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thisgirlnamedblusy · 1 year

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hi!! i have been eating up marilyn content and i love love your writings so i was wondering if i could request a teacher x student maybe?!

the girl is french, short, blonde and a siren!! she's very quiet but begins to open up to marilyn as being such a friendly teacher and they begin to have this fascination with eachother maybee,, she starts giving marilyn gifts for being so kind to her and lingering around her, basically as much affection that she can communicate,, if smut is okay, with marilyn growing attached and wanting more with her, more rough and then she is also teasing and playful?

sorry i'm so !! i have never requested anything before,, thank you for considering if you do!! <3

Yesss!!! I've read your add-on too :)!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes

Nouvelle étudiante

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem, Student, Siren! Reader

Warnings: Smut, all Marilyn’s usual kinks

Word count: 3,556

Summary: You’re new at Nevermore, and you feel strange there. Maybe one of your teachers can be so kind to fascinate you…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“Don't worry, here you can be one of us,” Bianca, your classmate, told you while you went to your second class of your first day.

You nodded head down. She was a mermaid like you, but that didn't make you feel any better. You were in Nevermore, in the United States, far away from home. Apparently the French coast is not the most suitable place for a siren.

After several boats ran aground on the cliffs, everyone became suspicious of you. Neither you nor your parents knew what to say to them. Although if they had been reasonable people, probably blaming the storm that hit the coast those days, would have been enough to them.

It was a very different place, too far from home, too far from everything you held dear. Apparently there the sirens were everywhere. Each one with its own story, and with a bit of pride. You never considered your condition an advantage, or a method to achieve any goal. Your grandmother took it upon herself to teach you the importance of being a siren, of doing good things and not using your song except to protect yourself from danger.

Language was not a problem for you at all, but still you barely spoke to anyone. You were too overwhelmed by the whole place and you were already quite shy. According to your new companion, that was not a very common trait in mermaids and she would "take care of changing it".

Your first class was as embarrassing as you imagined. You had to speak, to tell your life to those strangers, or at least try to. According to Bianca, your next class was botany. It wasn't something to dislike, plants were good for you, but just the idea of having to be the center of attention again gave you chills.

Entering the old building you swallowed hard. You were nervous, and there were still people who had not noticed your presence and were looking at you curiously. A hand on your shoulder distracted you from your fears. You turned abruptly.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You are (Y/N), right?”

It must be the teacher. You nodded, looking closely at that woman, who smiled innocently at you. It seemed nonsense to you, but somehow you saw something different in her. Something you were desperately looking for since you arrived at the academy, kindness.

“The cat got your tongue?” She joked in a nice way. Your cheeks flushed, looking around. Fortunately, it seemed that no one was paying attention to that conversation.

“Oui, I mean, yes, it's me,” You said, unable to avoid answering in your language. It seemed like an eternity had passed since you last spoke.

“Great, my name is Marilyn Thornhill, I'll be your botany teacher,” she said kindly, shaking your hand.

No teacher had the courtesy to greet you during the two days you were there. That gave you some hope.

“How was your first class?” She asked, waiting for the rest of students to take their seats.

You didn't answer, you just shrugged. You weren't going to tell her the terrible ridicule your teacher put you through.

“Well, take it easy. It may seem like it, but I don't bite,” she said winking at you. A chill ran through your body, without really knowing why. “And I'm not going to make you stand up in the middle of the class to tell your story. You see, I'm new here too and I know how embarrassing it can be.”

You felt great relief. No doubt that woman was good, understanding. Now the plants attracted you a little more, although you struggled to recognize that they really were the plants and not something else...

“Merci, madame,” you said, smiling for the first time in a long time. Marilyn smiled too.

“Well, go sit down, I'm glad to meet you,” she said, clapping her hands together.

You felt somehow disappointed by the brevity of that conversation, but you nodded and complied, sitting in the front row.

It was not a boring class. Marilyn tried very hard to get your attention. Not everyone liked plants, but her admiration went much further. She treated them delicately, as if they were something precious, unique.

The whole class was silent. It was your usual state, it wasn't something extraordinary, but Bianca insisted on talking to you, and you only responded with gestures, not wanting to miss a single word from the redhead.

When the bell rang, the “wonderful Barclay” nudged you.

“Hey, what's wrong with you?” She asked with a frown. You shook your head and rolled your innocent eyes. “I've been talking to you all the time, and you haven't answered me.”

“Um.. I don't like to talk in class,” you said awkwardly.

“You don't like to talk at all, from what I see. It's funny, my mother always said that there was a special connection between sirens...” She explained to you. You wanted to listen to her, you really did, but your eyes went to the back of the class, where Marilyn was picking up the stuff she had been teaching.

“Well, are you coming to the cafeteria? It's our free time.”

“I'm going later,” you said making a gesture with your hand. Bianca was taken aback by your reaction, but she came out of the conservatory muttering something that surely wasn't praise.

The redhead didn't realize you were there until you cleared your throat. As she did so, she looked up and smiled solemnly.

“(Y/N), how was the class? Is that interesting to you?” She asked, brushing off her hands.

“Oh, oui, yes,” you said nervously. “I never would have imagined that there was such a variety of plants.”

Marilyn laughed and shook her head.

“You don't have to be so nice, I know that to some of your classmates this class is just to take a nap,” she teased, leaning on her desk.

“I, I really like it,” you said, noticing how your cheeks turned red. Something had caught your eye, and you wished it wasn't one of your famous unattainable loves. You had been suffering all your life for noticing the least suitable person.

“Well, I'm glad to hear it,” the redhead said, without removing that friendly smile from her face.

“Can I… Can I help you?” You asked without thinking too much. Marilyn blinked rapidly, as if this kindness was something strange.

“Wow, nobody had ever offered to help me pick up all of this,” she said, surprised, but pleased. “If you want… Although I don't want you to waste your free time.”

“No, I don’t care. It's not like I had something better to do either...” You said sighing.

“Don't you get along with your classmates?” Marilyn asked, with a slightly maternal tone.

“I haven't had the chance to meet them. I'm just… I'm very shy,” you said embarrassed. You didn't mean her to pity you, but it was the truth. That was a totally new environment for you, and even under normal circumstances you were never a very sociable person.

She laughed softly.

“Don't worry, I understand you. I already told you that I am also new. I know how difficult changes are, and even more so if you've come so far.”

You were very appreciative of that understanding. No one in that place seemed to have it.

“At least you are like them. I don't,” the redhead sighed, handing you a small pot so that you could place it in its place.

“What do you mean?” You asked curiously.

“Haven't they told you? It surprises me. It's usually the first thing they say about me when someone new arrives. It's kind of a tradition, you know. “Well, did you know that Ms. Thornhill is a normie? Breaking news”

You didn't understand the meaning of that word and frowned.

“Excuse me, Normie?”

“Yeah, well, you know, people without... Special abilities, normal people,” she explained, a bit confused. “How do you call them in France?”

You shook your head, setting the small pot on a table in the corner.

“I Don't know. In my town was my family and then the rest of the people,” you commented.

“Oh,” she said nodding, quite interested.

“They have never done anything to us, but last month there was a storm and some ships sank. They couldn't blame the weather, so they blamed me. This is why I'm here.”

“What a pity, I'm sure it's been very hard for you,” she said, getting dangerously close and doing something that almost made you faint, gently caressing your cheek.

It was comforting but strange at the same time. It was an unexpected gesture. Even someone who had appeared there at the time might have found it inappropriate in some way.

“Well… No… It hasn't been so bad,” you stuttered, marking your French accent without meaning to. It always happened to you when you got nervous.

After two weeks, you stopped feeling out of place. You were more animated and you made friends. You still didn't talk usually, but at least you did and Bianca stopped picking on you and telling you how weird you were for being a siren. You even signed up for the choir. Your singing was not going to save you from any danger, you had a medallion that prevented its effects, but your voice was still heavenly, and being the only one who spoke French made you to earn some extra points.

There was something else that caused that change in your mood. Something totally unexpected.

Marilyn and you started talking after class. With her you felt safe in your first days. She was a kind, friendly teacher. With her you could talk about your problems, your insecurities, and even she seemed to trust you more, and tell you some of hers.

That was not supposed to happen. No one would deny a student the right to get along with a teacher. But the conversations you had were getting deeper and deeper.

Within a few days it was clear to you that you liked her, a lot. But you decided to shut up. There was no way the feeling was mutual. Still, you allowed yourself to have some details with her. Not because you were slowly falling in love with her. You used the excuse of thanking her for everything she had done for you. You didn't know how to show more affection than that gestures, a gift, two, three a day. Your visits to Jericho's flower shop became more and more frequent. They were always flowers, and she always loved them.

The meetings at night did not take long to appear. You weren't interested in the endless ‘girl talk’ at Bianca's room, or the clandestine parties being thrown in some kind of club or secret cult.

You were only interested on meeting her every night. You chatted, you laughed, your relationship had long since it transcended pure innocence.

One of those nights, without warning, she walked up to you, without saying a word. As if it were a dream, she placed her lips on yours, with a delicacy that seemed to stop time. You didn't understand anything, you only thought you were dreaming, that your senses betrayed you. Nothing of that. It was real, it was happening and you couldn't believe it.

It was something that seemed far away, unattainable. But it was happening. There was no regret, no words of forgiveness or nervousness. She was sure of what she was doing, and so are you.

The explanations never came, you didn't want to know them either. It was nicer to think what her motivations could be. Maybe she fell in love with you at first sight, maybe your French accent captivated her, maybe your amulet broke and you were accidentally manipulating her. No, it wasn't that. You were just two lost souls who had felt rejected by society. Each one with their own problems and their own demons.

It was not right, it was forbidden. The mere fact of kissing you was reason enough for her to be fired from Nevermore, for her to be rejected once again. Just imagining it gave you nightmares. She couldn't leave, she had to stay with you. You would run no better luck. Your parents would probably be called and your little jaunt to America would be over. You were of legal age, there was no crime in what you did, but society would surely be not able to understand it due to its rigid moral and ethical values.

That afternoon you had done your usual routine. You bought a small pot for her, with a flower of magnificent colors. Unfortunately for you, Marilyn wasn't in the conservatory. You huffed in disappointment, but you left that little gift on her desk.

At night things changed. A message from your lover arrived on your phone and you had to skillfully juggle so that your companions did not read it. “I wait for you, same place as always, (Y/N)”

Could it be her mean at the cafeteria? No, it was night and it was closed, in her room? No, too risky. Whenever she sent you a message it was to let you know of any change on your plans. You had to bite your nails not to ask more. Little by little you were gaining confidence, but you didn't want to seem pushy or overly enthusiastic.

Your mind worked for several seconds, and finally came to the conclusion that "same place as always" was none other than the conservatory.

You quietly walked through the corridors of the school, almost completely empty. You always had to walk with a thousand eyes.

A dim light shone on the old glass-enclosed building. It was obvious that she was there, and that she must have already found the flower.

You timidly opened the door. Marilyn was there, admiring your gift. Your cheeks blushed when you saw how that flower looked.

“Oh, (Y/N), it's beautiful. You always manage to surprise me,” she told you as soon as she saw you, approaching to give you a soft and tender kiss.

“It doesn't matter… I like doing it,” you said, turning your ankle on the ground in a childish way. She grabbed your waist and pulled you into a tight hug.

“You're so good…” The redhead whispered, brushing a blond lock away from your face. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Apparently in the wrong continent…” You said, in a slightly more cheeky tone than usual.

Just with her soft grip on your body she could make you so hot that your good and introverted character changed radically. And you didn't do it accidentally, you had a good reason.

“Luckily you're here now…” She told you, with that innocent voice.

You were with other things on your mind. You didn't need her tenderness at that moment, you needed her other side. Her wild and a little darker side. Saying nothing, you moved out of her embrace and walked around her desk, playing with the papers on it.

“What are you doing?” Marilyn asked, looking at you curiously.

“Nothing… Just playing with your papers,” you said suggestively, throwing several of them to the ground. You expected her to take the hint, but she didn't, she just widened her eyes.

“(Y/N)? It doesn't look like you,” she said, bending down to pick up those papers.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. It was very difficult to activate her. Without thinking twice, you put your leg on the table, caressing it gently.

“I think it has given me a leg ache, can you give me a massage?” You asked with dark eyes. She got up with a frown. You must have been making a terrible fool of yourself, but her gaze darkened.

“No, (Y/N),” she said sternly, lowering your leg off the desk. “I didn't expect you to be so rude.”

“Then you should do something about it, right?” You asked ironically. She bit her lip and approached you in a threatening manner, grabbing your chin.

“What I should do with you, huh? I don't think a simple punishment will be enough,” she told you, without relaxing her grip on you. You raised your head smiling to yourself.

Those little games you used to have usually took place on her bedroom. That night there was something in the atmosphere that made you want it right there and then.

“I don't know,” you said defiantly, reaching out a hand to her chest. The redhead jerked it away.

“Poor silly girl…” She hissed. “Are you sure you want to make mommy angry, honey?”

“I'm not afraid of you,” you said jokingly, earning yourself a slap on the cheek.

“You will be afraid, (Y/N). I liked the shy girl you were before… You were so embarrassing… Look at you now, begging for some attention.”

“You know that you don’t like it. You like to tame me…” You said through your teeth.

“You are very cheeky, (Y/N),” she told you, finally releasing you from her grip. “Deep down you just play tough, but you're just a doll. A rag doll that mommy can do whatever she wants with.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You kept pressing the situation, now with almost total freedom.

The passionate kisses came right after. You were good, innocent, or almost. But in those moments you were invaded by a sensation and a need to be dominated, to have her above you, dominating your spirit. Without giving you time to breathe, Marilyn grabbed your legs and hauled you up onto the table, running her hand up the inside of your uniform skirt.

“I think you need some lessons, (Y/N). You have to learn to be a good girl for mommy...” She whispered to you, while she removed your underwear, without taking off your skirt.

Her breathing was rapid and irregular. She liked that game and she was the one who taught you how much fun it could be, even though it may seem a bit strange.

“What are you waiting for? I'm bored,” you said sighing, causing her nails to dig into your inner thigh, causing you an indiscreet moan.

“My rebellious girl... Don't worry... Mommy is here and she's going to help you to behave...” She said, gently rubbing the place where her nails dug in.

“I'm lost without you, mommy,” you said with a provocatively high voice and looking at your lover piteously.

“I know, sweetheart…” Marilyn replied, giving you a disturbingly tender hug. “Now spread those beautiful legs, honey.”

You nodded biting your lip and obeyed. She gasped and led her hand to your crotch. It was evident that you wanted her very much at that moment, and your body was involuntarily showing it.

“You're so wet, (Y/N), tell me, does misbehaving turn you on? Does it turn you on to make mommy angry?” She asked in a childish tone.

You didn't answer, you just closed your eyes letting yourself be carried away by the pleasure that her touch was giving you. That feeling stopped, and turned into a strong hair pulling.

“Speak, little doll. Say it turns you on, or mommy won't fuck you...” She threatened, her eyes completely covered with lust and desire.

“Oui... J'aime... Me, I like to misbehave... Mommy...” You stammered.

A wicked smile appeared on her face as she let go of your hair and slipped her fingers into your slippery wetness.

Her rhythm was not affectionate, nor calm. It was wild, full of desire and a desire for domination. It wasn't a gift, it was a punishment.

“Look how well behaved are you now, honey…” She said, increasing her speed.

You writhed on the table and threw your head back, enjoying to the fullest that sex that was so different, so forbidden...

“I'm going… I'm going to…” You murmured between moans, unable to resist the intensity of her rhythm. Only Marilyn had achieved something like this in your entire life.

“That's it, my girl… Let yourself go. Show mommy how good you can be...”

She didn't give you time to think of an answer. Soon your muscles tensed and your entire body went rigid, bursting with pleasure.

You were trying to catch your breath, but of course the redhead wasn't going to make it so easy for you.

“On your knees, my little doll... Now you're going to thank mommy for everything she does for you,” she said, pulling down her own underwear.

You were too weak from the previous burst of pleasure, and Marilyn took advantage of that situation to move you just the way she liked, as if you were a simple rag doll.

“That's it, baby… Give mommy all your love…” She gasped when you started to work under her dress.

It didn't take long for her to break free as well, gripping your head tightly, preventing you from pulling away from her.

When you both caught your breath, Marilyn offered you her hand to help you to your feet. She was a perverted sex monster, but as soon as you finished, she was back to her old Marilyn. Good, kind and affectionate.

“I didn't expect this to happen,” she told you, kissing your cheek.

“I did not expect to find someone like you in my life.”

