy your father.
“I just checked,” Your dad responds, “The door’s wide open.”
Shit.
“Uh, maybe he’s outside then?” You let out a frustrated groan, “I-I don’t know dad! I thought I told you I’d be on a call with a f-friend! I’m sure he’s somewhere around here!”
There’s a silence that follows, the sound of hips smacking against each other filling the room’s air. You hoped and prayed your father couldn’t hear it through the door.
“Right.” He says, “Sorry I interrupted your call.”
And with that, the sound of footsteps grew faint.
“Now it really feels like high school,” Shanks smiled, “Fuck, I was so close-”
You blushed furiously, “Y-You owe me for that!”
Shanks laughed, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “C’mon, you had to admit, the thrill of it was amazing. We could’ve gotten caught just now…”
You whimper as Shanks bites your earlobe, his quick, powerful thrusts making you melt.
“S-Shanks, you’re crazy-” You gasp out, trying to look at him with a stern expression, but your lustful expression beats it easily.
“Just crazy about you.” He winks.
He moans softly as he buries his head in your neck, his chest positioned between your pushed back legs. His forceful thrusts somehow get even more strong, the power behind them knocking the air out your lungs.
“Mn, S-Shanks-” You whimper, your voice shaking.
“That’s it, little girl, so good, you’re so good for Daddy,” He cooed, “Daddy will keep you forever, fuck you dumb until your little pussy can only cum with Daddy’s dick. Is that what you want? For Daddy to keep you as his little girl forever?”
“Yes, Daddy, please,” You cried as low as you could.
Shanks’ thrusts were getting a bit sloppy as he fucked you, the thrill of everything finally getting to him.
“Can you cum again for Daddy?”
As he said those words, you felt yourself squirt again for him, the force of your orgasm pulling Shanks over the edge as you felt his cum fill you up. He groaned lowly, biting his lip to muffle his sounds.
The both of you collapsed, panting together, not letting go of each other.
You looked up to stare into his eyes, “Did you mean it, Daddy? Will you keep me forever?”
His eyes softened as he slowly pulled out, cum leaking out of you, as he went to hug you tightly.
“Did you mean it, princess? You really wanna belong to a perverted old man like me?”
You cuddled into him, “I’ve always wanted you, Daddy.”
He chuckled, “Then all we gotta do is think of a way to break the news to your old man that doesn’t end up with him killing me.”
Post Credits Scene
In the morning, you yawn and stretch as you come down the stairs, Shanks following not far behind. Your dad is already awake, as usual, his cup of coffee in his hands as he sits at the table. He gives a slight nod to you and Shanks, and you both take a seat.
“How did your call go?” Benn asks, looking at you with an unreadable expression.
“It went well!” You chirped up, unable to hide your excitement from last night’s events.
“Yeah, I heard.” Shanks grins, “Up all night talking to that guy, huh?”
You fight the urge to kick him under the table.
“I’m curious, though,” your father looked at you both, “What kind of call was it that involved all that noise?”
Your face paled, and you looked at Shanks, who wore an uneasy smile, trying his best to formulate some kind of excuse.
“W-What do you mean, Dad?”
“Oh, just…” Your father pauses, sipping his coffee, “There was a lot of thumping last night, is all. I don’t recall hearing those sounds since I was roommates with Shanks in college.”
Shanks’ face has a soft tint to it.
“Ah, well, you know…” Shanks vaguely gestures, his voice trailing off.
“Oh yes, I sure do. I just never expected for you to do it with my daughter as well.”
Your face lost all color as Shanks’ face blushed a bit harder. Your eyes darted to the older man, but it looked like even he couldn’t charm his way out of this one.
“D-Dad, listen, I-” Your dad cut you off before you could finish.
He suddenly snaps, his calm demeanor gone, “What the hell is wrong with you, Shanks?!”
“H-Hey, it’s not like that…” Shanks’ voice shakes a bit with uncertainty.
“Bullshit, How long have you been fucking my daughter?”
Benn’s stern expression causes chills to run up your spine. He’s usually a serious man, but that look is one you haven’t seen in a long time if you’ve ever seen it this intense.
“It’s really not like that, Dad, I swear!”
“You don’t have to protect him, sweetheart.” His tone softened just for you as he glared daggers at Shanks.
“I’m not! I started it; I-I just didn’t know it was him!”
Then understanding seemed to dawn on your dad. Still, though, he had that same disapproving look on his face. You were having trouble reading him now.
“You called a phone sex hotline?” Then he looked at Shanks, “My daughter is the ‘little princess’ you haven’t shut the fuck about for the last few months?”
“You told my dad about this?!”
Shanks looked pale now as both your dad and you glared at him, “I-I didn’t know it was you at the time!”
Shanks begins to scramble for his words, now confronted with two angry people instead of just one. His cool is suddenly out the window as his best friend stares at him, his gaze showing that he’s debating how to kill Shanks and hide the body.
“Look, I know this is bad, sleeping with your daughter was never my plan, it’s just, y-you know I’ve always liked younger girls, a-and then she called me, and I started to look forward to her calls and-” His rambling was cut short as he looked at both your dad and you.
Shanks took a deep breath before talking again, “I really like your daughter, Benn, like for a permanent thing. I promise I won’t hurt her!”
“I really like him too, Dad; please don’t hate us!”
His face is hard as stone, your father’s gaze is disapproving, and you let out a deep sigh, your shoulders slumped. You knew this wouldn’t have gone well.
“You break my daughter’s heart,” He starts, “And I break your fucking neck.”
Shanks gives a nervous but excited smile.
You let out a happy laugh as you hug your dad, “Thank you, you’re the best! I love you!”
“Yeah, you’re grounded for the rest of the month, kid.”
You sigh but give a smile nonetheless. There were certainly worse outcomes.
#akagami no shanks#shanks x reader#red haired shanks x reader#shanks#red haired shanks#x reader#one piece smut#fanfiction#cream's fics#one piece#benn beckman
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Meet your Death (dp x dc)
Danny remembers the day he died in patches.
He can’t remember what day of the week it was, but he can recall with perfect accuracy the feeling of the rubber jumpsuit on his skin. Sam and Tucker’s voices in his ears as he unlocks the front door are crystal-clear but what Sam had actually said when she’d dared him to go in the portal is buried deep in his brain. Jazz says it’s normal. She says memory can get weird when trauma is involved. Her books write that it’s good to talk about it but Jazz must see something in his face when she relays the information because her voice softens as she tells him it’s ok to let it be forgotten too. Then, she hugs him and Danny melts into it: his sister gives the best hugs.
So yeah, Danny doesn’t remember the day he died very well.
That’s why he doesn’t really understand why he remembers the woman so perfectly.
He’s not sure if she was real or a product of his electrocuted brain but she appeared like magic, just as he let out his death wail.
“Oh, damn. That’s not a fun way to go,” she’d said with a grimace.
And all of a sudden Danny had been out of his twitching, painful body, seeing it from the side. “What happened?” he asked, terrified.
He had felt her put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry kid,” she said, and she sounded sincere. “You’ve just died.”
“What? No,” Danny had babbled. “No, I can’t. I’m going to be an astronaut.”
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” the woman repeated, squeezing his shoulder.
“But-” he tried as he caught sight of her kind expression and it calmed him slightly. “I’ve never even been kissed!” Danny had continued nonsensically.
The woman had let out a laugh. “Personally, I think it’s overrated,” she shared like a secret, good-humouredly.
“I still would’ve liked to try,” he’d pouted which had her ruffling his hair fondly and something settled in his chest at the gesture. Elsewhere, something clicked into place and most of the fight left him, his protests dying on his lips.
“Come on, honey,” she’d told him before putting her hands on his shoulders to steer him away from the portal. “Time to go.” So, Danny had let himself be directed after one last glance at his body.
He hadn’t even taken one step before a terrible pain shook his whole body and he fell to his knees.
“Danny!” The woman exclaimed, but her voice sounded faint to his ears.
The boy’s hands flew to his chest as he curled on himself, as the pain burned through his limbs before he once again let out a blood-curling scream. And all of the sudden he was back in his body with Sam and Tucker looking down at him, their faces full of horror.
“Danny!” Tucker had exclaimed and Danny had seen what looked like tears in his best friend’s eyes, meanwhile, Sam had looked him all over frantically to find an injury. Danny had tried to tell them he was ok, but his mouth had felt like cotton and his eyes had felt so heavy.
Just before his eyelids had slid closed, he’d thought he’d seen the woman from before peering at him confusedly over Sam’s shoulder.
#Danny starts seeing the woman around#Death is a bit confused about this boy who died and immediately came back#Just read a few issues of The Sandman so yeah that’s the vibe!#(goddamn but this Mr. Gaiman can really write)#death of the endless#father time is clockwork#dp x dc#dc x dp#roxpox#roxpoxwrote
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Mistletoes in the Moonlight
Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader
Words: 3669
Warnings: Mutual pining. Stubborn characters. Heated kisses ;)
Prompt: Fluff/Romance. Friends to lovers or neighbours to lovers.
Feelings declarations sparked by something to do with the holidays (gift exchange, doing something cute together, a holiday party)
A/N: I tweaked the prompt a little bit but I do hope that you still like it @undercoverpena. I do apologize this is a few days late, the holidays are strange this time around. I owe you another story that I promised to write you so be on the lookout for that in the next few days as a bonus gift. And thank you @pedrostories for this cute Secret Santa challenge (and for being so patient with me).
The smell of freshly-baked cookies seeps into his nostrils as soon as he unlocks the gate of the apartment building. He doesn’t have to guess who’s baking the gingerbread treats, and with each step he ascends, he sends a silent prayer to whatever deity willing to hear him. The closer he gets to the apartment, the harder his heart beats against his chest. Never in his life did he think he’d become so nervous from the mere thought of being in someone else’s presence, but here he was, cursing Steve with each breath he took because of the mess he’s gotten him into.
Javier may not have been a very patient man, but he prided himself in how calm and collected he remained when things got out of hand.
The circumstances he found himself in now, however, were different. He wasn’t sure how much more he could handle, especially since you were involved. As he stands in front of the apartment door, he meditates on what he’ll say to you if you tried to get on his nerves again. It wasn’t that he disliked you, the opposite actually. It was the fact that you turned him on to no end, especially when you were staring daggers into him, and he could do nothing but retaliate in likeness.
“Your girl sure knows how to welcome you home.” Javier glances behind him and smiles at the man behind his current predicament. His current mission, or the one he signed up for thinking that he’d have a few weeks of peace, away from you.
“What can I say? I’m a lucky man!” Javier nods at him as he unlocks the door, purposely leaving it wide open to avoid any suspicions. He’s about to bid him a good night when he notices him taking his fill of something in the apartment. Following his line of sight, he clenches his jaw tightly in anger when he sees what’s gotten his attention.
You were bending over and grabbing a tray of cookies out of the oven, your shirt riding up your back and giving both Javier and the drug dealer an eyeful of your back. Javier can’t help but bite into his lower lip, watching in silence as you throw the hot tray on the stove before taking off the oven mitts and turning around. Turning around, you notice Javier standing at the foot of the apartment, and before you can say something snarky about how late he is, you see the target standing just behind him. Putting on the best smile you can muster up, you run towards him and throw your arms around his neck, kissing the corner of his lips and hoping he doesn’t realize how nervous you are from the proximity.
“Hey baby, I missed you.” You whisper loud enough for the target to hear, and for a moment, you think that Javier looks at your lips while licking his own. But it’s gone before you can even meditate on it, and just as you think Javier won’t respond to your touches, he wraps one arm around your back and digs his fingers into your skin, leaning down and kissing your neck before shifting his attention to the man witnessing your fake relationship.
“Don’t be rude cariño, offer the nice man some cookies.” Javier doesn’t realize he’s smirking until he sees the target dragging his eyes down your body. He tightens his grip around your waist, pulling you into his arms a little more possessively that he’d ever care to admit.
“Oh, how silly of me. Would you like some gingerbread cookies? I was so bored waiting for him and baked too many.” You think that Javier is being a little too touchy but you don’t complain, knowing that these moments are the only times you’ll ever get so close to him without raising too many flags that will make him suspect your feelings.
“I would, sweet thing, but I’m on a special diet. Girlfriend’s orders. Maybe you should watch it with the sweets too.” You know for a fact he’s trying to get under Javier’s skin, but before Javi can respond, you take it upon yourself to defend him. Not bothering to give the agent any warning, you roam your hands down his chest and rest it on his stomach, tapping it a few times before slipping the palm of your hand underneath the edge of his jeans. You’re far from appropriate, but you think this may potentially help distract him long enough for the guy to leave. You just hope he doesn’t bite your head off when the two of you return to the confines of the apartment.
“I don’t know about that, I like him just the way he is…besides, I have a thing for this.” You’re not sure what’s funnier, the man’s awkward reaction to what you just said, or the surprised gasp that escapes Javi’s lips silently as he stares at you with wide eyes while you remove your hand from beneath his jeans and grab his stomach.
“If you change your mind, there’s plenty to share.” Letting go of Javier, you step into the apartment and drag the DEA agent by his arm, pushing him to the side as you quickly get rid of the target.
“R-right, thanks.” You shut the door and lock it, sighing in relief at the unnecessary encounter before turning towards Javi. You wanted nothing more than to ask him why he was so late tonight, but you realize it may be in your best interest to say nothing since you’ve just crossed a million lines with him. Standing silently against the door, you wait for the onslaught of emotions the man in front of you will surely throw at you, but nothing comes, and when you raise your gaze to look at him, you find him staring at you with an unknown expression.
He doesn’t blink once, and it’s only when you lower your sight to the floor that you notice a slight bulge against the tight fabric of his jeans.
“I- I’m sorry.” There’s nothing more you can say, and you pray to the heavens that he sees how genuine you’re being because you’re not sure how you’ll survive the rest of this case if he doesn’t.
“He just got back, so finish up and pick up the surveillance.” His voice is far too calm to your liking, and a twisted part of you thinks it would have been better if he bit your head off instead of speaking in such a low tone.
“Okay.” You clear your throat and check on the last batch of cookies, not caring for how burnt they look as you take them out and put them beside the other pan. Taking the apron off, you shut the lights of the kitchen and move to the couch beside your colleague.
You glance at Javier once and find him deep in thought, and before you can stop yourself from blurting out an unnecessary comment, you lean over and grab the headphones off of the table, murmuring a sentiment you knew for a fact was a lie.
“Could’ve been spending the holidays with my parents instead of this...”
“Listen sweetheart, it’s not like I want to be here either.” Javier snaps at you, the sudden, angry comment making you flinch harder than necessary. You pout at him, completely missing the way he sighs in irritation at the expression on your face. He pushes his own headphones on one ear and shakes his head, hating how hard he still was from your earlier touches.
“I couldn’t have guessed that at all Peña, at all.” Javier rolls his eyes and tries his best to adjust himself without drawing your attention. He nearly groans out loud when he looks at you and sees your thighs peeking from underneath your skirt.
Fuck, he really was going to kill Steve when he sees him again.
“Why don’t you go and-”
“Shh, wait.” He starts to complain about your attire when you hold out your hand and shush him. The simple, dismissive action makes his blood boil and he’s about to throw the headphones aside and go at it with you again when he realizes why you silenced him.
“I don’t think they’re a couple.”
The two of you stare at each other as soon as you hear the target’s conversation with his companion.
“What?”
“I don’t think they’re a real couple.” Your heart begins to race at the claim, and you watch as Javier’s expression changes to one of worry.
“Why do you say that?” You hear the other man respond, and you push the headphones closer to your ear, afraid he’d reveal something you completely missed while playing along with Javier.
“Because if she was mine, I’d fuck her every chance I could get.” The comment sends an unwanted shiver down your spine, and you furrow your eyebrows in anger, refusing to make eye contact with Javi out of fear of giving him something he can tease you about.
“So?”
“So, they haven’t fucked once since they moved in. It’s been weeks.” At that, Javier snaps his head at you, making you look at him in return as he shakes his head before covering his face with his hand.
“You think they’re police?” You silently swear at the question, throwing the headphones onto the couch and moving away from the surveillance equipment to pace across the room.
“Nah, not police. Something more inconvenient.” Javier mirrors your actions and shuts off the mic, throwing his back against the back of the couch and massaging his temples at the new issue he just found himself in.
“Shit,” he curses out loud, biting his cheek as he sees you walk back and forth across the living room.
“No wait, we can use this to our advantage.” You stop all of a sudden, staring at him as you weigh your options. You’re not sure if you can share your idea with him, or how he’ll react if you do, but you figure it’s the only way you can get yourselves out of this problem.
