#but the nose?? if you told me to look at his eyes i'd be staring at his nose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

playgrl0 · 1 month

Text

baby girl / nanami

wc: 1154

!! not proof read, sorry. + i'm dead, bye !!

! reblogs and comments/feedback are greatly appreciated! they motivate me to continue writing! :)

the cry of your baby daughter interrupts your beautiful dream. with a small sigh you sit up and stretch, throwing the covers aside and before you can fully get up, a warm hand rests on your shoulder, stopping you. it's kento's hand, of course. you look over to him, a brow raised. "i'll take care of her. go back to sleep, love." he presses a small kiss to your shoulder and then gets up to go into your daughters room which is right across from yours. you smile, laying back down and getting comfortable beneath the sheets again. it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep again.

kento takes your crying baby girl out of her crib and holds her close to his bare chest. he sits down in the rocking chair that's next to her crib, a small night light softly illuminating the room. he slowly rocks in the chair and gently rubs her back, humming a random melody. she calms down a few moments later and falls asleep quickly. kento chuckles to himself and softly kisses her forehead. he stares down at her tiny body and thinks back to the moment you told him you were pregnant. it is without a doubt one of the happiest moments of his life right after his daughters birth of course. when you told him that you were pregnant, kento wasn't scared for even a second. you are both secure and stable financially, so secure in your relationship and he knew you would be the best parents. the amount of love that spilled out of his body the second you showed him the positive pregnancy test was so overwhelming and he'll never forget the way he felt. he never thought he would be able to love like this, until his daughter was born and the love he felt not just for her but also for you, grew even stronger.

when she was born, kento cried happy tears. he didn't try to hide them or hold them back and he let all his emotions out while he held her against his chest during their first skin-to-skin contact. his tears were dripping down his throat and collarbones and he always made sure to wipe them away before they'd fall onto his daughters face. he swore he would never hurt her. he will love her unconditionally until the end of time. protect her from any harm. accept her always for who she is and who she will become. he'll always, always be there for her and he hopes to be his daughters first love. that he can show her to never settle for the bare minimum because she deserves the entire universe.

it was almost impossible to take his eyes off of her in her first moments and it is still almost impossible now. kento doesn't notice you coming into the room. you're standing next to the rocking chair, gently smiling at the scene next to you. you slowly and softly put your hand on his shoulder, hoping not to startle him. "kento?" he looks up at you with a small smile. "are you okay, love?" he asks. you nod and lean down to kiss his forehead. "i'm okay, are you? you've been gone for a while. thought i'd check on you." you answer him with a yawn. his smile grows as he listens to your tired, quiet voice and he grabs your hand, placing a soft kiss onto your knuckles. "i'm more than okay. she went back to sleep a few minutes after i picked her up but i kinda got lost in thought, i guess." he replies, looking at his baby girl again. she's sleeping with her mouth open, a bit of drool escaping at the side of her mouth. you both chuckle and you take your finger to softly wipe it away. "she's so beautiful." he whispers. "she is." you agree. she has kento's beautiful brown eyes and your nose and the smile is definitely yours as well. she doesn't have much hair yet but the small amount of hair on top of her head is the same color as kento's.

"you know," kento interrupts the silence. "one of the things i love most about her is that she was created purely out of love. all of your and my love for each other mixed together and created this beautiful life. she's living proof of our love and she's the most beautiful soul to ever exist. i love you both immensely." he confesses while still staring at his daughter, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. when you don't respond he looks over at you, looking down at your baby as well but tears are running down your soft cheeks. he takes his thumb and wipes them away. "you okay?" he asks a bit concerned. you nod, sniffling and wrap an arm around his shoulder, pulling him as close into your side as the rocking chair lets you. "it's just, what you said was sweet. and, you're right. she is our love and she's the most beautiful angel. i love her so much." you lean down to carefully and gently kiss your babies head. "and i love you too, ken. i love you so much." kento smiles and softly kisses your lips for a few moments.

he pulls away and wipes the last tear from your cheek. "we should go back to sleep, you must be tired." he says. you nod and stand up fully again, stretching your arms. "let's take her with us, i want to cuddle her." you yawn as he stands up slowly. he couldn't say no to that. you both walk back into your bedroom where you get in bed first. kento hands you the baby and gets in next to you leaving a small empty space between you both so your daughter can lay there. you hold her for a few more moments, holding her close against your chest and gently rubbing her back. when you hear kento yawn next to you, you put her down in the space kento left for her and he pulls the blanket over all of you. you both lay on your sides, facing each other and your baby. kento wraps his arm as best as he can around your hip, your legs tangled together and it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep again.

kento smiles, he can't believe this is his life. his happy, peaceful life with his two girls by his side. his entire world right here next to him. he gently kisses the tiny, soft cheek of his baby girl and softly squeezes your hip every once in a while. he continues to look at his daughter for a while and doesn't notice his eyes closing and falling asleep. he dreams about having another baby with you and he'll definitely talk to you about it in the morning.

<3 @ playgrl0

#p!writes!%*#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk nanami

407 notes · View notes

sanguineterrain · 10 months

Text

redamancy | steve harrington

Summary: redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings/tags: friends to lovers, 5+1 fic format, no use of y/n, FLUFF, PINING PINING, injured s4 steve, hospital setting, general vecna angst (eddie's alive bc i will never kill eddie in my fics), bed sharing, happy ending, and kissing. if that wasn't clear. :)

A/N: fun fact: this is the first time i've written a 5+1 fic! technically it's 4+1 but whatevs. if you enjoy this fic, please give it a reblog and support your local steve harrington tumblrina.

divider by firefly-graphics

i. the promise

"Would you ever get married?"

You open your eyes. The setting sun nearly blinds you through the windshield. Immediately, you stick out a hand to block it.

You're still reclined all the way back in the passenger seat, because Steve's fancy schmancy BMW can do that. He frequently lectures you about doing it while he's driving. Have I taught you nothing? Road safety!

"I mean, I guess so," you say. "If someone ever wants to put a ring on me."

You sit up and pull down the sun visor. Steve turns. His hair lightens in the summer, shades of reddish blond peeking through. He insists his hair has never been anything but brown, fiercely pledging his allegiance to brunettes. You coo at his highlights all the same.

"I want to," he says after a minute. "I wanna get married."

You're parked down the block from your house. You should've gotten out ten minutes ago, but there's never any rush when you're with Steve.

"The line to wed you will be out the door, champ," you say around a grin.

"Hm. I dunno." He stretches in his seat. "Maybe if I was the same guy I was a few years ago."

You wrinkle your nose. "I doubt that."

"But what can I really offer?" he continues. "I'm just some guy who can't get into college."

"That doesn't mean no one will marry you. Some people who go to college are dumber than dirt. They get married. College has nothing to do with it. You can go, if you really want to. One rejection doesn't say anything about you, Steve."

"I guess."

You pull the lever on the side. The seat shoots up with a brrrap! It clicks as you straighten.

"Where did all this come from, anyway?" you ask.

Steve shrugs. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

He smiles. "I like to live on the edge."

"Contemplating marriage like the world's biggest sap. Definitely edgy."

Steve hums. His hands are in his lap. He picks at a cuticle, a habit he’s recently developed. You wonder why he’s so anxious.

"Two people from our graduating class got married last week."

Your eyes widen. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Lisa Schell and Gary Brewer."

"Wait, didn't she cheat on him?"

"Yeah, but he slept with her sister, so I guess they called it even."

You shake your head. "That's insane. They're literally babies, Steve. That's like Dustin getting married."

Steve scowls. "He's not allowed to get married before me."

"Not even to his possibly fictional Suzie?"

"Not even to her."

You stare at the freckles on Steve's face and how his frizz kind of looks like a halo in the light. You imagine the feel of his hair in your hands, the warmth of his scalp.

"I'd marry you," you say.

Steve's eyebrows shoot up.

"What?"

"Like, if you were in a pinch."

He looks at you sideways. You flatten, then scrunch your hands over your knees. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth.

"I'm talking about spending the rest of my life with someone, you know. Not borrowing fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks is a lot of money for some of us, Harrington."

"That’s probably how much Lisa's wedding dress cost."

"I hope she kept the receipt."

Silence descends. A soft breeze blows through your cracked window. You want to search Steve's glove box for gum, but you've just told him you'd marry him, so you can't do anything except think about the fact that those words came out of your mouth.

"Are you…" Steve begins, then pauses. "Why did you say that?"

"Because you're worried, for some incomprehensible reason, that no one will marry you."

"I scoop ice cream for a living."

You level him with a look.

"Steve. We're kids. Cut yourself some slack."

His eyes turn hollow. They've been doing that lately. You wish you knew why.

"I don't really feel like a kid these days," he says.

Something about the way Steve sounds makes you want to climb over the console and curl into him, cradle his head to your neck. Which is crazy. You guys don't do that. Steve isn't yours to do that with.

"Let's make a pact," you say softly.

He meets your eye. "A pact?"

"Mmhm. Let's say if both of us aren't married by… thirty, then we'll get married."

"Well, I don't want a pity marriage."

You roll your eyes. "It's not a pity marriage, Steve."

"Thirty is so late! You really think I won't be married by then?" he asks.

"No, I don't think that. I already said folks will be lined up to marry you," you say.

"I can't wait till I'm thirty."

"Or you'll turn into an old maid?"

"Meh meh meh," he mocks without any heat.

You purse your lips so you don't smile. "Fine. We'll split the difference. Twenty-four?"

Steve considers that. Really considers it. It suddenly occurs to you what you're promising and who you're promising it to. You wonder if you'll both forget about it. Or brush it off. Oh, what did we know? We were kids!

Except Steve doesn't feel like a kid. And maybe you don't either, as much as you wish you do.

"Do you mean it?" he asks.

"Of course I do."

"No, seriously." He's serious. "I mean it, so if you don't…"

"Steve, I said I mean it. I do."

"You'll marry me?"

"I will."

"Swear on it."

You hold out your right pinkie out, waiting. Steve hooks his finger over yours. Impulsively, you kiss your linked pinkies. To show that you really, truly mean it.

You try to picture it. What walking down the aisle to meet Steve at the altar would feel like. You wonder if he'd keep his hair long, like it is now. You like it long. Would he keep it long for you?

"Will you buy me a ring?" you ask. "If we get married, I mean."

"Of course I'd buy you a ring," Steve says. "I'd get you anything you wanted."

"Okay." Your heart hammers in your chest. "I'm gonna go home."

"Alright. Want me to pull up to the door?"

"No, it's fine. Walking is good for digestion. Those milkshakes were no joke."

Steve smiles. He has such a lovely smile. His Cupid's bow is shaped exactly like a heart.

"Same time tomorrow? It's movie night."

Right. Your movie night. A semi-regular occasion that includes you, Steve, Robin, and the kids, sometimes. You've watched at least a dozen movies this summer together. Only this time, you're watching a movie after promising to marry Steve.

"Sounds good," you say. "Will you pick me up?"

"Always."

Another promise. You hadn't realized how many Steve makes to you.

"'Kay. See you."

You get out. Steve waves as he pulls away from the curb.

Your ring finger feels bare. You rub it, hoping the feeling will go away.

ii. the wound

The plastic chair has turned your legs numb. Your butt is about to follow.

Can butts go numb? You're not sure. You'll find out soon, though.

You rub your eyes. God, you need sleep.

Across the room, you catch Joyce Byers' gaze. She smiles at you, though it's brittle. You try to smile back, feeling distinctly like you might break if you stretch your mouth too far.

She looks away, and your not-smile falls.

"They'll let us in soon," she says, like she knows. She does know. Better than you, certainly.

The hospital smells cold. It smells like a place people go to die.

Your heartbeat ratchets. You shouldn't think like that.

"You don't understand," comes Dustin's voice. He's at the receptionist's desk, flanked by Mike and Lucas. Dustin's face is red and blotchy, near tears.

"I need to see him. You won't let me see Eddie, so—"

The receptionist rears back, like she can't believe three children are daring to speak to her.

"Neither patient is cleared for visitors," she says icily. "Now, for the last time: have a seat."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joyce begin to stand, ready to herd the kids away. You beat her to it. Out of everyone in this room, you're probably the only person who has the strength to stand.

"Guys, c'mon. It won't be long."

They don't look at you. You don't take it personally. An hour earlier, you'd cornered Dustin and forced him to tell you what happened. What's been happening.

So he did. And now you're here.

You don't blame them for glaring at the prickly receptionist. But you know that won't do anything. It won't heal Steve quicker. And it won't make anybody feel better.

"Hey, Dustin." You lay a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you like you're not Steve. You wish it was you in surgery instead.

"Come sit," you say.

"I need to see him," he tells you.

"I know." Your throat tightens, threatening to trap your words altogether. You rush to get the rest out. "I do too. But this isn't going to make that happen faster. Come sit with me. Okay?"

"He'll be fine," Mike says quietly. "They don't wanna get sued by his asshole dad."

You nod, because yeah, good point. Quite possibly the first time Richard Harrington has brought anybody comfort. He's in Cancun, last you'd heard. You hope he chokes on a margarita.

Dustin follows you. Mike and Lucas sit next to Joyce. The five of you wait.

At some point, you fall asleep. When you wake up, it's to the contentious receptionist peering over you all.

"Mr. Harrington is awake," she says primly. "You may see him now, young man."

Dustin flies out of the chair, Lucas and Mike at his heels.

A part of you wants to go home, and you feel terrible for it. You feel terrible that Steve almost died, but you're the frightened one. You don't know if you can bear to see him tied to tubes and a heart monitor.

"Go on."

Joyce tracks you sleepily. Her hair is more knotted than before you fell asleep. She nods to the hallway.

"Go see him."

You can’t voice every thought, every fear. I don’t know if I can see him like this.

“It’s good he won’t wake up alone,” she says.

“He’s got a family.” You wave your hand weakly.

Joyce watches you for a moment. Then she gets up.

"Yes, he does."

She holds out her hand.

You don’t know Joyce Byers very well. This is probably the longest conversation you’ve had with her. You realize, then, that you're wrong—you’re not the one who’s strong enough to stand.

“Let’s go see him,” she says. "All of his loved ones should be there."

God, are you really that obvious?

You take her hand, and the two of you go down the hall.

Steve is nearly unrecognizable in the hospital bed. The kids are speaking to him, unusually quiet. They look up when you enter.

Steve’s eyes lock with yours.

“Hey,” is all you say.

“Hi,” he says, voice rough with disuse and getting choked by what Dustin had described as demon bats.

“Boys, come on,” Joyce calls. “Let’s make a cafeteria stop.”

You see Dustin about to protest, but Lucas tugs his arm like he knows, and goddamn, you really are that obvious, aren’t you?

You wait for the door to close behind you. Then you walk to Steve’s side.

The gnarled ring of flesh around his neck makes you queasy. The rest of him isn’t much better, red and purple smeared across any skin that’s not covered by the chalky hospital gown.

You sit in the chair. It’s the same plastic kind as the ones in the waiting room, but this one doesn’t feel so hard.

“Robin called me,” you say.

Steve closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’d better be.” Your voice cracks. “Can’t believe you went dimension-surfing without me.”

“You’re mad at me.”

Your breath is punched out of you.

“No,” you say softly. “My God, Steve. I’m not mad at you.”

His hand creeps to the edge of the bed. His fingers are scraped.

You take his hand and lace your fingers together. He slow-blinks. He’ll probably fall asleep in the next half hour.

“It’s okay if you are,” he whispers. “Mad, I mean. I’d be mad too.”

You know he wouldn’t be, though. You know Steve would forgive you in a heartbeat.

“I’m not mad,” you say, equally as quiet. “I just… I was scared."

He nods. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

You bow your head and close your eyes. When Robin had called, you'd run to the bathroom and coughed up stomach acid.

They say he’ll make it, she'd told you, and you'd realized with violent clarity that you love him.

But Steve doesn't need that right now. So you bury it.

You lean in and bring Steve's knuckles to your lips, taking care not to jostle him.

His eyes widen. Part of you hopes he won’t remember this conversation.

"Don't do that again," you say. “Not without me.”

"Okay,” he whispers. “I won't."

You wait until he falls asleep, hand in his.

iii. the brand

“There’s no way I’m getting in your death van, Munson!” Robin whines.

“Death van is an exaggeration, Buckley. If anything, it’s a life van. I’m still here, aren’t I?” Eddie asks.

“Definitely not because of that heap of metal,” Steve murmurs to you. You snicker.

It’s nearly dark, but a summer dark, where it doesn’t actually turn to night until well after nine PM. The top two buttons of Steve’s dress shirt are undone, and you can’t stop staring. It’s embarrassing, really. You’d nearly missed Eddie’s walk across the stage because of that damned triangle of tanned skin and dark chest hair.

“Why can’t we take the station wagon?” Robin asks.

“I think Nancy already left,” you say. “Sorry, Rob.”

“And I’ve put my car jacking days behind me,” Eddie announces, flinging his arms out. “So my van it shall be!”