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #laurel gates #smut #oneshot

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burnwater13 · 4 months

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Boba Fett and Din Djarin protecting Mos Espa from the Pyke Syndicate. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 7, In the Name of Honor. Calendar from DataWorks.

If there was one thing that made Grogu happy about all the adventures he’d been on recently was that he had found a Mandalorian who acted more like his dad than those other Mandos. Boba Fett wasn’t trying to lead and just giving up. Nope. Not him. According to Fennec, Boba Fett never gave up on anything or anyone.

Grogu smiled thinking about that. His dad was just like that. Din Djarin didn’t give up. He didn’t sit back. He didn’t pout. As least he didn’t pout about work going sideways. He pouted a lot when Grogu just happened to have gotten mud on his armor or maybe left a bag of dung worms in the N-1 a day too long. Wow. Grogu could feel that pouting in a real way.

Aside from the unexpected outcomes of playtime, Grogu knew that when his dad was faced with adversity, the Mandalorian just became more determined to see the task out to the end, bitter or otherwise.

“Well, my young friend, Mandalorians know more about adversity than most people you will ever meet. Certainly an individual may have a life filled with conflict an pain. But few other peoples have been so singled out for such universal treatment. I suppose it was because they were too good.”

Grogu perked up and paid more attention to the Daimyo. He had really just been looking from one man to the other. He hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t actually even made a peep, coo, or grumble. For a change of pace he had been simply silent.

“Your face is very expressive. Particularly your eyes. I have been told that they are the same color as your father’s, as mine match my father’s.”

The Daimyo smiled at him and looked both proud and sad.

“You rarely mention your father. Was he a bounty hunter?”

Din Djarin asked the question quietly, as was his habit within the throne room.

“He was. A Mandalorian bounty hunter who was taken advantage of by the Old Republic and the Jedi Counsel. You know about the Clone Wars?”

Grogu nodded his head. He, personally, would have liked to have forgotten about them, but when someone like Moff Gideon spent time tracking you down, you couldn’t forget about anything that caused the fall of the Old Republic or the rise of the Empire.

“I do. I know about the Separatists. I know that the Jedi were involved. By the time things were at there worst I was already on Concordia. The Mandalorians who trained me did not speak of it, except to say that it was a fool’s errand and no good could come of it. They were right about that, given how it ended.”

Grogu was surprised that his Dad didn’t sound as annoyed, bitter, and, not quite smug, but more aggrieved, than he usually did when this topic popped up. Perhaps he was striking a more neutral tone because of the affect that whole sequence of events had on the Daimyo.

“They were right. But it did not start that simply. You know the Jedi have visions. There are those who say they can see the future. That ability served them poorly. They recognized that they might one day need a fighting force. One that was much larger than the Old Republic kept on hand. So the project on Kamino was started in secret.”

The Daimyo took a deep breath and Grogu almost told him that they could skip the story and go fishing if it all hurt him too much to think about.

“I am fine. I have lived with many painful memories and their pain did not lesson because I ignored them, my friend. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. You cannot have a fighting force without the people necessary. But where would you get such a force? The Jedi knew too much and not enough. They went to Kamino, as the Kaminoans were well known for their skills at cloning, and found a willing partner in their enterprise. For a price. After that, they just needed to find a template. Clones were used for many things back then, young one. Whatever task a business might need to perform but they did not have the staff, they would either assign to droids or to clones. If you had enough funds they would rent a workforce to you for whatever specified period of time that you needed them. Then they were retired.”

Daimyo Fett laughed at that.

“It sounds much nicer than it was, my friend. Retired is just a nice way to say that the clones were ended. They had no individual rights as they were clones. Not a unique person but merely a copy of a unique person. That is at least what they told my father and he told me. You see, when they began to look for the template for the Jedi’s fighting force they realized that they couldn’t clone a Jedi. Something about the Force affects the process. They never perfected it.

Without being able to use a Jedi they came to the conclusion that the Jedi’s enemy would be the best source material and only one group of people had survived being the Jedi’s enemy for any length of time. Mandalorians. Funny, isn’t it? You and I and your father, we are good friends and not enemies at all. But back then heads were not so cool, on any side.”

Another deep breath.

“My father, Jango, was an accomplished bounty hunter. Best in the galaxy according to the records the Kaminoans kept about him. They approached him and he agreed to be the template. Oh, it wasn’t quite as simple as that, but what a father tells a son may often be affected by sentiment. My father was a sentimental man. That is why I exist. You see, I am not his son in the typical way. I am his clone. A duplicate, you see. And for a time I had more than 3,000,000 brothers. They became the fighting force that the Jedi and the Old Republic needed to address the Separatists. Unfortunately for the Jedi they trusted people who should not be trusted. I say that not as their enemy, but as a student of the past. When you buy cooperation from people like the Kaminoans, you may discover it is as easily sold to another. Which they found was the case, much to their, and no doubt your, dismay.”

The Daimyo fell silent for a moment. Grogu didn’t know if he was doing that because he remembered how his own father fell or out of kindness to Grogu or kindness to Din Djarin. All three of them had lost loved ones due to the that conflict.

“I was able to escape. Take my father’s ship and leave those immediate problems behind, but I never forgot the stories my father had told me about being a bounty hunter. It had been a better life for him and I was determined to honor him by taking that up. It is hard work and not for the faint of heart. You must take a risk and work it all the way to the end. If you fail at it, well, the end is bitter and you are cold. Very cold.”

“Boss, are you telling sad stories again? The three of you look like something the rancor dragged into that enclosure it spends all its time in. Cheer up. It’s a beautiful day out. I am told that rain is in the forecast and you know what that means.”

Grogu jumped just like the Daimyo and his dad at the sound of Fennec’s cheerful voice.

“No Fennec. I do not know what that means. Enlighten us, please.”

“Flowers. Little flowers will pop up all over Tatooine. I’m told it’s beautiful. Isn’t that right, Mando?”

Grogu turned to look at his dad. He was about to scold him soundly, but his dad beat him to it.

“It is. Very beautiful. If you start now, you might be able to collect enough to make a posey. I’m sure that ‘friend’ of yours would like it.”

The Daimyo burst out laughing and Grogu laughed with him. He didn’t know why it was funny, but he was glad to have the opportunity to laugh. Maybe this was how Mandalorians were able to survive so much? They never forgot the present, even when they were talking about the past. In any case, he coo’d to Fennec that he was willing to pick flowers with her, but he was too late. She had vanished as quickly as she had appeared just a few moments earlier. Just like the flowers would.

#calendar prompt a day #grogu #din djarin #boba fett #the book of boba fett

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idwisp · 1 year

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hihi I'm new to posting on Tumblr (I've always just used this site to read good fics 😭 so I'm sorry if it's not formatted well)

anyways!! yummy angsty Scaramouche fic I made during work bc it was a slow day (it was meant to be a drabble,, but it just kept growing over the day)

Kind of imagined the reader being an isekaid genshin player who is a giant simp 🧍‍♂️bc that is 100% how I felt when writing this after watching that one Catch Me animatic abt Scara (u know the one)

this is mainly from Scara's POV! (3rd person)

From Heaven to Hell

Fatui Reader × Scaramouche

TW: gender neutral reader (they/it used throughout), mentioned gore/pain, Dottore shenanigans (canon stuff/not the good kind), body modification (horror kind), monsterification (horror kind)

Words: 2,043 • Pages: 8.1

The newest batch of recruits seemed less than ideal, at least to the majority of the Harbingers, and Scaramouche was no exception. They were weak in spirit and bland in style, with none more varied in combat or writing than the recruits from the years prior. It make him shuffle in his seat and glare at every single one that so much as glanced at him during their welcoming ceremony into the Fatui. He left the grand hall of the almighty Tsaritsa's castle the moment he could; it would be a waste of his precious time to loiter around such a worthless cast of new soldiers. He brushed past many on his way out, and only stopped to say farewell to the Tsaritsa herself.

A week later and he found himself appalled when some of said new recruits were assigned to his sector for further training (aka, the mind-numbing paperwork that comes with being a giant organization.) He kept a keen eye on the additions to his team, yelling at them all for every minor mistake. Almost all of those soldiers quit before the next week, which gave him a sense of relief and hard-earned satisfaction to know he chased off the lowlives. However, he was a bit ticked that he couldn't shake the last one off. They took all his vicious words and harsh tasks at full force, and yet never disappointed with their work. They were the only recruit under him that had yet to make a mistake that he could use against them. He was almost impressed.

One day, he actually got a clear look at them. The Fatui had a strict uniform for underlings, especially in his sector, so it was rare to see what one of them actually looked like under the mask and hood. They stood out enough that he was taken aback, not because they were particularly good looking (they were above average, but not really the model-type pretty that was honestly rather common with vision-bearers--It makes him wonder if Celestia has a type,) but because he didn't expect it. They were quiet, followed his orders to a T, and only ever spoke to relay information or ask a work-related question. He knew humans didn't always look as they actually were, but that often was the overly sweet people who would pull a knife the moment they found it safe to attack. This last member wasn't like that, and Scaramouche has gotten curious.

Months later, they fell into a comfortable routine. Scaramouche gives them work, the recruit finishes it flawlessly and in record time, and they spend the rest of the day together. Of course, pseudo-unwillingly on Scaramouche's part, as the recruit follows him around like a lost puppy that's eager to please, but it's gotten him more productive lately so he hasn't told them off just yet. The recruit accompanies him like a bodyguard (it makes him laugh, as they are so, so much weaker than him,) to all his missions and tasks, including his games of death with certain traitors of the Fatui. They aren't very scary, but the obvious uniform paired with Scaramouche's nigh-iconic attire easily scares most of the unnecessary people away from their targets. It's efficient.

In one assignment, he actually got to see them fight. It was a wonder that they weren't promoted sooner, from how they stripped the enemy of their advantage and turned it on them. They took the traitor's weapon and killed the bastard with it in one swift move, almost like a practiced dance. He was enamored with the sight, if just for a moment, watching as they kneeled before his feet with the bloody tool sat to their side like an afterthought.

"Sir," They had muttered, facing the ground.

"How far are you planning to go for me?" He couldn't help but bark out the question--even the combat-focused footsoldiers hesitate to kill, yet this one did so without warning.

"From Celestia to the Abyss, I will follow you, my lord." They did not move or stutter, and Scaramouche didn't say anything after.

A while later and he notices a vision on their hip, dangling like a precious gem that taunts him. When he asked the recruit about it, they merely shrugged and said they got it one night before bed. He couldn't read their expression (that mask was starting to irritate him, for reasons he couldn't understand,) and clenched his fists as they wandered off with their daily dose of paperwork, intent to finish their work quickly. He doesn't speak about the vision again, and neither does the recruit, both content to ignore the divine gift of elemental power. He catches them looking at it every now and then, examining it like an infant does with a new toy, before letting go of it and turning away as if embarrassed. He catches himself smiling in those moments.

Shortly after, he gets tasked with something in the Abyss (likely just collecting samples for Dottore's disgusting experiments, or trying to figure out something about the stars,) and the recruit dumbly follows him. They almost begged to come with him, repeatedly asking until he caved. In the Abyss, they didn't show their suffering. They were only human, not to mention the vision on their side reacted violently to all things Abyssal (sometimes it would scare the warped creatures off, but most of the time it would backfire on them and unleash bursts of elemental energy through their body--he doesn't blame them for biting their lip open in their attempts to swallow the screams,) and the Abyss slowly seeped into their skin. When the group got back to Teyvat, the recruit wasn't the same.

Dottore appeared on Scaramouche's doorstep one day, grinning like a shark and with a proposition on his tongue. His recruit was suffering from side effects and the taller man wanted to try an experimental treatment on them. If it worked, the soldier would be good as new, if not better, and could continue to serve. Scaramouche pondered for a second, faintly remembering how all the other experiments of Dottore's ended up, before shaking the thought and agreeing to hand the recruit over to the doctor. The recruit was useful, sure, but he had plenty of other subordinates like that. They weren't special. They cast him one last glance before following the doctor into his lab. In the time they were gone, something felt hollow in Scaramouche. He found himself looking to his side, where they'd stand, only to find it empty.

Years passed and they never returned, and he slowly got used to the absence. He once asked Dottore about the progress, but the doctor merely showed his sharp teeth and chuckled, saying something about serums taking time to work. Scaramouche didn't believe him, but he didn't care enough to chase the absolute folly in that logic (or, maybe he did care? He doesn't know why he would've asked otherwise, his recruits go missing all the time and he's never batted an eye before.) He didn't ask again and eventually went out of his way to start ignoring the doctor. He only began to listen to Dottore again when the blue-haired menace began talking about rebuilding Scaramouche as a god, just as he was meant to be. He hasn't been this excited in a long time (something still feels off, like he's missing something important.)

In Dottore's Sumeru lab, during the time he spent fixing his body to ready it for divinity, Scaramouche wandered into a giant room filled with tubes glowing a sickly gold. Monsters were trapped inside every one, each with horrific disfigurations in their bodies. They didn't look like anything he came across in the Abyss, but some seemed similar. He glanced at all the ones he came across, only stopping when he saw a familiar name on one of the tanks. A beast, far more coherent and humane than the rest, floated idly inside the large tube. Dottore's awful grin grew larger at the pit stop, also gazing at the creature caught in the ugly liquid. The doctor rattled on about how this ex-recruit is the best experiment he's had so far, but he's been unable to replicate such a perfect result since. Something in Scaramouche shifted, akin to fear.

He visited that specific test tube often, often pressing his hand against the glass and taking in the sight of the monster. It was distorted, too warped to properly be called ex-human and still sound sensible, with claws and teeth to maim, its inhuman feet inches above the tube's flooring, and its old vision glowing brightly from under its skin as the element curls around them. It never responded to him or his words, sitting in the fluid like a corpse that was put on display. He eventually had to leave, he always did, but he would always come back. Meeting with the slumbering beast kept him rushing through the experiment as the doctor's painful procedures rung through him day after day. Dottore took notice of Scaramouche's fascination, and offered to let him have it as a pet once he arose again as a god. Scaramouche didn't think twice.

The day before his ascension, the beast finally responded to his prodding from beyond the tube's barrier. It opened its eyes and acknowledged him (it looked at him, and he felt like it knew the secrets of the universe--they were just as mysterious as he remembers them to be. He never smiled wider, nor did he cry so much.) Dottore had come soon after to check on the tube, making sure the beast wasn't violent and was strong enough to exit the tube soon. He prattled off about perhaps easing it out of the liquid so it could learn to walk properly, but Scaramouche was too busy pressing his hands against the glass to pay attention (and their distorted hands pressed back.) He had to leave eventually to be set up for his day of divinity, but he kept his eyes on the beast as it watched him exit.

When he properly ascended, he didn't expect the beast to be there, waiting for him on the sidelines of his grand arena within its great tube. The traveler appeared and wholly ignored them, and they merely kept watch as the blond outlander fought him. When the traveler triumphed, he fell out of the mecha holding him, his eyes wide open as he reached for his heart that had been stolen from him once again. He expected to die like that--to crack his head open on the ground and nobody in the vicinity to care as he bleeds his non-human yet non-divine blood. However, the shattering of glass filled the room and the beast leaped at him. A flurry of panic filled him, worried he also angered whatever they were to him anymore. That one damn recruit, that one almost-friend, that one sacrifice.

The beast took him in their arms and landed nearby, cradling him comfortably as they slowly lowered him to the ground. He stared at them blankly, almost shocked that they didn't take this chance to betray him as well. He expected them to open those monstrous jaws and bite his head off as mercilessly as they used to kill other traitors, or at least just calmly watch as he fell to his death just like they used to with his other subordinates that disobeyed. But, they caught him. Held him and admired him the same way they used to do with their vision--a shiny, beautiful gift from powers far beyond them. Their element pricks and bites at his skin as he embraces the creature's touch, wrapping his arms around their neck and hugging them. The beast freezes, only to let out what sounds like a sigh and hug him back. He doesn't hold back the tears.

"Why? Why did you save me?" Scaramouche wept as he clung to them, burying his face in whatever mess of a neck they had left.

"From Celestia to the Abyss," They began, the sound of their voice wholly unknown but deeply familiar, "I will follow you, my lord."