“Come again?” He raises a curious eyebrow at you, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees in preparation for whatever you’re about to throw at him.
“Leave again tonight, and I’ll bring him some cookies and stretch out the conversation, maybe tell him that I found out you’ve been cheating on me. He’ll start flirting and we can use that to get whatever information we want.” You motion around with one hand as you place the other on your hips, trying your best to maintain eye contact with him just to gauge his reaction.
“No.” Javier says almost instantaneously, the firm rejection pulling at your heartstrings more than you thought it ever could.
“What do you mean no? It’s not like I’m actually going to sleep with the guy…although, it probably wouldn’t hurt if he lets his guard down.” You’re thinking out loud to distract yourself from the distaste his response left in your chest, but before you can try and explain yourself again, Javier is standing to his height and approaching you.
“I said, no.” If his stance isn’t menacing enough, the tone of his voice is, and you’re left wondering why he’s suddenly so adamant on not letting you actively take part in this mission.
“Tone it down Peña, or I’ll think you actually care!” You are sure what you said is far from the truth, but you can’t find it in yourself to accept the intention behind Javi’s words, least of all now when you need to figure out how to look less suspicious. You shake your head at him and grab the gingerbread cookies from the stove, heading towards the door of the apartment to set your plan in motion.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Javier follows behind you, his anger rolling off of him in waves now that he saw you weren’t planning on listening to him.
“Like I said, I’ll play along to avoid his suspicions.” You throw back at him, only to nearly drop the tray of cookies when Javier grabs your arm and stops you in your tracks. You look up at him and find his eyes swimming with fury.
“Let go.” You calmly request, and you watch as his muscles tense even tighter at the way you try to pull free from his hold.
“Javi, let go of my hand.”
“You’re not going anywhere near that pendejo.” You hate how much his assertiveness is turning you on, but you remember quickly that he’s only acting this way just to piss you off even more and not because he genuinely cares for your well-being.
“You’re not my boss, Javi.” You throw the tray of cookies on the table and try to step away from his grasp again but Javier’s grip is tight, and he chuckles at your sad attempts to loosen his hand.
“Watch your tone, sweetheart.” He knows what he’s doing. He knows he’s pissing you off with every little pet name he throws your way. But the more he teases, the angrier you become, and the harder he gets at knowing that he was the only one who got to see you so wound up.
“Make me, darling.” You mock in return, knowing that the nicknames got to him as much as they got to you, and before you can even blink, Javi is pushing you back until you slam against the wall. You swallow the lump in your throat at the sudden shift in air around the two of you. Sure enough, Javier has let go of you, but now he was cornering you against his solid, warm body and the cold wall of the strange apartment. You can’t find it in yourself to say anything, not when you were finally getting everything you imagined having with Javi ever since you met him.
“You’re not going out there.” His nose is flaring, and you can’t look away from him, not because he was overwhelming you with his presence, but because you were truly in a haze underneath his gaze. Javier was an attractive man, but when he was angry and impatient, his handsomeness jumped out and strangled everyone in his vicinity.
“And what if I did? What are you going to do about it?” You’re not sure how you managed to keep your voice in check this close to him, but you wait in silence to see what his next reaction would be.
Javier takes a deep breath to calm himself, but he feels his cock twitch in his pants when the scent of your perfume and the gingerbread cookies seeps into his nose. He remembers the way you touched him just a few minutes ago, and he tries to remind himself that this was just a lie. His life with you in this apartment was nothing but a ruse. He didn’t belong to you and you sure as hell didn’t belong to him, especially now when you were trying him and telling him all sorts of scenarios where someone else would get to fuck you.
Javier was not a stupid man, but having lived with you for a couple of weeks now, he’s turned into a fucking clown. You were everywhere, all the goddamn time and he was a simple man, a man who has thought of nothing else but the noises you’d be making when he slid his cock into your cunt.
Without thinking of the consequences of his actions, Javier drags his hand to the back of your head and tugs at your hair, not giving you a chance to react to his touches as he finally snaps and reaches for your mouth. You make a sound in the back of your throat akin to a groan, and Javier knows then that he’s lost this game a long time ago. He knows he should have walked away and told you to do whatever the fuck you wanted, but now that he knows what your lips taste like, and how melt into his embrace the harder he pulls on your hair and claims your tongue, he can’t find it in himself to regret it.
He feels your hands slide up his front and rest on his chest, and for a split second, Javier thinks you’re about to slap him and push him away. But when you do neither of these things, he sighs heavily and pushes his body against your own, wanting to feel as much of you against him as possible.
Tilting your head to the side, Javier slips his tongue into your mouth as soon as you part your lips for him, and before either of you stop to think of what you’re doing, you’re tugging at each other’s clothes and trying moving from the wall towards the bedroom.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you should ask him why he was suddenly all over you, but you brush the thought aside, not wanting to break whatever spell the two of you were under. As you unbutton his shirt, Javier reaches for your skirt and pushes it down your thighs, hands going straight to your ass and squeezing it hard.
The sound of glass breaking stops the two of you in your journey towards the bedroom, and you break the kiss to see what just happened only to feel Javier wrap his arms around you as he loses his balance and falls backward.
“Oh fffuck-”
“What the h-”
You shut your eyes as you look behind Javier and realize what was happening, bracing yourself for whatever bruises that were about to form. But Javier is much quicker than you and he makes sure he’s shielding you from the sharp ornaments and lit lights as the two of you fall. It all happens so quickly that neither of you have time to figure out how this happened, and when it all settles down, you open your eyes to check and make sure that Javier wasn’t hurt.
“Are you okay?” You spit out the fake snow and leaves that stuck to your lips, and try to get up from Javi, only to feel his hand push you into his chest and keep you there.
“FUck, that hurt. Don’t- don’t move. There’s glass everywhere and you’re-” He points awkwardly at your feet and your naked legs, and you find it endearing that he’s embarrassed to look at you now when he was nearly shoving his hands underneath your panties not a second ago.
Neither of you move for a few minutes, and when you swipe the broken lights and snow away from his chest as he slowly gets his senses back. You’re afraid to look at him, unsure of what you’ll find in his eyes now that the two of you were properly violently pulled out of your little fantasy.
“Are you alright baby? You hurt anywhere?” His voice is honey to your ears, and you nod at him, unsure of how your voice will sound if you attempt to speak now. Grabbing your waist, Javier holds onto you tightly as he slowly slides away from the fallen tree and the broken ornaments and lights, wincing in pain when he rests his hand on the floor and feels glass digging into his skin. You try to reach for him to see it but he shakes his head, wanting to make sure that you’re nowhere near the mess before he looks at his wounds.
You’re not sure what to think of the DEA Agent now, but you know that whatever happens after tonight, you’d tell him how you feel and let him decide what he wants from you.
As soon as you’re away from the mess, Javier lets go of you and checks his hands to see what the damage is. He’s surprised when you maneuver yourself around until you’re sitting in his lap and taking his hand in yours. His heart stops when he looks down and sees your nearly naked body straddling his thighs and nearly touching his still hard cock.
You examine the palm of his hand slowly, checking to see if there are any pieces of glass in his hand or if they just created indentations in his skin. When you don’t find any major cut, you look into his eyes and ask him again if he’s okay.
“Does this hurt?” You softly graze his hand with your fingers, and Javier doesn’t dare to look away from you, shaking his head as you continue to massage the irritated area.
Without thinking much of how ridiculous you look, you bring his hand to your mouth and slowly kiss along the lines on the palm of his hand, not breaking eye contact with him as you ensure to leave a sweet kiss on every inch of his skin. With each little peck, Javier feels his heart ready to explode out of his chest, and when you’re done, he wishes he was genuinely cut so you can continue to kiss him.
“Please don’t go.” He’s not sure why he feels the need to request this now, and he expects you to argue with him again, but unlike earlier, you shake your head and smile at him.
“I won’t.”
Knowing that it was now or never, he leans over and takes your lips in a chaste kiss, one that was less hurried and crazed than a few minutes ago.
“I’m not good with words querida, but I can’t let you go.” He whispers against the corner of your mouth, shuddering against you when you smile and lean into him more, arms going around his neck to force him closer into your neck.
“Then don’t Javi.”
Fewer words pass between the two of you as you move to the bedroom, but by the end of the night, you’re sure that there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right in that small, strange apartment.
#pedro pascal#javier pena/reader#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena fluff#pedro pascal fanfiction#narcos#pedrostoriesgift23#pedrostories
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yandere Tara Carpenter x male reader
holiday promise | yandere!tara carpenter
ship/pairing: Yandere!Tara Carpenter x male!reader
fandom: Scream
warnings: yandere, kidnapping, chains, being gagged, delusional Tara, slight stockholm syndrome, unwanted touching (not sexual), not proofread
word count: 731
A/N: i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life. this is sort of christmas/holiday themed, so if you don't celebrate that kind of stuff, feel free to keep scrolling. I wrote this in like 20 minutes so apologies for the lack of good quality writing. no use of y/n
Tara wasn't an idiot. She knew when her sister was up to something. Especially when she roped her friends into it and they 'whispered' right outside Tara's room. She wasn't surprised though. Sam, Mindy and Chad had grown to be very protective of the people they cared about, especially when it came to Tara. So when Tara cried into her sister's arms over her missing boyfriend, she knew Sam would go overboard trying to help her.
Tara placed the last poster into her bag, and made her way to the door, preparing herself for the looks of pity she was bound to receive. As she opened the door, she rushed past her friends, noting their deer in the headlights looks as if they weren't expecting her to open the door so soon.
Sam quickly followed after her sister, "Tara, do you have a sec?"
Tara sighed silently, setting her bag on the floor as she grabbed her shoes by the door, "Not really, I gotta go."
"Do you want some company?" Chad suggested, sounding a little too desperate and not at all like he, Mindy and Sam hadn't planned this.
Tara shook her head as she laced up her shoes, "No, not today."
"We're getting worried about you." Sam admitted, though it wasn't at all a secret to Tara.
Mindy nodded, "We know you wanna be alone, but you don't have to be. We're here for you. So if you wanna talk, or if you want some help putting up posters, you can come to us."
Tara stood up to her full height, slinging her bag strap around her shoulder and staring expressionlessly at the three, "I said I just wanna be alone."
With that, she was out the door. She went downstairs and outside the apartment building, being met with the cool wind outside. The sky was cloudy and grey, and the air smelled of rain. She briskly walked down the streets of New York, until she made her way down an alleyway. She looked around and behind her, checking no one was following her, before she reached into her pocket, pulled out some keys and entered an old, mostly abandoned building. Locking the door behind her, she walked further into the house, footsteps sounding against the stone floor, until she reached a locked door leading to a room. Unlocking the door with her keys again, she pushed open the door, smiling at the sight of you. You were curled up in the corner shivering, the chains around your wrists clattering together.
"Can I sit with you?"
You said nothing, which was mainly the result of a gag shoved in your mouth, but Tara took your wide-eyed fearful stare as a yes, and sat down beside you. She smiled, cuddling close to you and grabbing her bag, unzipping it and showing you it's contents.
"Since it's the holiday season, I thought I should get you some things." she pulled out a soft, fluffy blanket, wasting no time to wrap it around your shoulders. She knew you would need it, you were sitting on the stone ground all day, and the weather wasn't getting warmer any time soon. She pulled the gag out of your mouth, sending you into a coughing fit, and she grabbed some snacks, setting them on the ground in front of you. "Just because you're spending the holidays here, doesn't mean you can't celebrate with me."
As your coughs died down, you looked at her smiling face, and for the first time since Tara took you here, you felt a calm feeling. You never felt that when Tara was around. But maybe she did care? Maybe she did really love you, she just didn't know how to show it...
"Oh, I wanna show you something." you stared at the bag Tara was searching through, until she pulled out a poster that made your heart drop. At the top of the page was bold, black letters reading: MISSING. Underneath was your name, your picture, some other information about you, and Tara's phone number at the bottom. "How does this look?" she noticed your wide eyes and sensed your fear, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna let anyone find you, these are just so no one gets suspicious." she smiled at you, lifting her hand to your cheek, "I'm never gonna let anyone take you from me. That's a promise."
#yandere#anon#ask#yandere fanfiction#yandere x reader#tw yandere#x reader#tara carpenter#yandere tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x male reader#tara carpenter x you#yandere tara carpenter#yandere tara carpenter x male reader#male reader#scream movie#scream 5#scream 6#scream 5 x reader#scream 6 x reader#tara carpenter scream#jenna ortega#jenna ortega scream#fanfiction#froggywritesstuff
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Romeo Take Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone (Roman Roy Succession Request)
Part Two Available Now!
Pairing: Roman Roy (Succession) x Gender Neutral! Reader
Requests: "Roman x Mattson!reader? Forbidden/secret relationship?" AND "Perhaps some smut for Roman Roy? Maybe Roman being on the more submissive side? Thank you!"
Warnings: Smut, spoilers for the new season.
Word Count: 2.7k
Author's Note: Oh Roman, I'm going to pretend I haven't seen the latest episode so I can continue fancying you without having to think critically about this piece of media 🙃 Thank you to the ABSOLUTE genius that suggested a Mattson! reader, forbidden romance vibe, I loved the request and enjoyed writing this so much, I've gone full Romeo & Juliet! (More like Rome-eo, hahaha I felt like a genius for this). Also this is my first Roman smut so it was a bit of a challenge to try and keep it in the same tone i've written Roman in so far, but I hope you enjoy! As always keep the requests coming :D
Romey-o take me somewhere we can be alone
"Have you had enough of this little ass-kiss fucky fest yet?" You watched the little bubble pop up on your phone and looked across the party in reflex, scanning the crowd until you saw his smug little smile directed your way. You unlocked your phone to reply, scrolling up to glimpse the hundreds of messages between the two of you since you'd met that day at the woodlands company retreat three weeks ago.
***
"Problems working with your older brother? I can relate." You stepped out into the night air to find Roman hunched over the railing of the small balcony, hands threading through his hair so firmly he threatened to pull it out in clumps. His shoulders grew a little less tense as your voice washed over him, hands falling to the edge of ledge as he gestured for you to join him.
"So you're the younger Mattson? You could have fooled me, on account of you not being a massive dick." He laughed at the words but it came out hollow, watching his breath form a white wisp in front of his face in the cold night air.
"Thanks, I try my best to be an actual human being. I hear out of all the Roys you're the most favourable to be around too."
He turned his head sharply to really look at you, the sincerity in your tone and the measured kindness of your words catching his attention.
"Oh yeah?" He probed, hoping another almost compliment would fall from your lips before he did something to ruin this moment. Truth was he'd spend half the weekend watching the way you floated through the conference, poised, humble, soft; the antithesis of your brother Lucas. And so he'd avoided you, sure that any moment spent in your presence would only tarnish the shining light you carried so effortlessly.
"I like to think I've got good instincts for people, and I think there's something about you that's different from the rest of your family. And I mean that in a good way." You were thoughtful as you spoke, treading lightly around the slick man in front of you, sure that one wrong move would have him sprinting back inside, spitting venom in his words as he went.
"That's actually pretty nice to hear these days." Roman replied after a pause, now standing squarely to face you, searching your eyes for any hint of deception and mockery and instead finding a tranquility that washed over him in waves as you returned a smile he hadn't realised he was sharing.
"I'm really sorry about your father by the way. And I'm even more sorry that you have to be here right now." You grimaced at your brother's insistence that this weekend go ahead as planned, every ounce of humanity seeming to leave him the moment his bank account saw a certain amount of zeros. Roman nodded at your words, the taste of condolences still unfamiliar and bitter in his mouth, cursing his father for ruining yet another interaction for him, even from beyond the grave. You read his silence for the pain that it was and set your hand gently on top of his where it rested on the railing.
"Well I should go back inside before any of our siblings accuse us of fraternising with the enemy, but it was nice to meet you. I really mean that."
Panic rose up in the back of Roman's throat as you turned to move away, not yet ready for this moment to end, feeling better than he had in weeks. He ignored the voice crying out inside him to stay strong, to isolate himself, to trust no one, and instead caught your rising hand with his.
"Maybe we could fraternise just a little longer.
***
And so you and Roman had spent an evening sharing in the perils of being a younger sibling in your strange corporate worlds, swapping numbers and an unspoken agreement to keep this from your families as you departed the next day, Roman touching the spot on his cheek you had blessed with a gentle kiss when he snuck into your treehouse to say a real goodbye. And so followed weeks of secret texts and furtive phone calls, pouring out your souls until finally you were back in the same room, parted in a hotel lobby by a sea of political donors and movers and shakers, but feeling only one pair of eyes on you.