Robin whips her head around to glare at Steve.

“This is your fault,” she accuses scathingly.

“Me?!”

“You just had to go and get a flat tire yesterday.”

“Yeah, Steve,” you add cheekily. “Why couldn’t you have foreseen the dreaded timeline where Eddie drives?”

“Et tu?” Eddie asks. “I’m hurt. I’m a great driver, y’know. Better than Steve, some have told me.”

“Dustin only told you that ‘cause you were high on morphine and about to burst into tears,” Robin says.

As they bicker, Steve draws closer, so your arms brush. You close the distance, crowding him.

“Y’okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you say, startled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.”

“Are you okay?”

He turns to you. He looks like he’s searching for something. You don’t know what.

“Yeah,” Steve says after a minute. “I am. Better than, actually.”

“‘Cause I’m here, right?” you ask with a gooey grin.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re here.”

He sounds honest, so you turn away, because you can’t handle that and his chest hair.

"I should get to choose where we go," Robin says as you arrive at Eddie's van. "Since it may be our last trip and all."

"Funny you were in Band and not president of the drama club, Buckley," Eddie says dryly.

"Pot, kettle."

"How 'bout Rita's?" you suggest. "Unlimited refills and no one will hassle Eddie."

"Aw, you care about little ol' me?" Eddie asks.

"If you get us there in one piece, yes."

Eddie huffs. "No wonder you and the Hair are like this." He crosses his fingers.

"Damn right," Steve says. "We even finish each other's—"

"Terribly cliche sayings!" you say.

Robin looks at you for a moment, unusually smirky. Then she looks at Steve.

"You match. Blue dress, blue tie."

"That's so if she gets lost, they know who to return her to," Steve says.

You scoff. "More like the other way around."

He pouts. "Hey."

"Hay is for horses," you sing, skipping ahead to Eddie's van.

"I'm sorry, are you excited to ride in the Hell Van?" Robin asks.

You shrug. "We could use some excitement around here, couldn't we?"

"No!" all three say.

"I've had enough excitement for ten lifetimes," Robin mutters.

Eddie pulls the door open. Your smile quickly drops.

"Uh, Eddie? Where the fuck are the seats?"

"Right, so, usually I only have Gareth and Jeff ride with me. Gareth always calls shotgun—"

"Shotgun!" Robin hollers, and races to the front seat.

You stare at the single backseat chair. There's no way it's big enough for you and Steve.

"Holy shit," Steve says, taking stock of the "backseat."

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah… listen, if I'd known we'd be taking her, I would've put the other seat in, swear! Usually we take it out for the equipment."

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Lay down and pray? This is how people get head injuries, Eddie," you say, arms folded.

"Maybe we can call a cab," Steve suggests.

"At this hour?" You shake your head. "No way. This isn't Indianapolis."

"Oh my God." Robin groans. "The solution is so obvious. Sit on Steve's lap. Boom. Now come on, I'm starving."

You tense. Steve is tactile, sure, and you've become acclimated to that over the years.

But this? This is way, way beyond that.

"Uh…" Steve glances at you. "Do you… I mean, if you don't mind?"

You glance at Eddie, who's got the tiniest smirk. You glower and he clears his throat, hiding his mouth behind a lock of hair.

"I don't mind," you say, more confident than you feel. "It's a short drive."

Eddie nods. "Definitely. I'll step on it."

"Please don't step on it," Robin calls. "We're already chancing fate by letting you drive in the first place."

Eddie huffs, walking to the driver's side. "Y'know, Buckley, you are just…"

You look at Steve. He smiles at you, sweet as always.

"This isn't gonna aggravate any injuries, right?" you ask. "Me… sitting on you?"

You wince at the wording.

"No, should be fine. My PT gave me the all clear a month ago."

You nod tightly. "Right. Okay. You go first."

Steve climbs in, planting his feet on the floor. You go next, stooping in front of him. You catch each other's gaze for a moment. Then you laugh, suddenly trying to look anywhere but at Steve.

"Right, so I'll just…"

You slide onto Steve's lap, trying to hold some of your weight so you won't crush him. He splays an easy hand over your belly and leans over to pull the van door shut. Your heart thunders in your chest.

"You can sit back, y'know," he says, breath tickling your ear. "’M not made of glass."

"Didn't want your legs to go numb," you joke weakly.

Steve makes an unhappy noise and tugs you back so you're fully seated on him. You angle yourself so you can look at him. Steve looks up at you, lightly tracing a pattern on your hip. Like you do this all the time.

"Hi," you say, too jittery to crack another joke.

Steve smiles gently. "Hey."

His tone is fond. You feel sick.

"Everybody good?" Eddie asks.

He adjusts the rear view mirror and you watch his eyebrows shoot up in the reflection.

"You two look cozy."

"Shut the fuck up, Munson," you mumble. "Just drive, already."

Eddie giggles like a gremlin in reply and turns the ignition.

It’s not bad, at first. Eddie takes it easy driving through Hawkins. Part of it is because he doesn’t want to attract attention. The other part is that Hopper promised Eddie a night in jail if he caught him running the stop signs again.

You personally think it’s a bluff. Robin does not; she’s enthusiastically annoying about road safety, and points out every single sign and red light. This causes Eddie to start slamming the breaks in retaliation.

“Holy fuck!” you yelp when Eddie hits the breaks particularly hard. “Eddie!”

Steve is quick to tug you backwards, considering you’re not belted. You scramble to grab his shoulders and twist to look at him.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly.

He smiles, then leans away, glaring at the front.

“Really, Munson?”

“She started it!” Eddie insists. “Blame your BFF!”

“Can you drive like someone who doesn’t have a death wish?” Robin shoots back.

Steve’s hands are now on the small of your back and on your hip, respectively. Your legs hang over the side of the carseat, butt nestled quite firmly on his thighs.

God, you’re never living this down.

“Y’okay?”

Steve’s breath in your ear makes you squirm. You turn to look at him.

“Fine,” you murmur. “I’m not crushing you, am I?”

“No,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie breaks again, harder than before. You slip.

Steve reacts instantly, his hand grabbing the meat of your thigh. Your dress rides up, so it’s skin on skin.

The momentum is worse, however, because you jerk back. Right into Steve’s face.

Your nose mashes into his, which isn’t great. But then, your lips smush against his cheek. When you pull back, there’s a smeared lipstick print.

Maybe you’re the one with a death wish.

Robin is screeching incoherently but you can't focus on anything but the smudge of pink on Steve's cheek. Your chest feels tight.

He looks like he's yours.

"Yeah, we're fine, " Steve says, voice close enough to startle you back into the conversation.

He looks up at you. Your hand lands on the lipstick, like if you cover it, it'll go away. Steve tilts his head, mouth open in a question.

"Sorry," you rush out before he can speak. "I got some of my, uh, lipstick on you."

He relaxes.

"Oh. Thought I was bleeding or something," he says with a slight laugh. "'S okay, I can wipe it off when we get there."

"Uh-huh."

You drop your hand. You can't stop staring. Stop staring.

The print isn't exactly in the shape of your lips, but it's close. You can see the divots and where your lips parted. If someone were to see you two, they'd assume a lot of things you're not.

Steve's collar is wrinkled from the van ride from Hell. His neck is flushed. You wonder how your lipstick would look there.

Eddie presses the brake, softer this time. Steve's fingers dig into the meat of your thigh anyway. More marks.

"Alright, relax, gang," Eddie says. "We're almost there."

You touch Steve's cheek again and hope he'll forget to wash you off of his face.

iv. the secret

It's raining. You're in Steve's bed.

Thunder shakes the sky. You curl further into your—Steve’s—pillow. It smells like his soap and detergent.

You used to like the rain. Not so much these days. Rain makes you think of blood on asphalt and being alone at twenty-four. Rain silences you.

"Do you think he'll come back?"

You've never dared to ask anyone. Not even Joyce. She'd know. She wouldn't tell you the truth, though.

Nancy Wheeler probably could. She'd face you with that steel brow of hers and give it to you straight.

Yes. The monster's back. You're not getting married.

You slip your hand into Steve’s. He squeezes your fingers. Outside, the rain roars.

"I don't know," Steve says into the darkness.

You can't see him like this. It makes you mildly claustrophobic. Maybe you should turn on the hall light.

"Hopper said he was dead. So did that other guy—uh, Murray. And like, Eddie's okay. And Max. El would tell us if she sensed something. It's not like he could come back without making a sound. I mean, from what she told me, she basically, like, unraveled him from the inside out. Which is pretty gross, but also a good way to keep someone dead."

He's rambling. He's rambling to distract you.

God, what the fuck are you going to do when you're twenty-four and unmarried and Steve's forgotten all about you?

"I don't want anyone to die," you whisper.

Steve squeezes your hand harder.

"No one's gonna die."

You shift closer. You can barely make out Steve's silhouette. The ends of his hair tickle your knuckles.

"Hey," he says, and you try to find his eyes, but you can't. "Nothing's gonna happen, okay?"

"Yeah," you say, even though something did happen, something that almost took him away from you, and you don't know if you can handle that again.

"You can stay here as long as you want," he says.

"I can go back to my room."

Steve threads his fingers with yours. You can't see his eyes but it's okay.

"Don't," he says.

"Okay."

You scoot forward, closing another few inches between you two. Now, you feel Steve's breath on your face. He smells like minty toothpaste. He is alive.

The rain batters against the windows. You could kiss him. You could kiss him right now, and no one would know except for you and him.

His breath has begun to even out. You lean in blindly. Your lips land on his hair.

It's hardly a kiss. It’ll be your secret anyway.

+ and, finally, the first.

"Dustin wanted chocolate milk," you say, not looking up from the tub of yogurt you're searching the date for.

"Yeah," Steve says, parking the cart to the side. "Kid's addicted."

He opens the giant fridge door and a burst of cold air nips at your arm. You shy away.

"Six dollars? Jesus, does it come from gold cows?"

You snort, finally putting the yogurt in the cart. You stay at Steve’s house more often than not these days, so there’s no point in getting a separate cart.

"What?" Steve asks, looking at you.

"You're funny, that's what."

"I am?"

"You sound like somebody's grandpa."

"I do not!"

"Do too," you say sweetly.

"Do not."

"Do too infinity."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm a grandpa 'cause I don't wanna spend a leg and an arm on chocolate milk for the little shit? So be it."

"Steve," you begin, eyebrows drawing together. "It's his birthday. Have a heart, old man."

"Oh, good grief," he mumbles, but he takes the carton and puts it into the cart.

You smile. Steve shakes his head.

"This is why I don't go shopping with you. You're an enabler."

"I am," you say happily, walking alongside him as he pushes the cart.

"And you don't push the cart."

You tut. "Pretty girls don't push shopping carts, Steven."

"Oh, they just find some poor sap to push it for them, huh?"

"I'm so glad you're on board," you say, skipping ahead to the chip aisle.

You look through the shelves and land on two types of Doritos. Cool Ranch and Original. It’s a tough decision.

“Steve, what do you think?” You hold up the bags. “Which do they like better?”

“Ranch. According to Mike, liking the original flavors of snacks is lame.”

You snicker and take three bags of the Cool Ranch. Steve pushes the cart to you.

“I feel like we’re shopping for our kid,” you say. “We’re the awesome house everybody wants to visit because we have the best snacks and the biggest pool.”

You look up when Steve doesn’t reply. He stares at you, expression unreadable. Your smile dims.

“What?” you ask.

Steve shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says quietly. “It’s nothing.”

“Steve, seriously. What is it?”

He shakes his head again.

“Nothing, really. Just zoned out for a second.”

He continues to push the cart down the aisle. You watch him for a moment, then follow. The two of you quickly check off the remaining items on Steve’s list (yes, his actual, physical grocery list), and then you check out.

The cashier smiles at you both in line. She’s an older woman, with the typical poofy blowout nearly every woman over fifty gets at Brenda’s Salon in downtown Hawkins. You busily put the items on the conveyor belt while Steve takes out his wallet and makes conversation with the cashier. It’s a good routine you two have established.

When the cashier’s done, you squeeze past the cart and grab half of the bags. Steve takes the receipt and the rest of the bags.

“You two are very sweet together,” the cashier says, her round cheeks blush-red like apples. “Have a wonderful day.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve replies, and heads to the exit.

You’re frozen for a moment, startled until Steve calls your name. You heft the bags in your arms and hurry after him.

Steve stops and takes two of your bags before crossing the parking lot.

“Steve,” you say, and huff. “I can carry them.”

“Pretty girls don’t push carts or carry bags. It’s the rule, remember?”

You watch, unimpressed, as Steve then proceeds to try and get his car keys with an armful of grocery bags. When he almost drops a bag for the third time, you sigh and take pity.

“Which pocket?” you ask, snaking your arm around.

“Back left,” he says, smiling sheepishly.

You roll your eyes, feeling disgustingly fond. You shove your hand down Steve’s back jean pocket. He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Take me out to dinner at least,” he says.

“Pretty boys don’t get taken to dinner until the pretty girl has been asked out properly,” you shoot back.

Steve smiles, but the joke doesn’t land like it usually does. You step away as soon as you get the keys, clearing your throat.

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about carrying all the bags, Popeye.”

You open the trunk for him, then go to open the passenger side door.

“If I don’t carry all the bags, how else am I meant to show off to the ladies?”

You pull the handle on the driver’s side for Steve and he gets in, beaming cheekily at you.

“The only person who’s watching you make a fool of yourself is me, big guy,” you say. “So, mission failed.”

You open the glove compartment and start fishing through for gum. You find a Juicy Fruit packet but it’s empty.

“Damn, that’s what we forgot,” you say, defeatedly crumpling the cardboard. “Gum.”

You start to turn to Steve. “Do you think we—”

You’ve wondered, probably more than you should, about how Steve Harrington kisses.

Now you know: tenderly.

He cups both sides of your face, and you have to brace yourself on the center console for balance. Your other hand tangles in his hair. It’s as soft as you imagined, free of product, and you scrunch the baby hairs at the base of his scalp. Steve makes a quiet noise.

You kiss until you need air. Even then, Steve doesn’t let you go far. You part with only an inch or two between you.

“There’s gum in the middle compartment,” is the first thing he says.

“Huh?”

“In here.” He pats the compartment between the seats. “Hubba Bubba. I got it last week.”

You giggle and grab Steve’s face with both hands. His hands slip to your arms and he squeezes, smiling gently.

“What?” he asks.

“Fuck, I’m glad I know you,” you say.

Steve kisses you again. Two. Steve Harrington has officially kissed you two times.

You hope you’ll lose track at some point.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things x you

2K notes · View notes

allfearstofallto · 3 months

Text

Sweetheart <3

Yandere! Scaramouche x fem! Reader

Synopsis: You have a strange lover with no name, who you dub sweetheart

Word count: 2.7k

TW: Yandere, obsession, manipulation, stalking

Chimes. That's how you knew he was coming, a noise that could only be coming from him. What sounded like wind chimes in the air would make your ears perk up. The large, lavish hat that he wore to protect him from the sun and the rain, had little bells on them that jingled and sang when he walked.

“A song just for you,” he once said while placing the hat on your head and you giggled with shy, girlish delight. The weight of it was heavier than you'd expected, but it smelled of him. A scent you could bask in.

You called him sweetheart. A name that he rolled his eyes and scoffed at the first time you said it. You told him time and time again that you didn't know his name, nor did he give you something to call him, so you came up with a placeholder, until he decided to open up to you. Sweetheart. You referred to him as sweetheart.

Whether or not he hated the name was debatable. He told you many times that a pet name as soft as that didn't suit someone like him, but he never explained what that meant. He never told you what someone like him was, he never told you anything about himself, not his name, not where he was from, and not even what he did for work. What little he told you about himself, was barely enough to decipher him.

But what you could see was that he was beautiful. He insisted that he hated you incessant compliments, but you could see a meek smile form on his lips after all of your flattering words. Hair that looked like the night sky and skin paler than sand itself. You often compared him to finely crafted statues or even works of art and he would call that nonsense. But you could see the way your words made him glance at himself in the mirror.

He had a tendency of just showing up at your door. You would hear that familiar song of wind chimes and smell citrus in the air and he'd be there. You'd open the door and see him standing there with his arms crossed and his usual frown on his face, an expression that you didn't think suited his soft, delicate features.

“Sweetheart!” You called out to him. His cheeks already flushed from your brazen display of affection and all he did was turn his nose up at you, his way of hiding flustered you were making him.

You wrapped your arms around him, taking in his sweet scent, and begrudgingly, he did the same, “You said you'd write to me,” your voice was a bit sadder now with your face buried in his chest.

His travels took him far, yes, but never once did he send you a letter and he never told you where you could send one to. When he left, it was like he was vanishing into thin air, like a creation of your own mind and when he came back, it was without warning.

“I said I'd try,” he pulled away from the hug and walked into your home like he owned the place, eyeing the small space over as he did every time he visited. It was almost like he was looking for something, or someone, but he knew you lived alone.