He hiccupped and held onto them tighter. For a second time, Scaramouche did not say anything after.

pls help I am so not used to making things fit the Tumblr style 😭 anyways sorry if there's any errors or dramatic drop in quality near the end, I was literally fighting to stay awake in the second half of my shift when I was making this

#genshin x reader #gn reader #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin angst #fatui reader #Biblically accurate Dottore #monster transformation #soft gore warning

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felikatze · 11 months

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stewing on it. 3-6 is a good map actually. 10 out of 10 suffering. i've never been this tense for any fucking FE map ever, except maybe the sov final boss map. jesus.

it took me a grand total of 5 attempts. there's 100% maps i've reset way more on (path of radiance's Clash! being one of them. fuck those boulders.) but for this one i didn't just wing it. every turn and every position needed to be deliberate. i did shit like actually take advantage of support bonuses to get +4 damage in one turn. it was. insane.

anyway.

you're the aggressor in the conflict but the map has you assume an entirely defensive position.

you barely scrape by because the most powerful units left after part 1. every character questions why they're fighting, strengthened by the presence of zihark and jill. zihark fought on the side of the laguz in por because he had a dead laguz lover, and jill had a whole arc about deconstructing the prejudice she was raised with and accepting the laguz as people just like her. sothe directly remarks how quickly the freedom fighters have just become bigots.

structurally. you're fighting in a swamp, which means even though there's a lot of enemies, they have incredibly limited movement. even if any given unit is liable to die in two hits, if you finangle it right, two hits never occur. because of micaiah's promotion, you also have a second healer, and if you look in the shop, it has a TON of strong weapons, including the beast killer.

even if sothe's damage output dropped toward the end of part 1, the presence of the silver dagger and the beast killer once again make him invaluable. for me, he, aran, and micaiah could hold the northwest by themselves and i could dedicate the entire remaining forces to the east.

the presence of yellow units here is also for once a fucking blessing. i found them really annoying previously, especially in fucking geoffrey's charge, where there was just so many of them and their turn took forever. but here, they can effectively take out a couple laguz each turn, provide healing, and take hits. the enemies seemed to prioritize them over my own units sometimes? either way, they were actually useful is here.

the arrival of the black knight completely turns the tide of battle. he's EASILY strong enough to take an entire side by himself. toward the end, more and more enemies came exclusively from the northwest, so i sent everybody there, and left the black knight to clean up the east. however, his spawn position means he'll need at least two turns until he's in a position to be useful, so you can't get cocky just because he's there.

this map is HARD because tigers hit like a truck. you need to be so careful about positioning, but you do have the tools to make it work, even if the dawn brigade isn't... the best. in retrospect to me now, cuz i am playing this blind, the strong backup you get in part 1 feels more and more like a trap. i used tormod a lot, in particular, and then he up and left. it may have also been harder because volug died in part 1 for me.... but i doubt he'd have been very good anyway. if i replay this game, i'll use the dawn brigade more for sure. i was lucky enough that i had bexp to get aran to lv19, so he promoted halfway through the map. and nolan was already promoted, so i gave him the paragon skill for a hefty exp boost that gave him 4 levels in one map.

a map of exclusively struggling against laguz is an exercise in moral bankruptcy. the ideal strategy is, of course, to attack and kill as many laguz as possible when they are untransformed. thus, unarmed, and, for the most part, utterly defenseless. it's a moment of cheer when a tiger detransforms and you hit them with the short axe.

their lack of 2-range also means pelting them with javelins that are guaranteed to miss so they'll detransform faster is a viable and very useful tactic. fiona and meg had both been benched and were pretty much deadweight, but a javelin in one hand and a wind edge in the other meant knocking down 6 transformation points of any given enemy. this absolutely saved my ass sometimes.

just. it's the most efficient and easiest to kill their enemy when they have no viable way of defense. you're practically required to do so. you're already chasing down soldiers whoare fleeing after losing the previous battle. you're scum in the story AND in the gameplay! it bangs!

man, like, the ludonarrative dissonance is really cool. your aim is to pursue fleeing enemies and kill as many as you can, but you're the one pressed into a corner, trying to hold on against a seemingly endless onslaught. when ranulf says daein's army has no clue how to fight laguz, you know he's right, because you felt it. the struggle recontextualizes micaiah putting on a strong front when negotiating peace with the laguz, saying they'd be slaughtered if the battle continued, so it feels more like she's realized she's in over her head and is trying to intimidate them into backing down to save her own people. mwah.

#feli speaks #welcome back to feli plays games and then talks about them #i was def more frustrated with the difficult maps in part 1 #but not really here i was just TENSE and FOCUSED #since fucking up really did just feel like my fault #instead of goddamn height advantage (i hate 1-E i hate 1-E)#good map 👍

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gildinbainas · 8 days

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"Just… stop talking." 💋 //Hendrikson :3c

“Shut Up” Kiss starters

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @nvrcmplt

Thranduil didn't know why he allowed the halfling to cross barriers that few were allowed to where it concerned the Elvenking. Aside from Bard, another human whom he had come to appreciate a great deal, no other human had been allowed to sit near him, let alone share a cup of Elven wine. But he supposed his willingness to let his guard down around Hendrikson was rooted in the man's initial introduction months back. Elves were rather vain creatures --- even the ones who claimed not to be. He wasn't ashamed to say that part of the appeal to being an elf was the way their own natural aura seemed to hypnotize those around him. And he, as king, spent a great many years using that to his advantage.

In the case of Hendrikson however, there was no need. He too was part elf, but it was the deformity surrounding his ears that fascinated the king. Upon his initial introduction, the nomad wasted no time revealing this part of himself that most elves would have hidden forever if possible. Elves were meant to be PERFECT, exotic creatures whom everyone longed to be or within their airspace in general. It shocked the king initially though he never revealed as much that day. It was something he pondered in silence half wondering if there was still some angle being worked with such a huge reveal. It had taken many months for Thranduil to drop his guard and though his son still wasn't buying Hendrikson's act, Thranduil cast his son's doubt aside hoping it wouldn't end badly for his people. And speaking of the halfling…

Thranduil was seated at his vanity when he looked up to find Hendrikson watching him from afar. A thick, wooden brush was being pulled through strands of snow white hair that seemed to always keep its perfect form. Silence ensued between them with the human finally approaching the Elvenking. It is only then would Thranduil set aside his brush and stand, turning to face him.

"I do believe this is the first time you have ever had the audacity to seek me within my sleeping quarters. How is it that you still have your head? Surely they didn't simply let you wander this far without questioning your---"

He blinked, standing there in something of a stunned silence as his brain took forever to process the moment at hand. He had been abruptly silenced --- something he was not accustomed to in the slightest --- and in a manner that would have his son firing arrows without thinking. Indeed it was a good thing no one was around. The shock written upon his features was more than enough to have his Elven Guard reacting at once with their best intentions except…

Except when the shock of what had happened finally wore off, Hendrikson pulled away leaving the Elvenking standing there in a stunned silence. Did he not know what it meant to kiss another elf in their culture? Was this an err on his part as a half human? Thranduil could not be certain, but rather than address it, he simply turned away composing himself despite being extremely flustered. When he was certain he could face the other with a straight face, he turned, sweeping past him rather quickly with his long golden gown sweeping the ground in his wake. "We will drink our nightcap downstairs then I must call it a night."

#nvrcmplt #﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ a rose by any other name would smell as sweet — answered .#﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ thranduil — in character .#﹂ ʾ . ⭒ ❝ thranduil — vs third age; your ethereal elvenking .#// lmao i need to transfer my canons from my other blog #but he's in complete shock #ANY kind of touching could be perceived as intimate #unless sparring even brushing the king's hair is intimate #so he's in shock because he hasn't been kissed in CENTURIES by default #lmao he's almost forgotten what its like #and now he's confused because he's like... is this a courtly ritual?#kekekeke

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atomicobservationnacho · 7 months

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devil666lovesblog · 2 years

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KFC stands for quick and easy girl

I had much regret when I met that girl who ask me about her (pubic) hair but I never ask her about her name nor took any photo of her, this short Pi coin novel in both Chinese and English is my attempt to attract her attention. One often missed the opportunity then regrets it later, i.e. when one can't blame anyone except himself for missing the boat. One of the biggest regrets in my life is I did have a Linux client for the acknowledgement of bitcoin back in 2014 and I had a bitcoin account, then I lost interest as well as losing the password for that very little piece of probably the most valuable digital asset I ever had. If it is not the case, I already had a wealth of at least 5M US dollars just by running my desktop computer. When the Bitcoin craze hit HKSAR at 2018 I already knew it is very much a scam in making since it is already halved its value many times. Imagine how my life could be when I master and learn all the nuts and bolts of bitcoin in 2014 than maybe I developed my own GameCoin then maybe hundreds of thousands of players are playing my Game day and light in hope of making extra bucks that would cover their electricity and the hardware of their game gears, and if you join Bitcoin/Etherum after 2018: TOO BAD and TOO LATE. Never gave up on any opportunities now I start collecting Pi Coin.

This novel is half about sex and half about my very tragic losing of money to a so-called good friends M.T. Kan, but what I sorry the most is not the US$2k which seems vanished by now to the Clane Claw Project. The tragic incident is not so tragic when I met a girl at the same time I sign that contract in KFC which I start talking to her after my ex-gf broke up with me years ago. I remember that day I went there of the free Internet but not the fried chicken which I had enough of that in the past. While I was "working" with my laptop I had a glimpse of two decent legs stretching from a girl in school uniform, she was probably F.1/2. I took my chance to talk to her just about anything, it turned out that she has the same 'health" issue as me do: she would easily get tired after eating a heavy meal full of carbohydrates.

Her impressions of me would probably be the easy-going type that would chat with any girls around me, but not the type of shy/introvert/passive/like to be alone guy which is who I am. Those types of poisonously social-inept single guy is what drive almost girls away, especially those who are in the puberty looking for their first boyfriend. Maybe the way I was working on my laptops looked very professional and academic. During our conversation she suddenly asked me a question: Would she grow a lot of hair? And with a disgusting look. I didn't know why she would hate hair on the body so much. To me it is just natural to have hair all over the body especially for Asian. I was not certain she thought of it in the context of American culture which saw hairy as the symbol of barbarism, or in the sense that hair gave a bad feeling for those who touch her.

I can blame the lack of smart and cunning response to the girl on I am also nervous about M.T.Kan who had been around with me almost daily to persuade me to invest in his Crane Claw Project. He is making me very uncomfortable for spending so much time with him. I was so uncomfortable to the point when I want to get it off my back ASAP but signing that contract. I admit I am not a match with him in terms of those psychological tricks, it seems to me that those HongKong people learn Psychology just to make money and took advantage of others, which is basically their meaning of life. It is bad luck to have met him, and it is good luck to met that girl who gave me something of immerse value to me: The pleasure of putting my stick in and out of her real tightly and juicy hole. She is also extremely luck to have met me but not that ultra selfish and manipulative guy otherwise she would get pregnant while he thought it is righteous for him to do anything he likes on anyone.

I often imagine if that guy is to arrive later as not to disturb my mood then I would be easier to come to the conclusion which she is worrying about the growth of pubic hair in her cunt. It is something so important which I completely miss when she bends her body forward to thank me for those informations. I am puzzled as to how those common sense which everyone could easily found in the Internet about the effect of hormone on the sexual maturity of a girl in puberty would worth such a thanks. My mind immediately connected that to the "trade girl" last time when I found no condoms then I am not penetrating her and she thanked me with the same gesture. Are they of any connection?

I suppose when I am free of any stress then I would try to dig a little deeper toward this F.1 or 2 girl and took my risks when I said this to her in the lightest tone: Are you wary of the growth of your pubic hair? You think it looks very bad on you? She is very unlikely to slap me instead she would just blush with the look saying "You had very sharp mind" and said in a reluctant tone: Yes, I am indeed worrying about that when it would look bad on me in the future. Then I replied: So I am going to show you some pictures of my ex-girlfriend but I am NOT going to do that in a public place. Would you mind I show that in my apartment? Would you mind getting to know more about that when going to a stranger’s home?

In my imagination she is a daring girl: she said yes then followed me home not thinking I harbour any ill intention toward her. I went to my apartment along with her that is just within five minutes of walk. That is actually the first time a girl visit me over the years. I switch on the desktop computer and open the folder in the cloud: Now you promise not to tell anyone I show you those pictures, okay? Okay. Then she sat next to me while I show her the half-naked pictures of my ex-girlfriend. She could immediately be related to her when they are about the same age. I told her: Guys evaluate a girl over her whole body but not just her private part: Is my ex-girlfriend’s body looks good? She said Yes. Then I said if I am her guy I would touch her from top to bottom from the hand to the leg then her breasts then rub her labia with fingers going inside her cunt. Not every guy like a hairless pubic, those hairs didn't deter a guy from getting excited sexually, and it is rumor that girls had a lot of pubic hair would have stronger sex drive. Although I haven't seen you naked, but I imagine I would be okay for her overall body composition, and I would have very strong desire to spread her legs and thrust my manhood as hard as I could to turn her inside out and outside in until we both succumbed to our natural instinct for reproduction.

"Really? I am an average girl. I looked that good to you..." she is elated and probably moistened. She then points a little bit inward: "And you felt when you fuck me it would be a good fuck?" "Why not? Why are you looked down on your body? You are still under development and you are only F.1. It took your body at least four to five years to reach the shape of your femininity. Why so ashamed of yourself?" "I am very happy because of you, you just made my day. I don't expect when I came to KFC and met a guy who said those encouraging words to me." Looks like she is about to bow to me again (Am I am an emperor or Sex God to her in the future?) but I refused by putting my arm at her developing breasts which she responds by harden her nipple. She continued and looked at her breasts: I had only an A cup breasts while all my classmates they all had bigger cups and better looking body. "Oh I see, your breasts felt good on my arm. May I see more of that?" She nodded as if she is hungry to find out the feeling of a man caressing her developing breasts, for precise and scientific measurement I used both of my hands. And when one sense of touch is not enough I use my tongue and my eyes to have the most detail observation of two of her big orange which is slightly bigger in the bottom than above due to gravity. Her nipples are pinkish brown tasted very fresh and I can see they are erected just as my penis making a tent in my pants.

"You enjoy my touch?" "Ah...." "This first time touched by a man, did it felt good?" "Yes." So I taste and eat both of her breasts, squeezing them hard and soft to see what did she like better. "You have a delicious body that taste good and smell good, you took special care of your breasts when I can smell a different smell from your breasts to your neck and your ears." She nodded. "You wanted me to explore your body deeper and deeper, inner and more inward until the end of your little tunnel" She nodded very lightly with her face all red while paying a lot of attention to the sensation of both of my hands and my tongue as well as the feeling of skin moving across skin. "Did like this uncle to initialize your journey to become a real woman? You like me at the first sight, didn't you?" "Yes, I come to your apartment with some expectation of something very spicy happen between us, then I saw the pictures of your ex-gf who are just slightly older than me and now I am aroused." I then slip my hand into her s to check her cunt out, I can felt the shape of her labia a little bit from the outside. Now when it is wet it became more visible, and she wanted to be seen like that. That is why she is dressed as short as possible so every guy would see her long legs, then she would check out those guys who peek into her legs in the public and choose those who she like to talk to. My hands go from outside of her to inside , then from outside her underwear to the part where she worries of having too much hair grown in the future.

That justify my current exploration of not just my hands. I tried to pull down her underwear she resisted a little then gave up and let me have a very close look of her beautiful yet to be polluted by any male scene the most secret part of her female body. But I am not yet to sting her, and when I start to sting her I would be very gentle but very forceful with all my might to give her the happiest intercourse experience. I can't felt the female feelings of sexual intercourse but the impression of a man working very hard to appease her most sensitive part are surely arousing to her. From the very beginning she asked me about the effect of hormones she already saw me as a very intelligent and sort of expert, then when she bow to me, she wants to show off her developing breasts then to see my erected penis. An erected penis is the way a man could "respect" an adolescent female body. i.e. I am seeing her as the equal of all other females that I would sleep with. It is something excited her to no end: She finally achieved an almost equal status as a sexual partner in the mind of a man who had many gf before. Then she started worrying if her cunt had too much hair since many men prefer a hairless pubic, she also imagined what kind of girls I would take them to my bed to penetrate then to plant my seeds inside, and how would she compare to those girls?

That is merely my dream which has no correspondence in reality, no girl would be so courageous that would go straight to a stranger’s house unless she is sex-crazed or she is on drugs or she would need something from the guy immediately. It certainly doesn’t happen to a virgin, this is a plot even Japan animation would not take. For Virgo like me, things have to make sense and all people are ruled by Psychology and Sociology. Two subjects that is my best subject in the university I graduated at.

What is most likely to happen, and it made more sense to me is that girl bow down just to see if I am erected for her as well as seeing the animals I wore this year to prevent bad luck from happening to me, also to let me check out her breasts when this make her V-shape curve most noticeable. It would compensate for its relative small size and that signal presence of sexual interest toward. HongKong is no Japan, and girls would not bow even to their parents when they made a grave mistake and need to apologize, nor they did that in the school to be polite to the teachers who gave them their scores. She is a bit disappointed that I don't took any initiative to hold her hands nor grasp her boobs, she rationalized it by thinking I am a gentleman type who would not play rough or too aggressive so to scare girls away. She is restless of her first instance of what most likely to be her first romance and her body is already preparing for the real deal when we encountered for the second or third time… and eventually got both naked in the bed.