"I thought you'd never ask." You sent back in response, locking eyes with him once again and tipping your head toward an emergency exit you had checked led to a service elevator. From opposite sides of the room you each slipped through the crowd, trying your best to be unseen, aware that any of these prying eyes could collapse what you had delicately built with a single passing comment. As you reached the door you did a final scan to ensure there were no Waystar or GoJo members nearby who could catch a glimpse of this subtle rendezvous, before backing through the door yourself.
Roman stood waiting between the open elevator doors, looking almost bashful as you dashed towards him, vanishing into the small metal room as he let the door slide shut behind him.
"Thanks for holding it." You couldn't help the anticipation loaded in your tone, facing Roman and finding him stood barely an inch away from your blushing face.
"I had a feeling we were going to the same floor." He breathed out, eyes wide and hands shaking as they rose to brush either side of your face, the adoration clear in the gentle way his thumbs stroked your cheeks.
Before either of you could think your way out of something good, you leant forward, closing the gap between your lips and sending a whirlwind of warmth and glitter spinning through your bodies, the reunion more than worth the wait. His head bobbed forward to return the gesture, body following the movement until he was pressed entirely against you. It wasn't rough, or frantic, or urgent. It was like deep down you knew you'd be doing this forever, so you had all the time in the world to sweetly caress the nape of his neck, parting his lips for a content sigh that only let you taste more of him.
By the time the lift doors opened on your floor Roman could hardly remember where he began and you ended, unsure how he ever coped being half way across the planet from you, needing to keep you as close as he could for every second you could steal tonight. You could feel it too, the desperate pull of your heart towards him, the air of secrecy that only made you want him more, this forbidden fruit the sweetest you would ever taste.
You could feel his cheeks brush against yours as he fought back a smile at finally having you in his arms, and the physical confirmation you had been feeling this overwhelming chemistry too. He would have berated anyone else for believing in love at first sight, but as you rested your forehead softly against his, feeling the joy emanating between you, he didn't think this could be anything else. When you pushed the jacket free of his shoulders, helping him shrug away the fabric until it crumpled on the floor, he had to stop himself from pulling away. Not because he didn't want this with you. It was really the opposite; he couldn't remember ever feeling this way, ever wanting someone to be so close to him, to feel every part of him, and now he wanted that more than anything with you. But he was scared of being vulnerable, and insecure in his inexperience, completely unsure what real intimacy could even look like.
As you worked through the buttons on his shirt, you could see the gears whirring in his head, the unmistakable fear and excitement of a man that's seen a hard-drive's worth of porn but never felt the touch of a person that genuinely cares about them.
"We can stop?" You offered, pulling your hands away from his shirt, only for him to vigorously shake his head and rip it off himself, a stray button clattering across the floor, disrupting the heavy silence.
"I want to." He insisted, his eyes full of desperate desire as you brought your hands to his now bare chest, his heart hammering in anticipation inside. Unsure of what to do next, Roman firmly grabbed at your ass, voice wavering as he tried to take control, feeling like that should be his role,
"Do you like that, you fucking slut?" Both of your faces seemed to contort in discomfort as the words tumbled out of his mouth, his hand quickly releasing and his eyes clenching shut in embarrassment.
"Sorry Rome, I don't even think you like that?" You questioned softly, bringing your fingertips to sweep delicately over the creases in his forehead, his brow slowly unfurrowing as he blinked his eyes open to see you again.
"Fuck, sorry, I was trying to, you know, talk dirty, be sexy." He waved his hands in a gesture of uncertainty as he spoke, surprised you weren't laughing at him or taking the opportunity to run for the door.
"You know talking doesn't have to be degrading to be sexy?" You replied, the calm, confident smile on your face matched by the alluring look in your eye leaving Roman feeling like a deer in headlights, but praying the car will crash right into him.
"Oh yeah?" He gulped, eyes wide as you nodded, pushing him gently so he could step backwards towards the end of the bed. He let himself drift in your current as your touch laid him backwards, every wave of contact soothing his nerves.
"Can I show you?" You breathed in his ear, settling your thighs either side of his legs, feeling all the more powerful for being fully dressed as his bare chest heaved beneath you.
"Please." He begged softly, letting his eyes flutter shut as your lips found his again, fingers tracing a path down his stomach until they reached his belt.
"I'm so glad I got to see you tonight." You sighed against his lips as you began to undo the buckle, feeling his hips twitch, reacting to even the slightest touch. His head leant forward, trying to chase your lips as you spoke, needy for the taste of your kiss as you released the zip and buttons in your way.
"Me too." He eventually sighed out as your lips moved out of his reach, mapping a course across his cheek until you reached the edge of his jaw, applying a little more pressure until you heard the low rumble of moan escape his lips.
"I like hearing you enjoy yourself." You purred, confidence building as he relaxed against your touch, submitting to your control, putty in your hands. Marking a sweet constellation of kisses over his neck you slowly slipped your hand inside his boxers, running one finger over the length of him and feeling him buck up to meet your touch. Roman had never felt both so excited and so relaxed at the same time, never this comfortable with someone exploring his body before, but feeling like he wanted to give every inch over to your control, sure your loving touch could put all the broken pieces of him back together.
You wrapped your hand around his hard length, pumping over him a few times to gage his reaction. His eyebrows scrunched down towards his nose, lips parting as a moan seemed to reverberate through his whole body.
"Does that feel good?" Your tone was sweet, if not a little teasing, sucking on a spot on his throat that seemed to leave him barely able to spit out an 'uh-uh' in response.
"Good, I want to make you feel good, Roman. Will you let me make you feel good?" You praised, bobbing your head down to his chest and picking up the pace of your rubbing hand. Ability to think and speak quickly surrendered, Roman just nodded, for once unable to think of a quippy comeback and just enjoying someone else taking control and being with him so intimately. He'd touched himself like this hundreds of times, thinking cruel, perverse little thoughts the whole time until he was left sitting in a puddle of his own self-contempt. But with you it felt like something new entirely, something positive, and warm, and with each soft praise and gentle kiss that poured from your lips and landed squarely on his chest he could feel his heart lifting, thinking maybe there's a reason he'll only ever thought of it as 'fucking' and not 'making love'.
Your lips drifted down to his chest, gingerly placing a kiss on one nipple and smiling at the way he squirmed under you, eyes now staring down at you in full adoration like you were the most wondrous miracle he could have dreamt of. You could feel his cock starting to twitch in your hand, cooing over him again, sure this wouldn't be the last time the two of you spend a night hiding in the sheets together.
"You're doing so well, Roman. Good boy."
"You feel - so - good." He panted out, the praise bringing him close to the edge before he could really think enough to stop it. Ignoring your own desire stirring up inside your stomach, you gripped your hand on him a little firmer, leaving the other to trace faint circles over his chest, the lingering damp of your kisses only making him more sensitive. Crashing your lips back against his you swallowed his moan before breathing out,
"Cum for me, Rome, please." His lips pressed hard against yours as his hips started to shake, unable to hold back for a second longer and spilling hot white ropes across his stomach, almost whimpering at his sensitive release, overstimulated but still whining the second you released your grip.
His hands reached up to capture your face, somehow trying to portray a lifetime's worth of gratitude and affection in a single overwhelming kiss, before finally releasing you to breathe. As you rose up onto your knees, surveying the smiling fool of a man lying beneath you, you couldn't help but laugh at the state of both of your suit trousers, marred with streaks of sticky white.
"We might need to hide up here for a while until we get cleaned up and dried off, or this might be hard to explain."
"You don't think we could say two seperate waiters happen to get lucky?" Roman rebuffed, pulling a disgusted face as he wiped a finger over the fluid pooling on his stomach.
"Or one waiter got very lucky?" You suggested with a smile, Roman using every ounce of remaining strength to sit up until his lips could find their way to yours.
"No-one's that lucky, so I guess we better stay hidden. I reckon there's a lot more stuff you could show me anyway." Roman's eyes drifted down your body eagerly, wondering exactly what else he'd been missing by never trying it with the right person.
"You don't think the party will miss us?" You teased, pretending to bat away his eager hands.
"What party?" He scoffed, letting you capture him by the wrists and pulling you back to lie with him, falling so you pinned his wrists either side of him, a position he was more than happy to end up in.
"What about our families?" You couldn't help the worried tinge in your voice as you remembered the seemingly insurmountable barrier that stood between yours and Roman's lives. With unusual sincerity he gazed up into your eyes and said softly,
"Fuck 'em, you're my family now."
#writing#fanfiction#one shot#requests#roman roy angst#roman roy fluff#roman roy imagine#roman roy x reader#roman roy#succession imagine#succession hbo#succession#succession headcanons#succession requests#succession roman#roman succession#reader insert#gender neutral fanfic#gn!reader
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night shift ★彡 xu minghao
xu minghao x yn ln
彡when yn’s juniors finds trouble with some fellow college mates, yn goes through mountains just to get them justice, even if it means needing to infiltrate and make friends with the most intimidating clique on campus.
masterlist
#12 an easy man! | #13 kuromi pic! | #14 white tee!
notes: there’s a writing part under the cut! (0.5k words)
minghao walked into the back. taking off his apron, he smiled at you. you had already gotten up and folded the blanket to which he stuffed into the bag he carried.
“ready to go?” he asked as he looked up to you. you stiffly stood by him, hands holding the strap of your bag awkwardly and you just nodded.
you closed up the store and went your way out.
you lead the way to the bus stop you usually go to as minghao treaded right beside you.
“crazy i didn’t see you yesterday,” you randomly brought up.
minghao slowly turned to you and squinted his eyes, “we did but like just for a few seconds.”
you immediately made an ‘o’ with your mouth as you recalled.
the bus arrived and you two got on, sitting by each other, your shoulders touched but non of you moved. perhaps you were too tired to?
“you were gonna go out with mingyu today?” he tilted his head. “ah well it wasn’t a set in stone plan, i didn’t even know if i’d wake up the next day,” you laughed. “and you didn’t,” he giggled and sighed. it’s true, you slept for most of the day.
“but that was the first time you hung out with mingyu right? you two seem so close.”
“i think i just adapt well,” you reasoned. notably, you had to adapt well because of how good it would’ve been for the mission.
“understandable. if i didn’t know how friendly you were i would’ve just guessed that you fell for mingyu and that’s what brought you to say yes to going out with him.”
“well isn’t mingyu that guy all of the people in school fall for?” you turned your body to face minghao, showing interest in the conversation.
“oh, are you one of those people yn?” minghao tapped on his chin to provoke you.
your eyes locked into minghao’s out of shock. you coughed out a chuckle and retracted your eyes to the floor. “no,” you sighed out and grinned. “not at all. my heart belongs to someone else,” you softly let out.
as minghao got silent, you swiftly turned your eyes to him but all you saw was a warm smile on his face.
“am i going to unlock the yn secret and find out who it is today?” he poked in more fun.
you sneered and rested your head on your hand, “don’t need to unlock it today when you’ve already guessed it before.”
shit, why are you the one revealing secrets to him? shouldn’t it be the other way around? that’s what you thought as you kept speaking. but minghao’s response cleared your cloudy head.
“well i hope that goes well for you. i’m sure it will.”
there it was again. the tinge of sweetness from minghao that somehow made your heart melt.
it was nice to have someone like this around but also, it wasn’t. he was gravely making you forget why you’re here in the first place.
and the lingering texture of he blanket on your skin made it all the more forgettable.
funfact: the manager wasn’t at work today which is why yn decided to nap straight away. yn thought falling asleep during work was going to be the end of their career however waking up to having a blanket over their shoulders made them realise, they’re glad to have met minghao and have him as a coworker.
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#—night shift x.m#xu minghao#xu minghao smau#xu minghao x reader#xu minghao x you#xu minghao x y/n#xu minghao fluff#seventeen xu minghao#minghao x reader#minghao fluff#minghao#minghao smau#the8 smau#the8 x reader#the8 fluff#seventeen#seventeen smau#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#seventeen x y/n#seventeen fluff#svt#svt smau#svt x reader#svt x you#svt x y/n#svt fluff
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Princess - Gojo Satoru X Reader
F!reader
Warnings!: non protected sex, choking, darcryphilia, love bombing, Princess X Royal Guard trope.
I am not responsible for people under 18 who read this. minors or ageless bloggers please dni!
“Please Prue, I cannot stomach anything for the work I must complete before sunrise,” you bit your bottom lip, looking over the written up budget for the kingdoms church. You hadn’t realized just how rich they’d become from your fathers rein. You weren’t much of a religious folk, so you were afraid to cut their income by half.
“Your highness, you are not to eat then I must call your personal guard, for he will make you,” he warned, knowing what kind of bond you and your guard had. He’d been your guard for ten years now, since your sixteenth birthday. He was a foolish boy who wasn’t good at his job in leaving your alone and protecting you from afar. But you’d grown a connection to him, sharing secrets and thoughts in your tower many times. You’d shared things that not even your reflection had heard.
“Call Satoru if you dare, I shall simply give him the same response as you,” you told her, offering a fake smile. Your maid, Prue, was a nice women yet you couldn’t appreciate her kindness due to the stress. She sighed, placing the tray on your desk before leaving your chambers.
As You embraced the silence, your wooden walls homing the orange flicker of your candles. Your desk was covered in papers and folders, painted by the light and some even your tears. You were almost done though, almost free to sink deep into your mattress and let the night whisper a story.
After around three revolutions of the clocks long hand, you heard soft footsteps grow closer outside the door. Your ears perked up, recognizing who held such confidence strides. The wood creaked outside your door as he unlocked the wooden door. He stepped inside, not earning a glance from you. He clicked his tongue through a grin, unstrapping his sword from his waist.
“Princess,” he called to you, setting his sword against your desk as he pulled over a stool next to you. You glanced over at him, being met with his beautiful eyes of the sea. That’s what drew you to keeping him as your guard, his eyes reminded you of salty air and the sound of waves crashing against large rock formations.
“Princess,” he called to you again, this time a little more demanding, “tell me why you choose to be defiant.” You didn’t spare a glance this time, focused on writing down a couple numbers down on the budget for the local taverns. You chose to be a little generous since you yourself liked to relax in one of the local taverns at night before curfew.
You were pulled by Satoru’s soft hand holding your chin between his fingers, making you look up at him. He always had a way of making you flutter like the butterflies you loved to watch with him in the spring. He knew the kind of effect he had on you, and you knew he knew as well. It was almost unspoken, woven between the threads of the stares you share that your relationship had grown far from princess and guard. It was just a matter of time before someone drew further over the line.
“You must eat the soup Chef Dee has prepared for you. It would be a waste and an insult to his craft if you were to leave his food untouched.” He handed you the bowl of soup in a cherry oak bowl. “Eat.”
You stared from him to the bowl, grabbing the silver spoon off the tray and and complying with his request. Prue was right, you cannot defy him. He was persuasive with his words and actions, it was addictive to see just how far you could push him.
“Thank you Princess. After you eat, please slip into your night gown before you grown marks from your corset,” he asked if you, poking your side. You wore your day dress: a soft pink ankle dress with a white lace corset that wasn’t as harsh as your evening dress. It was comfortable, made of silk with lace trim and an off-the-shoulder touch. Your hair was let down, your mothers hair pins holding back your face framing pieces to help you see the papers better. You could admit, it was a little embarrassing for him to see you this way. But then again, he’d seen you down to your undergarments so you had nothing to worry when it came to presentation.
“Why you care so much about my health is up for debate in my head, it cannot just be because of your guardian duties or the fact we are close,” you pointed out. He shined you he boyish smile, his white hair covering some of his eyes. He was truly an amazement at how gorgeous yet masculine Satoru was. His sharp jaw and plush lips were enough to leave a girl melted at the knees. He was every girls fantasy, yet every man’s threat. Satoru was the chief of royal guards, quickly moving up the ranks from when he was placed as your personal guard. He had better opportunities presented to him to change roles, yet he stuck with you. Now he was chief, yet always made time to be with you most of the day.
“Can a guard not care for his princess without reason? The way you doubt me hurts, princess,” he faked pain in his chest, earning a few giggles from you. You laugh was contagious yet a beautiful hymn to him.
His face suddenly dropped, as if lost in his own mind. You nudged him with your foot on his ankle, asking him why he was distancing himself. “My Princess,” he looked down at you with something strange, “shall your coronation come by spring, I cannot promise I will stay your guard. I-“
You watched him break, his jaw hard as he stared at you distantly. You knew the rules, you knew you had to switch to your fathers guard due to tradition. But you hated tradition, it was all a bunch of horse play. You placed your hand on his knee, the other following as you set your bowl of soup down. The candlelight danced across his face, making him appear even more beautiful than before.