You shut and locked the door, trying not to seem disappointed by the way he was acting. At times you questioned if he really liked you. The way he responded towards you was nothing short of disinterest. He turned away from you kisses and stood stiffly in your hugs. Affection from him was a rare gem, but one you cherished.

“I wasn't aware that you liked flowers,” he had stepped into your living room and was staring at a vase filled with a buslte of silk flowers that were sitting near the window. He was rubbing the petals between his fingertips, while waiting for your answer, a disgusted look on his face.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion, “Oh!” You smiled as the change in conversation piqued your interest, very seldom did he mention the decor of your home, “Those were given to me!”

“Given?” He repeated beneath his breath while still rubbing the flower petals, “by whom?”

His face was turned away from you, but you could hear it in his voice. He was angry. The way he was muttering his words, how his shoulders stayed tense, he shook his head a little, even clicked his tongue, all for sure signs that he wasn't happy with what you'd said.

“By…by no one, sweetheart,” you said with a forced, playful chuckle.

He picked the vase up and held it to the light, humming in distaste, “Is that so?”

You nodded quickly.

“If no one gave them to you, we can just get rid of them right?” He didn't wait for your response, just waltzed across the room with ease and dropped the entire vase in the trash, “If you want flowers, I'll bring you some when I come back again.”

When he comes back. You hated when he said those words. They make your heart sink to your stomach. When he came back? Who knew when that would be and it's not like he'd ever tell you where he was going.

“When…when will that be?” You asked hopefully. Every time you asked the questions, you got a response of soon, someday, and whenever I'm near, but never a true answer.

“Must you ask the same things over and over again,” the annoyance in his voice was palpable and he shot a harsh look at you. The thick red eyeliner around his eyes only making his sharp gaze even more menacing.

You liked him. You did. You liked his shy, bashful demeanor. You liked his beauty that could rival that of the finest paintings. And you thought you liked the mystery of him. You thought you did, until you realized how hard it was getting answers from him. Until you realized that with the way things were going, you would truly never know anything about him. Until you realized that even his name, was a luxury you'd probably never receive.

“I just want to know you,” you muttered softly.

“You know enough,” he stepped closer to you until the two of you were face to face. His eyes, those blue orbs that looked deeper than the ocean, were hard to read. A mixture of hesitation, confliction, anger, and a little sorrow.

You couldn't open your mouth to ask what he meant. He was already kissing you. His lips were soft and tasted sweet like fruit, and his kisses were always passionate. His cherry pink lips danced across yours as you slowly began to sink into the kiss.

When it ended, you were left longing. Your eyes stayed closed for a moment too long and only fluttered open after you began to feel his breath against your damp lips. You wanted to say more, but you couldn't. You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know how you could begin a conversation over this.

“Could I at least know your name?” You asked him and you watched his face fall again.

He sighed and pretended to ignore your question, not even bothering to give it the time of day. And that was an answer enough.

Your sweetheart stayed for different amounts of time. Sometimes it was days, sometimes it was weeks, sometimes, it was just a few hours. He let you know when he was leaving, but never told you when he was coming back, and today was the same.

He left you home by giving you another passionate kiss on the lips and a promise to come back before you knew it. You watched the tassels on his hat sway in the wind as he just walked, his form growing farther and farther away until he was just a spec in the distance and then you were all alone again, contemplating what had just happened.

Time waited for no one, and you were included in that statement. When your purple haired sweetheart came to visit, you'd neglect your work as an apothecary to spend time with him. You supposed that's what he was to you. An escape from your mundane life. A mystery you'd never solve, but a passionate one nonetheless.

You gathered all the medicines you made to sell and walked towards the direction of the city. Liyue harbor was bustling, as it always was. Day or night, it was a city that seemed to never sleep. You loved to watch the vibrant way the people moved from your little house on a hilltop, far away from civilization.

It was truly a blessing and a curse. You did grow lonesome out in the mountains, but you had easier access to herbs and flora that normal people wouldn't be able to get their hands on. Plus…being in the city has a way of making your skin crawl.

There was this prickly feeling on the back of your neck that followed you as you walked through the streets and alleyways. A feeling of being watched, of eyes on you somewhere, but you didn't know where. There were people in every direction you turned, all with their own stories and their own lives, going their own way, none of them seemed to focus on you. And yet the feeling never left.

Although you walked alone, you found yourself picking up and listening to the conversations of those around you. Talks of trade and contracts interested you when you had no one to talk to.

But you also heard other whispers. Whispers of things like crime, loan sharks, and most specifically, the Fatui. By the archons above you, you promised to never get yourself involved in any business with the Northland bank. Owned an operated by the Fatui themselves, they gave out deals that seemed too good to be true, and that's because they were.

The harbinger over the bank was one that made you tremble in fear over just the thought of him. You'd never met him in person yourself, but you'd seen him parading through the streets. He has a face that would make girls swoon, but only the ones that didn't know his true intentions.

“The balladeer came through the city again recently,” you heard one lady speak in a hushed whisper.

“The one that wears the fancy hat?”

That's what made you stop in your tracks and you concentrated on that name: The Balladeer? It was one you'd never heard before. You couldn't help, but to stop at the corner, holding your baskest of medicinal herbs close to your chest as you eavesdropped on their conservative out of curiosity of the familiar description.

“Yeah, that's him! He just left a couple days ago,” you felt your heart began to pound a bit quicker now, your mouth going dry. Your sweetheart had left just a mere three days ago.

“Too bad he's Fatui,” she said with with a disheartened sigh, “His face is heavenly, even with that frown he's always wearing.” you could feel yourself gasping for air. It couldn't be him, could it?

But the things lined up, just a little too well. The balladeer left when your sweetheart did, he was also seen wear a fancy hat. The pretty face with the rude expression. It would explain so much.

The secrecy. Why he constantly would leave and travel across Teyvat. His aggression towards you knowing more about him, his lack of a name. All of the pieces of the puzzle clicked together and hit you like a ton of bricks.

You weren't dating some mysterious stranger. You weren't dating “sweetheart”. Your current boyfriend was the balladeer, a Fatui harbinger, and a dangerous one at that from the way the ladies talked about him in hushed whispers.

You bit your lip as you tried to hold back tears. How could you be so stupid? After everything was said, it all made sense and you realized, truly realized the danger you'd put yourself in.

Rushing home, you didn't even sell your medicine for the day. You couldn't bring yourself to stay in the city any longer. Not when you knew that there were Fatui, his subordinates around.

The door to your home was locked and shut tight. The once comforting walls felt like they were closing in on you. The home that you welcomed him to, you let him visit whenever he pleased, you allowed him in with open arms. In this very home, he was lying to you.

A month went by before you saw him again. A month before you heard the chimes, the song that was just for you. A month before you smelt the citrus in the air. All tell tale signs that he was here. He was at your door.

Usually you'd swing that for open and jump into his arms. You kiss him and hug him, you'd drag him into your home and smother him with the affection he pretended to hate. But all you could do was stay as far away from the door as possible, hudded in a corner, you pretended not to know that he was there.

It was gentle at first. The knocking sound. He rarely knocked before, you always knew he was there before he even had the chance to.

“Hey! Open up!” You heard him call, his voice muffled by the wood of the door. Those hurried words of his were followed by more knocking, this time, louder and harder.

“(Y/N)! Open the door!” More loud knocking, enough to shake the house, “Why aren't you answering?!”

You bit your lip to muffle your cries. He was out there. The fatui harbinger. The balladeer. Your sweetheart. He was out there, begging to be let in. It was him, you told yourself, it was your lover. So, why were you so afraid?

The banging turned to the pounding and the pounding made the wood of the door start to splinter. You had slid further back into the corner of your home, covering your mouth to quiet yourself as your tears wet your hand.

Kick after kick after kick, until the door was barely hanging on by the hinges. He could finally see you, through a crack in the door. His face was red with rage, but his eyes were wide with worry and concern.

“I told you to open the door!” He yelled at you, finally kicking away the last piece of wood that kept you from him. His chest was heaving, but he didn't make a move towards you. In his hand, he was holding a bouquet of flowers, so tightly that the paper was crumpled, “Why... why are you hiding from me?”

You didn't answer his question. Looking at the man before you now, it wasn't your sweetheart. It wasn't your lover. It wasn't who you'd come to truly care for after these months. He really was the Balladeer.

You watch his face twist and contort with a mix of emotions. A scowl, a frown, a grimace. Fear and anger flicker across his face so quickly, it's like a blur. But then it settles. It all settles. A single tear down his cheek is the only sign left of sweetheart before his face turns to that neutral expression. That frown that didn't suit his heavenly features.

The flowers were dropped to the ground, wilted and forgotten, and he stepped closer to you, over what remnants of a door you had.

“You know?” He asked in pure disbelief, a pain in his eyes that you couldn't even describe, “You found out?”

Your trembling form wasn't enough to sway him. He was used to being looked at this way by others, but by you, it did hurt a bit more.

“Why didn't you tell me?” you whimpered between sobs. Your pathetic display obviously wasn't enough to melt his frozen heart. He merely kneeled in front of you, unaffected by the way you slinked away from him in fear of what he as a harbinger could do.

“Because I knew you would look at me like this,”

#yandere genshin #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x you #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere x you #scaramouche x reader

591 notes · View notes

miguelhugger2099 · 3 months

Note

OMG HIIIII I HAVE A REQUESTTTTT

I LOVE UR STORIES

So imagine Fem reader just going through her closet throwing out old things along with miguel and she finds an old shoebox of hers opens it and its her retired vibrator and pink dildo that she hasn’t used since she started dating Miguel and she’s looking at him awkwardly since she said that she totally threw them away so miguel gets back at her by taking the toys and making her use them

ANYWHO BYYEE THANKKZZZ

Pretty in Pink

me when you appear in my inbox, throw a smut prompt in my face and dip: ∑(; °Д°) i genuinely had fun with this request i made him speak more spanish than usual idk why lol but as always, if you don't like it, i'd be more than happy to make another one <3

Miguel x Reader, Smut, Word Count: 2,777

You stare up into your messy closet; old clothes, old photos and yearbooks and maybe some plastic shopping bags you forgot about were all scattered inside. Hands on your hips, you blink at the cluttered mess while Miguel is behind you and crosses his arms with an unamused look. “You really let it get this bad?” He asks, looking down at you. Miguel had called to say he wanted to see you but you told him it was cleaning day for you and you decided to deep clean. He assured you he still wanted to come over and even help you but when he arrived he wasn’t expecting to see how even the smallest places needed organizing. Life got in the way, you told him. You shrug and let out a deep sigh. “Just help me.” You grunt with a roll of your eyes and go on your tiptoes to reach the top shelf in your closet. There was a big heavy box filled with god-knows-what and you huffed as you slammed it down on your bed. Miguel takes a peek through it while your hands empty out the contents. A two year old angel halloween costume, childhood belongings for sentimental value and a local shopping bag that held your graduation gown. “How do you even still have these?” Miguel scoffs a laugh while he digs through with you, picking up a stack of old movie tickets you used to collect. You snatch the wad of crumbled tickets back with a pout on your face. “They have sentimental value.” Miguel chuckles and teasingly pinches the tip of your nose. “I know but stop being a hoarder. C’mon. Pick what you wanna keep and pick what you don’t. I’ll get a trash bag for the stuff you don’t want.” Miguel then steps out of the room, leaving you alone to set up two piles. You huffed out a big sigh and got to work. Carefully, you picked things one by one to decide if you really needed it.

Some old shirts that didn't fit you were tossed in the don't want pile and the cute headband you thought you lost was placed in the keep pile. Any other things like some old bags or trinkets you grew out of were placed in a different pile on the floor for trash. When the top shelf was fairly cleaned out, Miguel came back with two large black trash bags and began helping you stuff the things away for donation, trash or something along those lines. You then sat on your knees to start on the floor area of the closet, picking out shoes that were too small now and tossing them to Miguel. You reached for a small shoe box in the corner and opened it up to see if any shoes inside were still usable. You didn’t expect to see a matching set of your old baby pink vibrator and hot pink dildo catching dust inside. You gagged on your own spit in surprise, feeling the color drain from your face. You were sure you threw it out. You didn’t need them anymore, not since your first time with Miguel just a little over a year and a half ago. “What’s that?” You hear Miguel peek over you, curious since you stopped handing him things. You slam the shoebox shut. “Nothing!” But he had already seen it. “It’s nothing–haha.” You strained, standing up to open the trash bag Miguel brought to throw it in there but he stops your wrist. With his other hand he takes the box and you screech, trying to take it back. He lifts it open and inside are the familiar toys he’d seen before.

He remembered assuring you that you didn’t need them anymore–not with him around. So he made you promise something to him that day. He made you promise to throw it away after you both had sex; that while you had him, no flimsy toy could ever satisfy you like he could. You kept most of that promise. You really hadn’t picked them up since, you just forgot to actually throw them out. “I thought I told you to trash these.” He glared down at you. You pause reaching for the box, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as you try to excuse yourself. “I-I did—I was!” You stutter and feel yourself get smaller and panic when he cocks an eyebrow up. “I haven’t used them!” “At all?” “At all.” You grip around his forearm, hoping he wouldn’t be pissed you broke your promise. He glances back down into the box, the sight of it pissing him off. “Sit.” And so you sat on your bed, looking up at Miguel. Miguel picks up the small baby pink bullet vibrator in his hand. He turns it around to find the button and playfully clicks through the different settings. The buzz of the bullet makes your face burn, slightly angry and embarrassed how he’s just fucking around. “Okay, I get it! I’m sorry–just throw it out.” You groan and reach for it again but he snaps his head to glare down at you and you freeze. His eyes narrowed. “How’d you like it?” He asks, turning to face you, your eyes meeting his stomach before you look up.

“Huh?” You ask. He presses through the settings again as if guessing. “Did you like it slow?” He clicks to the first vibration. “Or maybe fast?” He hums as he clicks to the fifth vibration. He guesses you like it faster. You’re stumped. You weren’t sure where he was going with this. You don’t think he’s angry but he’s quiet–there’s something about him that’s changing the shift in your conversation. You cross your legs together when you hear the small buzz increasing. “Fast,” You mutter. “Start at one or two then to three or four.” You look away from him playing with your old toys, your heart speeding up at the sight of the two things that gave you pleasure these past few years. Miguel tosses the box on the bed. You yelp when Miguel pushes you down onto the bed, his knee already forcing your legs apart. You gape up at him, open mouthed in shock when the look on his face is more sinister, head full of ideas of what he’s planning to do. It makes you gulp nervously. “How ‘bout I try them out? You let me know if they’re just as good as me, yeah?”

“Huh?” You squeak out and before you know it, Miguel crashes his lips onto yours. Your eyes flutter close and your hands find purchase in his hair, a dance the two of you knew like the back of your hand. His tongue easily slips through to the inside of your mouth, entangling itself with your own tongue. You moan and roll your eyes back, kissing his back with equal fervor. You buck your hips up to grind yourself on his knee, you can already feel yourself getting wet. He helps alleviate that pressure by rubbing his knee to your aching pussy and you sigh in relief. His left hand holds your waist then moves up your body to cup a tit in his hand that makes you moan his name between kisses. Miguel then slides that hand under your shirt, lifting it up to show your bra. His kisses don't relent up, instead pushing your bra up to reveal your breasts to him and freeing them from confinement. He massages your breast in one hand and ghosts his thumb over your nipple, feeling it harden from the soft touch. Miguel moves his hand to tug your pants down and you lift your hips up to help him rip them off. He clicks the button of the vibrator and ever so gently presses it against your clothed cunt, the small wet patch making it easier to feel through the fabric. You jolt from the buzz, gasping and holding onto Miguel’s wrist. He rips your hand off and collects both of them to pin them above your head. Just one hand from him is enough to render you helpless. He then pushes your panties aside to slip the vibrator right on your clit. You choked on a gasp and tried to pry your hands away from him but he wouldn’t lend up. Your hips squirmed around to try and get away from the sudden stimulation. “I bet you missed this feeling, huh? Is it better than my cock?” He hums against your neck. You shake your head, your face burning up with desire. “N-no…” You whined, nothing was as good as Miguel but he tsks under his breath.

“No? But look at you making a mess on it already. I barely even started.” He whispers, leaning up to bite your earlobe and you moan. His voice had gotten deeper, more husky–just how you liked it. He rubs it gently, applying pressure a few times to find the spot that hits your nerves. You moaned his name when he found the exact point and he began circling around your swollen nub. His action made you jump from pleasure, the shock of it hitting your chest and down to your pussy. “Un poco de vibración y ya estás mojadita en mi mano.” He murmurs, clicking the bullet to a faster pace. You writhe and struggle between deciding to close or open your legs. Miguel struggles to keep the small bullet in his hand, the toy being incredibly tiny compared to his large fingers especially when it was wet from your cunt. Growing frustrated, Miguel pulls the vibrator off your clit making you whimper. He lugs your nimble body up and he moves to lay back against the headboard laying you to rest against his chest. You can feel his strained cock behind you but you barely have time to properly register it before he places your familiar hot pink dildo in front of you. “Muestrame cómo lo usaste antes.” He brushes his lips behind your ear. He helps you hold onto the base of it and you weakly look up at him with a lustful and dazed hum. “Miggy…” You whimper.