My life went as usual when these encounters are common occurrence when I manage my virtual e-currency like Pi coin at my desktop computer and Android smartphones, and it always ends up I have forgotten that girl or she had forgotton me. But this girl is of a stubborn type, she doesn’t like to take no for an answer. Her disappointment drive her to search the Internet/FB/IG for me, then she found many of my articles written for the Anti-Extradition movement, and what strike her the most is my previous Pi-Coin novel in Chinese then in English and this novel. My story confirmed her guess, and she felt as if all my novels are written just for catching her attention. She thought to herself: All men think about sex, and he is thinking about me daily imaging different ways to subdue me in the bed. The merely thought of that arouse this adolescent in her puberty. She felt wanted sexually the first time in her life, and it is a warm and fizzy feeling which drives her optimism and self-esteem. Finally, a real man expressed interest in her indirectly by writing an adult novel about her to lurk her into my bed. This is romance, and she is lucky that day something spark between us. What would happen to her if she is having her first boyfriend? How would first kiss taste like? How does a gentleman enshrine her sexuality and made her felt like a prince out of the bed and a whore in the bed?

It is about time she took the initiative to acquaint me in the Facebook, she used the profile photo which is easy for me to recognize her as a girl. She knew that girls in uniform are particularly attractive to middle age men when men all thought about subduing a young girl in the bed when their devious fresh meat is devoured fully from top to bottom, outside to inside. It is a subtle way of seducing a man, or in her conscious mind it is about to set the right “good-girl” image for the public to know. She is definitely not those girls go around to KFC, MacDonald or 7-11 or Okay convenience store to hunt for a guy to give them a whole night satisfaction of sexual desire. So it starts from love to romance, from kissing, touching, caressing then penetration until orgasm then it goes round for many circles until she is pregnant.

She added me in the Facebook and immediately got accepted, I took an eye for any young girl I can fuck just like my ex-girlfriend, she caught my eye then we start “dating” in the facebook when she check out everything I ever wrote (that tasks is much bigger than any of her projects) and I am interested in knowing more about everything on her. After one or two day of conservation it is back to square one: The meaning of a bow to me, I gave an analysis from Japanese/Korean/Chinese culture and arrived at the conclusion that she had some sexual interest in me. After some delay, she said yes she is interested in me so she took the pain and effort in getting to know the real me by researching everything about me online. And what she found intrigue her even more, Now when I said that, she asked me: Did you ever fantasizing about having sex with me? Did you have a girlfriend now? Did you have girlfriends before? Would you be interested in me as girlfriend?

She probably expected some resistance and bumpy in her love and sex life, so the next words from me surprise her: I thought you look decent and have a decent body, I am interested in you as one of my girlfriend, I like girls who took initiative and taking love matter into their own hand much like my ex-girlfriend who has a slightly bigger breast than you. With those words it is like two blockchain acknowledging each other’s existence, then we became lovers in the FaceBook without any public announcement, and she said she would reject all guys who ask her out until our relationship ends. She indeed went to my apartment to see all the pictures of my previous lovers and eventually undressed in front of me so I can do a physical comparison of her body to my other ex-lovers. That comparison went to the smallest detail including the length, radius and softness/colour and flexibility of the tunnel which made her a female; I also taste her lips and her breasts when she had her taste of my dick and scrotum in her mouth/face and inside her body. The first time we had sex I shoot six times inside her cunt, and she wants more and more of that so she got her first time exposure to sperm all of her face and inside her mouth and throat. She is a hard-working student so she “work” with me everyday, she never got pregnant when I gave her contraceptive pills. And this romance is going in parallel with other girls I met, and I convinced all of them to be my downline in my Pi coin.

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folkloreguk · 3 years

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💌🧸 Brother's Best Friend

A/N: Got this request a while ago and now I'm wondering why I've never written this trope before bc this was so fun??? Lmk how you liked it! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, size/strength kink??, choking, dom!bias (it’s kinda playful tho), brother's best friend!au, sneaking around, play fighting, lowkey getting caught but not directly?

words: ~ 4.1 k

disclaimer: I don’t mean for the age gap to be gigantic…I’m talking about anything from 1-2 years maximum tbh!!! Anything else would be weird and I’m not about that! They’re also both obviously consenting adults!

[H/N means 'his (bias) name']

In youreyes, your first meeting had been a disaster. The new spider man movie had been released only days ago, and you were adamant on seeing it. And to your luck, your older brother and his best friend had already made plans to watch it together. As a little sister, you were treated like the baby of the family, and it didn’t matter that you were far from being an infant anymore. So naturally, your brother had been condemned by your parents to bring you along. He declared his distaste in your presence by attempting to ignore you, but you were used to that. Just like you were aware of his bad moods, you knew he could change within minutes and magically turn into the sweetest, most caring big brother you could wish for.

Whatever. You didn’t need his approval to enjoy the trip to the movie theater, you told yourself. Had it not been for his best friend, who you hadn’t seen in ages. H/N and you had never properly spoken before, and the last time you saw him he had been an awkward, prepubescent boy who had appeared at your door to pick up your brother for a playdate. There was no trace of immaturity now. Instead, it was you who had morphed into an awkward, shy mess at the sight of him.

His ‘hello’ had a warm and deep melody to it which swooped you up in his aura so suddenly, you had no time to prepare. Had his smile always been this stupidly charming? Hell, it was so bright, you had to meticulously inspect the ground every time he sent a grin your way. When before you hadn’t felt guilty for being a bother, you now sure did. What impression would you leave, trailing behind the older boys like a lost puppy? What would he take you for? The annoying little sister who didn’t have friends of her own? The mood-killer, who wouldn’t understand any of the boys’ inside jokes? The anti-social, weird girl who was obsessed with fictional men, like people loved to belittle teenage girls with normal interests?

As things turned out, his initial opinion of you was quite the opposite. If only you could have spied into his brain, it would have saved you a landslide of worry. Although your brother took up all of H/N’s attention before the movie started, he noticed you a good amount. To be precise, you blew him away at first sight. Your cute laugh won him over in a matter of seconds and he liked that your merch sweater could have been stolen straight out of his own closet. He didn’t want to feel too smug, but the way you diverted your eyes away from him whenever he looked in your direction only boosted his confidence further.

Your brother might have warned him. Stay away from her. She’s off limits for you. But not a thousand vicious, older brothers could have kept him from trying to get to you. It was up to you, after all, whether you wanted him around or not, and not to your brother. From that day on, H/N didn’t skip out on a chance to see you, even if it meant merely an exchange of a few words, or a simple greeting. And to his luck, you turned out to be equally as enraptured by him.

There was something about the untouchable, the forbidden, that attracted him to you even more. Plus, you were simply too precious to forget about. One morning, you dropped off a beanie at his place, which he had left at your house after meeting with your big brother the previous day. When he had asked if he could drive you to school as a thank you, you happily accepted. You had marked that day as the first day of your new life. First, it was harmless flirting. To be honest, you were under the impression he was merely messing with you. Because you were the cute little sister of his best friend. Because you would turn into an awkward shell of a person who had lost all ability to articulate, and your cheeks would burn as if they were on fire, whenever he charmed you.

But the flirting slowly reached newer levels, and before you knew it you were discussing your sexual fantasies over text messages and giving him bedroom eyes as you opened the front door for him. “H/N’s here!” you would then shout to your big brother. Then you would watch the two boys walk off to your brother’s room, pondering why life had to be this way for you. It wasn’t fair. Siblings were supposed to share, right? Why did you have to wait your turn until after midnight, when no one would notice, to spend time with H/N?

But to H/N, the sneaking around in the middle of the night and the secret messages you sent to each other, it all added to the excitement. Surely, there were days on which he wished he could just break the truth to your brother. The impact it could have on their friendship was enough intimidation for him to refrain, though. Things were better off this way, for now.

Today was no exception to your usual lies. When your brother asked if you would go out with him to do some shopping, you had played the victim and feigned a stomachache. Your parents wouldn’t be home all weekend. You’d have been stupid to waste a perfect opportunity like that. Who knew when you could have H/N in your bed the next time? Normally, you were restricted to his car, or to his bed in the dark of night. Yes, those places had something enticing at first glance. But the backseat of a car was only enjoyable for so many clandestine meetings. So today you notified him of your golden opportunity before your brother had even walked out the door.

The moment H/N texted you that he was outside your home, you opened the front door and dragged him to your room.

“Are you in control today, little one?” he asked, closing the bedroom door after you.

“Why are you asking that?” you replied, not wanting to talk at all but rather do so much more productive things.

“I don’t know…perhaps because you haven’t let me say a word since I came through the door,” he said.

“Right. Maybe I’m planning on tying you up, blindfolding you, and torturing you with ice and wax,” you joked in a casual tone, despite not usually requesting such graphic ideas.

“I don’t know if I’d let you do that,” he grinned with raised eyebrows. “Besides, I know you’d rather be at the receiving end of that. It’s a sweet idea, though. If we had some more time…”

“Think you could get away from me if I tied you up?” you said, but he was towering over you with the calmness of a king who knew he reigned over the situation.

“We both know I’m stronger than you, doll,” he said. You didn’t like it when boys called you weak. But you’d let it slide, knowing he was only joking and would never underestimate you outside of the bedroom. He put his lips right up to yours, so you felt his breath on them. His fingers came up to cup your face, but then slowly inched to your neck. When they closed around your neck, putting the slightest amount of pressure on your skin, you whimpered quietly.

“Need reminding?” he asked. As much pent-up frustration you had, and as much as your stomach was flipping upside down from how badly you needed him, you just had to play with him. You knew it would make for more fun.

“I think- “ you started, with a grin. Then you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed him backwards, until he was stumbling. Although caught off guard, he was quick to pull you along with him as he fell onto your bed. You landed on top of him with a small squeal.

“Go on, let’s see who can throw the other off the bed first,” he teased with a superiority that only spurred you on. Then again, you would always be in the mood for the oldest childhood game you had ever known. Only now it wasn’t your brother, but his best friend you were playing against. It added a layer of excitement, and after only seconds, giggles had overtaken you as you struggled in his grip.

“No tickling is allowed,” you said. He nodded obediently with a smirk that told you he might not abide by your rules.

At first, you had attempted to hold him down by his arms. But your legs tangled, and he pushed his chest up against yours, like he was about to flip you over. Your plan seemed to be working only momentarily. You groaned a little as he grabbed your wrists swiftly and held his stance against your attempt to pull his upper body to the side.

“Cute,” he said. That’s when you realized, he was barely struggling, barely trying, even. While you were giving your most, he smirked like he was watching a kitten trying to fight a lion. It was child’s play to him, keeping you in check. Literally. With an annoying expression of amusement on his face, he let you have the upper hand for a while. Then, as if you had never had an ounce of advantage, he turned it around and pulled you into him. His eyes suggested he might just send you tumbling down onto the floor any moment now. Nonetheless, you weren’t going to give up so easily. Taking your chances, you let go of his arms and moved sideways, so you could have your go at pushing him towards the edge of the mattress.

“I don’t think so,” he said. Suddenly, he bear-hugged your body and rolled you both over. Before you could protest or defend yourself, your arm was dangling off the side of your bed and if you had moved a tiny bit further, you would have slid off the bedsheets and right onto your carpet. It was his turn to straddle you now. As if his actions hadn’t been enough declarations of his strength, he pinned your wrists to the bed above your head and gave you a challenging smirk.

“I was going to let you win, doll. But you weren’t trying hard enough,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?”

What were you going to do? He had you completely immobilized. “Just let it go, then. We get it, you’re super strong and super big and the coolest,” you said.

He seemed to take an instant liking to your declaration. “Say it again. This time minus the eye-rolling, sugar.”

“You’re stronger than me,” you said, trying to avoid the laughter that was threatening to come out. Could he read in your gaze how badly you wanted him to kiss you already? If he could, he wasn’t acting on it. Instead, he bent to the crook of your neck and spoke.

“Does it turn you on that I can overpower you?” his breath fanned your ear and you had to close your eyes to control yourself.

“Yes. Because I trust you,” you answered truthfully. The corner of his lips curled into a cocky grin.

“You know what? I think I’d rather you stay in bed with me instead of throwing you on the floor. There’s so many things we can do up here, isn’t that right, little one?” His lips brushed over your cheek and then over your lips as he spoke. The nickname had always made you weak in the knees and he knew it. When he finally enveloped your lips in a kiss, you swore you could feel an electric spark jump between the two of you. The mellowness of it turned into hunger rapidly, and as soon as his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, you whimpered like you hadn’t seen him in a year.

“Needy, are we?” he asked, running his hand up your sides and underneath your shirt. He could say that again. “Let’s get these off, then.”

The seconds in which you pulled off your clothes and couldn’t hang on his lips and feel his skin on your body should have been considered a form of torture in itself. Then, time always went by so much slower than usually.

When you had both shed off your clothes, he climbed back on top of you. Instead of straddling your hips he was now resting between your legs. There was nothing separating you from him, and it was apparent not only through the body heat that radiated off him. He reached down and whilst peppering kisses on your chest, slid his fingers through your slick arousal that was pooling in your core.

“You’re so wet,” he said in surprise, but couldn’t hide his approval and self-confidence in his voice.

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes but simultaneously fighting the urge to moan at the smallest of touches he was teasing your with. “I’m so horny. Can’t we skip foreplay?”

“Poor doll,” he said. “I should’ve come over earlier, huh?”

“You know that wasn’t possible,” you said. With a desperate look, you pleaded him silently.

“I wanna taste you,” he said, but your put your hand on his cheek softly.

“Maybe later?” you said. “Please, I need to have you inside of me. Now.”

“You’re extra cute when you’re this needy,” he smiled. “Are there still condoms in your nightstand?”

You nodded and had never moved so fast to open a drawer in your life. Pretending to have any patience left, you waited for him to roll on the rubber.

“I love the way you look at me,” he said. “When you’re waiting for me. Could watch you for hours.”

“God, I hope you won’t. Come here, please?” you replied, making him chuckle. He lined himself up with your core, but then made no inclination to move ahead. His dark eyes and little head tilt told you everything.

“Don’t mess with me anymore,” you whined, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him closer. “Do it. H/N.”

“Beg for it.” His words twisted something in the pit of your stomach. Although you were burning with hunger, you could never say no to him. Then again, you were curious to see what would happen if you did.

“What if I don’t? Don’t you want to fuck me as much as I want it?” you challenged him. Something glinted in his eyes, and you knew you shouldn’t have even brought it up.

“I can always do this,” he said, and you followed his eyes down his body and to where he had wrapped his hand around his cock. Slowly, he jerked himself off, and you weren’t sure he was biting his lip because of the feeling or to discompose you. His small sigh should’ve been caused by you. This wasn’t what you had wanted. His tip was right by your slit. He could’ve pushed his length in so easily, and yet he wasn’t. Debating what to say, you kept your eyes trained on his hard member that looked so delicious in his hands. His deep groans rang in your ears. It didn’t take long for you to cave.

“Fuck. That should be me around you,” you said. “That should be my pussy you’re fucking and not your hands. Please.”

“Isn’t that right?” he said.

“Yes. Please, fuck me. I would feel so much better than your hands, and you know it. Please,” you whined. “I need you right now H/N. Please.”

You added another ‘please’ – for good measure – because the way his tongue darted out and licked his smirking lips could make you say anything if it would get him to fuck you.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Think you can take me?”

“Yes, yes-, I can! Please, fuck me,” you said in a waterfall of words, and he chuckled handsomely.

“Good girl,” he said, running a gentle hand over your head. “If it’s too much you let me know.”

“As always.”

The tip of his cock gently pushed into your core, making you hold your breath as he entered you slowly. It caused you to feel every inch with every second. Your brain felt fuzzy, and you sighed gratefully at the relief.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he moaned. The carefulness in his thrusts paired with his moon eyes at you only remained that way for a few seconds. Then, he straightened up and grabbed your hips to drag you in closer. You moaned helplessly when he almost pulled out completely, so slowly it almost made you crazy, only to slam his length into you until his tip brushed against the deepest spot inside of you. It was an action he repeated over and over, until you were reduced to a puddle of desperate whimpers, and you clasped the bedsheets in your hands tightly.

“You like it this way, little one?” he asked. He was apparently finding enjoyment in your reaction. How you could barely keep your eyes open, and when you did, your eyeballs threatened to roll to the back of your head. How your fingers clenched around the closest plushie, and you cradled it against your chest in bliss.