“Shall the day come Satoru, I will fight my ancestors and the kingdoms expectations of queen if it is what I must do to keep you. You aren’t leaving my side, I will stand between the lines of the people and royalty just to be with you,” your breath was gone, telling a breathless, “for I love you.”
His hands slid to your shoulders, his eyes clearing of his brain clouds. He knew what he wanted now, and he didn’t care if it was forbidden. He didn’t care if he had to bite the apple as Eve did, as long as he had you by his side.
His lips drew closer, your breaths mixing together in a concoction that left your knees weak. You took the apple, connecting your lips to his. He tasted of the forbidden apple, whimpering out from the sweet taste. You hadn’t realized how much you needed him until his hands trailed down to your waist. You took the initiative, crawling into his lap and letting him lead the kiss.
He was your Romeo, your Shakespeare tragedy that led you astray. You didn’t care of the consequences that would fall over you both for doing this, you were going to be queen and you’d fight for him. He knew that, falling down the same path as you. He’d quit his title as a royal guard just to hold you to sleep every night. Just to taste your lips, just to touch you…just to feel you. He was lovesick, and so where you.
He pulled away from the kiss, watching you breath heavily. He slid his finger tips against your cheek, watching the redness form from your embarrassment and lust. “I cannot kiss you any further when you deserve a bed,” Satoru whispered, leaving the only sound to occupy the room being your breaths and the wind blowing against the windows.
You smirked down at him, combing your fingers thorough his soft snowy hair. It was late winter, his hair reflecting the thick snow coating the once green ground. “As your Queen,” you stated in an authoritative tone, “I command you show me what you think about doing to me on this desk.”
Your body was on fire, his lips all over your neck as you sat on your desk, legs cradling his torso. You could feel him through his trousers, wanting so bad to remove the articles of clothing that were blocking your connection. You needed him so bad, so bad it physically hurt. The fire between your legs grew stronger than the candle flame, and he could feel it.
He reached a hand down between your legs, slipping it down into your undergarments. He could feel how wet you were from a simple touch, only fueling his body more. His hips were magnetic to yours, so much so that he couldn’t control himself from grinding up against the hand he was slowly slipping inside you. His other hand was wrapped around your neck, your eyes rolling back through each small squeeze of his fingertips. You had to be quiet, for anyone could walk up your tower and ask for your assistance. But in some strange way, that made you just a little less quiet. It was almost thrilling, heightening your endless pleasure.
“Tell me Princess, does it feel good to be in such a vulnerable state at the hands of your royal guard?” He asked in a sinister manner, eliciting a small whimper and a nod. He smirked at the response, looking down at you. “Tell me how good.”
He curled his fingers, making your body jerk forward as your eyes squeezed shut. You’d had many late night with guys from the tavern looking for something quick and fulfilling. Even princes had come and made you feel like you were floating. But nobody compared to the way he knew how to play you perfectly, like a bard with his lyre. It was mesmerizing, freeing. Your body melting deep into the earth and coming out in heaven.
You whispered his name in a chant, like the nuns at the cathedral. You were close to that heaven, sinking deeper and deeper until you were finally at the gates. Your body exploded in pleasure, eyes tearing up as Satoru watched you unravel in his hand. Your high lasted longer than any other you’d experienced, opening your watery eyes to be met with his flushed face and a smirk. He was full of lust, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.
You helped him get you out of your undergarments, as well as freeing him of his work belt and unbuttoning his work pants. He cock was large and thick, oozing with precum. You both watched eachothers movemnts, looking for any discomfort; but there was none to be found. You both wanted this, needed this. You both spent long nights, from sunset to sunrise, dreaming and pretending this moment right now was real. Now it was, and you weren’t wasting any time in indulging in it.
You let out a gasp as he slid himself inside you, the skirt of your dress bunched at your hips. The desk below you moaned from the weight of his small thrust, but you both couldn’t fathom anything around you. All you both could focus on was your connection. “Satoru…” you whispered, his hands planted down on the desk by your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his in a kiss of need. He complied, slowly rocking his hips against yours. You could feel him, all of him, and it was nothing compared to anything you’ve ever experienced before.
His thrusts grew a bit faster as his lips devoured yours, as if a kiss of death. Your body had succumbed to his, moving your body to try and keep up with his thrusts. The desk below was creaking with each fast movement, loud enough for anyone in the stairway to hear. But you didn’t care anymore, especially with the loud moan of his name you let slip. He loved the noice, pulling away from your lips to only attack your neck with bites that caused more.
You moaned, but you were missing something. He pulled away, watching you grab on of his hands and slip his thumb over a specific part of your body. He felt the bundle of nerves, watching you face contort into one of pure blissful pleasure. He loved the reaction, rubbing the small nub faster and pressing down on it. His thrusts grew faster, feeling you tighten around him. He felt it, that feeling of heaven. He ran to it with his pace, your head bobbling with each thrust. You let go of his neck, laying down over the papers as you let him take control.
You were just as close to your orgasm as he was, crying out his name as tears fell down the side of your face. His head leaned back as he gave a few more brutal thrusts before letting himself go inside you. You came just as he did, your bodies connected along with your souls. This was more than just sex, and that was now known between the two of you. This was a soul connection, one that ran deeper than anything you’ve ever felt with anyone.
“I love you, princess,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in your neck. He wanted another round, and you were ready to comply to his unspoken request.
#jjk x you#gojo satoru smut#gojo saturo#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#jjk gojo#jjk smut
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hi dude. I came with a new idea! How do Ghost, Konig, Roach, and Alex react to the reader doing the belly dance? It's like they saw it by chance. But it's not a vigorous oriental dance, Rather as if the reader is dancing lightly, in a white silk and long ankle-length oriental skirt, gracefully draping her waist from side to side.
It will be neither too long nor too short, can you write headcanons please?
Have a nice day 🌊
Here ya go @greenkiki sorry it took me so long 😅😅
König 🐙
Would either run away in terror at what he just saw thinking seeing something like that was completely illegal. Or he'd be dragged in and just sit there watching you with awe.
No in between.
He's just drawn into the way the skirt moves and your hips and how everything just flows together. It's amazing to him.
Belly dancing isn't terribly popular in Germany or Austria so it's one of the first times he's actually seen it in person. If he'd ever seen it at all.
He was surprised to learn you weren't in pain shifting your hips like that, even when it was slow.
He's a bit of a poetic and you can't tell me otherwise. This man has metaphors left and right for the way you dance and flow around like the breeze or the ocean. The way you look so calm and happy while you do so.
When you do show him fast, competitive belly dancing you scare him.
"See, it's like this. It's really easy-"
"Oh my gosh your hips- stop it stop! You'll break something!"
You laugh and keep doing it as König tries not to look but also looks because how can he not??
It's slightly horrifying, but in a good way. The way you can move like that is hypnotic and almost ensnares him into feeling his heart beat out of his chest while watching you.
But he definitely wants to keep watching. And you do. He's so drawn he'll sit on your bed and just watch you as you practice. Slow rhythmic dances. It really is... Amazing.
He absolutely loves watching you. I mean, he's just genuinely and purely infatuated with it.
And he's probably too nervous to ever speak it, but there is a tiny part of him, a part inside him that doesn't just want to sit there and watch you.
He wants to touch you, to feel the skirt on your waist and his hands on your warm hips as you dance around in his arms. Geez... this has unlocked new things inside him.
Roach 🪳
I bring you the world's best hype man. He'll clap and smile at you, his eyes twinkling and you can see his eyes scrunching a little.
When he first sees you, he's quiet enough that he can watch from the crack in your door. He is also intrigued, and just watching you. It's so interesting and it looks fun. He watches the way your hips move and how you look so happy and in the zone, it's pretty. Very pretty.
And in common Roach fashion if you're wearing a skirt with the little beads and shiny reflective disks, he's all over that. We been knew.
After you're finished the song Roach will burst into your room with happy clapping and some bsl clapping as well, bouncing around and looking at the outfit up close before you can even register the man is in your room.
"Roach?? Hey buddy, what- what did you see??" You were a little flustered he found you like that but Roach is all smiles. He flicks the little beads and feels how soft the skirt is.
And how you moved. Twirling his finger ad to excitedly ask you to do it again.
And he sits on your bed and watches you as you do. It's just so cool, and pretty.
"Do you like it?? When I do this?"
He nods, pointing to your belly button and poking it, making you blush again. "Well, thank you buddy."
He's hype man. Anywhere and everywhere, hype man. You must share these talents with the world.
He is always trying to get you to show him, to see if you can do it in regular clothes or your military gear. One time after a victory, he even tried to do some dance moves himself.
As you can imagine it didn't look that great. But he tried!
He's baby, but remember, even baby has a few secret thoughts of his own that he's... storing for later.
Ghost 💀
In the spirit of sharing your talents with the world, Roach has dragged you to his best friend in the whole world, who also shall appreciate your talents.
You're a little embarrassed to say the least when Ghost raises an eyebrow as Roach gets him to sit and points to you. In your outfit. Roach just... purely wants to share what you can do, and that is what truly makes your cheeks heat up.
And so you do, a little dance with some music on. Ghost acts completely disinterested, he doesn't look like he cares. There is a part of him that wants to reach out and touch those hips. A small inkling inside of him that wants to be behind you, to hold you and let you guide him around while you do... whatever heavenly thing you're doing right now.
There is nothing innocent about it. Roach wants to show him this and doesn't expect Ghost to take it in a whole new light.
After the fact he does run into you one time in your room when you're dancing. He can't help himself slipping into your room and running his hands just briefly, the tips of his gloved fingers over your skin.
"You are one intriguing gal, aren't you?"
You blush, your movements still, but Ghost gives you enough room to continue.
"Think you can teach me?"
"I think I possibly could."
Yeah, this man isn't going back. Sorry but there is new brain chemistry for him to consider. Especially since he's genuinely never seen a dance like this. In his entire life. Which is probably one of the reasons he's so attracted to it.
But hey, let's be honest, if it was anyone else, he'd still walk away.
Alex 🦿
Saw it but chance, and from every incident now on, sees it by choice 😤
Look at him, innocent man, walking to the barracks all alone when he hears this music. The music he's never heard coming from your room. Interesting, the song is kind of catchy. He was going to ask you about it when he approached your room and saw you.
Oh.
Oh.
He's not disrespectful but can you get any more beautiful?? He was barely hanging on to his resolve for these missions by threads and now there is nothing.
You look absolutely stunning. Genuinely how you move is beautiful and you look to be enjoying yourself a lot.
He doesn't have the courage to approach you, but he just stands there, watching you. He can't take his eyes off you.
Until the song stops and you turn around for some water, only to notice him... now to you it looks creepy because you can only see one half of his face.
"Alex?? What... are you doing there??"
"Huh? Me, I wasn't standing. Doing nothing. Nuh uh."
You scoff lightly. "I mean... you can come in, if You're not going to be weird about it."
"Me?? Weird??" He's already in your room with the permission. Sitting on your bed and getting comfy. "I am never weird..."
Ah, those next 30 minutes of watching you dance and be in your happy place is a blessing for him.
You're beautiful to him. He just absolutely loves the way you move, the way your body shifts. And he was a fool to think that he'd discovered everything there was to you.
#simon ghost riley#call of duty#call of duty headcanons#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#konig#konig cod#konig x y/n#konig x reader#könig headcanons#könig x reader#call of duty roach#gary roach sanderson#roach headcanons#gary roach sanderson headcanons#alex keller#alex cod#alex keller x reader
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—inked; kaz brekker.
ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 1k words.
ʚ reader is a tattoo artist, kaz brekker needs a tattoo. there's a lot of yearning involved.
ʚ non-descriptive needle and tattoo stuff; slight angst.
ʚ a/n you can tell i don't know how tattoos work.
Kaz Brekker should stop trying to find a reason to knock on your door. He should step back, tilt his head down and walk away as if he was never there in the first place. It was becoming a habit and habits meant comfort and comfort usually became root for something more—something that someone like him couldn't grow beyond a sprout when you deserved the whole forest.
Yet he stayed stubbornly at your door.
He was a selfish man in that regard.
He could hear you shuffling behind the door and then the rattle of your keys, followed by a soft click of your door being unlocked. You pulled the door open a smidge.
“Kaz!”
He wished you didn't sound so happy to see him. Then, he wouldn't feel welcomed to come back the next time and the next time and the next. He didn't want to make a habit out of it, but he was here yesterday and four days ago and a week ago. He had a feeling that he would be here in the near future as well.
Your door swung open immediately. You were wearing casual clothes, comfortable for sleeping, instead of your usual coats and leathers. It was a welcome change. It made his visits feel more personalised, like he was the only one to see you as you were and not as you wanted him to.
“What brings you here tonight?” you asked, already leading him to sit on the upholstered couch in your room. It used to be your bed, before you saved enough for a real one. Now, it nestled itself in one corner of your room for rare visitors. The only one who ever came by your rented room in Ketterdam was Kaz lately.
“I want to get a tattoo.”
His eyes wandered to your walls, littered with inked drawings of past tattoo designs you had done. You worked at a tattoo parlour that fell in the Dregs' territory. Many of the new members had their tattoos done at your workplace. You had even inked a few of them yourself.
“The shop opens in a couple of hours,” you said. “We can wait—”
“Not at the shop, if you can,” he interrupted. He didn't think he could bear having other people in the same room. He didn't think he wanted someone else to potentially do it as well. He came to you because he trusted you. He had spent too many nights awaiting dawn with you. He had told you too many secrets he shouldn't have. You had told him things about yourself that you probably shouldn't. He came to you when nothing went right. He came to you when everything went the way it should. You waited for him after a good day. You still waited even after a bad day.
It was a strange dynamic.
It should feel like he was skeeting over the edge of a chasm, but it felt more like the gentle hum of his room at the Slat. Steady, familiar four walls that served as a respite from the debauchery of the Barrell.
“Of course,” you agreed. It took you less than five minutes to gather everything you needed. Fortunately, you had gone on a supply run for the shop earlier. You were planning to bring everything to the shop when it opened, but you'd be needing them earlier than you thought.
“You're putting a lot of trust in me,” you joked. “I could write 'Ketterdam's biggest loser' on your arm.”
“It would suit you better than me.”
You chuckled. He thought it would sound good on vinyl. He could listen to it for hours.
“Rule one, Brekker. Never insult the person who's putting permanent ink on you.” You shot him a glare, but you were smiling. It was inexplicably easy to smile around him. “What are you thinking?”
“The Dregs tattoo, on my arm.” He rolled his sleeves and your heart was beating twice as fast. Unbeknownst to you, his was as well. He had never bared a part of himself so casually before. You had never seen him without all his layers—all the protection over his skin.
Your machine whirred to life. You disinfected his skin with a couple swipes of a disinfectant pad. His whole body tensed when you made contact, despite your gloves.
“Hey, Kaz.” You pulled his attention away from where you'd touched him. “I won't hurt you.”
You held out your gloved palm. With your free hand, you took his gloved hand and set it gently over your palm. He inhaled sharply.
“It's okay. It's just me.”
He trailed a finger softly over your palm. There was a barrier between your skins, but it was daunting all the same. He took a couple of deep, spaced breaths with closed eyes. When he opened them, you were smiling encouragingly at him.
“You can start,” he said, but almost immediately regretted it when you pulled your hands away.
“There will be slight pain,” you said over the whirring of your machine.
He scoffed. “I know pain better than—”
He cursed, inhaling sharply when first contact broke his skin.
You rolled your eyes. “I warned you, Brekker.”
Stray hairs fell over his forehead. “I was startled.”
His eyes were tracing the lines of your face as you worked. The proximity started to feel somewhat comfortable, with the lull of your tattoo machine. You occasionally hummed as you worked. He etched the sound into his mind. You weren't a singer, but he preferred your voice over any performers.
“Done!” you suddenly proclaimed. He looked away and cleared his throat. “What do you think?”
The crow and cup over his right forearm. A permanent mark that he was Dirtyhands of the Dregs. No deed too low for him as long as there was enough Kruge involved. Was that all who he really was?
“Can you add another? A small one,” he rasped.
“Certainly, Kaz. What is it?”
“The letter R, here,” he pointed at his bicep. “For the boy I was. For my brother.”
“I wish I could've met him, you know. Jordie.”
Kaz wished so, too. A foolish wish. Ketterdam didn't groom him to be a wishful thinker. Hope was a dangerous, dangerous thing. He should leave.
“Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if I overstepped.”
Kaz's eyes widened. “No. You're okay.”
It was him.
“Then stop looking like you're ready to bolt anytime, Kaz. I happen to appreciate your company.”
“Oh.”
He let hope force its way in and make a nest in his chest anyway.
[ ]
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what happened to us?
(when he texts you three months after your breakup to meet up)
contains: idolexbf!Heeseung x fem!reader | genre: angst, exes to lovers | tw! mentions of breakup, kissing and crying, so just as usual 🤭 | wc: 1,5k
reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!
Throwing the last tissue into a bin you never thought you would be crying over Heeseung. Your relationship was something everybody was jealous of, both his industry friends and your close friends who you trusted enough to tell about thing that was between you and him. But even the most beautiful things have to come to an end, even when none of the sides wants it. Though you were the one to end things with Heeseung and he didn’t even seem to fight for your relationship, none of you truly moved on. None of you stopped loving each other.
Because of still ignited emotions and feelings he had for you, Heeseung couldn’t stop wondering how have you been doing. Everyday he had to stop himself from texting you about his day and asking how yours went. All caused by absurdity of your break up. You were not only partners, you were each other's best friends, movie marathon buddies, gossip, and secret confidants way before you two even started to think you were a good match for such a golden couple.
Thoughts of you occupied Heeseung’s mind. He was laying in his bed when he heard soft knocks on his door. After mumbling a short “Come in.” they revealed Jay.
“We’re about to start watching. Will you join us?” he asked, head peaking inside through a door gap.
Right. Weekly Friday movie marathon. It was tradition self-initiated by none other but you, from times when you were a frequent visitor at their dorms. Just after your breakup the rest of them used to ask him this question, with a small difference. “Will Y/n join us?” To which he had to fight a wave of anger caused by your absence.
“Sorry but I think I’ll pass,” he almost whispered still staring blankly at the white ceiling of his room.
His answer made the younger look at him and heave a sigh. Before he left he finally got enough courage to ask a question everybody feared to ask. “Shouldn’t you just text her?”
Heeseung’s head shot up to look at Jay. To his surprise, he didn’t look angry or annoyed at the question, but rather an expression of confusion painted on his face.
“What?”
“I mean,” Jay started, stepping inside and sitting at the edge of Heeseung’s bed. “None of you truly wanted this breakup. At least that’s what it looks like. It was just so sudden, and you know how difficult that time was for us. Handling first tour preparations, then the tour itself, constant practices for award shows along with social life is not easy, even if you’re not in a relationship. So maybe at least try to talk it out.” He looked at the older one who started blankly once again at the ceiling, deep in thought. “I mean I don’t know if that’s what you want. But it seems like you might need it. Think about it. If you change your mind you know where we’ll be.” He said the last sentence after a short pause.
He left Heeseung alone. He didn’t even realize when his hand reached for his phone. Unlocking it he searched for your contact he started writing a short text. Anticipating if he should press the “Send” button, he shut his eyes and sent it.
He stared at the message wondering if that was a good decision. But honestly, did he have something he could lose? It didn’t change the fact that his heart ached as time went by and he still could see the small “Delivered” under his text. His vision started to get blurry and he let himself cry after 3 months of denying his true feelings of hurt and regret. Why didn’t he do that sooner? What if now it’s too late for having that conversation? What if you will never text him back? What if you will never forgive him for not reaching out to you? He covered his face with his hands as a strangled voice echoed in the room from his quiet sobs. He then covered his mouth so his friends couldn’t hear his cries.
And he would cry for much longer if not for the sound of the new text notification. He dried his eyes and looked at the new message from you. He didn’t waste a second answering you.
Your message made Heeseung jump off the bed. He changed his clothes into something more covered so nobody would recognize him. He opened the door sharply and headed to the front door.
“You’re going out?” He heard Jake’s voice while he was hurriedly putting his shoes on.
“Yeah, I’ll be late probably,” he answered. Moment before he closed the door behind him he heard Jay’s voice saying short: “Good luck”.
You on the other hand didn’t know what to think. You had spent the last 3 months crying yourself to sleep nearly every day and a massive guilt trip gave you many sleepless nights. You regretted every word you said while you broke up with him, especially telling him that you hate him and calling him the worst boyfriend, even though deep down you knew you’ll never find such an angel as he was to you.
You were walking around the living room nervously, his hoodie still hugging your body, as if you couldn’t say goodbye to it, just like you did to his other things when you took it back to his dorm. You didn’t even have any energy to clean up your place. You were nervous, you didn’t know how you’ll react once you see him. And you certainly didn’t know what to expect from him. Will he be angry? Will he want to get back together? Or maybe will he coldheartedly ask you to give him that last hoodie?
Your thought train stopped once you heard soft but distinct knocks on your front door. You ran up to them and swung them open. What you saw was Heeseung covered up from head to toe, only a pair of his doe eyes peaking from above his mask. You noticed how his eyes were slightly puffed up as if he just stopped crying. But you guessed he noticed the same thing about you. You motioned him to step in which he followed and took off his shoes along with his mask.
And just then without thinking too much about it you hugged him tightly wrapping your hands around his torso. You expected him to push you away, but what he did instead was pressing your body even closer to his, engulfing him in the warmth of his embrace. Your face automatically found its place in the crook of his neck as if it was sculpted perfectly for you to fit in.
Heeseung was the first one to start crying, you following him just right after. Both of you slid down sitting on the floor, arms still around each other’s bodies. He put his hand on your head patting it softly, knowing it helps you to calm you down. Once both of you calmed down, he whispered right in your ear honest: “I’m so sorry, my love.”
You pulled away scanning his face. You opened your mouth wanting to disagree but he spoke again.
“I’m so sorry for pushing you away. I’m so sorry for just letting this breakup happen. I’m so sorry for not reaching out to you, love. I’m sorry,” he repeated and nuzzled his nose against your neck.
You tangled your fingers in the locks of his hair and rocked your bodies in a comforting motion.
“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for breaking up with you and saying such stuff about you. You’re not a bad boyfriend. And I do not hate you. Totally opposite, I love you and I can’t imagine loving somebody other than you, Hee,” you said cupping his face, just like you used to do whenever he was down or stopped believing in himself. That action made him believe, believe that there was still hope for reconciliation. He smiled softly at that thought and view of you in front of his eyes. Seeing that you said: “What happened to us?” You smiled, eyes forming into small crinkles. He laughed breathily and asked: “Can I kiss you?”
Your expression softened and you nodded your head. You closed your eyes as you felt his soft lips come into contact with your plump ones. He kissed you slowly, wanting to savor the kiss he longed for such a long time. Heeseung trapped you in his arms, pulling you closer and closer, not leaving room for the tiniest grain of dust. You delighted in his touch, not letting him go after you both pulled away to catch a breath. You leaned your forehead against his.
That night you shared tons of kisses, both soft ones and more passionate ones. You talked everything through, a heart-to-heart talk that was needed for a while. Both your heart had bruises but with every word and with every touch they seemed to fade away. Heeseung waited until he saw you sleeping soundly in his arms watching how you took every breath through your parted lips. He smiled remembering how he missed the feeling of your body laying on his. Everything seemed to go back to its usual place.
thank you for reading! back to the masterlist
#enhypen x reader#enhypen#heeseung#heeseung x reader#enhypen angst#enhypen imagine#enhypen fic#heeseung enhypen#heeseung angst#lee heeseung
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so i have been bitten by the sam reich!master bug courtesy of some phenomenal art by @northernfireart and uh. as is too often the case i had to write something otherwise if i didn't get it out of my brain i would go absolutely insane
(there may be more vignettes coming if i have ideas..... there are definitely other episodes i'd like to give the Treatment to, plus with the new dw series coming out on the weekend i may have ideas for how to incorporate the dw gang! however, i promise neither more writing or no more writing. that said, this was a lot of fun so there'll probably be more at some stage :D )
this has full spoilers for the game changer ep "escape the greenroom", but hey that's been out for a while now so,,,,
if you haven't seen it i'd highly recommend it as an episode!
so, without further ado:
--
Samuel Dalton was a complete fiction, of course, but that didn't mean that when Sam Reich snuck back upstairs to get tied up in the “out of order” bathroom, the Sam that remained on the monitor, laughing at the contestants, was a pre-recording. And if Brennan, Siobhan and Lou had snorted at the idea of a time-travelling evil magician great-grandfather (for good reason), going in with the actual truth of the matter would have sounded like jumping the shark.
It sounded bizarre, but the time travel bit was the only part about his new partner in crime that was confirmably real. Admittedly, the jury was still out on “evil”—he gave off a weird vibe at times, but so far, no lines had been crossed, and it had all been funny as hell—so for now, Sam was willing to roll with it. But perhaps most surprisingly, there wasn’t even the possibility of blood relation between Samuel Dalton Reich and the guy who had shown up out of the blue one day with his exact face and a plan to really fuck around with things on Game Changer.
Yeah, the whole alien thing had really ruled out that particular prospect.
There had been various bits and pieces of confirmation that this guy wasn’t human through the time Sam had known him, but the final nail in the coffin for that one was when his doppelganger had looked him dead in the eye and tried on one of the heart rate monitors—sorry, “range extenders”—for As a Cucumber. The damn thing had literally sparked up, then died completely. Trying to process input from two separate heartbeats at once would do that, apparently.
His doppelganger was a Time Lord, or so he had nonchalantly said one afternoon in casual conversation, though Sam still wasn’t sure if that one was a joke or not. It was hard to tell, sometimes, because he said the wildest things with the straightest face, and so far, most of them had turned out to be one hundred percent certifiably true. The time travel, the space travel, even the changing faces thing—it sounded objectively insane, but the proof was undeniable.
There were some notable exceptions, though. Saying he’d been trapped for aeons inside Neil Patrick Harris’s gold tooth went just that bit too far to be believable, though Sam did appreciate his double’s slightly warped sense of humour.
It was that offbeat line of thinking that lent itself well to game design, as it turned out. He had a knack for coming up with ideas for Game Changer episodes, albeit with the occasional suggestion that went way beyond the bounds of good taste, and, as in the case of Escape the Greenroom, had devised some blinding twists on concepts Sam had already half-formed. The letter puzzle unlocking the secret door? It was perfect.
Understandably, Sam’s doppelganger had wanted to observe the fruits of their labours in real time, rather than watching the recording later. It happened, sometimes, particularly when it was one of his ideas that had made it through to the episode list—they’d swap places for a session, with nobody being any the wiser. Watching those edits back always felt a bit weird—it was uncanny how flawless the mimicry was—but hey, the guy was right. It was always fun.
Escape the Greenroom, specifically, with its “Samuel Dalton” conceit, provided them with a unique opportunity. Instead of swapping out the camera feed for a recording when the cast piled into the tiny secret room behind the wall, as per the original plan to get Sam in position to be discovered in the bathroom, they could just swap out the people. Sam would go upstairs, and his double would take his place at the podium, ducking out of sight when everyone came back to the main stage to “defuse the bomb”.
Sam was keen—hell, if their situations had been reversed, he’d want to be there to watch, too—but caution raised a flag. “You don’t think it’s too risky?” he’d asked when the subject was first raised. “Both of us being in the same place?”
His doppelganger had shrugged one shoulder with supreme unconcern. “The crew won't notice.”
At the time, Sam had shot him a sceptical look, but right now, Sam-Reich-in-a-purple-tie and Sam-Reich-in-an-orange-tie were standing backstage post-record, clearly visible and and calmly chatting, and not a single member of the crew had given them so much as a second glance.
…Hardly even a first glance, come to think about it. If anyone looked over their way, their eyes seemed to… not exactly go through them, but slide over the two of them like water. He was tempted to wave to Nico or Ash or someone, just out of pure curiosity, but something in the back of his mind told him that wouldn’t be the world’s greatest idea. He had a funny feeling he wouldn’t like to see what would happen next.
(He’d given the prop bomb back to the crew once the cameras stopped rolling, and though it looked the same as the one he remembered from before he’d headed upstairs, it felt different in his hands. Heavier, more… serious, somehow. He was sure nothing would have happened—but at the same time, he was suddenly very glad that the cast had cut the correct wire with no less than a minute fifteen to go.)
(The jury was still out on evil, after all.)
“Worth coming in for?” he asked instead.
“Absolutely,” his double replied with relish. “Locking those three in a small room for an hour? Brilliant, fantastic. Inspired. It was absolute chaos.”
“Have you seen up there?” Sam asked, a smile starting to spread across his face. “They messed up the set real bad.”
His doppelganger smirked at him. “You know it took literally two seconds from you telling them to escape the greenroom for Lou to smash that guitar?”
Sam shook his head. “Oh my god. Yeah, they were stressed.”
“Mmm. Some real panic in that room,” his doppelganger agreed, and Sam chose to ignore the faint note of satisfaction in his voice.
He shifted his weight, settling back to lean against the table behind the set, in the exact instant his double decided to do the same thing. It really was freaky how similar they were, down to the smallest mannerism—like looking in a mirror, only weirder, because the face that looked back at him was truly his own face, not mirror-reversed. Even now, it still caught Sam off guard from time to time, but at least it had faded into a more comfortable kind of strange. He had an exact lookalike who was an actual time-travelling alien. Cool. Doesn’t everyone?
The pair shared a companionable silence for a few moments, before a thought Sam had been turning over for a while rose to the top of his mind. He shifted again, this time on his own, and he felt his double’s regard swing up to fix on him like a magnet.
“Okay, real talk,” he started, and his doppelganger frowned back in an approximation of confused innocence. “What’s all this for?”
“Who says it has to be for anything? Aren't we just having fun?”
Sam hummed, considering. “Yeah. No, I'd believe that, if I didn't sometimes walk into production meetings and find out I'd apparently been very specific about the people I wanted for certain episodes.”
“Point for Sam,” his doppelganger acknowledged with a grin. “You got me. Wasn’t hard to make a few phone calls on our joint behalf.”
“Yeah, but why?” Sam pressed. “I mean, Siobhan, Brennan and Lou are always great comedy value when you put them together, and it was awesome to have them for this, but I get the feeling you’re thinking of something other than making good content.”
“Who, me?”
With that, his double gave him a look of such overdone pantomime innocence that Sam suddenly and thoroughly understood why, not half an hour earlier, Brennan had very seriously threatened to push him down the stairs.
He rolled his eyes, which earned him a smirk for his troubles.
Dropping the act, his doppelganger continued. “I’m expecting an… old friend, I guess, to show up at some point, and—well, I’d like to put on a really special show for them. I thought it would be a good opportunity to try a few things out, you know?”
Ominous pause aside, that was actually kind of sweet. Sweeter than he’d been expecting, that’s for sure—he was half anticipating the revelation that he and his cast were subjects in some weird experiment. Hey, that still couldn’t fully be ruled out, but still.
“Okay,” he acquiesced. “Well… just let me know, next time? Before you start ordering in my cast like takeout?”
“Who says they’re your cast?” his double shot back with a twinkle in his eye, and Sam snorted.
“Fine. Our cast, then. But seriously, let me know?”
His doppelganger nodded, which, if not quite fully convincing, was good enough.
“Oh, and do you know when your friend might be arriving?” Sam asked. “Because if you wanted to plan something, we can—”
“I don’t know,” his doppelganger interrupted. “So yeah, we’ll have to move fast when they do get here. But I’ve got it under control.”
He broke off, then shot Sam a mischievous grin. “In the meantime, though, I’ve had this fun thought about time loops…”
#sam reich!master#sam reich#the master#dw#doctor who#game changer#dropout#dropout tv#northernfireart#clari speaks#clari writes#in posting this i am fully aware that sam reich is a real human being who uses the internet and fuck. if this escapes containment.#mr reich sir if you ever see this i can only apologise but it was truly fucking funny to write#oh btw i imagine that reich!master asked for those specific 3 because across em you've got a good spread of personality traits#that the doctor and their companion(s) would have#we've got the monologues and the high-stakes-all-the-time from brennan.#we've got the puzzle focus and the 'oh this is my first time in this kinda situation' from game changer newbie siobhan#and lou is just. pure and beautiful chaos#plus they're all very smart and creative mfers#so it's a good test run
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His First
Request - Can you write an senku x fem reader where he has his first time with an older more experienced girl and he's all nervous and cute? (I saw you write smut 👀)
Disclaimers/Warnings - Smut, Tooth rotting fluff, Senku X Teijus sister, older reader (only like a year or two), Senkus first time, secret relationship
You wait on one of the benches outside of the school waiting for your younger brother Teiju. You yawn and slouch agenst the back of the bench tired from the long day starting start of another school year. You were a Junior while Teiju was just starting highschool.