“Hazlo.” He growls as he places the silicon tip at your weeping entrance. He rubs the girth of it between your folds to lube it up, especially at its tip. He then lets go of your hand to move up to your breast and starts fondling the round flesh in his palm, using his fingers to roll and flick the nub. It sparks pleasure to your stomach and you bite your lip. You take a firm grip around the dildo and slide it inside your folds, your pussy sucking up the toy into its walls slowly. You moan and lean your head on Miguel’s shoulder. He leans down to nibble on your neck, his canines catching your flesh in between them as he suckles gently while playing with your perky tits. Miguel’s left hand holds the baby pink vibrator and he sets it at its lowest setting before placing it over your clit again. You gasp and arch your back off of Miguel’s chest, bucking your hips to meet the vibrator which makes you also shove the dildo further inside your cunt. “Hnngh! Mig–uel!” You mewled, closing your eyes as you submit to ecstasy. Miguel chuckles, kissing your jaw. “Que te pasa? I’m barely doing a thing. That’s all you, mami.” He rubs the toy around your swollen clit while you pump the dildo in and out of you. Your hips thrust in time with your hand with the vibrator slipping and even smearing your juices from around your labia. Miguel turns up the speed of the buzzing and you let out a high-pitched moan. “No–no, please–” You squeal. “Wait–wait…” You pleaded and grabbed his wrist but Miguel didn't budge. “I thought you liked it fast.” He teased.

“‘s..’s too much…” You mutter, slowing down the dildo into soft long strokes, fucking it up into yourself to hit that sweet spot Miguel always hits. Even with a toy, you’re thinking of him. Miguel pulls on your hardened nipple and you cry out, clenching on the dildo. “Too much?” He scoffs. “You’ve taken a lot more, nena. C’mon, make it faster just how you like it, yeah?” He mutters, moving your hand off the silicon to replace it with his. With your hand now free, you reach up and behind you to grab onto Miguel’s locks. Miguel then pumps the dildo deeper inside you causing you to scream and pull on his hair, bucking your hips against the toy. “Miggy, Miggy–!” You whined, looking down at the sight of his hands using the pretty pink set of adult toys filling and playing with your wet pussy. “Oh, fuck…” You groan, thrusting yourself wildly onto the silicon. “More…” He smirks. “There she is.” He groans and clicks the vibrator to a higher setting, the buzz becoming louder as it surrounds your sensitive clit and folds, the dildo pounding into your cunt at a fast yet hard pace. It was like Miguel was fucking you with his cock himself. “Is it better than me, mami? Did you miss stuffing these inside you?” He murmurs against your ear as he continues to thrust it inside you, slipping the vibrator in circles and pressing it against your puffy entrance.

You shake your head while sweat beads down your forehead. “No…” You whined. Miguel doesn’t believe you. “No? Should I stop?” He slowed his hand down and was about to turn off the buzzing bullet when you squealed and grabbed his wrist tightly to stop him. “Don’t stop.” You pleaded, panting since you finally got the chance to regulate your breathing. Miguel tuts in disapproval. “It’s only good when you do it…” You murmured and his smirk grew back on his lips. “Oh yeah?” He kisses your cheek, slowly starting up his pace again, staring at the way your slick glistens against the hot pink color. You relax on his back again, stuttering your hips as they thrust up. “Mhm..” You moan and gasp when he pounds the toy into you, its soft balls slapping against you. In the middle of fucking you with your own toy, Miguel’s hand gets drenched with the overwhelming amount of juices that you leaked out of your wet pussy. He resists the urge to rip the dildo out from you and dive between your legs for a taste. He settles for licking his chapped lips instead and fucks it into you faster. Your body begins sweating profusely, squirming about as you try to reach your high as fast as you could. Miguel presses the vibrator at a faster pace and you screech, your nails digging into his skin. Your face scrunches up in pleasure and your breathing becomes uneven, panting heavy breaths as your mind gets clouded with the goal of cumming.

“Already close, mama? Go ahead.” He urged you further to your release. He watched as he hands made quick work to fuck and please you, bewitched with how perky your nipples got and how your body bounced and grinded on some plastic dick. “Miguel, harder…” You whined, spreading your legs further apart. With a kiss to your neck, he thrusts the dildo into you and clicks the vibrator to its highest setting, shocking your nerves and getting the breath knocked out of you as it makes you see stars. You screech out a high pitched moan, stilling and shaking your legs while your pussy clamps on the toy and drenches it in your cum. Miguel slips it out with a wet shlick and sets the vibrator to a lower setting to ease out your orgasm. With now one hand free, he wraps his arm around you and cups your left breast, giving it a small squeeze before pushing your bra back down over them. He kisses along your neck and jaw, murmuring praises to you. “Así es, hiciste bien…” He whispers as you slowly come out from the haze. You pant softly and twitch when the vibrator buzzes on your now sensitive clit. Miguel turns it off quickly and sets it to the side with the dildo and rubs your inner thighs comfortingly. You hum and lean back against him, catching your breath as your cheeks slowly stop burning as well. “Do you still wanna keep them?” He kisses along your neck, feeling your blood pump through your veins. You gaze over at the box and to the abandoned toys to the side. “Maybe the vibrator. The dildo wasn’t big enough.”

A/N: how r we feeling ? ┗(･ω･;)┛

#nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut

768 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 11 months

Note

Omg for miguel requests!! Can i request one where spider-reader is very bold and always flirting with miguel and one time he flirts back and she gets super flustered and doesnt know how to respond😭

Thank you so much!! I love your writing youre so talented

AN | No, but this concept was aces! I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | [Suggestive] Language

Pairing | Miguel x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You could hear his angry footsteps before anything else and you braced yourself for his fury. Instead you busied yourself with looking at your suit to make sure everything was intact…or at least pretending to do so.

"What the fuck were you thinking!?" ahh yes, there it was. He was definitely angry, but you tried to keep it cool. You weren't about to admit that he made you nervous, even if the nerves were slight. You looked up from your sleeve and blinked innocently at him, "don't do that!"

"Do what?" You kept your voice sweet and soft, "what are you talking about, Miguel?"

"You - I - you are so infuriating!" he waved his finger in front of your face and you simply shrugged, "you never listen to me! I don't know why I even let you stay on the team!"

"Oh Miguelito," you gently reached up and brushed his hand out of your face. You were well aware of what he was talking about - you'd directly gone against his orders. But, to be fair, things had turned out just fine despite choosing your own method. It wasn't like you'd fucked up some cannon event, "everything's fine and no one got hurt!"

"But you don't listen," he sighed heavily, "that's the problem. And one day, it's going to get someone hurt. I'm not going to let you do that to anyone…or yourself."

"You're so cute," a dreamy sigh escaped your lips as you touched his face, brushing your knuckles across his cheek. He lightly slapped your hand away, "but you're going to give yourself wrinkles if you keep worrying."

"I'm being serious!"

"So am I," you raised your eyebrows and sighed at him, "I won't do anything bad and I'd never put anyone else in danger. You know that."

"One more fuck up from you and you're done," his voice was low and dangerous and you pulled back slightly, "I mean it. Just because you think you're so cute and charming doesn't mean I can't see right through you."

"Miguel," you looked at him with wide eyes, "I don't think I'm cute - I know I'm cute. But not as cute as you, handsome. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go and make a few suit adjustments."

"This isn't over!" His cheeks darkened as he watched you walk away.

"I'd be disappointed if it was," you gave him a small salute, "see ya, Miguelito!"

He let out a sigh of exasperation as you walked away. It was definitely a challenge not to stare at your ass but he was just a man after all. So he definitely stared at your ass.

"Stop staring," Peter popped up behind him, causing Miguel to flinch, "just tell her you're in love!"

"I'm not…" he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm not in love with her and I'm not doing this with you right. Get back to work, Parker."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a few days since what you had decided to dub the incident had occurred. You'd more or less ignored Miguel, deciding to let him cool down on his own terms. You missed getting to give him a hard time and missed getting to tease him as you loved.

The thing was, you didn’t hate Miguel. It was…quite the contrary in fact. Over the last year that you’d been working for the man, or on his silly little team as you liked to tease him, you’d found yourself getting more and more attached to him. You really liked him and you weren’t shy about letting him know. You thought you were being obvious, but apparently you weren’t obvious at all because he didn’t seem to get it. Or, if he did, he really wasn’t interested and chose not to acknowledge your moves. It was Miguel though, and you were sure he would have just told you…but then again, would he have? Maybe he was just a simple-”

“What’s wrong, princess?” you started at the sound of his low, gruff voice. You hadn’t heard him sneak up and his sudden appearance almost scared you off your chair. Clutching at your heart, you looked over to see Miguel leaning against the edge of your desk, a lazy smile on his face. You were stunned by both his appearance and his casual display of affection, and could only manage to open and close your mouth a few times, “cat got your tongue?”

“Miguel?” you looked at him with wide eyes, “w-what are you doing…here?”

“Just wanted to come and see my favorite girl,” okay, there was definitely something going on. You highly doubted you were his favorite girl (that was probably Jessica or Mayday), let alone his favorite anything, “I have something for you.”

“For me?” your mouth ran dry as he nodded. Was he flirting with you? Surely he couldn’t be, “what would that be?”

“Here,” he reached behind his back and pulled out what looked like your suit…only this was slightly different. He placed it on the desk in front of you before moving to stand behind you. His larger frame easily dwarfed yours, and that was something you tried to push out of your mind. You looked over the suit, trailing your fingers over the soft fabric, “I made some adjustments to it. I think you’ll find it easier to access web fluid and its got better repair tech. Something new Parker was working on.”

You let out a small breath of amazement; this was an incredibly kind gesture from anyone, spider-people did happen to be generous for the most part, but this was next level. You re-familiarized yourself with the pink, blue, and purple fabric. A smile crossed your features as you turned your head to look at him. You found him watching you intently, “thank you, Miguel. This is…amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” his voice was near your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin, “maybe it’ll help you to listen next time, hmm?”

“Miguel,” you turned in your seat and found yourself face to face with him, noses almost brushing. Whatever you were about to say quickly left your mind as you looked into his pretty brown eyes. A sharp inhale escaped your lips and you noticed the smile on his face grow larger, “I, ugh…I…”

“Hmm?’ it was a small sound of the back of his throat as he regarded you. He reached up and touched your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “what’s up?”

“I umm,” you stammered nervously, trying to ignore the feeling of his skin on yours, “I gotta go. I-I think Peter needed me for something.”

“He’s out on assignment right now.”

“Mayday then,” you volunteered slinking out from under his arm and grabbing the new suit, You felt your entire face warmed up as he started to chuckle, “Mayday needs me-”

“She’s a baby!”

“And I love her,” you squeaked, “so I gotta help her!”

You took off before he could say anything else or fluster you even more. Something had gotten into Miguel O’Hara and you weren’t sure you could handle it. You weren’t sure you’d survive the man you’d longed after for so long returning those very same feelings.

Well. This was going to get interesting.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You came to the decision, made after much contemplation and tossing and turning at night, that you were going to ignore Miguel. Not ignore completely but ignore his advances. If he did happen to flirt with you again, you weren't going to say or do anything. Not that you expected them…but, you know, just in case it happened.

When you got to the headquarters the next day, you kept to yourself, taking your coffee and making your way to your little assigned corner and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Maybe if no one saw you, you could get away with being practically invisible.

But the universe wouldn't have it, of course it wouldn't.

"Hello there," his voice was sticky sweet like toffee and that didn't land well with you. Rather it did land well in the sense that it shouldn't have made you feel the rush you were currently experiencing, "you look pretty today."

"I, ugh," you looked down at your outfit and shrugged helplessly. You were dressed simply in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and sandals; nothing that you would consider exceptional, "umm…thanks?"

"What's wrong?" He knew exactly what was wrong, the bastard. He could probably hear the erratic and wild beating of your heart, "you seem…nervous."

"N-no," you shook your eyes but your wide eyes and pretty pout were anything but convincing, "just…tired?"

"Are you sure about that?"

"No," you answered. You could have beaten around the bush all you wanted, but you knew that he wasn't going to give up. That wasn't Miguel at all. The best option - the only really - was to just come out and tell him the truth. Once it was all out, the chips would fall where they may, "why are you suddenly flirting with me? W-wait, are you flirting with me?”

“I am,” he admitted this so easily that it caught you off guard. You knew he wasn’t one to lie per se, but you didn’t expect him to just outright admit it. Confusion colored your features as you tried to get your mind to function again, “I am…flirting with you.”

“Oh,” you nodded and turned back to your computer screen before it all set in, “oh?”

“Oh,” he teased, reaching forward to brush some of your rogue locks of hair behind your ear.

“Why?” you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, gently pulling his hand away, “is it because I’ve been flirting with you?”

“It’s one of the reasons…among others,” alright. Now you were curious, even more than before, as to where this was going, “is that a problem for you?”

Nope. No. Nah. Not. At. All.

“Ummm…” you felt ditzy and dazy as you looked over at the handsome man. He really had you thrown for a loop, “I just…if I made you feel uncomfortable with it, I’m sorry. I never meant it to be mean or anything. I just…meant it.”

“Meant it?” he parroted as you swallowed thickly, “you meant it all those times you were flirting with me?”

“Y-yes,” your confession was soft and gentle as Miguel practically preened under your words. He wasn’t sure what answer he had been expecting, but somehow it wasn’t this one. He hadn’t flattered him with the idea that you would seriously like him, “I did - I do, Miguel.”

“Hmm,” he mused softly as you blinked at him with wide eyes, “do you want to know something?”

“Y-yes? Yes,” you nodded, tummy fluttering with butterflies and heart pitter-patter rapidly.

“When I’ve been flirting with you,” he leaned down so he was almost face level with you, “I’ve meant it too, princess.”

“No way,” disbelief flooded your veins as the first conclusion you came to was that he was lying. Perhaps this was all to get back for going against his direct orders during your last mission. That must have been the reason, right? You leaned away from him and almost slid off your chair as you rolled back to create a bit of distance between your bodies, “y-you’re lying. You have to be…”

“I’m not lying to you,” this time he was in disbelief. He’d never once lied to you…why would he start now?

“You have to be,” you sounded so pathetic as you grabbed your stuff and almost ran away, “you can’t like me like that!”

“Why not?!”

“I dunno, you just can’t!” you almost ran into Peter as you tried to get away, “sorry!”

Peter was dumbfounded as he looked between your quickly disappearing figure and Miguel, “what happened now?”

“I wish I knew,” Miguel exhaled heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “fuck.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You kept your distance from HQ for a couple of days after your embarrassing outburst. You had replayed that very moment over and over in your head, trying to see it from all different angles.

The only conclusion you kept coming to was that he was telling the truth. And that reality was hard to come to terms with at first…but then it was blissfully exciting. Miguel liked you! But then it was more like Miguel liked you…holy shit.

But then you decided that more than anything, you needed to know the truth.

You practically ran over to his office, causing the curious glances of other spider-people to follow you. You could hear their hushed murmurs, but didn’t stop to address them. News traveled fast around this place and you had no doubt that as soon as whatever happened between the two of you, the news would spread like wildfire.

“Miguel!” you didn’t even bother to knock and announce your presence, bursting into his office without ceremony. He turned around to face you, a few different expressions crossing his features before settling on surprise, “I…”

“Yes?” suddenly every single coherent thought escaped your mind as you stared at him. He cocked his head to the side and looked at you expectantly.

“Did you mean it?” you whispered, taking a step closer to him, “the other day when you said you flirted with me because you meant it. Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” he promised, closing the gap even more, “of course I did. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Me neither,” you insisted, catching yourself, “lie to you, I mean. So…”

“So we’re on the same page now?”

“I think so,” you smiled hesitantly at him, and the two of you locked eyes for a few moments.

Before you could stop yourself, you closed the little bit of distance remaining between your bodies before practically jumping into his arms. Almost as if he had known what you were thinking, he effortlessly caught you, wrapping his strong arms around you. You beamed at him, melting as you watched him practically glow at you.

“I want to kiss you,” you touched his face, and he practically leaned into your touch, “may I?”

“You may-” you prevented him from saying anything else as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fierce determination and eagerness.

Neither of you dared to pull back until you were both breathless, looking at each other through hazy eyes and soft smiles. He gently set you back on the ground and you stared up at him.

“Do you want some more honesty?” he asked gently, stealing a few more kisses, which you eagerly gave him.

“Of course.”

“I plan on doing that a lot more,” and yeah…that made you practically jump his bones then and there, “if you’re down for it.”

“Yes,” that came without hesitation, “I definitely am.”