“Yes- fuck,” you said. “Feels so good.”

Of course, right as you said this, he had to change things up. His thrusts turned lazy and messy as he leaned backwards slightly. With an equally lazy demeanor, his thumb flicked over your clit, rubbing circles on it.

“Let me hear you. Say my name,” he said, and you quietly moaned his name. You adored the way it sounded, voiced like this, with barely more than a breath underneath your soft tone. Now and then, his cock slipped out of you, making you clench around nothing and furthermore had you going completely out of your mind. When he would push himself into your opening again, it felt as if it was the first time he was entering you today. Except you felt it repeatedly, each time as incredible as the previous. Your mouth hung open, rendered speechless except for the little moans and whimpers sounding from your throat. There was a familiar knot beginning to form in your stomach, tying firmer with each passing minute.

As if he could read your mind, he decided then he was done with his sweet torture of teasing you to an orgasm. You couldn’t be mad at him, though, because what he had planned was just as perfect, if not better. His hands wandered to their original place on your sides, and he began to snap his hips into yours at a faster pace. A small cry of surprise left your lips, while he only smirked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. Impulsively, you lifted your legs a little, intensifying the feeling of his member roughly dragging through your velvet walls.

“H/N, I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“Me too,” he replied, not slowing down for a second.

His broad frame towering over your body was a sight you would never get enough of and his gazes at you were hot enough that they could have stopped your heart in its tracks. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead and there was a thin sheet of sweat on his neck. It all just made him more breathtaking to you. The slight pain from his nails digging into the skin on your waist was staggering, and you could barely wait to see the masterpiece of marks he would leave tonight.

You were a moaning mess, flying on cloud nine and simultaneously overwhelmed by his treatment of you. It clouded your mind at took over your whole body like you were made for him to fuck you. His length filled up your tight hole and he did it with such force that your whole body rocked into your mattress in a steady, fast-paced rhythm. He let go of your waist then and supported himself on his arm by the side of your head. When his other hand went to your neck you shuddered in anticipation.

“You should see yourself with my hand around your throat,” he said. “So pretty, little one.”

“We can do it in front of a mirror sometime- ,” you suggested, but were cut off at the end of the sentence as his fingers tightened on your neck. Instantly, the effect of it hit you. The lack of oxygen made your head swim in a sea of pleasure and the unrelenting desire to come. Through fluttering eyelids, you peeked up at him. The way he licked his lips and then clenched his jaw, the gorgeous shape of his collarbones and shoulders – you sometimes wondered if he was even real. Every so often he loosened his grip on you. When he did, you took gulps of air and then instantly whined for him to choke you again.

“Let go for me,” he said. “Show me your pretty face when I make you come. I’m fucking you well, aren’t I?”

You nodded as well as you could when he was gripping your throat and you couldn’t breathe properly at the moment. It didn’t matter you couldn’t talk. He was probably not expecting you to answer, either way. In a pleasure-induced trance, you closed your eyes and let it happen, like he had asked it from you. Your hazy consciousness barely registered that he was reaching his high with you. Too overcome were you, with your thighs trembling uncontrollably and your back arching off the mattress. He had let go of your neck and was riding out his own orgasm with sloppy thrusts that only sent you into another frenzy and had you whimpering his name softly. When he had finished too, he slowed down and pulled you into a gentle kiss, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly.

“That was amazing,” he said, and with a blissful hum you nodded. Your lips changed into a pout when he rolled off you and got up. You were tired of sending him back home so quickly. As he discarded the condom in the bin, you put on your most enchanting eyes, so he would have no other choice.

“Stay a little longer, please,” you asked. You knew he wanted to, as well. So although he was aware that your brother could return at any moment, he tumbled back into bed with you.

“Just for a little while,” he said. “Mhm…you’re so perfect to cuddle, baby.” His embrace was warm and his scent comforting, as he hummed a lovely melody. The soft touch of his fingers running through your hair lulled you right into a light sleep. You were awoken rather abruptly, and with half a heart attack.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen my charger- “ your brother’s voice suddenly broke through the silence and you wondered if you would have to pack up and leave the country after this sort of embarrassment.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, knowing well enough it was the dumbest thing you could have said. But who could blame you? You had only woken up two seconds ago.

“Really?” your brother asked. “Because I hear H/N sneak into our house so often lately, I’m starting to wonder if his parents threw him out.”

His tone was surprisingly calm.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you,” H/N said to your brother. “I thought you’d hate me and that we’d be over as friends.”

“I know I told you once to leave Y/N alone. But now…I guess it’s cool. She’s been in a great mood lately, and if that’s thanks to you, I think I can approve of you two. Although I’m not looking forward to being a third wheel, I think I can get used to it if I try hard enough,” your brother said. You couldn’t believe your ears, and involuntarily smiled like a fool. No more hiding. No more secrets.

“I stole your charger. I’m sorry,” you said then, making your brother roll his eyes. “It’s by the sofa in the living room.”

“Great. I needed a reason to leave anyway,” your brother said. “I might approve of you, but this situation is still too awkward. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, H/N?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy in your bed said.

“You’ll see me too!” you added as a joke, as your brother already walked away from the door.

“Unfortunately I will!” your brother shouted, with the unnerving tone only a big brother could possibly muster.

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wicked-berry · 2 years

Text

You know what...back in 2018, a year after orphan black had ended we were introduced to a new series called ‘killing eve’ by the same network. I was one of the few people who had watched the series from the very 1st ep without spoilers and without a single clue of how exactly they would move the plot forward. Because of that i was genuinely caught off guard with every twist and turn of a masterfully crafted script, an abundant production and of course those stellar performances of sandra and jodie we got to witness the past 4 years. By the end of 1x05 i was hooked and then came 1x08, which really proved KE to be a ‘never been done before’,one kind of a show to me. Really it was nothing like what i had watched before. It subverted all expectations and set the standard very high right from the beginning. All the while a 2nd season was already approved by then, which means they knew they had successful material on their hands (S1 was impeccable, really faultless for me, praise PWB). As of the 2nd season, and after PWB had left, production changed the lead writer every season and as it was expected that has impacted the series a lot. PWB or not they shouldn't had changed the lead writer EVERY season, given that everyone has a different picture in their head of how this could go. The fast pace has always been an absolute advantage of KE that didn't allow you to take your eyes off the screen because you could lose important scenes and clues. Then they added all those dull characters and subplots that took almost half of the screen time and most importantly kept the main characters apart for most of the time and that took half the edge from the show. Season 3 had some good moments but they definitely wasted much time.

FINALE and s4

I felt from the start they wouldn’t go with more than 5 seasons and that was ok with me, cause i knew they would have wanted to end the show on a high and not stretch it. After the pandemic and the news of a last s4 i was so sure that the time wouldn’t be enough to take care of all the loose ends and my expectations dropped but i was hopeful that after how s3 ended, with villaneve together, they were all set to wrap everything up. S4 started to unfold and i was taken aback by the inexplicable separation of eve and v, the non existant reunion after THE WHOLE SEASON, the infinite amount of lost time combined with the forced plot of the 12. Following all that, came the worst ending i could have hoped for. When it came to the finale of KE i was always prepared for death and destruction and i would definitely take 2 deaths as a dramatic and well thought “bad” ending. If anyone, 4 years ago, would tell me how badly written, executed and butchered the epilogue would be, i would have laughed just as i laughed when the title ‘THE END’ dropped.I am sorry but that was so insulting to all the viewers who actually cared about the series and paid attention to the details. They kind of turned it into a parody. Aside from

the dramatic and depressing scenes, from a narrative standpoint, the writing choices were insane. Not connected, not a single question answered, full of plot holes and rushed. I am still not able to comprehend the thought process they followed that led to this. Its not even the sad part and the last minutes but the complete abandonment of all reason. At last, nothing made sense, i’m in denial and i don't want to believe they chose deliberately this awful ending (at least without the pressure of the production) that literally noone could justify, let alone acknowledge it as “skillful writing”. A degrading end for an exceptional series truly.

#killing eve #sandra oh #jodie comer #ke finale #killing eve finale #eve #villanelle #villaneve #phoebe waller bridge #ke 4x08

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mjolnir-steve · 3 years

Note

Number 48 with Ransom Drysdale?

I wasn't sure which 48 to go with, so how about all three? 😅Thank you so much for sending me this!! 💜

Fluff: “the world could be on fire and i’d still be happy as long as i'm with you.”

Smut: “what would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?”

Angst: “you can’t take back what you said.”

Ransom Drysdale x fem!reader Summary: Ransom said something stupid and you heard it. Now he has to explain himself. Warnings: some cursing, lil bit of smut (18+ only!!!!!!), beginnings of oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of angst, hurt/comfort? Word count: 1355 (Is this drabble length? Who knows!) Prompts are in bold!

You ran toward the front door, fumbling with your keys in your haste to get away from your prick of a boyfriend. Ransom was close behind, almost getting his fingers caught in the door when you tried to slam it behind you. “Y/N, please, let me explain!”

He stepped inside and toed off his shoes before running after you up the stairs. He checked every room, unable to find where you’d disappeared to. With his head in his hands, he sat down on the bed you shared and wondered when exactly he’d stop being a fucking moron. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to call you, but set it down when he heard sniffles from the walk-in closet.

Ransom took a deep breath and opened the door gingerly, as if he were afraid he’d scare you off. “I’m so sorry, cookie. Can we please talk about this?” He found you sitting on the floor at the back of the closet with your knees pulled tight to your chest.

Your chest tightened upon hearing the nickname he coined for you one day when you accused him of liking Biscoff cookies more than he liked you. It was only a few months into your relationship and you stupidly thought it meant something. “What is there to talk about, Hugh?” you said with all the vitriol you could muster. “You told your family I’m basically just a piece of ass.” You wiped at your eyes, hissing at the burn caused by the mascara you’d forgotten you were wearing. “I don’t see how you could clarify that statement any further.”

Ransom sank to his knees in front of you and reached for your hands, but you pulled away, crossing your arms. He sat back and brought his hands to his lap, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, trying to relieve the pressure building up behind them so that he wouldn’t cry just yet. “I’m so s–”

“–First of all, that does not make it better. Second, whether I was supposed to hear it or not, you still said it, Ransom. You can’t take back what you said.” All your willpower couldn’t stop your voice from cracking. You covered your mouth with both hands in a futile attempt to stifle the sobs beginning to rack your body.

He crawled forward, wrapping you in a tight hug and letting you cry into his shoulder. Thankful you didn’t push him away, he rubbed soothing circles into your back with one hand and cradled the back of your head with the other. “Baby, please listen to me. If you still can’t forgive me after this, I’ll understand, but please please please let me explain myself.”

You relaxed into him a bit and loosely wrapped your arms around his middle, hesitantly nodding your consent into the side of his neck. “My parents were asking if I was serious about you because they’re selfish fucks. Everyone in my family is, except my grandfather. They don’t like to see outsiders getting comfortable in our ‘ancestral home’ or whatever. I’ve seen it before when my cousins bring their significant others home. They don’t want to see me happy because… Well, because they’re assholes, but also because they see new people as threats, especially when those people aren’t as wealthy as my grandfather has made us.”

Ransom sat down on the floor, guiding you to sit in his lap. You looked at him, a bit unsure, as he took your face in his hands. “If I let them know that you mean something to me, everything to me, then they would make your life miserable. It sounds so stupid saying it out loud, but I figured if I let them think you meant nothing, then they’d leave us both alone for a while longer.” He brushed a few stray tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. “There are no words to tell you how sorry I am, cookie.”

You blinked at him and waited a moment to see if he’d continue, but he remained silent, eyes shut tight, tears threatening to fall from behind his dark lashes. “That’s why you never bring me to family things? I thought you were embarrassed by me. I thought you didn’t want them to meet me.” You started crying again as your last sentence caught in your throat. Ransom pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t want you to have to meet them. You make me so happy and I was scared they’d try to ruin that, ruin us. I should have been honest with you.” You covered his hands with yours, still holding your face, and leaned back enough to look in his eyes, somehow still brilliant blue in the dim light leaking in from the bedroom.

“I make you happy, Ran?”

“The happiest I’ve ever fucking been. The world could be on fire and I’d still be happy as long as I’m with you.” He kissed your forehead, the top of each cheek, and the tip of your nose, but you stopped him with a finger to his lips before they could catch yours.

“You make me happy, too, handsome,” you sighed, bumping his nose with yours. “But you have to promise me you’ll talk to me more. I know your family is mostly made up of assholes, and I can handle that, but I can’t handle it if you’re going to act like that, too. This all could have been avoided if you just gave me a heads up. I’m not going to tell you how to handle your family – I know you probably know best – but I am telling you how to handle me.”

You took his hands from your face and held them with yours, close to your heart. “If you need me to act a certain way or say certain things to keep them out of our bubble for a while longer, I can do that. I just need you to communicate with me, okay?” He nodded at you, a hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

You kissed him then, unspoken emotions flowing between the two of you of both apology and acceptance. Ransom deepened the kiss, needy as he always seemed to be after an argument, no matter how big or small.

“You said something about handling you, cookie?” He laid you down on the closet floor, pushing down the straps of your dress and bra. Your laugh turned into a moan when he simultaneously nipped along your neck and rolled your nipple between his fingers.

You moaned his name, arching your back and pushing your exposed chest against his sweater. “Strip, pretty boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He practically leapt up, removing his clothes with a speed you were sure had to count towards some sort of Olympic record. You couldn’t stop giggling as he settled between your legs again, resting his chin on his hands folded over your tummy. “Tell me what you want next,” he almost whined, looking up at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster.

You carded your fingers through his hair, admiring his features for a moment before you decided to take advantage of the situation. “What would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me? Always so needy, handsome.”

He let out a shaky breath. “Who cares what they’d say? If they ever had sex even half as good as we do, they’d be fucking desperate for it, too.” He lifted his head and began to kiss his way down your body, stopping at the tops of your thighs. “Wait. Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“Show my pussy how sorry you are, then we’ll talk.” You pushed his face away to where you needed him most, laughing and gasping as he whispered actual apologies against your core, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps as his breath fanned over your warm, wet center. You’d already forgiven him, but why not make him earn it?

A/N: I really hope you liked this! I’ve just started writing fic again after about seven years off, so feedback is appreciated, as well as comments and reblogs. :)

Send me drabble prompts to help me flex these writing muscles again!

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x plus size reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale drabble #maggie's writing

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the-modernmary · 3 years

Text

chess, not checkers || a. hotchner x f!reader

Summary: Cross-examining Agent Hotchner should have been a lot more simple than it had been. But when the questioning slips out of your control, you find yourself being profiled right there in the middle of the courtroom. Amazing how one stranger can know you better than anybody you've ever met.

Contains: SMUT! 18+ only, minors DNI. Fingering, (light) choking, semi-public sex, adultery, anger sex, enemies to lovers, edging, lawyer hotch <3

Word Count: 8k+

Comments: This is so heavily inspired by “charcoal grey” because we all know how hot he was in that scene. Thank you to @angelfxllcm for being an absolute godsend as I wrote this and being the most supportive friend ever. (If you haven’t read her work, you absolutely should!)

“Fucking FBI and their selfish ass schedules,” you grumbled as you hurried through the hallway of the courthouse, your intern Robin on on your heels. “Court gets pushed back for a week because Agent Hotchner just had to leave with them on a case instead of working remotely, and then expects us to drop everything to go to court the second he gets back to D.C. As if we don’t have jobs too. As if I don’t have six other cases sitting on my desk that now have to be pushed back because of him.”

Robin scrambled behind you, nodding along to every word that left your mouth. “Does this happen with the, uh…”

“BAU,” you supplied.

“—BAU, right. Do court cases usually get pushed back for them?”

You shook your head as you checked your watch. A glint caught the corner of your eye. Shit, your ring. You hadn’t expected to go to court, and completely forgot to leave it at home. You pulled it off and slipped it into the outside pocket of your bag, hoping nobody noticed.

“No. Most cases from the BAU never go to court,” you explained. “There’s enough evidence against the people they arrest that it’s almost always a plea.”

The Bankers Box in Robin’s hands almost slipped as you placed another file precariously on top of it. “Then why is this case going to court?”

Your step faltered as you processed her question, and you couldn’t hide the disbelief on your face. “You did read the brief for this case, right?” you asked, unsure if you really wanted the answer, except her embarrassed blush and averted gaze gave you enough of one. “Seriously? Okay, well, first of all, because of that, you won’t be sitting at the attorney’s table with us. Instead you’ll be in the public seating. I won’t weaken my case because you decided to be unprepared. If this happens again, you won’t be welcome to join me in court at all, am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Deciding to take pity on the poor intern, you sighed as you started your explanation. “Our client claims that his arrest was unlawful and therefore none of the evidence they found should be usable. I’m inclined to agree with him, so we’re fighting all of the charges that were made with evidence found after the arrest.”