A door opens to your left right when you were stretching. You turn and see your brother walking out the doors with his best friend Senku.
"Teiju lets go already your so slow." You humm and stood up brushing off your uniform.
"Hey Y/N!" Teiju said loudly bounding up to you like a puppy. Senku fallowing more slowly with his finger pressing on his ear.
"How was your first day?" You start shooing him in the direction of your car while he rambles on. Senku walked beside you and brushed your fingers with his while his head was turned away hiding a blush.
There has been a thing going on between you two for about a month and a half now. It started with harmless flirting and suggestive comments between the both of you, but you thought it would never go any further then that.
But then the flirting would leave you both flustered. Soon after started the small touches to Senku's arms or Senku's hand "accidently" brushes your ass.
One night last week you and Senku shared a heated moment when Teiju was out at the store getting what Senku called "brain food". You were straddling Senku's lap while you two were making out heavily.
The three of you reached your car and you unlocked the doors letting the two freshmen climb in the car. You put your seatbelt on and start the car and begin driving to your house.
Teiju talks the whole way there about some girl you forget the name of. You pull into the driveway and everyone climbs out and file into the house.
"Teiju im gonna go take a shower." You take your shoes off at the door and walk around the house picking some small stuff. "Mom said that there is some money on the counter so can you guys go get some snacks and some dinner from the store?"
"Ok Y/N." Teiju says and takes his and Senku's things upstarts presumably to his room. You waisted no time and pounced on Senku and pulled him into a kiss. He hums in surprise but kissed back instantly.
"God I missed you." Senku pulled away first and a string of saliva still connected you two for a moment. You roll your eyes and giggled running your hands up his chest and rest them on his shoulders.
"Its been 3 hours Senku. We litterly sat together at lunch" He just shrugs and pulled you closer by putting his hands on your hips. You kiss him and tangle your hands in his hair. You tug softly on the dule colored locks and he lets out a low moan.
Approaching steps could faintly be herd and you both pull away and gather yourselves just as Teiju came down the stairs. You ran your hand through your hair to shake it out before climbing up the stairs to the bathroom.
Senku watched as your ass bounced with each step and he briefly got a glimpse of your underwear. He blushed and tried to listen to what Teiju was saying.
"So sound good for dinner?" Teiju asked.
"Huh? Oh yeah sounds good." Senku said scratching the back of his neck. Teiju and Senku put their shoes back on and headed to the store and you got in the shower.
By the time the boys had come back you were out of the shower and dressed in shorts that were covered by the large t-shirt you wore. You were sitting at the kitchen island and doing some homework when they entered loudly through the doorway.
"Y/N! We got Ramen for dinner." Teiju bounced around the kitchen putting things away. Senku's trailed on your exposed thighs. His breath cought in his chest as he watched a water drop run down your hairline. It went along the curve of your cheek and neck then disappeared under your shirt. Senku gulped and put the bags he was carrying on the island beside you.
"Great what did you get for snacks?" You place your hands on the counter to hold yourself up trying to peak into the bags. The position pushes your breasts together and haves your shirt ride up exposing your midriff to Senku.
"Youll see later!" Teiju smacked your hand away and you scuff and smack his shoulder.
"Im the oldest so it doesn't matter what you say!" You look into the bags and inspect the goods.
"Senku picked out most of it." Teiju hummed finishing puting the groceries away. You hum and nod slowly, Teiju left the things for dinner out and the two boys left to go upstairs so you could make dinner.
After dinner was made and you all had ate, Teiju and Senku dragged you out of the kitchen to watch a movie with them. Teiju sat between you and Senku much to your dismay. At the end of the movie you headed off to bed claiming you were tired.
"Good night Y/N!" Teiju called out to you as he picked out another movie to watch.
"Dont stay up to late." You ruffled Teiju's hair. As you were walking past to go up the stairs you place a hand on Senku's shoulder and squeezed it softly. You discreetly kissed his cheek and ran upstairs to your room.
An hour later you were awakened by a soft knock on your door. You groan and kick off your blankets. You open the door to reveal Senku in some sweatpants and a t-shirt. You smile at him and open the door more letting him step into your room.
"Is Teiju asleep?" You ask closing the door behind him.
"Im 10 billion percent sure he's asleep." You laugh and climbed back in bed. You patted the space next to you and Senku smiled climbing in.
"Good." You hum. "So, what's up Senku?" You yawn and stretch. Senku watched your shirt ride up and he placed his hand on the exposed flesh.
"Mmm your so hot." Senku hummed and rubbed your skin with his hand.
"Oh really?" You giggled and threw your leg over his so you were straddling his waist. Senku nodded biting his lip and pushing your shirt up more so he had more access to the soft flesh across your stomach.
You slowly lean in and kissed Senku. Senku pulled you closer by your hips and you both deepened the kiss. Your tongue dives into his mouth and you both fight for dominance. Senku eventually gave up the fight and you giggled into the kiss.
Your hips accidently grind agents Senku's when you adjust your hips making you whimper. Senku groaned and pulled away from the kiss. Senku's face was bright red and he looked off to the side hiding his face from you.
"Did i do something wrong Senku?" You frown in worry. His eyes widened and he shook his head rapidly.
"No! I- i just uh erm." Senku's face turned impossibly brighter and he hid his head in his hands.
"Senku?" You pull his hands away. His eyes were closed tightly. You felt something poking your thigh and you look down seeing Senku's erection pressing through his sweatpants. You palmed him softly and he let out a low whine.
"You can tell me Senku." You humm in his ear and felt his body shiver under yours.
"Ive never- you know." He stutters embarrassed and slightly overwhelmed by your hand on his crotch.
"Oh Senku." You smile and shake your head a bit. "Do you wanna stop?"
"Oh god no." He moans and his hips buck up into your hand. You giggle and start trailing kisses along his chin and neck. His hands found their way down to your ass and he squeezed your cheeks in his hands. You moan and squeezed his cock a bit tighter.
"P-please." He whimpered in your ear. You hum and pulled away from his neck.
"Please what?" You bat your eyes at him.
"Please don't make me say it."
"If you don't say it then how am i supposed to know what you want Senku?" You giggled and tilted your head at him.
"D- mph Dont tease me please! I cant." He moaned and you felt him twitch and freeze under your hold.
"S-shit im sorry!" Senkus eyes widened as he apologized profusely. You cut him off by kissing him. You nibbled and sucked on his bottom lip effectively quieting him. You retract your hand from his now soft member and hook your fingers in the waistband of his pants and boxers.
"Its ok Senku, I dont mind." You reassure him and kiss him once again.
"A-are you sure?" He askes looking at your hand on his waistband.
"Yes Senku. Now, do you want to continue?" You asked sternly and looked into his eyes for any discomfort. He nodded his head but you shook yours.
"Use your words Senku." His eyes widend and he swallowed thickly. You watched as his adams apple bob.
"Y-yes please."
"Good boy." You praised and shimmy down his pants. His face flushed and he struggled to help you in his flustered state by taking his shirt off. Once he was free of his confinements you soaked in his naked form. Senku squirmed under your hungry stare and tugged on your shirt hem.
"What do you want this off?" You tease. Senku huffed and rolled his eyes but nodded. You giggled and pulled it off leaving you in your short shorts. Senku's eyes roamed your exposed chest.
He gulped and he went to reach for your brest but froze. You shook your head with a soft laugh and guided his hands to your fleshy mounds. Senku pulled and squeezed at your breasts with a fixation on your perky nipple.
You moan and roll your head back. Senku's dick springed back to life listening to you mewl and moan. He pinched your nipples and felt them harden under his touch. He leaned up and kissed you and kept rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger.
You grind across Senku's member drawing a moan from the both of you. Senku's hands dropped to your hips and he pulled you across his crotch harder and watched you bodies clash. You moaned louder and braced yourself by putting your hands on his chest and pushed Senku back on the bed.
You straiten your body over Senku and you peal your shorts and panties down your legs. Senku watched them trail down and then get thrown across the room. Senku's hands moved to the inside of your thighs and he blushed looking at your vagina.
"Your so pretty Y/N." Senku moaned out and blushed hard. You smile and leaned down pressing a sweet kiss to his swollen lips. You grab a condom from your bedside drawer.
His eyes widened as he watched you tear the raper open with your teeth. Senku's lips parted and he watched you slid the condom on his length.
Senku moaned loudly when you started to sink down along his member. You whimper as you quickly bottomed him out in you. Senku's eyes were tightly closed trying not to cum just from being in you.
You smile at him and brush his hair away from his sweaty brow. He opens his eyes lazily and smiles sweetly up at you. You roll your hips and moan. Senku sucked in a sharp breath while his hands squeeze your thighs hard.
"Ooooh shiit." He sighed and dropped his head to the pillows behind him. You bit your lip watching his expressions and started to slowly raise your hips and drop them against Senkus. You gather up a slow and hard pace enjoying how Senku's brows frown together.
You pick up the speed and roll your hips sharply every time your pelvic bones meet. Senku moaned loudly and you had to put your hand over his mouth to muffle his cries.
"Shhh dont wanna wake Teiju now do we?" You coo in Senku's ear. You nibbled on the shell of his ear then slowly trail your kisses down Senku's neck and chest.
"N-no." He squeaked a bit. Senku bucked up his hips and you moan softly speeding up your movements.
"Your doing so good Senku." You moan in his ear and dive down to kiss him. Senku dragged his tongue across your lip and you opened your mouth allowing him access into your wet cavern.
"I wont last Y/N!" Senku moaned into your mouth as a particular hard drop pushed him dangerously close to the edge.
"Cum for me Senku." You breath and push aside the dull ache in your legs to push yourself to bounce faster on his throbbing member.
Senku grunted loudly and came. His dick was twitching hard and you felt how he grew hotter in you. You moan as your release washed over you in a blanket. Senku whimpered as your walls closed tightly around him.
You collapsed on Senku's chest and try to catch your breath. Your sweaty bodies stuck together as you placed a soft kiss to his chest right were your head laid.
Senku lazily draped his arms across your back. Senku rubbed small circles on your spine. You humm and start to climb off him. Senku groaned softly as you pulled the condom off him and threw it in the trash.
You carefully clean Senku and yourself before climbing back into the bed next to the dule haired boy. Senku watched you as you slid your shirt back over your head.
"Are you ok Senku?" You hum handing him his clothes.
"Yeah, 10 billion percent perfect." He smiles at you and pulled on his boxers and sweatpants. You lay against the pillows and Senku crawls over to you. You smile at him and laugh as Senku buries his head in your chest. You run your fingers through his hair and listen to him breath. Senku soon fell asleep and you were quick to fallow.
#dr stone#senku x reader#senku smut#fanfic#alt universe#fluff and smut#smut#dr stone manga#dr stone anime#dr sone smut
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RED FLAGS ║ PART 4
CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS
Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader (hints of Marc Spector x female reader)
Summary: Steven disappears and you fall into a rabbit hole trying to decode Marc’s secret message. Or alternatively: Marc needs to communicate better.
Rating: really gratuitous and detailed sex, writers are clearly super horny.
Warning/content: anxiety, spiraling thoughts, worrying about safety of a partner, clumsy sex-shanigans, the writers being way too obsessed with how freakin' beautiful Steven is.
Word Count: 8.1k
Series Masterlist | Astroboot's Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist
[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]
You can’t believe Steven’s gone.
Flinging the quilt aside, you leap out of bed and dash into the loo. Against all logic, you’re hoping that he’ll be standing in front of the sink with a spare toothbrush in his mouth, ready to wish you good morning through a frothy toothpaste smile.
He’s not.
There’s no one here but you.
Your home is a cramped studio flat with barely enough space for a bed, small sitting area, and an even smaller kitchenette. If Steven were still here, he’d be in plain sight, but somehow you find yourself turning cushions like some kind of madwoman. Inspecting every corner of the room, as if Steven might be hiding behind your washing machine like a goddamn leprechaun.
There’s nothing. No note left on your kitchen counter. No clothing left behind. No promised breakfast. There’s not even a text message on your phone letting you know that he had to leave early for work.
With shaky fingers and your heart beating painfully loud in your ears, it takes you three tries to unlock your phone and select Steven from the list of contacts. You lift the phone to your ear and hold your breath, staring blindly at the mess you’ve made of your flat as it rings and rings and rings.
Finally, there’s a click and then Steven’s cheerful voice in your ear, and for the briefest of seconds, relief rushes through your veins.
“Hiya, this is Steven. I’m not in right now, but leave me a message, and I’ll ring you back as soon as I can. Laters, Gators.”
You stare at the phone in disbelief. Bile rises until you can taste it, sharp and burning, on your tongue.
Steven going missing out of the blue on you is hardly novel, but his random disappearances have never made you feel like this before. Experience dictates that Steven will come back safe and sound in a day or two (or a week or two). Right now, however, that knowledge does nothing to dull the panic clawing at your throat, and it takes you a minute before you realise why this is so much worse than all the times that have come before.
In the past, the worst case scenario was that he’d ghosted you. One more wanker who’d decided to dump you without so much as a courtesy text. But now you know better. Steven wouldn’t do that. He’s not disappearing on you by choice. He’s gone because someone else, Marc has taken over. And taken him away.
Now, you’re pacing the length of your flat, nearly in tears, the worst case scenario something you cannot even begin to fathom.
For all you know, this Marc person has decided that you’ve gotten too close to the truth. Maybe he came to the conclusion that it’s too dangerous to have you around Steven. Maybe, last night was the last time you’ll ever get to see him.
Back and forth you go across the room, wearing down the carpet pile as your mind spirals with worry. You pop the band on your old wristwatch in and out of place as you go, nails digging into your wrist as you tug at it until you slip and the metal pin jabs your wrist.
Then you spot it: the writing on your hand. The long string of numbers, ten digits in all, that Marc had written on the centre of your palm last night.
In a mad scramble, you dig up a notebook and quickly copy them down for safekeeping. You spend the rest of the day trying to decipher their meaning.
Your first thought is that it’s a phone number, but when you try dialling it, you get an automated message that no such number exists.
Your next theory is that the numbers might be coordinates. But when you attempt to plot them using an online grid reference finder, the results are meaningless. Depending on how you input the digits they point you to a handful of different locations—China, Romania, the middle of the Celtic Sea—none of which mean anything to you. The majority of the number combinations you try do not exist at any known map locations.
Panicked by your failure, your mind scrambles for other possible explanations. Thinking that it might be a mathematical equation or a password of some kind, you pull out your calculator and another notebook, trying to make any sort of sense of the only hint you've been given.
By the time you leave for work Monday morning, your desk is starting to look like a landfill. The wooden surface is littered with crumpled up paper and sticky-notes filled with nonsensical scribbles of numbers and letters that were the results of randomly adding, subtracting and dividing the ten numbers on your hand. If anyone walked in on your flat, they would think you’re a particularly unhinged conspiracy theorist.
In all fairness, they wouldn’t be too far off, because you’re beginning to feel a bit like one. Haring off on one pointless wild goose chase after another, halfway to plotting out your suspicions on the wall with pins and string.
More days go by, and you spend every waking moment (and many moments you should be sleeping) trying to solve the mystery. It becomes a consuming obsession. You’re distracted both at home and at work, your poor coworkers forced to pick up the slack while your mind stays firmly on the puzzle of Steven.
Your lack of sleep leads to increasingly wild theories. You’re convinced that those ten digits are somehow the key to everything. An unfounded belief based on nothing but your own desperate hope that if you manage to crack the code, a congratulation banner and confetti will fall from the sky with a big bow-wrapped present containing Steven as the final prize.
Unfortunately, you’re not the best at puzzles, and the galling irony is that the most qualified person to solve this riddle is the very same person you’re desperately missing.
By the time you leave work on Thursday, you’re frustrated, exhausted from sustaining a near-frantic level of worry, and no closer to finding a solution than you were at the start. Steven is still out there somewhere, and you decide that you’ve waited long enough. Maybe even too long. He could have had his kidney harvested and be half-dead in an alley for all you know. Hurt and dying, while you’ve wasted time grasping at straws.
You’ve decided to finally file a missing person’s report with the police when you exit the tube to find a new text notification on your phone.
+x xxx xxx xxxx
He’s safe.
You stare at the message for a long time, too overcome with relief to immediately make the connection between the numbers on your hand and your phone screen. When the epiphany hits, you feel like the dumbest person alive. Ten numbers… It wasn’t a puzzle or some obscure treasure hunt to lead you to Steven. It’s Marc’s bloody mobile number. It’s an American mobile number and he didn’t include the fucking country code
He’s safe. Steven’s safe.