“Better close the door then,” you did as you asked, looking at him with round, eager eyes, “you know how nosey they can be.”

“The nosiest…”

“Now, c’mere,” he held his hand out to you, “and let me prove I wasn’t lying to you.”

“Yes, please.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara one shot #oscar isaac #spiderman 2099 #atsv #spider-man

1K notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 10 months

Note

Lips anon! 👀 👀 👀 Miguel is such a yummy spicy daddy I'd slurp him up like menudo. Him being protective daddy is 😩

I imagine Gabi to be an excellent team player, but like her Papa she will throw a fit at losing lol

Not like a kid fit, literally just throwing and kicking trash while cursing in Spanish while Mama is trying to calm her down. Miguel is both horrorified but also on the verge of dying of laughter, especially with Mama glaring some holes into him lol

"Gabi" you called but she ignored you. Hands crossed on her chest as she kicked the poor rock that happened to be in her way.

Despite her dad sticking up to her to that mean man that always gave her a disgusted stare, her team lost last minute due a self-score a teammate of her did. Victor.

"Le dije a ese tonto que me pasara el balón!" (I told that dummy to pass me the ball!)

She pinched her nose bridge and then threw her arms up dramatically. It was like witnessing a mini Miguel throwing a tantrum

"Next week you will do better, baby" you offered as you tried to embrace her.

"No! Mama! Lo habíamos planeado! pero el pendejo de Víctor lo arruinó" (We had it all planned, but stupid ass' Victor messed it up)

Both Miguel and you stopped dead in your tracks. Horror struck your face at the foul word that flew out of your daughter's lip.

"Gabriela..." Miguel warned and she only frowned as tears menaced to flow on her eyes. You kneeled next to her and cupped her cheeks.

"I know this game was important to you, and you spent alot of time practicing, but that language isn't allowed for you, mi amor. Would you like to go to get some pizza?"

She sniffed and shook her head. Miguel kneeled and cupped her flushed in anger cheeks instead, as fat tears rolled quietly on her face.

"Solecito, mírame" (Look at me, Sunshine)

She did in between blurred eyes, hiccuping as she cried.

"You did your best, okay? You were great. Sometimes things just don't go as planned and that's okay too."

"Es que son tan estúpidos y lentos!" (They're just so stupid and slow)

Miguel just hugged her and carried her in his arms, letting the meltdown cool down. He couldn't help but bite his lip, trying to keep the laughter at bay as you glared holes into him.

He didn't know if he was proud or terrified for Gabi to be a a copycat of his character. And he of course wouldn't hear the end of it when you got back home.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #gabi o'hara #Protective Miguel #dad miguel o'hara #💋 anon #t writes✨#My brain was properly functioning today for being able to write so much omg haha ♥️#atsv fluff #atsv fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #Soccer Family ⚽🕷️

1K notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 9 months

Text

Slow Hands

Azriel x Vanserra Oc

Azriel returns from a rough mission very sore. The typical ointments Madja uses aren't helping to relieve the tension, so the healer suggests Azriel goes to see Lyria, a pretty little healer who specializes in massage therapy.

Warnings - NSFW, but nothing is graphic. Accidental orgasm from a service. Some swearing. Unedited. Dearest minors, DNI.

Word count- 2,639

Random author's note - I just believe it should be cannon that the Vanserras give the best massages. They're literally fae heating pads/hot water bottles.

Part Two

Azriel walked beside Rhysand in silence as they made their way to the building Madja had asked Azriel to visit.

The two had not spoken since the incident with Elain, but he could tell Rhys, who had paused hand halfway up to knock on the door, wanted to tell him something.

Rhys cleared his throat. "Do you remember me coming home from the mountain and saying I decided to bring a new friend to Velaris?"

Azriel nodded, refusing to verbally break his silence to his brother, to which Rhys rolled his eyes. "This is her. She is Lucien's sister. Be. Kind. She is doing this for you as a favor to me."

Rhys knocked on the door before winnowing away, leaving Azriel standing there awkwardly. Shock set in as golden light flooded the streets. There, in the doorway, smiling gently was the mirror image of the Lady of Autumn, only shorter.

"You must be Azriel," he stared down at the pretty female, mouth going dry as he tried to figure out how to form words. "Come in. I'm Lyria, by the way." She smiled softly at him and continued walking.

Her home was warm, inviting, and comfortable. It smelled like lavender and something slightly medicinal Azriel could not place. "Rhys doesn't normally have his wings out when we do this." Azriel followed her, admiring her legs and ass in her tight leggings, as she directed him through her home. "Are you able to lay on your back?"

"I am." Azriel was studying her fully as they entered a room with a table centered in it and glass bottles lining a cabinet. Her red hair was pulled into braids and pins with a few pieces falling into loose curls. Her high cheekbones reminded Azriel very much of her mother, and her constellation of freckles lining her nose and cheeks were the only clear sign of her relation to Eris. Her golden sun kissed skin, though, that was Azriel's clear indication of who her father truly was.

All in all, he knew she was beautiful. Truly beautiful, and Azriel felt himself thinking of 100 other things he could do with her besides what Rhysand and Madja describe as a "back rub, but better."

He watched Lyria shift, clearly noting the way he was looking at her. "If you're comfortable, I just need you to take all of your clothing off and lay on that table. We will start with you on your back. Just put the towel where you want it for privacy. I can step out. Let me know when you're ready."

Azriel watched her walk out, eyes glued on her body. Rhys, the tone in his mind was slighly annoyed as he felt familiar claws enter his shields.

Azriel, A laughing purr answered back, Is she to your liking?

You're an asshole. A better warning would have been nice. Azriel slammed him out as he finished removing the leathers and siphons from his body before getting on the heated table. He sighed, shadows slowing down and stilling before opening the door and gently grabbing Lyria.

She moved silently through the room, fae lights dimming as she grabbed a few things. "Rhys said you'd prefer lotion over oil, is that accurate?" Azriel just nodded, a feeling of vulnerability sitting in.

He was naked in the presence of a female related to two males who absolutely hated him. A female who could wield fire as easily as breathing. His only comforts were the sign that she clearly thought nothing of his nakedness, and that his shadows had already told him she had no weapons in her home.

"I'm assuming they explained this to you? And let you know I'd be touching you a lot during this?" Azriel confirmed to her quietly they had. "If anything hurts, or makes you uncomfortable in any way, or you just do not like the way it feels, let me know right away. Is it okay if I start?" Consent. She wanted his consent to touch him. He nodded slowly and felt his shoulders instantly tense as she touched him.

Her hands were warm and so soft. Gently moving along the planes of his tight muscles in slow, long strokes. She was using enough pressure to map out areas of his body that were tighter than others but not being rough enough to hurt him. Azriel groaned as she found a knot near this collarbone. Her hands instantly began working in that area. "Does that feel okay?"

"It feels great." The room was filled with the sounds of water running softly, of animals in a forest. It even smelled like the Illyrian Mountains. The soft scent of magic, her magic, floated in the air as Lyria created an environment the High Lord had told her his spymaster would relax easiest in.

Azriel felt himself giving completely into her hands, melting in her touch, eyes closing. He groaned and moaned occasionally in appreciation and pleasure.

"There we go," she whispered softly. "Just relax. I'll take care of you." He felt his mind drifting as she worked down his arms, his torso, the fronts of his thighs.

Lyria was watching the Shadowsinger's little reactions to figure out where to focus, what areas she needed to work longer, and where the male held the most tension. She was also trying to ignore a growing aspect that had begun to pop up.

She worked her way back up to his shoulders, running her hands below his back, between his wings, causing another moan to leave his throat. This one, though, had her pausing. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she gently ran her hands from the spot they were in and up his neck. "I am so sorry."

Azriel chuckled slightly, eyes opening to look up at her. Her bottom lip had tucked between her teeth. She's nervous, his shadows began whispering to him. She was worried she had hurt him or he was feeling violated. "It's okay. They're sensitive, but that feels amazing."

"I can sto-"

"Please, do not stop."

Lyria nodded, her lip still tucked into her teeth. "You can roll onto your back if you'd like, and are um, able to." It was then that Azriel realized what she meant.

"Please tell me this happens all of the time?" His face was flushed as he threw an arm over it. "You have male clients, this happens all of the time right?"

Lyria was instantly giggling. The noise like soft bells in his ears making him smile and relax. "Of course. Rhys especially. Roll over. I want to use a different lotion on your back." Lyria turned away, grabbing a different glass bottle.

Azriel rolled over taking the time to admire her body again. Thinking of how pretty she'd look tied up in his shadows. She'd look pretty in any position, naked or dressed. He put his head down, trying to focus on relaxing and not his growing need to bend her over the nearest surface.

Lyria moved back to him, warming the lotion she had on her hands, "Are you okay with lotion getting in your hair? You carry a lot of tension here," Azriel shivered as she was near the lowest base of his wings. She was being careful not to touch them, but just the ghosting of her fingers near them was causing his touch starved body to react. It also didn't help that her voice was a siren spell, "through the upper part of your spine and into your scalp. I feel like I can work it all out, but I need to get the tension in your scalp out too, or you'll have headaches all the time."

"You can do whatever you want to me," Azriel felt himself tense back up at the response. He knew he meant it. He knew he'd allow his female to take what she wanted from him without hesitation.

"What a generous offer. You'll have to buy me dinner first." Lyria moved. Starting his massage again at his feet.

"Fuck," Azriel groaned. He heard her chuckle as she worked and he relaxed into her touch once more.

Discomfort hit him again as she began to work up his legs, easing the tension in his thighs. "Is this okay? You are really tight on your legs and hips." Azriel nodded at her question, groaning as she began working out knots in areas he would have never suspected. "Am I hurting you?" Gods no, he thought to himself. "Do you want me to talk to you to distract you?"

"Hearing your voice is making it worse." Azriel bit his lip to hold in a moan as she began to work the other side. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Not hurting you then. You are fine, Azriel. Just relax. It's just your body reacting. It's normal."

His name rolling off her tongue made Azriel feel like his soul was lit on fire and an ache started in his chest. He began to imagine what she'd sound like with his head between her thighs, his hands squeezing her breasts, her legs wrapped around his waist as he buried himself so deep into her they became one.

Lyria continued her work, ignoring the growing scent of his arousal as the tension in his lower back released. She then made a rookie mistake, leaning across his back to grab her lotion bottle allowing her breasts to run along his body. She said nothing as his wings fluttered and he slightly shivered. She just continued her work.

Azriel was a piece of art, she had decided. His body reminded her of expertly carved marble. Hard muscled cuts from years of training, but they yielded so easily to her touch. Small twitches began to happen as she hit his mid back just below his wings.

Her eyes flicked to where he gripped the soft sheets of the bed as she pulled a heated blanket over his lower half. "Is it too warm?" She knew the scars on his hands all too well, she was hiding her own that danced along her back.

"No, just everything feels really good." His reply was soft, but raspy and deep. She smiled softly as she continued her work, gently going around the lower base of his wings without realizing the stimulation she was causing him.

Azriel was biting his fist under the table as pleasure shot straight to his cock. His body was so relaxed and everything felt intensified. He had been craving touch like this for years now. Soft, gentle, slow. She was taking her time on his back, working out every ounce of tension, every knotted muscle, every single drop of pain he had. His body hadn't felt this good in years, and he hadn't felt relief like this since his last trip to the brothel.

Her hands were heaven on his skin. They were warm and smooth, grazing him with her nails occasionally. She smelled like heaven, too. The soft scent of apples and salted caramel. He could drown in her scent alone if she allowed him to.

He felt the groan slip his throat as she moved to be in front of him and began to work between his wings. "Tell me if you want me to stop. I don't want to hurt you."

Azriel realized slowly he was drowning. This female was about to reduce him to a puddle with the touch of her hands and that alone. He pushed the feeling down. Doing her job, a shadow reminded him.

She worked in silence, noting his soft gasps, whimpers, and moans as she worked the center of his back and sides of both wings. She was finally at the base of his shoulder blades when Azriel's resolve dropped. His hands came to rest on the backs of her thighs, squeezing the plush skin there every so often as she worked the tops of where his wings connected in.

A rough grasp on her thighs as she accidently brushed the ridge of his wing had her gasping slightly, nails digging into his back, making him growl in pleasure. "I'm sorry," she whispered again and tried to back away, only to find herself locked by his large hands.

"That was my fault," he was smirking and pulled her closer. "Please keep going. I'll behave." Lyria bit her lip, her nervous tick he noted, nodding as she went back to work.

She was focusing on working the muscle tension near his wings. She was hoping he'd be able to ignore his pleasure, but as his breathing picked up, his wings twitched, and he moaned for her more, she knew. Lyria knew what was about to happen, but anytime her hands slowed, he gripped her thighs tighter as if begging her to continue.

He was on the edge at this point. He could feel a peak of pleasure within reach as she began working his shoulders and neck. Azriel was trying to hold it in as the pleasure built, but Lyria sealed his fate.

She did a single long stroke, starting between his wings, up his neck, and gently tugged his hair.

It was his undoing as he moaned out loudly, his grip on her thighs moving so he was cupping her ass and digging his fingers into her. His body was slightly shaking, as she scratched his head and played with his hair through his high.

Lyria had her lip between her teeth again. Trying to hide the feminine smile at her ability to bring one of the deadliest males in History to completion with no more than the touch of her hand.

She moved to sit next to Azriel, dropping his right arm over her thighs as she sat next to him, continuing to massage his scalp as he finished coming down, breathing coming back to normal. Once he turned his head to her, she just smiled.

"I know a few places in Autumn you could get help with that problem," she offered gently. "Eris runs a very clean, respectable one. They have males and females. All there by choice because they like to fuck."

Azriel chuckled. "That obvious, huh?" He looked at her. Enjoying the slight flush of her cheeks as her amber eyes met his hazel ones.

"I don't normally have people finish on my table, so we're going to chalk it up to you had a lot of tension to release." She paused, hand still playing with his hair before handing him a towel. "I noticed it building as I was working in your wing bases, but you didn't ask me to stop, and if I tried to, you squeezed my thighs to prevent me from moving. Rhys just said the wings themselves were sensitive. I didn't realize it was that whole area. I am sorry if I've made you feel violated."

He took the towel, cleaning himself and the table as she looked away. He tossed it into her nearby hamper and laid back down. A shadow grabbed her hair and placed it back into his hair.

"He probably did that on purpose. Fucking asshole. I owe you dinner," he finally said. "I'd like to do this again. Hopefully without that happening. I'm hoping that was a one time thing."

Lyria nodded. "We can do the same time next week with dinner beforehand?" He nodded at her, sitting up and studying her face again. "Also, I don't mind if that happens again." She was blushing and tucked her hair behind a delicately pointed ear. "Maybe in different circumstances though."

Azriel smirked, hand reaching to gently pull at her hair, "That could be rearranged."

#acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel acotar

974 notes · View notes

grandlinedreams · 7 months

Note

omg omg omg your fics are so adorable😭😭😭 if you don’t mind could do you an angsty hurt/comfort law x reader story about how the reader gets captured by marines and gets tortured, and the heart pirates have to rescue them and get them back to health ??

have a good day or night!!💗💗💗

Hdhdh thank-you, I try!! But absolutely i can!! I hope that this is to your liking!!

[Heads up!: mentions of canon typical violence, injuries, established relationship, hurt/comfort]

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Law looks up, jaw clenched as he prods gloved fingers against the dark cluster of bruising on your side. You bite back a hiss as he does so, exhaling when he lets up.

"They cracked at least two of your ribs." His tone is flat, and you can tell that he's upset ㅡ with you or the marines, however, you're not entirely sure. "From what I've been able to assess so far, that's also in addition to your arm, which is broken. Two of your fingers needed reset, not to mention the likelyhood of a concussionㅡ"

"Okay," you interrupt, "maybe it is as bad as it looks."

Law's eyes narrow. "That's understatement." You watch as he turns to grab a pair of tweezers, soaking a cottonball into antiseptic before he brings it up to dab at the puffy cut on your cheek. "You could have died."

You bite back another hiss, closing your eyes at the pain that lances from your bruised (and cracked) ribs. "But I didn't."

"You got lucky." Law's tone is icy as he dabs at the split in your lip. You watch as he turns to begin cleaning up the supplies he's used.

"Next timeㅡ"

Law almost slams the bandage case shut and turns to you, expression that of quiet fury, golden eyes blazing. "Next time? The next time you're dumb enough to get caught, they'll kill you. There will be no next time, [Name]."

You meet his gaze. "I'd rather die than betray this crew, Law. You know that."

Law is silent as he finishes up cleaning things and packing them away before he gets to his feet and moves towards the door. He pauses there, shoulders slumping with his slow exhale. "I know," he answers at last, "and that's exactly what I'm afraid of."

ㅡ

"I never did get to thank you two for rescuing me," you say as you study the cards before you, peering up at Penguin and Shachi.