“So you don’t think he’s guilty?”

“I don’t ask that question. I’m not God and I’m not his priest, I don’t need to hear his confession. I just need to get him out of unjust and illegal charges.”

Robin’s eyebrows furrowed. “So he’s going to walk free? Even after everything he did? How do you sleep at night?”

Fucking Christ, how did this girl even get into law school? You rolled your eyes, suddenly regretting your decision to take on an intern. “No, he’s not going to walk free. He’s going to get a lesser charge, because everything else was obtained illegally. And I sleep very well, actually, because my job isn’t some episode of Law & Order. Less than 10% of my cases ever go to trial. I’m not here to suddenly convince juries that the evidence is wrong. My job is making sure that everybody is given their constitutional rights, that the police are doing their jobs correctly, and that the State isn’t over-punishing. Any cop knows that, and if you ever come across one that doesn’t, you know that you should look into those cases even further. You have to realize, criminal defense lawyers—”

“— are the last line of protection against a corrupt system.” You turned to see your assistant, Marcus, making his way towards you, briefcase and your spare blazer that you keep in the office in hand. “I see you’re giving her your famous anti-prosecutor lecture.”

Marcus helped you slip on your blazer over your satin button up, his hands lingering on your skin for just a little too long to be considered professional, and it made you shiver in anticipation. “God knows she needs it. Thank you, Marcus, for bringing these so quickly. Were you able to get the physical copies of Agent Hotchner’s files?”

Marcus held up his briefcase. “All right here. Although I have to say, I’m a little lost as to why you need his service records.”

The three of you turned the corner to enter the courtroom, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Robin obediently took her seat in the public viewing area while you and Marcus pushed through the swinging door to settle at your table. “I’ve heard stories of Agent Hotchner’s testimonies. He used to be a prosecutor, so he’s not easily tricked, but he is prideful and will defend his work. I’m going to use that to my advantage. It’s like I always say, practicing law means always playing chess, never checkers.”

Marcus took the seat next to you, making sure to sit close enough that his knee brushed yours the whole time. “You know, I was thinking, this case is complicated,” he whispered, “And we haven’t combed through everything yet… It could take more time than we planned.”

You smirked, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. “Agreed. I’ll tell Tony I have to stay late at the office tonight.”

Before Marcus could continue his flirting, you were distracted by the door to the judge’s chamber opening, revealing the back of a man in a black suit. “Thank you again, your honor, for the continuance,” came the deep timbre of the man, and oh. You certainly weren’t expecting that. “A young girl was able to be reunited with her family this week because of it.”

The man in the doorway turned, and your breath caught in your throat. He was tall and buff and expensive-looking and absolutely gorgeous. His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly, the sleeves of his blazer straining against his biceps. He carried himself with an aura of confidence, like he belonged in the courtroom, and he was making his way directly towards you. Unconsciously, you separated from Marcus, putting as much distance between you and your assistant as possible without raising suspicion.

The man said something to the prosecution before turning to you, hand outstretched. He said your name as a greeting, and your name had never sounded so good. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

When you stood up to shake his hand, you tried to ignore the way his eyes raked down your body, or the way the two of you held on just a moment too long to be considered proper. It felt as if he was looking right through you, learning all of your secrets as though they were written on your body. No, you knew that look. He was studying you. “Agent Hotchner, it’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise, Counselor. Please, call me Aaron.”

You raised your eyebrows in Aaron’s direction, still shaking his hand, and it made your skin burn. You dropped his hand. “I’m just glad we’re able to get this case done and over with. Hopefully with no more delays.”

His eyebrows quirked upwards in what could only be described as shock. “I see your reputation precedes you,” was his only reply before going to his respective seat, and if he noticed you watching his every move, he made no indication of it. That being said, you definitely felt his gaze on the back of your head as the judge entered the room and the session began.

As the proceedings dragged on, you and Marcus continued to talk strategy, his hand finding its way to your thigh ever so often. You also continued negotiating with the prosecutor, both of you flashing Post-It notes of potential plea deals that you would be willing to accept, always careful to keep it out of the eyes of the judge and jury. By the time Aaron had been called to the stand, the offer given to you still wasn’t low enough. Fine, if the prosecution wanted to make a fool of themselves, so be it.

You listened to Aaron’s testimony with the prosecution, completely enraptured. There was something about the way he spoke, so full of authority and confidence, that made the entire room drawn to him. He was incredibly intelligent, that much was clear, and despite the many years since he had actually practiced law, that prosecutor candor hadn’t left him. Staying focused on the case had proven to be more difficult than previously expected. You found yourself staring at his lips, and it didn’t take long for your mind to conjure up some obscene and explicit situations starring the man in front of you.

Eventually, his eyes caught yours, and he watched you, his lips — god, those lips — quirked up in a smirk. Aaron watched you expectantly, and in the light of the courtroom, his eyes were almost the color of whiskey, and you wanted nothing more than to drink it all in.

A sharp “Counselor” broke you out of your trance. In the corner of your eye, you could see Marcus looking at you in concern, but he was the furthest thing from your mind now, especially as Aaron let out an amused huff of air.

“Counselor, does the prosecution wish to cross-examine the witness?” the judge asked with barely hidden annoyance, making you think that it probably wasn’t the first time she had asked the question.

You stood up quickly, smoothing down your pencil skirt as you did. “Yes, your honor. Thank you,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady as you noticed Aaron’s eyes trailing down your bare legs.

The cross-examination started normally, and Aaron answered all of your questions with careful precision that only a lawyer could pull off. He seemed to know exactly where you were trying to go with your questions, and easily sidestepped any unflattering implication you were trying to make. Long, biased questions were met with short, clipped answers, not giving you anything to work with. Whatever move you made, Aaron was right there, two steps ahead with you. Never in your life had you met somebody who could follow you so easily or could match your wit without so much breaking a sweat.

It was exhilarating.

“Agent Hotchner,” you started, hands clasped behind your back. “Could you please explain to the court how profiles are used when finding and apprehending suspects?”

Aaron sat up a little taller in the witness box. “Using behavioral research and past case studies, we’re able to construct what we call a profile of the perpetrator, or unsub. Anything they do can give us insights as to who they are — their victims, what weapons they use, even how they dispose of the bodies. Once we have a profile of who we believe is committing these crimes, we have our technical analyst run the parameters through her system. From there, narrowing down our search is easy.”

You nodded slowly, pretending to mull over what he was saying. “For clarification’s sake, in layman’s terms, you build your profile off of assumed psychology, and not concrete evidence, is that correct?”

The muscles in Aaron’s jaw flexed, a sure sign he was gritting his teeth. “Behavior analysis is a tool, just like any other—”

“It’s a yes or no question, Agent,” you interrupted, and oh, he was not happy about that.

His tongue darted out from between his lips. “The research we use for behavior is—”

“Yes. Or no.”

Aaron hesitated, his frustration building up to palpable tension that settled in the courtroom like a thick fog. You weren’t giving him a chance to explain or show off anymore, didn’t allow him to be seen as the smartest person in the room anymore, and that was getting to him.

“Yes,” he conceded, grimacing as if admitting that was physically painful for him.

“Thank you,” you replied, and he caught the unspoken that wasn’t so hard now, was it? even if the rest of the room did not. You walked back over to your table, snatching up a piece of paper and holding it in the air. “Your honor, the defense would like to submit Exhibit Seven into evidence.”

Once the judge gave her express permission, you placed the form in front of Aaron with your left hand, perfectly manicured fingers splayed out in front of his eyes. You almost missed the way his head tilted ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed, like he was staring at a puzzle half complete. “Agent, could you please tell us what’s laying in front of you now.”

He leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the paper before meeting back with yours. “This is a part of our official report of the case. Specifically, it has the profile that was used to lead us to the apprehension of Mr. Mckenna.”

“Does it say on that paper who had the final sign off on the profile before it was circulated?”

“Yes, that would be me. As Unit Chief, my job is to sign and finalize any reports.”

“And could you please read the profile, verbatim, as written on that report?”

Aaron’s face remained neutral, with the exception of his eyebrows scrunching together. Slowly, he had started to piece together your strategy, and he didn’t like it. “The unsub is a white male, between 32 and 40 years old. He’ll most likely be unemployed and driving a van or truck — anything that would let him easily transport his equipment and victims. We believe that he’s also had run-ins with the law before, likely as a juvenile. He’ll come across as friendly, if not a little shy. We believe that this comes from a failed relationship in his past, one where he believes that he was manipulated and wronged, and now he’s going after surrogates for that woman. Killing these women is the only thing that gives him any sort of power. If we can figure out who this past relationship was, it will lead us directly to the killer.”

You paced back and forth in front of the witness stand, your skirt tightening around your legs with every step you took. “Between 32 and 40 years old, unemployed, and killing surrogates… Except Mr. Mckenna is 22 and works part time as a bartender. How do you justify arresting my client with those inconsistencies?”

“As I mentioned before,” Aaron started, his voice dangerously low, “A profile is just one tool we use of many. Not every single part of the profile will fit every single time. Which is why we also rely on outside evidence to ensure that we have the best chance at catching the unknown subject as quickly as possible.”

“Except you had no concrete evidence, which you admit in your own report!” You took two steps closer to him, getting as in his face as possible without risking being held in contempt. With every word that left your mouth, your voice got more and more forceful, and you got more and more under Aaron’s skin.

“All of it was circumstantial at best. You had a hunch, an inherent bias against my client due to his previous conviction record, and you were frustrated at your own inability to get a good lead. But you can’t arrest somebody on a hunch, or because you’re angry. You had no evidence and the man you arrested didn’t even match the profile that you came up with!”

Your eyes locked with Aaron, his gaze heavy, and neither of you dared look away first. “Objection!” came from the prosecutor behind you. Exactly what you wanted. “Argumentative and foundation.” You flashed Aaron a predatory grin.

Two moves to checkmate.

“Sustained,” said the judge.

“Withdrawn.” You tapped the witness bench, hoping to convey an air of aloofness and calm. Aaron scowled. “Agent Hotchner, before joining the FBI, you were a prosecutor, is that true?”

Confusion flashed across his face for the briefest of moments, and it gave you a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that you had the upper hand. You knew the answer to every question you were about to ask, and he knew that. He just couldn’t figure out where you were going with this line of questioning, or what the relevance even was. “Yes, that’s correct.”

You made a soft hum of approval. “Could you please walk us through your higher education?”

“I attended George Washington University for both my undergraduate and law degree.”

“What did you major in for your undergrad?”

Aaron hesitated. “Political Science.”

Check. “So all together, you’ve had about seven years in higher education. In that time, how many psychology classes did you take?”

It was almost sadistic, the way you relished in the slight twitch of his face — the realization that he had been backed into a corner. The silence was deafening as Aaron’s scowl met your smug grin.

“None,” Aaron said finally.

“None,” you repeated, performative shock dripping from your words. “Do you have any academic background in psychology or human behavior, then?”

Aaron’s jaw clenched, and as you made your way closer to the witness stand, you saw his thumb frantically moving back and forth over his fingertips. Clearly, you had struck a nerve. “The FBI has rigorous coursework in order to become a profiler, along with multiple exams and continued training as more research becomes available to us. The profiling classes are no easy feat and are written by experts in the field. Creating profiles has a long and respected history in detective work, and these profilers have caught some of the most prolific serial killers of all time.”

You placed a hand over your chest in faux modesty. “My apologies, Agent Hotchner, I believe I wasn’t very clear. I’m not calling into question the validity and effectiveness of profiles. I’m calling into question the validity and effectiveness of you as a profiler.”

You could practically see the cartoon fire spewing out of Aaron’s ears. He was so close to being in your trap, something he had to have known, too, yet he continued to toe dangerously close to that line.

“A lack of formal education in profiling,” you continued, keeping your voice light, “and the blatant disregard for basic police and legal procedure as shown in this case with my client… I mean, how many other mistakes were made in your past cases? It’s hard to believe that you can read anybody, much less the hardened criminal that you have painted my client to be.”

Checkmate.

“Objection!” cried the prosecutor again. “Your Honor, this is —”

He was cut off by the judge raising her hand. “Sustained. Counselor, I would advise you to tread lightly from here on out.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Withdrawn.” You turned around to make your way back to your table, ignoring Marcus’s look of complete disbelief. Baiting Aaron had been easy, and now all you had to do was wait.

The courtroom was uncomfortably silent for one beat… two beats…

“Not only can I read Mr. Mckenna,” echoed Aaron’s voice, “But I can also read you.”

Once you got back to your desk, you turned around, hands resting on the cool wood of the table top, but you never sat down. Instead, you leaned forward, and arched your eyebrows in a silent challenge — one he was all too eager to pursue.

“The red Harvard Law tag on your briefcase is a perfect match to your lipstick, and you wear the same one every time you go to court. Not because you’re superstitious the way most lawyers are, but because it’s your way of maintaining control in the courtroom, something you’re desperate to keep in every aspect of your life, personal and professional. I would guess that this need goes back to late high school, early college. But you’ve been worried about appearances and how you’re perceived for even longer than that.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. So he thought you were Type A? Anybody could have guessed that by your anything. All they would have to do is look at your color coded case files or your daily schedule, planned down to the minute. You had only been trying to sway the jury when you insinuated that he wasn’t a good profiler, but maybe you were actually starting to believe it yourself.

Except Aaron got a dangerous glint in his eye, causing your stomach to bubble with anxiety. Clearly, he was playing chess, too, and by the looks of it, he believed he was winning.

“In fact, you’re so worried about losing control, that despite your busy schedule, you refuse to hire a planner for your upcoming wedding.”

That got your attention. The objection that you were about to call died on your lips, and all you could do was stare with poorly hidden shock. Next to you, Marcus turned pale as a ghost.

Aaron, cocky bastard, continued his profile of you, with no clear signs of stopping anytime soon. “You have a tan where your ring usually is, and I know you’ve been wearing it recently as you subconsciously fiddle with where it would be whenever things in court aren’t going your way. Just like you’re doing now. You still have your maiden name, which you plan on giving up when you do get married because not taking his last name would arouse too many questions that you want to avoid. Just another way your concern of appearances is manifested. So you’re engaged.

“I would say congratulations, but it’s not a happy relationship, not on your side, anyway. Younger female professionals will take their rings off in fear of not being taken seriously, but you’re an established and respected lawyer. You needn't worry about that. So if it’s not about you, it’s about the fiance. You don’t want to be associated with him.”

You gripped the edge of the table, too angry to form words. Your nails dug into the varnish, and you were sure that your heavy breathing could be heard from across the room. This dick. This absolute, garbage, piece of shit dick. The worst part was how casual he sounded as he aired all of your dirty laundry for everybody to hear.

“He’s holding you back, in all aspects of life, but mostly intellectually. He doesn’t have a sliver of your capabilities. The two of you are probably high school sweethearts, prom king and queen type, but while you grew up and matured, he never did. He can’t keep up with you. Still acts the same way he did in high school, only now with more access to alcohol and money. Career wise, he doesn’t have much going for him, probably some sports related pipe dream. But you stay with him because you know how to control him and how to use him to your advantage.”

Aaron’s eyes zeroed in on Marcus, and all of the color drained from your face. The voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you to object, to get the judge involved, anything, before Aaron did any more damage, but you were frozen in your spot. For the first time in your life, you were completely and utterly speechless and spiraling out of control.

“That need for control is also why you’re sleeping with your assistant. It’s casual for you, but not for him anymore. You should break that off. That’s nothing new for you, though. In fact, I would bet that if we looked back at all of your affairs since your engagement, we’d find a long string of men and women, all of whom are your subordinates or of lower status than you. It’s a win-win situation — they’re more than eager to have a chance with you, and you get to stay in control. Oh, you’ll stop when you actually get married, but you continue to push that date back, as well. So…”

He leaned back in his chair, clearly feeling good about himself, and God, you could kill him. You could reach over the witness box and wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze until his whiskey colored eyes popped out of his smug, beautiful face.

Aaron lifted his chin, eyebrows raised in your direction. “Do you believe in my abilities as a profiler now, Counselor?”

That snapped you back into action. You cleared your throat and unnecessarily smoothed down your skirt in an attempt to regroup your thoughts. “Well, Agent Hotchner, thank you for that little show and tell. It’s clear that you are very passionate about your career. However, just like your profile of my client, you have no evidence for any of your unsubstantiated accusations.”