Wiping what is close to the beginning of tears on your sleeve, you pull the phone closer and type out a message in reply.
You
Is Steven okay? Where is he?
There’s no answer.
Not that evening or the day after. And the relief you felt at first slowly drains away.
The text is a consolation prize. It’s not Steven wrapped with a bow and wrapping paper. This is not the answer you needed, but, you try to remind yourself, at least it’s something.
Steven is safe.
You repeat it like a mantra in your head, and it gives you some comfort… for a while. Soon it's overtaken by an intrusive voice asking a question that you don’t want to hear.
But what if he isn’t?
Any residual consolation you were feeling gives way, and anxiety overwhelms you as you imagine all the terrible scenarios that could have befallen Steven, each more horrifying and improbable than the last.
You can't shake the paranoia that the matching numbers are just a coincidence. There's nothing in the text itself that says it’s from Marc. Or about Steven. It could just as easily be a timely telephone scam.
Is there anyone who hasn’t received a random automated call informing them that someone they know has been in a car accident? There are thousands of these calls a day in the UK, scammers hoping to find some dimwit waiting for a call from a loved one.
Maybe today, you’re the dimwit.
You can count the hours of sleep you’ve gotten since Steven disappeared on one hand.
You need to sleep, but even as exhausted as you are, you just can’t. Instead, you're having a staring competition with your ceiling, and so far you’re winning.
You’re worrying yet again about Steven. You wonder where he is. If he’s really safe. What he—or Marc—has been doing all this time.
A full week has gone by, and you still haven’t heard anything from Steven himself. You haven’t had any further communication from the unknown number that may or may not be Marc either.
Marc.
Rolling onto your side, you stare off into the darkness of your flat.
The concept of Marc is still an enigma to you. As far as you can tell, he’s entirely distinct from Steven. Not only are his mannerisms different, but he calls himself by another name and talks about Steven as if they’re separate people.
There is another person inside of Steven that is markedly not Steven.
In the complete darkness of your flat, your sleep deprived brain tries to make sense of what that actually means, but you can’t. There’s so much you don’t know.
Rolling back across the bed the other way, you reach for your phone.
Midnight is not the ideal time to do research, but what does it matter? You’re not likely to sleep regardless.
Your first pit stop is Google, but that does you no favours. As always, no matter what symptoms you put into the search bar, WebMD is determined to convince you that it’s cancer.
Instead, you end up trawling through NHS’ homepage well past midnight, ending up in a wormhole of health issues until you land on the symptoms for Dissociative Identity Disorder:
They may feel the presence of other identities, each with their own names, voices, personal histories and mannerisms.
The main symptoms of DID are:
» memory gaps about everyday events and personal information
» having several distinct identities
And there it is, written in plain Arial font. The conclusion you’ve been trying not to jump to. The inescapable reality behind all those red flags Steven’s been waving in front of your nose from the very start.
You stare at the words on the page, reading and re-reading them. You don’t know what to think or how you feel about your discovery. The only thing you do know is that you are wholly unqualified to handle any of this.
As far as you know, you've never met anyone—anyone else?—with DID. Your only previous exposure to the disorder has been through movies like Psycho, Split, Basic Instinct… Movies that depict the character with a mental health condition as a psychotic murderer or one in the making with sensationalist glee.
You don’t believe that of course. You know better than to expect sensitive and accurate representation from Hollywood blockbusters. That’s a bit like reading The Sun and expecting truthful and unbiased news reports.
The problem is that knowing all of this doesn’t solve anything.
All you do know is that you miss Steven. You’re scared—terrified for him—and want him back with you.
Fuck Marc for taking him away.
The devil himself must have heard you, his ears burning. Your phone pings out in the silence at that moment, interrupting your thoughts. The screen flashes, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness before you can read the incoming message.
+x xxx xxx xxxx
Steven will be back tomorrow. Don’t mention me.
You stare at the phone as you reread the text once and then again. There’s no ambiguity this time; there can’t possibly be.
Back.
Steven.
Steven is coming back to you.
You barely have time to rejoice over the fact before those last three words hit you. Their meaning settles heavily in your gut, burning at the lining of your stomach until you think you might be sick all over your duvet.
It’s a warning. The wolf is at your door.
And just like that, the curtain’s pulled back, and you see Steven’s disappearance for what it is: a sick display of the power Marc holds over him. Over you both. A demonstration of how your life with Steven continues only at his whim. Those three words are an order and a stomach churning threat all in one.
Mention Marc, reveal his existence to Steven, and he will take Steven from you.
For the first time, you understand why Steven has always been alone, and anger burns in your blood. Steven is being held hostage in his own body, and he doesn’t even know it. And you’re being blackmailed into lying to the man you love.
You want to tell Steven the truth immediately. You want to scream it from the bloody rooftops.
But you don’t want to lose him.
Selfish as it may be, you want to keep Steven in your life for as long as you can. At the very least, if you’re together, maybe you can protect him from Marc. Make sure he’s safe.
Isn’t that better than telling Steven the whole truth only to have Marc take him away from you? The only thing that would achieve is to relegate Steven back to a life of loneliness.
No. It wouldn’t do any good to tell Steven now. You can’t go in blindly when Marc has such a strong upper hand. You need more information, a plan, or at least some kind of strategy before you risk doing anything that might result in Steven being spirited away from you again.
With your ear pressed to your pillow, you stare at the text, struggling to keep your eyes open. You turn the brightness up so far that it’s painful to look at, blinking away sleep until you’re unable to fight it anymore.
A knock on the door wakes you.
Squinting one eye open, you find the room flooded with light, bright and blinding. Your mouth tastes like harsh cotton, and your throat is sore when you swallow.
You don’t know when you fell asleep last night, but it’s five to eight now according to your alarm clock. Your shoulders are stiff and aching, body protesting the lack of rest.
Sleep concussed as you are, you fumble towards the door, relying on memory rather than sight to navigate your surroundings. You don’t even make it to the middle of the room before you trip over your ottoman.
Pain shoots out from the nub of your toe, and you barely manage to stop yourself from face planting. With a curse and a pending bruise forming on your foot, you hobble the rest of the way towards your door and unlock it. In your struggle, you don’t even bother to check the peephole to see who is at your door.
You slide the door open, scarcely paying attention. At first, all you see is a much-too-loud novelty print and flowers wrapped in cellophane in the open doorway. Your brain stalls for several heartbeats, before you drag your eyes upwards.
It’s Steven.
Sporting messy hair and an ill-fitting jumper, at least two sizes too large, he’s standing in front of you, hugging a fresh bouquet of flowers to his chest.
“Hiya,” he greets you with a small wave of his free hand, a besotted smile on his face as though everything in his world is just as it should be.
You blink. For a second, everything slows. You’re not sure if you’re ready to allow yourself to believe that this is real. If this is a dream, the disappointment of waking up with him not here will break you.
“I got us some breakfast,” Steven says and steps inside, clumsily closing the door behind him with the side of his shoulder, “and there were these tulips at Sainsburys. Pink, your favourite.”
He's here. Steven's actually here.
His face beams with pride as he looks up at you. “I know you said to stop getting flowers unless there’s an actual special occasion, but I thought spending the morning together after our first official sleepover is pretty special, and more importantly–”
Your stomach drops.
He doesn’t know. Steven clearly still thinks it’s the morning after. Doesn’t realise that a whole week has gone by since he spent the night here.
Putting the flowers down on your kitchen counter, he turns to face you, holding up a wax paper bag with a delighted smile.
“Et voilà! Croissants au chocolat for the lady. I’ll just pop them in the microwave real quick—I know you like them hot—and then I’ll make us some tea, yeah?”
Steven is in your home, standing in the kitchen, smiling at you and spoiling you rotten, like he hadn't just disappeared off the face of the earth for a week. Because as far as Steven's aware, he’s been here with you all night after falling asleep watching animal documentaries.
Right now, in front of you, he’s acting out the morning-after the two of you were supposed to have but a week too late, making you the breakfast he promised.
Your throat closes, and a liquid burn rises in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You can feel the threat of tears behind your eyes.
“Hey, is everything okay?” Steven drops the bag of croissants onto the counter and rushes over to you. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
“No. I just–” You take a shaky breath, trying to collect yourself.
Breaking down now won’t do either of you any good. You can’t tell him what’s wrong. Not without risking him being taken away forever.
“I’m happy you’re here," you say, trying to fake a smile.
You’re a rubbish liar. Always have been. It’s no surprise that Steven doesn’t buy it for a second.
"Those are obviously not happy tears, love. What's going on? Have I done something wrong?"
His hands draw up to cup your face, one thumb skimming gently over the single tear that’s escaped onto your cheek. He tilts your chin up until you meet his gaze, and it’s like something clicks behind those sharp eyes.
"It's because I wasn't here when you woke up, isn't it?" he asks gently.
You bite your lip. It’s such an oversimplification of what’s happened, but you don’t know how else to explain it to him, so you nod. A half-truth at best, but at least it’s only a lie by omission.
"’Course it is,” he soothes. “That would bother anyone, yeah?"
You let yourself collapse against him, hugging him tight around the middle as you bury your face in his chest. He lets out a quiet oof, but you refuse to let go and despite his obvious physical discomfort, Steven doesn't protest. He wraps his arms reassuringly around you, blanketing himself around you in comforting warmth.
“I’m sorry, I should have left a note. Don’t know why I didn’t. I was so sleep deprived that I don’t even remember leaving this morning. I must’ve thought it was only going to take a second, but the next thing I know, I’m in the dairy aisle and this lady with a stroller is looking at me funny."
One large, gentle hand smooths over your shirt at the small of your back, and you shiver pleasantly at the warmth of the doting touch.
"I'm sorry," he says again, voice soft, "I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
Closing your eyes, you take a second to let the comfort of his words and his arms around you seep in. You tilt your head upwards, pressing your nose to the hollow dip of his throat, right below his Adam's apple. He smells faintly of stale air and alcohol, covered up by the unfamiliar scent of cheap hotel soap. Your chest squeezes painfully at the reminder of his double life, one that neither of you know the details of.
Even with Steven here in your arms, you cannot escape the reality that you’ll always have to share him with something you cannot understand.
You don't move, instead, you press your mouth to that same spot on his throat, feeling his pulse beat steadily against your lips.
He's here, the beat says. He's safe, he's alive.
Nuzzling into the delicate skin, you’re rewarded with a keen gasp that makes the small hairs on your neck rise. His fingers flex against your waist with that familiar trademark hesitation, before settling there, hardly even resting against you.
After all this time, it’s like he’s still scared you’re going to tell him no. As if your relationship is some kind of practical joke on him, and if he reaches for you first, you’ll laugh in his face.
He was too afraid to mention the first night in case you’d get upset. He thought you were going to break up with him when you said you two needed to talk. It’s almost funny in a macabre sort of way that Steven doesn’t realise just how deep you’re in it over him. If he only knew of the sleepless nights you’ve suffered. How you’ve been sick to your stomach over missing him. Willing to bargain with the devil just to get to keep him.
You kiss him again, trying to use his closeness to drown out all the things you can’t say. Pressing your lips to that sweet little spot where his jaw meets his throat. You do your best to savour the hint of stubble that tickles against your bottom lip.
Steven shivers and then pulls back slightly, ducking his head to close the distance between your lips. A barely there touch, then Steven’s thumb catches behind your ear, timidly guiding you closer.
That one kiss continues into several small chaste kisses, each press of his lips soft and devoted like he’s thanking you for letting him. It’s so pure, the kind of kisses that have your toes curling in delight and your ears tingling. But it’s restrained in a way that you’ve not got the patience for right now.
Not after a whole week of his absence. Not when you’ve spent those seven days unsure if you would ever get to see him again. You want so much more than this. Can’t bear the fraction of a moment when his lips are not on yours when he breaks up his kisses to allow you to catch your breath.
You want all of him all at once.
Your hand clutches at the collar of his shirt, pulling him in closer. His breath stutters, mouth parting slightly, and you take the opportunity to lick over the swell of his bottom lip before you bite down, trying to be gentle.
It must be the reassurance Steven needs, because he groans into your mouth, his grip on you tightening. His hands dig into the plump flesh above your hips, kneading it with strong fingers, and there it is, that eagerness and hunger for you that you’re heedlessly in love with. The duality of Steven Grant. It's desperate, sweet and almost aggressive. One hand moves to grip the base of your neck, pulling you flush against him, chest to chest, eliminating the last of the physical distance between you.
It’s exactly what you need, and for a long, hot, breathless moment, you’re not thinking of anything except him. When he finally breaks off the kiss, you lean after him, chasing his lips.
“Bed?” he asks, the word a low rasp against your seeking mouth.
You nod eagerly and grab for him, recapturing his lips and giving him a tug in the right direction.
It’s clumsy and desperate as you let Steven manoeuvre the two of you through your flat. You’re blindly walking backwards, guided only by Steven’s outstretched hand fumbling against the surfaces of the wall to make sure you don’t bump into furniture.
You kiss him like you’ve been held under water, deprived of air and his beautiful mouth is oxygen filling your lungs. Every step is an uncoordinated mess that nearly has you tipping over if it wasn’t for Steven holding you upright. It’d be far easier if you only let go. Would only take seconds in your tiny flat to get from the kitchen to the bed. But you’re not willing and Steven is only happy to indulge you.
His mouth is warm and slick, hands large and firm. The warmth of his body against yours, comforting and alive. It’s all you can focus on as you forget your surroundings. Until something heavy and blunt pushes back against the inside of your calf.
The surprise makes you lose your balance. You fall backwards, the whole room tilting as you’re sent sprawling. When things stop moving, you find yourself flat on your back, less than half a foot away from your bed. You’re still staring up at Steven’s shocked face and outstretched hands when you realise what (literally) hit you.
Bloody cockblocking ottoman.
The pitched dark hunger disappears from those brown eyes in an instant. Instead they’ve gone round and doelike with concern as Steven rushes forward, falling to his knees in front of you, and draws your leg into his lap.
“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been more careful and watched where we were going. Bloody stupid of me, I practically pushed you. Are you hurt?”
“It’s fine, Steven. I’m fine. You didn’t push me. It’s alright,” you tell him.
But his eyes are already darting over your lower leg, and his hands quickly follow, gingerly rubbing your ankle and feeling up over your calf with great care, making your skin prickles under his fingers. It’s a credible imitation of Florence Nightingale, but as sweet as it is to have Steven tend to you, it's not the sort of attention you want from him right now.
"Leave off the fussing, please?" you ask him softly.
“Should we–maybe I should get you on the bed yeah? You might be hurt and–”
Leaning up, you place kisses on his jaw, his cheeks, the swell of his lip, hoping to distract him. "I need you, Steven. Don't stop. I don't want to stop right now."
His eyes are still wide and worried, as his hand smooths over the bend of your knee in comfort. “You’re sure you're alright? That I didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m sure.” You grab his collar and lean back, dragging him on top of you as you lie back onto the floor.
Steven follows, letting you pull him down without a hint of resistance, and clambering forward until he’s completely above you. His large frame looms over yours on the floor, thick thighs straddling your waist, and you’re reminded all over again that one of your favourite facets of Steven is how cooperative he is. Always so eager to please you, and you have zero compunction about taking advantage.
“Take this off,” you order, tugging at his jumper impatiently.
He nods hastily. “Right, right.”
Ever so good at following your orders, Steven’s hand immediately reaches for the bottom of the garment. He grabs the hem and pulls, revealing a tantalising sliver of golden skin above the waistband of his trousers. You’re so focused on the slowly widening swath of his bare stomach, that it’s not until he pauses, a clumsy snarl of fabric tangled around his head and shoulders, that you realise he’s attempted to take off his jumper and the shirt beneath all in one go and gotten himself stuck.
Honestly, you’re not even surprised. On any other occasion, you’d be smiling at his adorable ridiculousness, but it's been a week. One hundred and sixty-eight endless hours since you’ve gotten to hold him and touch him like this—uncertain if you’d ever get to—and now each additional second of delay feels like an eternity.
Finally, with another sloppy tug and an impatient groan, the tangled mess of clothing gives, and Steven’s bare-chested on top of you. He’s all strong, sleek muscles, as gorgeous and well-defined as those cut from marble on statues of Greek deities displayed in the very same museums that Steven himself tends to.
It should’ve been obvious from the start. You want to burst out in laughter at your own naivety. Why on earth would a man who works at a gift shop and spends his free time with his nose buried in dusty old books have a body like this? How has Steven never questioned his own physique? Does he think that all men just wake up looking like this without any effort?