Penguin smiles. "It was no problem. Kind of cool to get to sneak into a marine base. Like a spy."

"We couldn't have done it without captain," Shachi adds before he pauses. "Speaking of, did captain give you the okay to be wandering around again?"

Your lips part.

"No," comes the clipped response from behind you, making you freeze before you tip your head back to find Law staring at you. "I didn't."

"Iㅡ"

"Room." Tattooed fingers grip your shoulder. "Shambles."

Your stomach spins as scenery abruptly shifts, and you huff as Law appears a moment after you. "Using your devil fruit on me? Really?"

"Yes," Law answers, frustration clear in both his tone and expression. "Because you apparently can't follow orders. I told you bedrest and minimal movement."

"They're going to suspect something if they figure out you used it to drop me in your room."

He shrugs, arms folded across his chest. "Let them."

You groan. "Law, I'm going to insane. Let me do something."

"I'll tell you what you can do," Law starts, watches your expression light up. "You can do as I tell you and quit being a brat."

You stare, expression going deadpan. "There's no fun in that."

Law scowls before he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "...just do this for me," he says, tone softer. "Please."

You stare and then huff as you move towards is bed, yanking the covers back to slip beneath them. Mindful not to jostle your arm or your bruised side, you turn to look at Law. "Happy?"

"Thrilled," comes the amused answer when you sulk, and he approaches to crouch beside the bed. "Quit pouting, you're an adult."

"But this is boring."

"Try to sleep. Rest is going to help you more than anything." Placing his hand over your eyes, Law can feel the brush of your eyelashes.

"Trying to smother me isn't going to help either."

Law's eyes flick skyward for a moment as he sighs. "I'm hardly smothering you. Although it's an idea, given that you'd be unconscious."

You reach up, pulling his hand down enough you can stare. "You wouldn't dare." He raises an eyebrow, and your eyes narrow. "Law."

"Then go to sleep." He counters crisply. "Or what can I offer you that will get you to stay put so I can work and not have to hunt you down?"

You hum, expression thoughtful before your eyes lock with his. "Kiss me." When he gives you a flat look, you grin. "You heard me, if you give me a kiss I'llㅡ"

Law's lips are against yours, familiar pressure that makes your eyes slide shut as you press back, good hand coming up to rest against the back of his cap. And then he's pulling away, ignoring your whine of protest. "Go to sleep."

"But I wantㅡ"

"Sleep," Law emphasizes. "We made a deal."

He pulls away completely, and you scowl before turning away with a huff. "Fine. Since you won't give me another kiss."

Scoffing, Law reaches to tug at the brim of his hat, hoping you don't notice the faint flush to his cheeks. "And I told you to stop being a brat."

Crossing the room, Law seats himself at his desk and flips open one of the various books he'd been taking notes from earlier. He doesn't know how long he reads for but when he looks up again, you're finally asleep.

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous #–ml: law.

787 notes · View notes

neverinadream · 6 days

Text

Is That A Challenge, Cutie?

Summary: Breakfast with Quinn comes with a challenge...

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: Alive - Spencer Sutherland

Warnings: pre-established relationship, fluff, domestic life-ish, not edited

Notes: i apologise for what you are about to read because i am in a writing slump at the moment so anything i write isn't really as good as i know it can be. depending on how it does/how i feel i might write a second part to it. anyways, feedback is always appreciated

The music played a lot at a low volume but it wasn't the first thing Quinn heard as he trudged tiredly from your bedroom to your kitchen.

You were singing along to whatever was playing through your speaker. It was something with a heavy guitar riff, almost resembling something Queen might've written. It wasn't for him, but it didn't stop him from smiling as he watched you loosely sway your hips in front of the oven. Your head nodded in time with the drums and you sang into the end of a spatula.

"...'cause your kiss gave me a fever, suddenly I'm a believer, you've got that magic touch..."

You had a joy that was infectious, pouring out of every part of you, and he wanted to absorb it all.

"I can feel you staring," you stop singing, turning the stove off, moving the pan onto a colder spot.

"Not staring," Quinn replies, leaning against the doorframe, head tilted to the side, watching you transfer the last pancake onto a plate, "admiring."

You tip your head back and laugh, making his smile grow wider.

He pushes off the frame and joins you at the counter, where scrambled eggs, some sliced avocado, a bowl of berries, fresh black coffee, orange juice and a small pile of toast are waiting for you. Just as you sit down, he hooks his foot around the leg of the stool and pulls you closer, your body jerking softly towards him. He sighs happily as you giggle and give his leg a nudge with your knee.

He did it every time but it still caught you by surprise.

"Admiring?" You take a bite out of your pancake, moaning at its sweet taste. It was an accidental reaction, and you laugh to hide your embarrassment. "That's a new one."

He picks up his cup and takes a sip, licking his lips as he sets it down. "Just the truth," he leans across, unable to stop himself, and kisses your neck, his beard scratchy against your skin, "I'd admire you like this all the time if I could."

You frown, unsure of what he meant. "Like what?"

"You know," he mumbles, talking through a bite of toast, "all carefree and...stuff." He rests the slice of toast on his plate and brushes the crumbs off his fingers. "I like waking up to you dancing in the kitchen, or coming over to find you curled up on the couch, your nose stuffed in a new book, completely lost in your own little world." He shrugs, picking up a fork. "Even better when i find you like it in my clothes."

You roll your eyes, your mouth twitching over the rim of your glass.

"Because you do look great in my clothes," he tells you, a hint of cheekiness in his tone. He guides a fork full of eggs into his mouth, chews for a few seconds and swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Have i ever told you that?"

"Once or twice," you smile and hide yourself, turning your head down into your lap as your face burns. No amount of time would make you get used to his compliments, no matter how subtle or on the nose they could be. "But I'm sure you'd tell me again if given the chance."

He leans over again, this time kissing your lips, tasting traces of blackberries as he sneaks his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss. "Always."

He goes quiet for a couple of minutes, eating most of his eggs, a slice of toast and washing it down with a large gulp of coffee. He needed you to make breakfast for him every morning because this was far better than the simple bowl of cereal he made himself most mornings.

"What do you want to do today?" He asks, now wiping his mouth with a paper towel. He sits sideways to face you, resting his hand halfway up your thigh. You look down and watch him stroke slow circles against your skin with his thumb. He gives you two choices, "Stay in or go out?"

You shrug, finishing a mouthful of pancake. "It's forecasted to rain later."

Quinn lifts his head and looks past you. It wasn't sunny outside, the sky a mucky grey colour as heavy clouds blocked out the sun. "So it looks like it," he mumbles, pulling his attention back to you, "so staying in it is then?"

"Maybe we can watch that movie I've been telling you about?"

He lifts his brows. "The one based on that book you just finished?" You nod, feeding more of your pancakes into your mouth. "You're not gonna do the whole 'the book is better' speech the whole time we watch it, right?"

You shoot him a look that is somewhere between a glare and you saying 'I don't do that.'

"Only if you don't sit on IMDB trying to figure out where you've seen one of the actors before?"

Quinn chuckles. "Is that a challenge, cutie?"

"Sure," you show him a smug grin, finishing your last bite, "just one you'll inevitably lose."

"Wanna bet I don't?" He removes his hand and reaches for his cup, taking a sip as he thinks. "How's about if I lose, I'll do the dishes for the next five nights I stay over?" It was an empty reward since you did have a dishwasher, making it easier and quicker for him to do them. And you knew he knew that. "And if you lose," he takes another sip, becoming the receiving end of an eye roll, "you have to-"

"I'll have to suck your cock?" You interrupt him.

"Well, if you're offering," he chuckles, running his thumb over the rim of his cup.

Again, you roll your eyes and push your plate away. "You're on, Quintin," you hop to your feet, circling the stool, "but when you do lose - and you will - you have to wash the dishes in the sink; you're not using the dishwasher."

"Nope, sorry," he shakes his head, "that wasn't part of the bet."

You bend down to kiss his cheek. "It is now."

NHL Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @chilwellspulisic @lovelynikol16 @love4lando @hischierswhore

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks imagine

351 notes · View notes

your-highnessmarvel · 6 months

Text

Clean Shaven

Requested by @the-kestrels-feather : Hi lovely! I saw your requests were open and thought I'd send one in! Can I get a fluffy Bucky x Reader where Reader shaves him? I'm a firm believer in the inherent intimacy of shaving someone and I have a need 😅 gender neutral!Reader would be preferred, but if you can't/aren't comfortable doing that then Fem!Reader is fine too! Thank you in advance 💕💕

AN: Aw this was the cutest thing ever! I had to do some research because I've never shaved a man before and i was told it was hella specific but turns out - it's not???

Warnings: none, mentions of blood

*gif not mine

MASTERLIST

"Sit still, will you?"

Bucky looked up at you, smiling from under his brows. "You're holding a razor blade to my neck, y/n," he said. "And you expect me not to move a little?"

You snorted, pressing more shaving cream onto his face, covering his mouth. "You're a hundred-year-old super spy, trained for decades to sustain any type of torture," you answered, dipping the razor into the warm water that filled the sink. "And you can't handle a little razor nick?"

Bucky, unable to open his mouth or he'd swallow shaving cream, just rolled his eyes, grumbling behind his closed lips.

"What's that, grumpy?" you asked sarcastically, inching your ear closer to his mouth.

Quickly, he inched closer until a swath of thick shaving cream transferred onto your ear and you squealed, rearing back. "Oh, you!"

You could see the smile in his eyes, even though the bottom half of his face and neck were slathered in white. He got that crinkle beside his baby blues, that unique look that told you he was just messing around.

And, oh, it had taken you so much time to see that look for the first time, back when you started dating.

"Do you want a shave or not?" you asked, wiping the cream from your hair, from your ear.

Bucky chuckled quietly and nodded.

"For the last time, stand still!"

You approached again, one hand poised on his metal shoulder, the other holding the razor and shaving his cheek and jaw with sharp precision.

This close to him, you could smell his cologne and that unique scent that was his alone.

"You smell so good," you mumbled, shaving around his mouth then dumping the razor into the sink water. You felt Bucky give you a slight tap on the bum and you giggled. "Let me finish shaving you, Buck," you chuckled, lifting his chin to get the underside, sliding along his adam's apple with a crooked grimace on your skin.

"Scared to draw some blood?" he asked, eyes cast to the ceiling, exposed mouth in a slight smile.

You gave him a look even though he couldn't see. "What makes you think I'm scared of blood?"

"That one time Tony got a paper cut and you had to leave the room."

You stood, hands on hips. "That was a really bad paper cut!"

Bucky chuckled, ducking his chin to his chest, shoulder jostling up and down.

You dumped the shaving-cream-full razor into the sink with an exaggerated sigh. "Don't move just yet, I haven't done the left side of your face."

You went to his left side, carefully shaving from his side burns down to his jaw, hearing the low scrape of the blade along his skin. It was satisfying, shaving him, watching the clean, smooth skin appear below the white cream.

You loved his stubble, but a clean shaven Bucky had a special place in your heart.

"You're cute when you're concentrated," Bucky mumbled, staring up at you with dazed eyes as you cleaned the blade.

Returning for the last stripe of white, you kissed the tip of his nose. "You're cute all the time," you answered in a high tone, shaving that last bit and standing back with a smile.

Bucky stood, admiring himself in the mirror. As he pulled a towel to wash his face, he looked at you in the mirror. "Making me look handsome, y/n," he said, winking when you caught his eye. You watched him clean the rest of the shaving cream left and apply his aftershave, loving the way he stretched out his neck, exposing his adam's apple.

You especially loved that tic he did; raising his brows, jutting his lower lip.

He helped you clean up, storing the blade and the shaving cream. Then he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto the counter, sitting you so you were eye-to-eye with him.

"Thank you, my love," he murmured, snuggling your neck, pulling you into a tight, warm hug.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #fluff #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you fluff #bucky x yn #bucky x yn fluff #bucky x y/n #bucky x y/n fluff

473 notes · View notes

dsireland86 · 6 days

Text

Sunburn

Warnings*** smut, language, a little angst below the cut

TAGS: @shilohrosechicken, @pathion, @philomenie

Sunburn

“Shit baby, that fucking hurts!” Noah yelled at me.

He writhed in pain as I applied the cool aloe to his shoulders that were burning red from days in direct sunlight. I told him to keep the black button-up shirt on the entire set so this wouldn't happen, but he didn’t listen. His ego was too loud and in the end he did what Noah wanted to do. Now he was suffering the consequences. I’ll admit that I did feel a bit sorry for him, especially when seeing the small sun blisters that were visible even through the ink of his tattoos, but now I'd had enough of his whining and piss-poor attitude. “Just shut-up,” I chided, nudging the side of his head with my elbow. “And quit whining. It's just aloe.”

I squeezed more of the sticky clear stuff out of the aloe leaf and lathered Noah’s burnt skin with it.

“God- fucking- bless, woman! Gentle!”

Sighing, I lowered one hand and placed the back of the other one on my forehead, giving him my best death glare.

“You’re making this so freaking impossible, Noah!”

He crossed his arms and threw his head back with closed eyes.

“It fucking hurts, Y/N,” he seethed.

“I know it does, baby, but that’s not my fault. I told you,”

His head flew up, eyes wide. “Don’t you dare say “I told you so”.”

Hiding my grin, I lowered my head, closing my eyes, and taking a deep breath.

“Whatever you say, Noah.”

I was over this already. I was so tired, drained from all the heat, the running around, the back and forth, and the constant bickering between me and Noah in the past three days. I wanted to pass out and sleep until Christmas.

Noah pinched the bridge of his nose then took my hand, and placed a soft kiss on the top of it.

“I’m sorry, okay. Can you please try to be more gentle?”

His big brown eyes pleaded with me.

“That's more like it,” raising an eyebrow as I kissed his forehead. He wrapped his arms around one of my thighs and placed a soft kiss on my belly, making my insides flutter.

“You’re too sweet to him, Y/N. I'd lather that shit up and slap it on him,“ Jolly admitted over my shoulder as he walked by. “He’s being a fucking pussy about it.”

“Fuck you, Jolly,” Noah barked.

“Whatever Noah,” Jolly chuckled, sitting down in the chair across from his best friend, staring heavily at him.

“You should have kept the shirt on like Y/N said. She knows these kinds of things, Noah.”

Matt slipped his opinion in, giving me a wink. I smiled, tucking the loose hair that had fallen behind my ear.

Biting my tongue to keep myself from saying how I was really feeling, I continued to gently apply the aloe to Noah’s skin. But the more I thought about how he was acting and how he'd been making me feel the last few days, I was going to let the truth spill out.

“You know what, it’s fine Matt.” I wiped my hands on my pants, throwing the aloe leaf in the trash.

“We all know how Noah can be a stubborn, hard headed ass sometimes. He deserves what he gets.”

I leaned back against the counter next to the trash can and folded my arms over my chest, staring hard at the floor. I knew I crossed a line with Noah, but I didn't care anymore. I was done feeling hurt. Quickly glancing over at Noah, I found him watching me, eyes glued to my face with a look of shock. His hands, still wrapped in tape, gripped the sides of his chair and he was still as stone.

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

I could tell what I'd said caught him off guard because the tone of his voice was sheer surprise.

“You heard me, I know you did.”

“No, I'm sorry, no, I didn't. I'm a little hard of hearing in this ear,” he lied, pointing to his left ear and rising out of his chair. He started unwrapping his hands, balling up the tape, and tossing it in the trash as he walked over to me. He narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw so hard his cheeks hollowed.

Noah could be very intimidating when he wanted to be, with his 6 '3, monstrously toned body, but I knew he’d never, ever hurt me. He was just in a mood; a picking, fighting mood that I was trying really hard to overlook.

With a deadpan expression, Noah and I had a stare down, waiting to see who would look away first.

“If you don’t tell me what you said, Princess, I might just have to take you somewhere quiet and fuck that pretty mouth of yours until I get it to come out,” Noah threatened, engulfing my entire body in deep arousal that went right between my legs. His lips brushed against my jaw line, sending chills down my spine the moment he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“And when I fill it with my cum, making you drink every bit of me, maybe you’ll think twice before using it for something else other than me.” His eyes were dark with lust and drinking me shamelessly. Holy fuck. I was so turned on. The smug look on his face made my knees buckle and the ache between my thighs burned like a raging fire, bringing me closer to the edge. All Noah needed to do was take me to that quiet place he spoke of and do whatever he had to do to push me over.

His long tattooed fingers wrapped around my chin forcing me to look at him.

“Is that what you want, Y/N? You want me to make you pay for all the sass that pretty mouth of yours likes to spill? You want me in your mouth?”

His voice was low and deep, the raspiness from all the yelling and screaming on stage still present and I was quivering from his touch alone.

“Answer me,” he demanded. His penetrating gaze was slowly undressing me and I was gladly letting him do it.

I nodded. Slowly.

His fingers gripped my chin tighter and thankfully I had enough leverage to look down and see just how turned on he was by our little exchange. He was so hard for me and just as ready as I was.