It was a pathetic attempt at saving face, and Aaron knew it, but it had to be enough for you. You turned your back towards Aaron so that you could face the judge, who, to her credit, had a perfect poker face the whole time. “Your Honor, I move to strike Agent Hotchner’s outburst” — not an outburst, Aaron was too composed to ever have one of those, but he grimaced at the word all the same — “from the record, as no question stands before the witness at this time.”

The judge looked at you dubiously, clearly debating her ruling. There shouldn’t have been any reason to worry, you were legally in the right, but there was always the chance that she wouldn’t be on your side. You noticed yourself fiddling with where your engagement ring would usually be, and you cursed yourself under your breath. How could Aaron have possibly known all of that?

“Sustained,” she said finally, “I direct the jury to disregard the witness’s, uh, example when considering the evidence.”

You let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t much of a win — everybody still heard what had happened, it was still in the back of their minds, like the ring of a bell echoing — but at least in regards to the case, you had the legal upper hand.

The judge turned back to you. “Defense, the witness is still yours, if you have any further questions.”

If you were a little more in your right mind, you would have cut your losses, but between your oath to defend your client to the best of your ability and that stupid self assured grin on Aaron’s face, you knew that you really had no choice.

Deep breath in… Slow breath out… You’re at a stalemate now.

“Agent Hotchner,” you said, causing him to perk him up in interest. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting you to continue. “Wouldn’t an ex-lawyer and an FBI agent be familiar with the rules of decorum in a courtroom?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand your question, Counselor.”

“Let me rephrase, then. Would you say that you have a history of emotional outbursts and rule breaking in your line of work? And I’ll remind you that you are still under oath.”

Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I wouldn’t. Integrity is one of our core values, and we take that very seriously.”

With shaking hands, Marcus handed you one of the files you’d had him print out on Aaron. “If that’s so, can you explain why, since your promotion to Unit Chief in 2005, you and your team have had seven disciplinary hearings, one of which being an internal investigation into the excessive force used by one of your agents, and another being a congressional hearing?”

A sick sense of satisfaction passed over you when you saw him get visibly shocked, his poker face breaking for the first time that day. If he wanted to go for blood, you could fight back twice as hard. “I’m not at liberty to discuss either of those cases.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Very well, Agent. So between the discrepancies in the profile, your inability to control your temper, and your history of breaking procedure, coupled with the fact that you arrested my client without any warrant by kicking in the door to an innocent civilian’s house, do you really believe that your arrest and the subsequent evidence that came from that arrest was obtained legally? Or do you just not care either way, as long as you’re able to prove that you’re right?”

Right as he opened his mouth to speak, you turned your back on him and started to walk back to your table. Aaron wasn’t even able to get a peep out before you cut him off with a sharp “Question withdrawn. At this time, the defense rests.”

“Our arrest was made on the grounds of—” Aaron tried, and you smirked to yourself. He must have been desperate if he was trying that move twice. You whipped around, gaze steeled.

“I have no further questions, Agent Hotchner,” you repeated, only letting out the slightest hint of amusement. “But thank you for your cooperation with Lady Justice today.”

Aaron’s eyes met yours, and a weight settled in the pit of your stomach. You should have hated him, but something about him had you completely and utterly entranced by him. Maybe it was the novelty of the case. Maybe it was the matching intellects and the fact that he was the only other person who could give you a challenge.

Maybe you just liked the way you got to lose control with him.

As he passed you, his arm brushed yours, and your whole body burned.

“Very cute, Counselor,” he whispered, voice dripping with condescension. “How long did it take you to come up with that little switch up?”

“Don’t patronize me,” you snapped. “I was playing chess, you were playing checkers, and that’s why you lost.”

The rest of the session went on normally, if not a little tense. To your surprise, Aaron hadn’t left immediately after his testimony, and instead took a seat in the section for the public. Good. As soon as courtroom decorum wasn’t a factor, you were sure to give him a piece of your mind.

Court adjourned for the day, and you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You told Marcus to continue to push for a better plea option as you grabbed your briefcase and stormed out, pushing through the throngs of people until you could see the back of Aaron’s head.

You sped up your steps until you were right behind him, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him in his tracks. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

You pulled Aaron into an empty conference room, hoping to get some privacy before you completely blew your lid. You already had one public humiliation because of him, and you did not need another.

“What is your problem?” you hissed, locking the door behind you. “You had no right to put my personal life on blast like that.”

Aaron placed his hands on his hips, swooping the sides of his suit jacket back, and you had to make a very conscious effort to not stare. “You questioned my profiling abilities, and I proved them.”

“You didn’t prove shit,” you argued, folding your arms across your chest. “Except for the fact that you’re an insufferable bastard.”

“Are you saying that my profile was off? Because if you didn’t want to be caught committing adultery, then you shouldn’t have made it so obvious.”

You gritted your teeth and took a step towards him in a futile attempt to come across as intimidating. Even in your heels, he still seemed to be towering over you. You’d have to level the playing field somehow. You gripped his tie and used it to pull him down so that he was closer to eye level with you. “I don’t need your judgment, Aaron.”

Aaron moved closer to you, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His Adam's apple bobbed and it captivated you. “I couldn’t care less about what you do,” he said flippantly. “Matter of fact, I don’t think this fit of anger is even inherently about your little secret coming out. Do you want to know what I think it is?”

“Not at all.”

“I think,” he continued, completely ignoring your protest, “You’re angry because as much as you can dish it out, you can’t take it.”

Your grip on his tie tightened at his words. “Trust me, I can take anything,” you said, voice low and breathy.

Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips — those kissable, red stained lips of yours. You hadn’t had to reapply your lipstick once throughout the day, and he idly wondered just exactly what it would take to muss up that perfect, pouty red lip.

“I also think that for the first time in a very long time, you didn’t have control, and you liked it.” He bent down a little bit more so that his lips brushed against your ear with every word and you could feel his breath run down your spine. “Aren’t you bored of sleeping with boys who are so far beneath you?”

You’re not sure who initiated it, but the next thing you knew, your lips crashed against his, the two of you making out like it was the last kiss either of you were ever going to get. His hands felt impossibly everywhere all at once — gripping your hips, tugging at your hair, and even snaking under your work blouse to palm at your breast. His teeth nipped at the fibres of your lips. With every movement of his hands, little gasps escaped you, and you could feel the curve of his lips curling up into a smirk.

His fingers trailed up the side of your body, past the curve of your neck, and tangled themselves in your hair before yanking it back, exposing the column of your throat. Immediately he attached his lips to your neck, nipping at your pulse point.

“Aaron,” you whined, trying to regain the breath he stole from your lungs. You practically melted in his arms, going completely weak at the knees, especially as his tongue trailed across the underside of your jaw. You let his tie fall from your grip, instead bringing your hands up to cup his face to pull him in for another kiss.

His lips set a bruising pace, and it caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach. You had never once been kissed like this, never once felt so all-consumed by a person. Aaron’s cologne surrounded you, making your head spin. Bruises were sure to form from how harshly he was gripping your hips, but you didn’t care. He was addicting, and you wanted more.

Hotch walked you backwards until you were pressed up against the wall, his thigh shoved in between your legs, forcing your skirt to ride up. The position made his arousal obvious as he pressed against you. The way he held you was possessive, primal even, Unconsciously, you ground down on his thigh, hoping for anything to help relieve the ache between your legs.

Unfortunately for you, Aaron caught on to what you were trying to do, and he chuckled against your lips before pulling away just far enough to speak. “Look at you,” he whispered, and the raspiness of his voice only served to turn you on even more. He hooked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and his thumb traced your bottom lip, tugging at it ever so slightly. His other hand slowly trailed its way up your thigh, nails scratching at your skin. “Skirt hiked up around your waist, desperate to get off. Your little boyfriends aren’t doing it for you anymore?”

He pressed his thigh further into you, ripping an involuntary moan from your throat. “Fuck,” you gasped, your hips still moving back and forth against him, not caring how needy it made you seem. “I need… I…”

“What? Big, bad lawyer doesn’t have any more smart ass comments?” he cooed sarcastically, pushing your skirt up even higher. He replaced his thigh with his hand, and his fingers ghosted over your covered pussy, teasing you, not giving you nearly enough contact. “Fuck, you’re so wet already. Go ahead, needy girl, if you’re that desperate.” Aaron yanked down your panties in one fell swoop, and you blindly kicked them off to the side. “Be a good girl and show me how much you want this.”

Without any more of a warning, one of his fingers entered you, and you let out a breathy moan that Aaron was sure to have on repeat in his mind for days to come. When the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your brain completely short circuited. You threw your head back as far as you could despite being pressed against the wall as his name clumsily tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, pressing you further against the wall. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

Electricity coursed through your veins as he added a second finger, easily finding that spot in you that made you see stars. You rocked your hips back and forth against his hand, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. His lips trailed from your jawline, down your neck, and to your collarbone.

“Look at me,” Aaron ordered, tightening his grip on your chin, and your eyes shot right back open. Instead of the whiskey colored irises you had gotten used to, Aaron’s pupils were so blown that they made his eyes completely black. “I want to see you lose control all over me. Gonna make sure you come harder for me than you have for any of your boy toys.”

That wouldn’t be very difficult. Nobody had ever made you feel the way you did then, Aaron’s fingers buried deep in your cunt and lips exploring every inch of skin he could access. No part of this was for his pleasure — from the curl of his fingers to the slow circles on your clit, it was all expertly calculated to bring you to the edge with as much intensity as possible, and it was all devastatingly effective.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered, and if it weren’t for the wall behind you, you would have completely lost your balance. “More, fuck, please.”

“More?” he mumbled against the column of your throat. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Coherent sentences were not an option for you at the moment, not when you were so deliciously overwhelmed with pleasure and with Aaron. Besides, how could you tell him that you wanted him to completely and utterly ruin you? That you wanted him to bend you over the conference table and pound into you until you could barely speak. You wanted Aaron to mark you and send you home to your fiance with reminders of every little thing he did to you for the days to come. You wanted raw and untamed passion. You wanted to be consumed, for him to settle in your lungs like smoke, and haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

You didn’t want nice and calculated the way every other man you’d been with had acted — you wanted Aaron Hotchner to take control.

You couldn't say any of that, so instead, you grabbed his wrist, the one that was holding your chin in place and, without breaking eye contact with him, you guided his hand down until it rested on your throat. “More,” you choked out, giving him an animalistic grin.

That was all it took. Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you in for another kiss, messy and desperate and swallowing all of your incoherent moans as his fingers moved harder, faster.

You clung to him like a lifeline as you felt your whole body tense up, your orgasm fast approaching. You were so fucking close and he felt so fucking good and, God, if this is what losing control felt like, then you and Aaron could do this forever and —

His fingers were gone from you, and you clenched around nothing. You cried out in protest, which only seemed to amuse him.

“Oh? Prom queen isn’t used to not getting what she wants?” Keeping his hand on your throat and you pinned against the wall, he made slow, teasing work of his belt buckle.

Your chest rose and fell in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. “What happened to watching me come undone all over you?” you shot, trying to even out your voice as much as possible. It didn’t work very well. “Did you lose your nerve?”

A dark, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Don’t worry, Princess, that’s still the plan. I just never said where. I want to make sure you’re nice and wet and ready for me to turn you into a moaning mess on my cock.”

In an attempt to regain some control of the situation, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah? And how do you expect to do that?”

He smirked and released your throat. Wordlessly, he grabbed your wrist, and guided your hand down your body, further and further until you reached your throbbing pussy. He used his hands to press your fingers to your clit, and you whimpered softly. God, you were dripping, and the extra stimulation didn’t help your shaking legs.

“By making you so needy and whiny that by the end of this, you're begging for me,” he hissed, lips brushing the shell of your ear with every word. He moved your fingers so that you were rubbing small, slow circles around your clit, although it wasn’t nearly enough to give any real relief. “Begging for me to come and fuck you over and over and over again. Because you know that your pathetic fiance and your string of affairs have never made you feel like this before.”

Aaron yanked your hand away from your clit and you could sob. You wanted to cum so badly that you could barely put it into words. Still holding your wrist, Aaron brought your hand up to his face. He took a brief moment to admire the way your fingers glistened, covered in your arousal, before bringing them to his lips and sucking.

Eyes wide, you made a choked noise as you committed the view of Aaron to memory. “Please, Aaron, fuck, I need you,” you whined, the start of a long string of incoherent begging. You needed him then and there, damn the consequences.

He pulled your fingers out of his mouth slowly, and you moaned at the obscene wet noise it made. “So desperate,” he murmured as he began to unbutton his slacks. “All for me. All because I edged you once.”

Aaron pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his dick, and you licked your lips involuntarily when you saw it, big and thick and leaking precum. Clearly, it gave Aaron a bit of an ego boost, because as he ran the head up and down your sensitive folds, he reminded you, “You did say you could take anything, Princess.”

Your breathing came out shaking as you shivered, waiting for him to do something — anything. You were so empty and you needed him so badly. If you didn’t get his dick in you soon, you were pretty sure you would lose your mind completely.

“Fuck me, Aaron,” you moaned, arching your back to press into him more.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in an almost intimate gesture. “Patience is a virtue,” he chastised.

In your haze of arousal, you barely noticed him grabbing your briefcase and digging through the small pocket in the front. You especially didn’t notice his pause when his finger touched something small, round, and metal in the bottom of the bag. The only thing you cared about was him coming back to you, holding up a condom packet with a smirk.

“I knew I’d find one somewhere in your briefcase.” You let the comment slide, the excitement at the prospect of sex with Aaron Hotchner outweighing any jackass comment he could make. Aaron made quick work of putting on the condom. The second he was done, one of his hands ran up your thigh, getting a good grip on it before pulling it up and around his waist.

“Do you feel how wet you are for me? How willing you were to give up control? All for me? That—” Lips pressed to your ear, he pushed his cock into you, bottoming out with one thrust. You threw your head back in pleasure. “—Is playing chess, sweetheart.”

Aaron dropped his forehead to the crook of your neck as he began pounding into you at a desperate pace. He had held off on his own pleasure for long enough, and now he was chasing his orgasm with a ruthless determination. One hand stayed gripping your thigh, the other one braced against the wall next to your head. Aaron nipped at your neck in between moans of praise for you.

“I — oh, fuck — knew it,” he groaned, digging his fingers deeper into your thigh. “You wanted somebody to take control. Somebody who knows how to please you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You were an incoherent mess at this point, his name tumbling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. At that moment, it probably was.

“Finally, that bratty mouth of yours is good for something. You sound so pretty, moaning out my name. Say it again.” A particularly deep thrust caused you to tug at his hair. “Louder.”

Never before had you met somebody like Aaron Hotchner, and you weren’t sure if you ever would again, so you screwed your eyes shut and let yourself get lost in the absolute pleasure he was providing. You memorized everything you could — the way the calluses on his hands felt against your skin, the way he moaned out your name, how deliciously full you felt, and how for the first time in your life you felt truly seen — so that you could suspend the moment in amber to preserve in the back of your mind.

“Please,” you begged, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails. “I’m so close. Fuck, Aaron, you feel so good, please.”

Aaron tore his lips from your throat, choosing instead to press his forehead against yours. His lips brushed yours with every word he spoke, so close that you were practically kissing him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured. “Be a good girl. Be a good girl and come. All over my dick.”

When you came, it was with a cry of his name as your whole body shuddered. You clung to him as he continued to fuck you. His thrusts began to stutter, and he took the opportunity to capture your lips in one last, scorching kiss, and you were all too happy to oblige.

You think he moaned something as he came, but you couldn’t hear it over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He fucked you through his orgasm, making sure that you felt every single inch of him. As if you could ever forget it.

The two of you stayed where you were for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of being full a little longer. Your walls fluttered around Aaron, which caused him to muffle his whimpers into your throat.

“Aaron…” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the moment. “That was so—”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t have done it.”

“I know.” He pulled back just enough to leave a lingering kiss on your lips, and your whole body burned. “But I don’t regret it. Do you?”

You shook your head. “Not at all.” The confession lingered in the hair for a tense second because both of you seemed to remember where you were.

Aaron slowly pulled out of you, an act that looked almost painful for him when you let out an involuntary moan at the feeling. He could have spent all day in you, if given the chance.

The two of you adjusted yourselves in silence, both of you hoping to be able to leave the room with some semblance of professionalism. At the very least, the goal was to not look like you had just had sex in a courthouse conference room. Shame and embarrassment flooded you — what had you been thinking?

Once you felt that you were presentable enough, you grabbed your briefcase and tried to ignore Aaron burning a hole in the back of your head with his gaze.

“Well, Aaron, this was fun.” You cleared your throat. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around at some point.”

You were two steps away from the door when you heard his smug, courthouse voice come back in full swing.