The sun from the window shines soft over his shoulder and arms. The thin gold chain dangles from his long neck, glistening in the light. He is all warm and golden, soft for your hands to freely wander over the bare expanse of his skin.
Your hand cups the back of his neck, teasing at those ridiculously soft curls with your fingers, before scraping the base of his scalp with the gentlest strength. You’re marvelling at how prettily his eyelashes flutter and the way he sighs with a blissful shiver makes you smile.
Sliding down, your hand roams over the carved muscle of his shoulder blade, over his back, pressing a line of soft kisses on the column of his neck. They flex under your touch, as Steven keens softly and you take comfort in the fact that if there was ever proof that Steven is here with you, it’s this. The heavy weight of him on top of you. The fast beating pulse of his throat under your lips. The feel of him hardening against your belly.
Reaching for his belt, you fumble with the buckle until it finally gives with a metallic clank. Then you shove one greedy hand under the loose waistband of his trousers, slipping it into his underwear.
He’s hot and hard. Flesh smooth to your touch. Your fingers curl around the thick girth, giving him a firm, indulgent stroke, from base to blunt tip, tracing every ridge. Steven gasps and shudders at your touch, slumping forward like he’s unable to support his own weight and pressing his forehead into your collarbone with a quiet whine.
You close your eyes at the sound of it, feeling him all around you.
This is what you’ve been missing, what you’ve been desperately needing, all week. Immersing yourself in the moment—in him—as fully as possible, you draw in a deep breath and give him another stroke just to hear him make that noise again. You let his reassuring presence wash over you, try to let it convince you that he’s really here.
Wherever he’s been this last week, he’s here, right now, with you.
Then suddenly he’s not.
Out of nowhere, the protective weight and warmth of him is rising away. Alarm crowds your senses, and in a moment of instinctual panic, your hand shoots up, grabbing his arm.
"Don't go!"
You open your eyes to find Steven still right there next to you. He's frozen with one hand outstretched above the open drawer of your nightstand, a look of shocked surprise on his face.
Oh God. He wasn’t going anywhere at all, he was just getting a condom.
Your cheeks flush with embarrassed heat at the realisation.
"Sorry," you mumble, and you duck your chin, "I just–" You don't know how to explain away your massive overreaction, and guilt claws even deeper into your chest as you find yourself offering up yet another half-lie.
"I had a nightmare that you left. Disappeared, and I couldn’t find you.”
You can’t believe it’s your own voice that you’re hearing. It sounds so small. Ugly in its neediness. If this was any other man, you’re sure they’d be running for the hills by now. It’s a miracle Steven hasn’t. “It’s silly. Sorry.”
Steven frowns with sympathy, worry etched all around his beautiful eyes. "You don’t have to be sorry, love." He closes the drawer, condom in hand. Then he's leaning back down to press his lips to your hairline. “It’s not silly.”
"But hey, listen,” he murmurs, resting his forehead briefly against yours. “I’m not going anywhere, am I? No. Not except maybe down to the shops."
One warm hand comes to cup your face, and he’s looking at you with so much sincerity that it takes your breath away.
"I would never leave you. Never. Not ever, I swear. Not so long as you’ll have me.” He says it with such utter conviction that pain washes over you anew.
Because it’s not really up to Steven, is it? He may not be able to stay with you, regardless of what he wants.
“You don’t know that."
The unfairness of the situation, his powerlessness over his own life, has tears pushing hot behind your eyes.
“Then I'll come back, simple as that. No matter what happens. Even if the bloody sky falls down. Even if a fleet of flying saucers brings an army of funny little green men straight out of Mars Attacks to invade the earth tomorrow, I'll still come back to you. Always, alright? I'll always come back to you.”
The lump still sits heavily in your throat, but you choke out an amused laugh at the imagery Steven draws for you. He smiles victoriously in return. It lights the whole room, and you reach for him again, wrapping your arms around his neck because you need to pull him close and kiss him.
In this moment, you allow yourself to believe. Against all flashing red signs pointing otherwise, you choose to believe that he will keep this promise. That whatever circumstances arise, even if Marc takes him away again, Steven will always come back to you.
“Okay,” you say, with a smile stretching wide across your lips, and you can feel the dark weight lifting as you nod at him.
Steven mirrors your smile, returning your kiss and that’s all it takes before the last morsel of doubt lifts.
His hands reach down, shimmying his trousers down his ample hips. You help him, hooking your thumb at the hem to drag them down the rest of the way, and he kicks them off his ankle.
Then finally, the warmth of his bare thighs is against yours, and you both gasp. It’s fucking bliss to feel him like this. Naked and warm, pressed up against every inch of you, his weight holding you down against the floor, the length of him lying hard and heavy against your belly.
He anchors himself on one elbow, as he rips the foil wrapper, lifting off of you slightly.
You miss the contact immediately. It’s like the week apart has left you even more attuned to him, hyper-aware of all the places you’re no longer touching. You watch impatiently as he turns to one side just enough to give himself room, rolling the condom down over his cock with gratifying speed.
His hands are steady, his movements sure, nothing like that first night where both of you struggled to make sense of the stubborn rubber in the near-dark of his flat. By now, the two of you have done this often enough that Steven knows every step of the routine like the back of his hand, clumsy eagerness replaced by practised ease.
Anticipation and longing beat loud in your chest at the sight of him, eyes dark, cock in hand as he positions himself at your entrance. You reach for him, unable to stand the distance between the two of you, and he smiles fondly at you and leans down obligingly, resting his bodyweight on top of yours like a heavy blanket.
It’s fucking perfect. Exactly what you need, and your body opens for him, knees falling outward, hips canting up, heels digging into the floor as you arch up, trying to press yourself closer.
He grinds forward, the underside of his cock sliding slick and wet over your folds. Pleasure rises hot and overwhelming between your thighs at the stimulation, and an unflattering high-pitched noise escapes from the corner of your lungs. It’s like your whole body is strung on a thin line of thread. Overwhelmed by the barest contact after a week of having none. You’re not sure how you’re going to survive having him inside you when this already feels like so much. You wonder if he feels it too.
Opening your eyes, you see the boyish grin on his face, radiating with pride. He does it again, angling his hips to thrust up as the blunt head of his cock glides wetly over your clit and oh fucking–
Your hips jerk up involuntarily, pressing harder against him, and Steven gasps, eyes going wide and dark, that teasing grin wiped right off his face.
“Fuck, Steven–God. I need–” Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders, and you don’t know what you’re trying to say—not sure if you want him to stop or do it again—but it doesn’t matter. You never get to finish the rest of your sentence.
The thick ridge of his cock slips wetly inside you, and the sweet stretch of him, white and blinding, crowds out every other thought in your head. Your cunt squeezes around him at the thick intrusion, and you both moan at the tight pressure.
He halts, stilling inside you, and dear fucking god, he’s not even all the way in.
“God, love. You’re squeezing me so tight,” Steven gasps out, “Feels bloody amazing.” The words are soft, but there’s a clear strain in his voice, and his arms are trembling at your sides from the exertion of keeping still.
He still doesn’t move, and you’re not sure if he needs a moment or is trying to give you one. “I feel like I'm going to lose my mind if I can't be all the way inside you. Can I–”
He hovers above you, and you can feel his cock jerking and straining against you, the only part of his body he can’t fully control. You can’t help the way your body clenches and shivers in response, and he groans, resting his forehead against yours for a long moment as you pant heavily against each other’s lips.
“Is it alright for me to keep going?” he asks, eventually.
You try to say yes, but all that comes out is a breathless, choked out sob, as you nod at him frantically.
It’s all Steven needs. His hips push forward, pressing the rest of the way into you in one long, smooth stroke. The feeling is electric, robbing you of the ability to process anything except the way he fills you, stretching you out as he buries every inch of himself inside you. You can’t think. Can barely breathe. He’s embedded so deeply that there’s no space left in your lungs.
After a long moment, he starts to pull out just as slowly, his eyes fixed on yours. The pace is maddening, a thick, glacial drag that makes you feel every gorgeous inch of him. It leaves you gasping and writhing under him as he continues to retreat until only the tip still rests inside of you.
Then he does it all again.
He’s so different when he’s like this. His eyes focused, any trace of timidness gone. Everything else, all his usual hesitation and fear and doubt, seems to fade away when he’s inside you. It’s like you’re the only thing in his world—you and the need to make you feel good.
Drawing two of his fingers to his mouth, he slides them between his plush lips, and you can see his tongue tracing around them before he pulls them out again, glistening with spit for you. It’s entirely unnecessary. You’re so wet it’s leaking down the length of him and onto the inside of your thighs. But the sight makes your heart race all the same.
Steven reaches down between your bodies, hand resting above the apex of your thighs where his cock is still nestled inside you. His fingers slide, ever so gently over the slippery, sensitive flesh where you’re stretched wide around him.
“Feel that, love?” he breathes into your open mouth, “I’m right here. You’ve got me.”
His thumb catches at your clit as he gently presses down, and it has you spasming from the sharp pleasure. He gasps, jerking slightly above you, but doesn’t stop.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He continues to draws small, persistent circles over and over your clit that squeezes the very air out of your lungs, replacing everything, with a needy heat.
Your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation. Tears stinging in the corner of your lids.
It’s still not enough. You want more of him. Need to get closer.
You press your heels hard against the floor, trying to get better leverage, and grip frantically at his back. Nails biting into his skin, you claw at his shoulder blades as though you’re trying to dig your way in so deep that he’ll never be able to tear himself away from you again. It’s selfish, and you know it must be hurting him, but you can’t seem to be able to stop yourself.
Steven doesn’t stop you either. It’s like he knows that you still need more, and he rolls his hips into you, thrusting deep. His hand grips at the underside of your knees, pulling your legs to wrap them around his waist to let you squeeze your thighs around him, heels digging into the curve of his ass.
It feels like another way of telling you he’s here. Yours to use. Yours to have. Just… yours.
“Never gonna leave,” he whispers into your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the lobe as if to seal his promise.
Right now you don’t care if it’s a promise that he might not be able to keep. Not when pleasure, bright and blistering, is surging through you with every roll of his hips. It’s too much, bordering on unbearable. You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, just soft murmurs and vague shushing.
It doesn’t matter, because his body is telling you all you need to know.
Because for all of Steven’s calm and reassuring words, his actions don’t match. His actions are telling you a different story—a more desperate one—full of grasping hands, deep urgent thrusts, and bitten-off gasps. It’s like his body knows how long you’ve been apart and what it’s been missing, even if his mind doesn’t.
His hand palms at your ribs, fingers digging deep crevices in your flesh, holding you tight like he means never to let go.
Mine, it says. Possessive and hungry.
His mouth, for all its loving dulcet tones and cooing, never seems to leave your skin for long, sliding over your throat and jaw as if magnetised.
Yours, it promises, just as certainly.
He thrusts inside you, his hands find the bare backs of your thighs as he hooks one leg over his arm, and the new angle has him sliding in impossibly deep until it knocks the air out of your ribs. For a long blissful moment, you swear your whole chest cage is going to collapse.
His cock hits somewhere earth-shattering, and you arch up off the floor, curling into him with a shivering gasp. Heat crackles through every limb, swirling and swelling, sweet and insistent in anticipation of your climax. It settles deep in your belly, raw and heavy, soothed only by each insistent thrust.
He’s so deep you swear you feel him everywhere, buried inside you like he’s trying to stake a claim and never leave.
You hope he never does.
Pushing your hips up to him, you chase the feeling of him hitting that perfect spot, as the warm heat of it flutters in your stomach with each deep stroke. It won’t take much, you’re almost there–
But you don’t want this to end. Not yet. You want to keep Steven right here inside of you for as long as you possibly can.
You try to relax the tension in your legs, try to push your hips back down to stave it off. But it’s no good, Steven’s hands are still on you, manhandling you into a position where you can’t escape the perfect, relentless press of his cock inside you.
Not yet, not yet, not yet…
But it’s already there, at the tip of your fingers, so close you can taste it on your tongue. A promise of rapture, whether you want it to or not, and you want to scream and cry and fight the sensation that taunts you as it hangs there. But you can’t seem to do any of those things. It’s like you’ve lost control of your body, your hips lock tight, your throat feels tight and– fuck fuck, you’re–
“Steven, please. Not yet, I’m–” Your eyes squeeze shut, hands clawing at the carpet, searching for something to ground yourself with.
“I’m right here, love,” he murmurs, hand reaching for yours until he finds it and pins it next to your head. He clasps your hand tightly in his, weaving each one of his fingers between yours. “Right here. It’s alright. Let go for me.”
That’s all it takes. The floor underneath gives under, opening up and swallowing you whole. You feel like you’re floating and falling all at once as you clamour for Steven and hold him close as you fall through the cracks off the edge of the earth.
Your legs latch around the middle of his waist as you wring out every ounce and drop of the sensation you can. It rushes through you, ripe and overfull, filling every strand of every vein. You’re disorientated, the world narrowing into nothingness. The only thing that still exists is Steven.
All you can hear is the way his breath is stuttering with effort.
Can feel the way his even pace falters. Can see the way his brows knit in concentration, his face painted with bliss.
God, he’s beautiful like this.
Steven comes with a broken groan.
It’s so much and so deep and somehow you still want more. Want the feel of him raw and bare inside. Even that thin separation of not even a millimetre of rubber is too great of a separator for you to bear right now. All you want is to feel him spill himself inside you, thick and warm.
His body goes still and rigid, and then the strength in him gives under, nearly collapsing over you. He stops himself at the last second with a slam of his fist on the floor next to you, bent arms trembling with strain in an effort to keep himself upright.
It’s a sweet and considerate gesture. He doesn’t want to flatten you with his weight. It’s also completely unnecessary because there’s nothing you want more in this moment.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down the rest of the way. It doesn’t take much of your strength, his elbow gives in and bends further, until he’s flush against you, sweaty and heavy limbs entangling with yours.
Despite the unbearable stickiness and heat from your exertion, Steven holds you, chest still heaving against yours. His thin necklace slips delicately down over your collarbone, cool where it rests against your overheated skin. The golden pendant is pressed intimately between your breast and his chest.
The morning sun washes over everything inside your flat in a golden hue. Even the dull white of your walls turns into something warm and amber. The only sound permeating the peace is the sound of morning traffic outside. A busted old moped races down the street. Children shouting over a game of tag. The honking of cars trying to get somewhere fast. Outside it is loud, hectic and chaotic.
But right here, inside the safe bubble of your tiny flat, Steven is warm and heavy over you, the beat of his heart drumming against your chest in a steady pace.
“Can we stay like this for a while?” you ask.
He kisses your forehead, uncaring of the way your skin is sticky with sweat, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he squeezes your hand firmly in his.
“‘Course we can, love. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
~ CONTINUE ~
Once again thanks for everyone coming along for this ride. We're hoping to be posting this on a semi-regular schedule of every two weeks. For anyone who wants to be tagged please sign up to the tag list linked on the series masterlist.
We are beyond grateful for all the comments, reblogs and likes and just interest on this series, and while I can be a bit rubbish at replying sometimes, please know that your words and support inspires us to keep going with this series. 🥰
Dedication & Credits:
It takes a village huh, guys?
All my broken dishes to @the-ginger-hedge-witch because when I told her I wanted Steven to get to rawdog it, she went, "absolutely not, not when Marc is out there whoring around for all we know." (I may or may not be rephrasing but that was the sentiment).
To @radiowallet for listening to my insane and uninformed ramblings about Moon Knight and for giving me a firm guide and steering on how to write our beloved Moon Boys and making sure that everything tracks.
To @write-and-buried for inspiring me with the most absolutely deranged filthy suggestions when my smut inspiration well runs dry. I got really stuck in the sex scene for this one when I decided to in the 11th hour add a sex scene because "it felt right" then proceeding to panic cause I forgot how to write smut and she got me back on track.
And always and forever to my co-writer @thirstworldproblemss who had stayed up endless nights with me discussing the finer details of how twitchy a cock should be, how much it should leak. This series would not exist without her, she turns the rubbish I write into diamonds, she goes through every sentence once-twice-three times and she is always responsible for the best lines in every chapter, her voice for Steven is unparalleled, and I find myself falling more and more in love with this world because of her. I would not be writing this story, and most likely, at all, if it weren't for her and our friendship.
#oscar isaac#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#moon knight#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfic#marvel#mcu#moon knight x you#cici writes#moon knight x reader#steven grant x you#marc spector x you#jake lockley x you#cici moon knight
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