“Fuck me,” he breathed as a wide grin spread over his lips.

I was probably going to pay for what I was about to say because it would be the force to drive Noah over the edge, but that’s what I wanted.

“Gladly,” I whispered, watching his fixed stare melt away.

A deep rumbling growl fell from his lips and before I knew what was happening, Noah picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, the pain and discomfort of the sunburn quickly forgotten. I squealed and kicked my feet, demanding he put me down with slaps to his back.

“I swear to God if you don’t put me down Noah, I’ll,”

“You’ll what, Princess?”

“I will pinch you! Everywhere my fingers can reach!”

That got his attention and he lowered me down faster than he’d picked me up.

He was breathless and I was losing my composure over how fucking hot he looked right now. All my defenses were down; he knew that.

“Why are you such an ass?”

“Why are you such a bitch?”

My eyebrows arched.

“You started this!”

He smirked.

“Did I? Are you sure about that,” he questioned, making perfectly good eye contact with me.

My brows furrowed in confusion.

“You know you did!”

“Are you sure?”

The way Noah's body moved closer, barely brushing against mine but making the tender flesh around my nipples and entrance tingle, pleading for him to touch me, was making me lose sight of my frustration and how irritating he'd been.

“You sure it wasn’t you and the way you were standing off to the side of that stage, all fucking hot and sweaty, soaking wet for me between those fucking thighs of yours?” Noah cocked his head to the side, reaching over and running a finger down between my breasts, hooking its tip over the front of my shirt and pulling me closer. “Those thick, warm thighs that hold me so well and let me kiss and bite them until I can taste the sweet juices that start to drip down the second I do this.” Noah slipped his hand down the front of my leggings so fast, placing his fingers between the warmth of my folds and slid his finger inside me as he shoved me up against the wall. “Fuck Noah!” I snapped when the back of my head hit the wall. But I could no longer feel anything other than the erotic way his finger was working me up to that edge I was so desperately wanting. “Look at you panting and needy already. Look what I can do to you just by a few words,” Noah teased, inserting another finger in me, knuckle deep, and moving in and out of me faster. “You're so filthy wet for me, Princess,” pushing my legs further apart with his knee before planting sloppy nibbled kisses on my neck. His word choices made unsubtle moans fall from my lips and I threw my head back, locking eyes with Noah, watching his face as he worked to bring me to that sweet release I'd been hungry for all day. Shamelessly, I grinded on his fingers that pushed further in me each time he pulled them back and back in. And then when he found that spot I couldn't hold back the scream that filled my throat.

“Uh, fuck Noah,” clenching my teeth and hitting him in the shoulder as my one hand clamped down on his arm while the other one covered his hand that had his fingers up in me. “God I fucking hate you sometimes,” I claimed, between a cry and a moan. “No you don't, you just like to think you do, Princess,” grinning and breathing a quick laugh before sinking his lips into mine and shoving his tongue in my mouth. It was wet and sloppy, but I welcomed it. I wanted all of Noah. Every last drop. “I hate you Noah,” I said again, his name coming out more as a moan than anything. His laughter echoed off the walls of the hallway as did my cries of pleasure. “I love you, baby, every fucking part of you.” I took his face in between my hands and frantically kissed him like I was terrified he might just slip away. The muscles in my stomach began to tighten and the all too familiar heat pooling in my back and between my thighs was the only warning I needed. It never failed; Noah knew exactly how to use his fingers to make me forget ever being mad or upset with him. “Right there, baby oh fuck don't stop,” I begged him, grabbing his arms again. Noah worked me faster and harder until my orgasim hit me so hard he had to throw his hand over my mouth to keep my quiet. Noah was laughing. ‘I love how loud you get. It lets me know I'm doing my job correctly.” I was completely out of breath and once my body relaxed, I was able to fully look at Noah. He slid his fingers slowly out of me and brought them to his face, smelling them before slipping them into his mouth sucking. “Mmm, I fucking love how you smell, how you taste.” He pushed his body into me, pinning me between him and the wall. We slowly kissed, tongues slipping and sliding together, and fingers and hands entwined.

“You had me pretty worked up on stage earlier. All I could think about was you and the way you fuck, the way you cum for me.” Noah slipped his hand behind my head and brought our faces closer together nudging our noses together. I ran my hands down his neck and chest, over the ink written stories his body told.

“You really wanna fuck me, don't you,” he chuckled in between our kisses.

“Yes, I do,” mumbling while gripping his shoulders with no regards to the sunburn and if I was hurting him.

“I want to drink you like you threatened me. I want you in my mouth,” admitting fearlessly. I gazed up at him only to find him staring as if he was ready to consume me.

Noah lowered his forehead to mine, placing a soft kiss on my nose.

Suddenly I was being yanked down the hall and tossed to a room at the far end of the hall where Noah was sure we’d be entirely alone. He slammed the door closed and locked it, before turning to look at me. I couldn't wait for him to move. I needed him to know how badly I wanted him. Closing the gap between us, I grabbed Noah by the front of his pants and quickly undid the tie knot. “Slow down, Princess, I'm not going anywhere.” I smiled at him as his pants fell to the floor, revealing his hard cock that was ready and waiting for me to taste. My mouth was watering already from just the thought.

“Are you ready? I have no intention fucking your mouth softly.”

The muscles in my stomach tightened as the coiling tension continued to build up.

“I don't want you too,” I replied. I gave him a smirk as he pulled me into him, kissing me so hard that it took my breath away. My hands found the waistband of his boxer-briefs, yanking them down until his cock sprang free, revealing its beautiful self to me. I groaned the second I saw it and instantly took the long, thick, hard shaft into my hand and began to stimulate it more than it already was.

“Oh God, Baby,” Noah moaned, sucking air through his teeth and throwing his head back. “Fuck, that feels so fucking good,” he whispered under his breath. I gripped him harder, working him up the faster I moved my hand back and forth. “Is this what my boy needed,” I whispered, rubbing my thumb over. his tip. Noah let out a loud moan, throwing his hands on my arms and squeezing them. “Fuck yeah it is,” he breathed try to keep himself together. “You want to cum already, don't you?’

Noah released a slight whine, looking down at me.

“I wanna cum in your mouth,” he stated unapologetically.

I grinned and began to lower myself, feeling the pressure of his hinds pushing me quicker to my knees. Noah’s cock was beautiful and having it in my mouth always made me feel prideful; like I owned him. I did just like he owned me, and didn't want it any other way.

Slowly, I dragged my tongue up his long shaft, feeling the ridges and crevices that were the culprits of my many orgasims and wrapped my mouth around the thickest part of him to satisfy the hunger I'd had for days. I could hear Noah's breathing grow louder and heavier, and when I gathered him in my hands to keep him still, his hands found the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair. I sucked him harder, tasting the saltiness of his precum on the tip of my tongue as he pushed my head further into him until the tip hit the back of my throat, making me gag.

Noah, lightly laughed, pulling me back by my hair.

“That's it Princess, gag on it, let me fuck your mouth until your eyes water.”

He moaned loudly, no longer caring who could hear as I swirled my tongue around him, letting my spit spill out all over him.

“That's it, fuck me baby, fuck my cock with that pretty mouth of yours.” His grunts and growls grew louder as he continued to buck his hips into my mouth. It pleased me knowing I could bring this kind of pleasure to Noah. He deserved it; despite how much he whined and pouted and was a pain in my ass. I loved him and would do anything he asked me to do.

“You suck me like a damn dream, Y/N,” he grunted. “So fucking greedy for this dick down your throat, Princess. I'm so fucking gone for you,” he moaned louder, tugging at the roots of my hair.

I let Noah continue to fuck my mouth at an erratic speed. I gripped his thighs with as much strength as I could manage, holding him still so he wouldn't gag me anymore. I was engulfed in the sensual wet heat that was a combination of pleasure and pain, lost in the feeling of him surrounding me.

“That's it, Princess, fuck yes, right there, use your tongue, oh god!”

Noah’s praises fell from his lips like rain, hydrating every part of my body, my mind, even my very soul. “Look how you're fucking taking every inch of my me like a goddess, holy fuck Y/N!” Noah's voice was getting louder and his thrusts were getting sloppier. I couldn't see his expression but I imagined he had his hands up in his own hair, watching me work his cock until he came. “Shit, baby I'm close!”

Noah's breathing increased, his hips were starting to go limp, and with the consistent twitching of his cock against my tongue, I knew he was close.

“God- dammit Y/N you're making it, I fucking can't, shit baby I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm cum,” and without anymore warning, Noah let go, spilling his warm salty seed in my mouth. It hit the back of my throat like a bullet, forcing me to swallow most of it, while some spilled down my chin.

I collapsed, my jaws sore and I was out of breath, sitting on my knees and letting the taste and feeling of him pass before I could do anything else. Noah sat down next to me, looking just as worn out as I felt. But we weren't finished. In fact we were just getting started.

“I don't know where the hell that came from, but I feel like I should get you mad at me more often.” We looked at each other and chuckled. His sweetness was back, and it made me want to climb up in his lap and wrap my legs around him. I brushed the hair out of his eyes and kissed him slowly.

“When are you going to stop being so mean to me?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he smirked, slipping his hands under my shirt and running them up my back.

“Yeah, I figured.” I lowered my head into his chest and breathed in his scent of what smelled like the ocean and salt.

“I'm sorry. I do get mean when I get stressed out don't I?”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

We sat in a brief silence.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” His fingers had already undone the clasp to my bra, but was waiting for permission to continue.

“You already have. I’m good now.”

He lifted my face.

Noah’s eyes shifted to my lips, making him lean in and take my bottom one between his teeth, sucking it lightly. Then our mouths met and for a few seconds we kissed, relishing in the feeling.

“Sugar, I've developed a taste for you, now,” he began to softly sing.

“Are you seriously singing Sleep Token to me right now?” I laughed, pushing Noah on the chest.”

“My arms keep you in the room, barely let you move, show me what to do.” His voice rang out in my ear as he lifted my shirt and pulled off, then removed his own.

“Do you wanna see how far it goes? Do you wanna test me now my Love?”

Noah’s brown eyes bore into mine, releasing the feral intentions he'd been hiding.

“Well do you,” pulling down the straps to my red laced bra and planting soft kisses on my collar bone, with his warm breath gliding over my skin. His hands ran up my neck, gently pushing my head back and his lips found their target; sucking, biting, and sliding all over.

“I need to cum inside you Y/N. I want to see me spill out of you and down these fucking hot thighs of yours,” gripping my legs and tugging me into him until I felt his swollen cock against my entrance.

“I want you to, too,” I breathed, running my hands through his hair and grabbing it at its end. He seethed as he reached behind me and pulled my leggings and underwear completely off.

“Hang on.” Noah paused, sliding me off him, but staying on his knees. “I just want a taste,” he admitted, grinning up at me before forcing my legs apart and lowering his mouth to my wet core. Out of impulse, I tilted my pelvis up towards him as an invitation and heard a deep, subtle growl escape him. He swiped his finger through my wetness, coating his finger with it, and then dived in, licking and lapping up every drop he’s made me create for him. His warm breath and the feeling of his tongue and lips circling my clit made me shamelessly moan his name louder than before.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” he mumbled, and I almost came for him then, but he pulled away, leaving me empty and whimpering.

“Don’t worry, Princess, I’m not finished yet,” Noah promised, removing his pants entirely this time then sitting back down.

“Come here,” he demanded, pulling me into his lap and lining himself up with my opening. We both looked down and watched him enter me, the feeling of immediate fullness engulfing all my senses. Noah held me as close to his chest as possible as we slowly but savagely fucked eachother, knowing this was out of pure lust and desire.

We went faster, Noah grabbing my hips and pushing my clit down harder on his rigid cock. I could feel his pulsing veins, naked inside me, filling me to the point of making me cum again. I clenched tightly around him, digging my nails into his shoulders and biting him.

“Not yet, Baby. I’m not finished with you yet,” he growled, moments after the noises coming out of him were so intoxicating me that I never wanted him to stop.

He pulled out, flipping me over onto my knees, pushing my face and chest down to the floor, but lifting my ass up closer to his dick.

“You know I love you right, Princess,” he grunted, pressing his large hand to the middle of my back.

“Yes, Noah, I know you love me,” anxiously waiting for what he was about to do next.

“Good, because I’m going to fuck you like I don’t,” and with those words, he slammed into me, grabbing my hips and pulling me and pushing himself deeper and deeper into me with each aggressive thrust.

“God, fucking,” I tried to catch my breath, but it was impossible.

“Noah!” I cried the harder he fucked himself in and out of me digging nails into my hips.

“I want to ruin you, Princess,” Noah barked through gritted teeth, rutting against me at an relentless pace, stretching me with a hint of pain. “I want to damage you until all you know inside you is the shape of my dick inside the walls of your pussy that’s mine.” I didn’t hold back my screams for more or cris of how good it felt. I wanted everyone to know I was Noah’s and how well he could satisfy me and my needs.

I wasn’t going to last much longer; I told Noah that. My knees and elbows were sore, and I was losing all composure.

“Tighten around me then, baby, let me feel you,” Noah said, leaning down and letting his thumb find my clit. He wasn't gentle either as he encircled it, hips still thrusting in and out of me. “Cum for me Y/N. I know you want to. Cum so I can fill you up!” He hit my spot with the perfect rhythm, pulling a string of cures from me.

“Don’t fight me, Baby. Don’t fight how much you fucking want to.” Noah was right. For some reason I was fighting, but with his last words and the pressure of his hand wrapped tightly around the back of my neck, pressing me hard into the floor, I let go and almost instantly, after my legs pressed tighter around him, I came with a sharp cry, my entire body shuddering around him. Noah followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside me until we were both spent and gasping for air.

“Holy fucking shit,” Noah said, breathlessly. I collapsed to the floor, my entire body flat. I was shaking, overstimulated by what I’d just experienced and couldn’t form a functioning thought for anything.

A loud knock on the door startled us both, and I jolted up, running into Noah’s chest. He threw his black tank to me quickly, and I slipped it on right after slipping on my undies.

“Yeah, what is it,” Noah called out, voice raspy and dry.

“Hey, uh if you two are done making your porno, Matt wants us all together for a quick update before we head out.”

Noah and I could hear the amusement in Jolly’s tone and also the other two voices right outside the door. I was instantly embarrassed. Noah caressed my cheek with his finger, ensuring me he wasn’t.

“Yeah, give us a few minutes and we’ll be out,” Noah answered, staring into my eyes before kissing me deeply.

“Alright. Hey, how’s the sunburn now?”

“Fuck you, Jolly,” Noah yelled.”

A roar of laughter filled the outside, shaking my head as I finished dressing.

“You sounded really good too, Y/N. At least Noah knows what he’s doing,” Jolly cackled, knowingly getting under Noah’s skin.

“Oh my, will you all just quit already!” Noah yelled again.

He looked at me and I shrugged, realizing there was no point in denying anything. Noah always knew what he was doing. Especially when it came to me.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian fanfiction

205 notes · View notes

sentientcave · 23 days

Text

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter Two - An Understanding

< Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

The captain looks at you for a long moment, dark blue eyes wide with surprise as he takes you in. You have to admit that he’s handsome, dark brown hair and well-groomed facial hair (muttonchops, no less) flecked with silver, and a nice nose that skews to the large side. It gives him a friendly, approachable demeanour, despite the weight of his stare. His heavy attention shifts from you to the other three, and his expression turns serious. “Lads,” he says, his voice a rumble that you can feel through your own body. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Weeeel. It might be,” Johnny says apprehensively. “But I did my research, sir. She’ll be perfect for ye, ye’ll see.”

“She’s a good girl,” Ghost adds. “Sweet as can be. Won’t be any trouble for you.”

“Already moved her in and everything.” Gaz gestures around the room, looking rather too proud of their work.

The captain nods slowly, taking in the new additions to the space. “So you did. And did this pretty little thing agree to having her life upended, or did you lads just decide for her?” His arms shift around you, and you feel almost protected, oddly enough, even though by the size of him, he’s just as dangerous as the others. Probably even more dangerous, the way they defer to him, standing in a line like cadets, eager for his approval.

“Not… Not exactly,” Gaz admits. “I mean, we didn’t ask. But this’ll be better for her. She was living in a real rat hole before. Tiny little apartment in a shite neighbourhood. Was only a matter of time before something bad happened. We’re just looking out for her.”

Johnny shuffles his feet. “Dealt with a few neds while I was doin’ reconnaissance, even. Poor lass coulda been in real trouble if I hadna been there. Bawbag employers would ask her to stay past the last bus to watch the bairns an’ no’ even offer her a ride or ta pay fer a cab.”

“It wasn’t that far a walk,” you protest, glaring at Johnny. As if it’s any of his business. “And they did offer to drive me, I just wasn’t— It doesn’t matter! You had no right—”

The captain shushes you, and your words wither on your tongue, your cheeks turning hot under his stern blue gaze. He cups your jaw and turns your head to face him again, the rough pad of his thumb stroking your cheek gently. “Sweetheart, you and I will talk in a moment. Soap’s right about that not bein’ safe, and you know it.”

Your stomach flutters nervously. He gives you a little smile, and his crow’s feet deepen, the lines fanning out further. There’s a moment where you’re tempted to smile back, but his legs shift under you, and you wince sympathetically instead. “Sorry, I should get off of you,” you say quickly. “I’m heavy.”

“I won’t stop you if you’d like to sit somewhere else,” he says, that cheeky smile deepening more. "But you’re not heavy, and I'd like it if you stayed put."

"Told ye he'd like her," Johnny whispers, loud enough that it shatters the isolated pocket of reality that, for a moment, housed only you and the captain. "Hasna even introduced himself an' he's flirtin' like mad."

"Soap!" Gaz hisses back. "Shut up."

Ghost scruffs them both. "Let's finish getting dinner on. Give 'em a minute to talk."

Johnny grins at you and gives you two thumbs up as he circles around to the kitchen, as if you’d actually been a willing participant in all of this.

"I'm John, by the way," the captain says, calling your attention back to him. He drops his hand and settles it on your knee, his fingers curling around the joint. "You alright, doll?"

A loaded question. "Well. Not really."

"You're keepin' it together real nicely, all considered. Wouldn't blame you if you were hissin' and scratching."

"I'm not much of a fighter," you admit. "And even if I was, I don't think it would do me much good."

John chuckles, squeezing your knee lightly. He's gentle, but there's power in those hands, the kind that comes from years of hard work. There's scars all over it, from his the tips of his calloused fingers up to the leather band of his watch, etched in evidence of violence. If there are scars further up his arms, their hidden by the buffalo plaid flannel. "No, it probably wouldn't."

"Are you going to let me go home?" you ask.

He sighs. "The thing is, doll, the boys have put me in an awkward spot here. If I let you go on home, you're going to get them in trouble, and I don't want to see that happen."

"I promise, I won't say anything, I just--"

He shushes you again, and you shut your mouth, biting your lip. "Let me finish, sweetheart. You're being so good right now because you're scared. But that's not gonna last, is it? And worse, it sounds like you don't really have much to go back to."

"I'll find a new job. I always do."

"With another family who doesn't appreciate the work you put in? That doesn't make you feel safe?" His fingertips toy with the edge of your skirt absently, but his eyes are on your face, studying your reaction with rapt attention. This is how a rabbit must feel, pinned under the stare of a grizzly bear, frozen in place and hoping that no claws come down on top of it. "I can read between the lines, doll. That man you were workin' for made you feel so uncomfortable that you'd rather walk through a bad neighbourhood at night than get into a car with him alone."

You can't dispute it, although you're surprised he can glean so much information from half an outburst. "It wasn't like that-- He wasn't that bad."

John hums. "You're tellin' me you've had worse?"

A dozen jobs with a dozen managers or coworkers that took your silence as permission to stand too close, or put their hands on you flash across your mind. Mr. Kinsey was just the latest of many. You know that the thought is displayed on your face, from the way his eyebrows pinch together just slightly, not angrily, but concerned. You try to deflect with a little laugh. "Oh, well. I suppose I have. But hasn't everyone?"

"Soap had a bad lieutenant once and locked the man in his own car when he was just a private. Just because you have a bad boss doesn't mean you have to take it." He looks at you so seriously as he speaks, his fingers dancing distracting circles against the top of your knee, rough fingertips catching on the nylons just slightly. The heat from the arm curled around your waist bleeds through the fabric of your dress, his hand twitching slightly, like all he wants to do is take a handful of soft flesh. “You should speak up when you’re not comfortable, doll. You just need some practice standin’ up for yourself, don’t you?”

If a statement could have teeth, this one would, and you’re not sure if agreeing or disagreeing will have him closing his jaws around you. He’s probably right, you do need to do a better job of standing up for yourself. But you’re certain that he doesn’t want you to start by standing up to him, or his three attack dogs either. “I’ll work on it,” you say meekly. You test his commitment to the statement by gently picking his hand off of your knee, although there’s nowhere to really put it either.

“We’ll work on it,” he agrees, lacing your fingers together. When he rests your now-entwined hands, it’s a little further up your thigh. “You want a drink, darlin’?”

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You wouldn’t mind another tea, but you don’t think that’s what you’re being offered.

The scrutiny he puts you under is intense, like he’s determined to figure out what every microscopic shift in your expression might mean. “You sure, doll? You gotta ask if you want somethin’, or you won’t get it.”

“I would like a tea. But I can make it, I don’t want to be trouble.”

“Nonsense. Lads?” he tips his head back slightly.

“On it, sir,” Gaz replies cheerfully.

Ghost leans over the back of the couch to hand John a tumbler. Whiskey or scotch, by the sharp smell that hits you. John pulls his hand away from yours to accept the glass. “Thank you, Simon,” he says pleasantly. "Good lad."

“S’your party, sir. An’ you’re busy, ain’t you?” Ghost rests his hands on the back of the couch and studies the pair of you, dark eyes gleaming with pride. The man has the demeanour of a cat that’s brought in a helpless little bunny to his master, while it’s still alive and struggling.

“Gettin’ to know our pretty guest.” John smiles at you over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Isn’t she just?”

“Could I, um, sit over there?” you ask, glancing at the chair. Somehow John had managed to distract you from the idea of moving for a while, but you were still eager to get a little space from him, especially with Ghost looming over both of you.

“Of course, sweetheart,” John’s arm loosens, and you quickly get up and move to the chair.

You almost feel cold, without the heat that radiates off of his body. His attention feels weightier now too, or maybe it’s just that his body isn’t shielding the stares from Johnny, Gaz and Ghost, and you’re subjected to all four of them watching you, like you’re either fascinating or delicious (or both). You cross your arms over your chest and shrink into yourself as much as possible, eyes wide.

"Here's yer tea, hen. And may I just say, ye've go' a fantastic rack from this angle." Johnny hands you the mug and sits on the arm of the chair, leaning over you. "Weel. Ye've go' a nice rack from any angle. Nice arse too. Captain's lucky I like him so much, or I'd've gone for you myself."

You breathe in steam, wrinkling your nose slightly. It doesn't smell quite right. "Did you put something in this?"

"Aye. Finger of whiskey. Ye look all stiff and peaky still. Need a pick me up, don't ya?"

You look at him reproachfully. He sighs and plucks the tea from your hands and takes a big sip. "There's nothin' else in there, if that's what yer askin', ye suspicious wee daftie. A little whiskey ne'er hurt no one." He hands the mug back to you, smile crooked, doing his best to be charming, but he's too intense, too fervent, to be anything but unsettling.

“Got Johnny checkin’ everythin’ for poison, do you?” Ghost asks, chuckling. “Can’t say I blame you.” He nudges John with the back of his hand. “She’s smart, worth keepin’ an eye on that. Know’s ‘ow to ‘old ‘er tongue, but she’s listenin’ and payin’ attention.”

“Of course she is! Wouldna choose a lass withoot a brain in her head. Wouldna be worth the captain’s time. Weel, maybe worth a wee bit of time.” He winks down at you. “But no’ wife material, ye ken. Chose her because she’s delightful, no’ just ‘cause she’s bonnie.”

The few times you’d spoken to Johnny before you’d thought that he was so nice. Laughing and joking with you in the pick up line while you waited for the children you were respectively responsible, greeting his niece and nephew with big smiles. And Finn and Rory were always so excited to see him, you’d chalked him up as harmless. Clearly you hadn’t been paying enough attention then, too focused on the Kinsey kids and your job, maybe. You hadn’t noticed that he was appraising you like a piece of livestock, judging your value like you’d been put up to auction.

The whisky-fortified tea is a bit on the strong side, but you take a few sips anyway. Getting drunk would be unwise, but you’re so tense that your whole body is starting to ache, and that’s not doing you any good either.

“Dinner’s ready,” Gaz announces, untying his kiss the cook apron and setting it on the counter. “Hope you’re hungry. Soap made a cake earlier too.”

John raises an eyebrow. “You can bake?” he asks, surprised.

“Aye, picked it up while I was gettin’ rehabbed for the big fuck-off hole in my head,” he replies airily. “Was goin’ mental putterin’ around Kirsty’s waitin’ for the bairns to get out of school, so Ah picked it up. Isnae so hard. Just chemistry, aye?”

“He did make a big mess,” Gaz says. “Had to wash about fifty dishes before I could get started on dinner.”

“Everyone’s a fuckin’ critic,” Johnny complains. “See if I bake ye a cake for yer birthday, Garrick. Ye’ll be sorry then.”

“Oh no, how will I survive?” Gaz clutches his chest like he’s deeply wounded by the statement, laughing. “I have two mums, I’m still pretty much guaranteed a cake.”

“Always braggin’ abou’ that. Thinks he’s more evolved than the rest of us just because his da’s a woman.” He hovers next to you as you get up, and sticks close as you walk over to the table. You don’t choose a seat, in case there’s an order to things you’re not aware of.

“Pretty sure the whole point is that he dun’t ‘ave a dad,” Ghost says. “Now sit down, mutt. Yer not sittin’ next to the bird. You’re botherin’ ‘er.” He points at a chair, and Johnny sighs and slinks into it.

“Here, sweetheart,” John says, putting his big hand on your back to guide you the last few steps and directing you to a seat. He slides the chair in for you too, masquerading as a gentleman, and sits next to you.

Gaz settles in on your other side, all smiles. “Feeling better?”

They keep asking you how you are, as if the answer is going to change. Like all you need to adjust to the reality of being kidnapped and relocated to some stranger’s house in the country is a little time. Like you’re going to be just fine, if you just get a few more minutes to adjust. “Not really.”

"Ah, don't worry, doll. Captain's gonna be real good to you. You'll get there soon enough. Probably'll feel better once you've had a proper meal."

At least they don't try to make you talk much at the table. They fall into easy conversation between them, and let you eat roasted chicken and potatoes and carrots with some kind of sweet and mildly spicy glaze. Ghost pulls the mask down to eat, so you're able to watch when he goes slightly pink from what barely qualifies as spice. Gaz gives you a little side-long glance, and you almost laugh. There's some solidarity to be had, even in a situation like this one, something funny about how a little more spice could probably straight up kill the other three men at the table. Maybe that would be the key to you freedom: Murdering John by feeding him something full of chilies.

Admittedly, you do feel begrudgingly more charitable towards them after eating. You could maybe blame it on the tea too, which, against your better judgment, you do end up finishing.

John stops you from helping clean up when you stand automatically and try to stack Gaz's empty plate with your own. "No, sweetheart. C’mere." He guides you to the door and out into the chilly evening air. You wish that Ghost had let you put on a sweater over your summery dress, but he had been so keen to show you off, and you’d been too scared to insist. You curl your arms around yourself for warmth, and keep quiet, watching as John trims and lights a cigar, looking out into the darkness beyond the porch.

Fear has morphed from pressing terror to something that gnaws at you from the pit of your stomach. You could try to run for it, but you’d probably roll your ankle wearing the stupid red heels, and you have no real idea where you are, or how far you are from someone who could help you. Outrunning John would be a feat anyway. He’s older than you, but he’s in better shape, nearly perfect shape, broad and strong, that long military career not yet forgotten.

There’s a bench by the door, so you sit down to take the heels off. You’re not used to wearing them, it’s so rare that you have anywhere to go that calls for spicier footwear than your comfortable, worn in trainers.

“Here.” John slides his flannel shirt off and drapes it over your shoulders, and kneels down in front of you, cigar clamped in his mouth, pulling your heels off for you. Smoke curls around you for a moment, thin and blue in the scant light, before a breeze carries it away. He leans on his one leg and studies you, but he doesn’t stand. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You put your arms through the sleeves of the flannel, humming noncommittally. You know you’re pretty enough, by most standards, but you feel like his interest— And the interest of the other three— is disproportionate, too intense.

“I’d like you to stay a while, doll,” he continues. “I won’t force you, I’m not that kind of man, but I’d have a hard time letting you go back to living paycheck to paycheck in a bad nieghbourhood, workin’ for creeps that don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. You deserve better than that.” It’s as though he doesn’t even hear his own words though, or imagines himself better, because he absently runs his hands over your calf, squeezing the tense muscle gently.

“I have to work,” you protest, biting back a moan. You didn’t need to encourage him, even if you weren’t quite brave enough (or willing) to stop him. “I have student loans, and I send money to my lola in Vigan. I can’t afford to just disappear off the face of the earth.”

He nods thoughtfully. “How much?”

"Three hundred pounds a month to Lola. I know it might not seem like a lot, but it goes a lot further there."

"And the student loans?"

"Sixteen thousand. Not that much, I worked through my degree, and I inherited a bit of money from my parents. But I still have to--"

"I'll pay for both. You'll stay until you find a good job, and a safer apartment." He says it like it's a final edict, no room for argument.

You pull your leg out of his grip, tucking both further back under the bench. "No, John, I don't want to owe you either--"

"You won't. My boys kidnapped you and disrupted your whole life. I'd pay a lot more if it keeps you from going to the police over it. Least I can do is make sure you're better off when you do leave here, hm?"

You bite your lip. Starting over with a clean slate is tempting, but you're not sure you can trust John. He seems so earnest, blue eyes clear and guileless, but he can't be much better than the other three. Unless he was just holding their leashes tight as their captain, and had to let them loose when he retired.

"Can I think about it?" you ask.

"Of course." He puts his hand on your knee to steady himself as he leans across to ash the cigar in the ashtray that sits on a little table next to the bench. "But I think you'll say yes. You're a smart girl, hm?"

You're tempted to say no, just to test weather or not he's being honest about not forcing you to stay, but there's a niggling worry in the back of your mind that the veneer of civility will evaporate if you push him on it. He's nice enough now. And maybe that niceness isn't a show, maybe he has no darker side, maybe it's all just paranoia on your part. Perhaps the worst thing about him is his predilection to protect his "boys", even though all three are clearly insane.

Military is like that, isn’t it? The whole brotherhood thing? Maybe fighting for your life beside someone changes how you see them forever.

“How long did you all serve together?” you ask. “Johnny mentioned that he was SAS before— I asked about the scar once.” You tap the side of your head, the same spot where Johnny has a nasty bullet scar.

“Long time. Hand-picked Gaz and Soap for my taskforce about ten years back. Simon and I served together longer. He’s a captain now, even if the lads still call him LT. They’re both lieutenants, and Gaz’ll be a captain himself before long. Probably would’ve been already if he’d transferred out of the 141.” He gets up with a grunt and settles onto the bench beside you. “Don’t think Simon’s long for it. He’s only still in because he wants to keep an eye on Soap. Man’s a bloody romantic. Live together or die together.”

“I didn’t realize that they were together at all.”

“The way Soap’s been droolin’ all over you, I’m not surprised.” He puffs on his cigar thoughtfully. “But Simon’s just like that, as far as I can tell. The world’s divided into three categories. Enemies, his people, and everyone else. Enemies ‘n’ everyone else can’t touch what’s his, but he’s never given a damn about Soap sleepin’ with Gaz, or me.”

“I’m not his people.”

John looks at you and shakes his head. “Course you are, doll. You’re one of our people now. They might’ve gotten a bit overzealous, bringing you here the way they did, but those lads would do anything you asked of ‘em now.”

A bit overzealous. You laugh, but the sound comes out bitter.

"Relax, doll. I know you're determined to hate them, but they're good lads. Their hearts are in the right place." He pets a big hand over your head and rests it on the back of your neck, warmth seeping into your bones, relieving some of the ache from all the tension of the day. John has a way of soothing that terrified little animal in your chest that would otherwise threaten to kick it’s way free from your ribs and flee into the dark trees. “Lookin’ out for me, in their own way. Lookin’ out for you too. If your situation was a better one, they wouldn’t’ve plucked you out of it like that.”

There’s hope in his eyes when you look up at him, hope that you’ll forgive and forget, that you’ll come around to some kind of understanding in time. His thumb brushes a sensitive spot behind your ear, sending an awful, irrefutable thrill through you.

You’re worried that he might be right.

My favourite John Price to write is the sneakiest, most charming, manipulative bastard on the planet. I definitely take a lot of inspiration from 391780 's portrayal of him. The Rear Window and Neighborly have been forefront in my mind while working on this (Largely because I think my John would have taken a similar approach if the lads hadn't jumped the gun. The Rear Window is dark, so be warned! Early writes delicious dark fics, but that may not be everyone's cup of tea, so mind the tags.)

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#Retirement Party #Chapter 2 baybeee #Doll is coming to terms with the weirdest situation she's ever been in #cod mw fanfiction #John Price x Reader #x reader #Some hints of Poly 141 (I think it'll crop up properly later on)#Gaz wearing his kiss the cook apron wondering why Doll's not kissing him ): (It's because you kidnapped her)#Johnny never change baby boy you're a dog and we love that about you

368 notes · View notes