“Forgetting something?”

You turned around in a huff, ready to go right back to arguing with him, but what you saw made your whole body heat up in embarrassment. There was Aaron with a self-satisfied grin and dangling off his finger was your panties.

“These are cute,” he mused. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to fully appreciate them.”

You rushed over there, fully prepared to snatch them out of his hand. “And you never will,” you shot, but even as you said it, you didn’t make much of an effort to take them out of his hands. You just stared at him and his swollen lips and mussed hair, all your doing.

Ever the gentleman, Aaron started to hand your underwear back to you, but instead of taking it back like you knew you should have done, you covered his hand with yours, closing it in a fist around your panties.

“Who says you can’t?” you whispered, guiding his pantie-filled hand down to his pockets. “This way… You can keep it as collateral. To make sure I’ll come and see you again.”

His breath hitched in his throat as you guided him to put your panties into his suit pocket, and you were glad to be the one surprising him this time.

“I don’t care about your fiance,” Aaron started, and you braced yourself for the worse. “But I’m not interested in being the ‘other man’ to your affairs with your assistants, too.”

“Consider it ended,” you promised, not caring how desperate or easy it made you look. You wanted to keep Aaron around for a long, long time.

Just until the wedding, you corrected yourself.

You slung your briefcase over your shoulder, wincing as it dug into a bruise that Aaron had left. It would be there for a while — you’d have to find a way to hide it from Tony until it faded. The thought made you stupidly giddy. “I’ll see you around, Aaron.”

He nodded in goodbye, and you slipped out of the conference room on shaking legs. As soon as the door closed behind you, you reached into your bag, and reluctantly slipped on your engagement ring.

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #Aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds fanfic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #my writing #criminal minds

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 119: Hope

Harry was always alone.

It sounded a bit dramatic, a little pitiable, and more than a little untrue.

Because he was always out with friends. He had pub nights with large groups of people, he went and took those wine and paint classes with Luna and Ginny every other week, and a cooking class with Ron and Pansy on the off week. He met George, Ron, and Seamus for lunch on Thursday afternoons. Hermione dragged him to a book club with Draco once a month. He met Hermione for breakfast on Tuesdays and had dinner with Ron and Hermione every Monday (and often Fridays, too). Neville invited him for tea every Sunday and there was always someone different there with them.

Still, there was something that always separated him from his friends. All of his friends were buying houses, getting married, having babies, getting pets (or in Neville’s case carnivorous plants). And he was just... stuck.

“Well, well,” a smooth baritone voice said behind him, interrupting his sulk at the bar of the Leaky, and a smile tilted up the corner of Harry’s mouth against his will. “If it isn’t the savior himself.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you going to sit down?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the other man.

Silver eyes gleamed in amusement, “that depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you’re going to buy me dinner. It has been a long day.”

(Read more below the cut)

“Oh?” Harry said, nudging the chair next to him back with his toe. “Well it’s a good thing I ordered the shepherd’s pie, then. You and I both know that’s always big enough for two.”

“Were you expecting me then?” Draco asked with a pleased grin as he plopped down in the chair next to him.

“Nope,” Harry said. Strictly speaking, this was true, he’d been hoping the other man might show up but not expecting him to. “I just like to have leftovers.”

Draco laughed at Harry as the bartender slid an old fashioned across the counter to him, “thank you,” Draco said, nodding to the man who all but ignored him.

Harry inhaled to say something about the man’s rudeness (an action he knew was futile since he’d done it several times) but Draco put a hand on his arm and took a sip of his drink. “Not worth it,” he said.

Harry sighed at him, “Tell me about work.”

Draco grinned, it was a sort of grin that Harry used to hate when they were younger. It was a grin that meant Draco had been particularly vicious in the courtroom today. With relish he began telling Harry about the woman and her child whom he had defended against a powerful, abusive husband. How he’d eviscerated the man on the stand and freed the two of them from his grasp.

“It was brilliant,” he finished with a sigh.

“Sounds like it,” Harry replied, resting his cheek in his hand.

Draco gave him a little smile. It had taken a long time to get here, even a year ago Draco would have been looking at him, trying to work out if Harry had meant it sincerely. “Tell me about your day,” he said.

“Oh, you know how it is,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sitting around in board meetings, trying to make sure that the people who actually know something get heard. Watching people who only want what’s best for themselves trying to make people believe they want what’s best for everyone.”

He laughed and took a sip of his drink, “I don’t understand how or why you do it.”

“Well someone’s got to, don’t they?” he asked. “Might as well use my fame to some advantage. Help people. You know,” he said, shrugging one shoulder and picking at the label on his beer.

“Come away with me,” Draco said suddenly.

“Sorry?”

The other man grinned at him, “I’m going on vacation. I’m leaving tomorrow for a week on the beach on an island. Come with me.”

“What? Why?”

The smile that had been so bright a moment ago started to dim, “Nevermind. It’s a stupid idea. Forget I said anyth-”

“Draco,” Harry said, realizing he’d misunderstood. He put his hand on his forearm. “I’d love to. Seriously, I would love nothing more than to go and spend a week on the beach with you. I just,” he trailed off, “why would you want me to?”

“Because you’re always moping. And you’re always doing things for everyone else. And you’re bloody lonely.” He shook his head, “And no one sees it.”

“Except you, apparently,” Harry huffed.

The corner of Draco’s mouth tipped up, “Except me. Come on,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, Potter. Fucking seriously.”

----------------------------

The beach was fantastic.

Harry had never been to the beach for a vacation and he enjoyed every sun soaked minute.

Draco watched him with an expression that Harry couldn't entirely parse out. It was amused, and fond, and exasperated, and something else entirely all at once. "I don't get you," Draco said eventually, after they'd spent half the day by the ocean; lounging, swimming, drinking, and laughing.

"What do you mean?"

Draco shrugged and took a sip of his sangria before he continued, "You're wealthy, you have time, you obviously enjoy it here; why haven't you done this before?"

He frowned, "Well who wants to go on a vacation alone?"

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "I'd planned to go alone. I have actually taken several vacations alone."

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

Draco waved him off, "It's fine. I'm not offended I just," he shrugged helplessly, "I find you fascinating."

"You find me fascinating?" he asked incredulously.

"Haven't I always?" he replied wryly.

He huffed but couldn't argue considering that he'd been equally obsessed with the other man for most of their lives at this point.

"You could have done anything," Draco said, "There's nothing that the wizarding world wouldn't have given you. If you'd wanted to go on vacation and not be alone you could have had your pick of witches or wizards who would have gladly gone with you. If you wanted to be married with half a dozen children all you would have needed to do was pick the person." He shook his head, "You could have done anything you wanted, been anything you wanted, had anything you wanted but you've chosen a career that makes you miserable and you've chosen to be alone which makes you miserable." He shook his head again, "I don't get it."

"But how can I know if I'm actually good enough?" Harry asked. "How can I know if I'm good at my job or if it was just given to me because I'm Harry Potter? How can I know if the person who agrees to marry me is with me because I'm me or because I'm Harry Potter?"

"All this time I thought that you weren't on to me," he teased.

He rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean."

"You know what I think?" Draco asked as he leaned back in his beach chair and slipped his sunglasses back in place.

"I couldn't possibly guess," he replied.

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "I think you're just scared."

He frowned at the other man even though Draco wasn't looking at him, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me perfectly," he replied, "You're scared."

"Of what?" he asked incredulously.

"Of being loved," he said simply. "Afraid that if you let someone love you, you'll have to let them in. You'll have to let them see all the dark, broken, twisty bits because it's not love if it's not honest."

"Oh and I suppose you're so much better at that," he snapped.

Draco snorted, "Hardly. I'm just willing to live my life until I've found someone who I'll be able to share those jagged pieces with."

He glared at the leg of the other man's chair, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Alright," Draco replied agreeably.

"I'm going for a walk."

He nodded and yawned, "I think I'm going to take a nap, the sun feels nice."

Harry got up and trudged away without another word, trying to decide if Draco Malfoy was full of shit or if he might just know what he was talking about.

The longer he walked and the more he turned what Draco had said over and over in his head, the more he knew that the only person whom he would trust to see his dark bits was Draco Malfoy.

----------------------

When he got back from his walk Draco was reading a book.

"You might be right," Harry said.

He hummed, "Not to brag but I usually make a point of being right."

Harry collapsed into the sand and stared out at the waves rolling in. "Can I ask you something?"

"Nothing has stopped you so far."

He huffed, "Have you ever been in love."

"Yes," the other man replied.

"How did you know?" Harry asked.

Draco hummed thoughtfully, "I woke up one day and realized that I loved his imperfections more than I loved the perfect image I'd created of him," he said. "I realized that I'm happiest when I'm with him, that he makes me feel brave in my fear and strong in my vulnerability."

"He sounds pretty great," Harry said, swallowing down the bitterness.

"He's also completely oblivious," Draco added. "And normally that would irritate me but his humility is part of his charm."

His heart beat a little quicker, "Is that so?"

Draco grinned, "Yes. And he's not too bad on the eyes, either," he added. "He's got a lovely complexion, fantastic long, dark hair. And his eyes," he let out a low whistle, "A bloke could get lost in those eyes and he wouldn't mind staying in the lovely green of summer."

Harry's mouth went dry and he couldn't quite find any words or summon any courage. Hope blossomed dangerously inside of his chest, expanding and expanding until Harry feared there wasn't room for a shred of doubt.

"He's rather fit, too," Draco continued, giving Harry a once over that even he wasn't oblivious enough to have missed. "And you wouldn't believe his arse," he added, "exquisite."

Harry laughed at that, "You're ridiculous," he said as he bent toward the other man. "I like you, too," he whispered.

"Took you long enough to figure it out," Draco teased.

He reached up and pulled Draco's sunglasses off his face, "I'm going to kiss you," he murmured.

"Took you long enough," he repeated before reaching up to cup Harry's cheek in his palm and draw Harry in.

With a sigh, Harry happily gave himself over to the kiss, over to Draco; knowing that his heart was finally in good hands.

-------------

Day 118: Glass | Day 120: Tough

#100 drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #fluff #love confessions #friends to lovers #vacation #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #thanks for the prompt

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 2)

(part 1)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

chapter warnings: kinda smut? (male masturbation), stalking (not bucky lol), a bit a violence, angst

It had been a month. Well, 29 days, to be exact; he’d been counting them. 29 days since he’d seen so much more than he was supposed to, and he was pretty sure you’d seen him too. 29 days of tense silence as he wondered if you were ever going to say anything about it.

It must have been that you hadn’t seen him, if you hadn’t said anything for so long. But god, it really did feel like you were looking right into his eyes as you came that night. He knew the reality was that it was a horrible mistake and he was a terrible person for looking at you like that, and that he was never going to be any closer to you than watching someone else pleasure you; he knew that truly. But regardless, that moment had been playing on repeat in his mind for 29 days.

And now, as he took his shower, he prepared to finish off day 29 and start day 30.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, head falling back against the cool tile as his hand stroked slowly over his cock. He’d dreamt about you (again) and woken up so hard that it actually hurt; so this wasn’t a continuation of his perversion, or his unhealthy obsession, no, it was pain relief. It was medicine, really.

In his dream, like always, it had been him between your legs in the back of the car and not that other guy— who he’d seen on TV the other day, dying in the first five minutes of an episode of some awful CW drama, by the way. It killed him that he couldn’t know how you really taste, or how you really would sound saying his name, but the best guess of his subconscious would have to do. He tried to conjure in his mind how you sounded that night, each frame of the memory burned into his brain until it was what he saw every time it closed his eyes.

Baby.

That was what you’d said first, and it still made his heart stop every time it echoed in his head. Baby.

The word itself was sort of innocuous, but it was the way you said it— just below your breath, deep but airy— and what it meant. It was a plea: you were begging him to touch you, to make you feel good, to help you. Bucky could listen to you beg for hours, it would be like music to his ears; like poetry, even.

Later that night, when he’d given you the rest of his sandwich, he’d gotten the closest he ever would to hearing you moan his name. What you’d said originally was just ‘oh my god, Bucky, this is so good’ and it was just generic enough that he could imagine it being a little more specific. Sure, it was stupid to get off on memories of you praising a sandwich (that you ate while drunk in the shower) but it still did wonders for him as his hand pumped his length faster and faster.

Oh my god, Bucky, it feels so good— you feel so good. You’re so good. Oh my god, Bucky—

He bit down on his lip, already so close to the edge that there was no turning back, toes curling underneath the stream of hot water as his breathing moved just as quick as his thoughts— thoughts of you in the back of the car, or in the shower with your foggy silhouette just barely visible to him, or doing all sorts of things that he’d never seen you do but he’d love to pretend he had.

“Oh my god, Bucky!” you yelled as you swung open the door, a choked moan jumping out of his throat in shock as his eyes shot open, come starting to spill down over his hand.

You couldn’t see him through his shower curtain, thank all that’s holy, but it was a sort of sensory overload as he tried to process what was going on mid-orgasm.

“What?!” he yelped, voice clearly rougher but hopefully not in a way you would find suspicious.

“Come quick,” you requested.

Already did, he thought to himself with a shudder of guilt.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s somebody in the yard,” you explained frantically, “it’s probably nothing, but I don’t know how they got past the gate—”

Your mitigation was lost to him as he was already turning off the flow of water, the evidence of his misdeed already washed away, leaving only the ringing in his ears and the burning in his cheeks as reminders.

You stepped out into the hall to give him just enough privacy to slip on a robe, which he was certain he looked ridiculous in but he really had no choice. Storming out of the bathroom, he wasn’t sure he was ready to confront a potential threat while dripping wet and barefoot, but the whole point of him living here most of the week was so he could keep you safe at all times— apparently, shower time included.

“Stay inside,” he instructed you quickly, “and stay out of the line of sight of any windows and doors, got it?”

You nodded, and he could tell you were scared. He hated that you had to worry about this sort of stuff. He was glad to be there to help, yes, but he would rather this line of work didn’t need to exist at all even if it put him out of a job. You waited for him there as he pushed past you and moved through the living room, considering whether or not he should grab a weapon from the safe he kept hidden in this room— but then he glanced to his left arm, drying quicker than the rest of him, and remembered he already had a weapon.

By the time he reached the door he could hear someone shouting your name outside. As Bucky flipped on the damn-near-blinding security light on your porch and entered the yard, he saw a guy— smaller than him, but not exactly tiny— who seemed to ignore him and the light completely as he continued his desperate attempts to get your attention.

“This is private property, you need to leave,” Bucky told the man in his best ‘stern but not quite yelling’ voice.

“Is she home?” he asked him instead, totally unfazed by the warning. As the fan looked back up and called your name again, Bucky shivered with the realization that he was looking up at your bedroom window. Had he already seen you there? Or, worse, did he have some other way of knowing which window was your bedroom?

“You need to get out of here before I call the police. You’re trespassing,” Bucky continued, pushing the man back towards the gate. Sadly, Bucky knew from experience the police weren’t that concerned about celebrity stalkers— you and him had both called to no avail once they learned the name of the homeowner. It made his blood boil just to think about it.

“Hey, let go of me!” the man resisted, pushing Bucky back. He seemed to sober up a bit when Bucky’s face changed, though, but it was too late. He tried to duck but totally missed, and Bucky’s right fist made contact with his jaw. “Ow!” he screeched, cowering and trying to cover his face. “What the fuck?! That’s assault— you just assaulted me!”

“And you’re trespassing. And harassing. And probably stalking,” Bucky listed, continuing to guide the man back towards the gate. “Tell me how you got in here. Did you hop the fence?”

He couldn’t go any further back as the man was pressed back against a stone column, squirming a bit but otherwise putting up little fight— or maybe he was actually trying his best, and it was just lost on someone as strong as Bucky.

Unamused by his stammering and lack of an answer, Bucky brought his metal fist to the column right beside the man’s face, hitting hard enough to break off a sizable chunk of the stone. “Tell me!” he demanded.

“There’s a tree out back, I climbed it!” he explained with a whimper, “I’m sorry!”

“Don’t come back here, you hear me? Or this—” Bucky pointed to the dent in the column that he’d made— “will be your face!”

Letting him go and swinging open the gate a bit, the man ran away of his own volition, stumbling down the street and out of the glowing light of the streetlamps. Bucky let out a low sigh, hoping it was the last of him but terrified that it wouldn’t be. He made a mental note to call a landscaper about trimming this mysterious tree in the back, or maybe chopping it down altogether, as he made his way back inside. He found you in the living room, chewing your nails nervously and watching him step closer with wide, watery eyes.

“He’s gone,” Bucky informed you quickly.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“Um, yeah,” you decided, but you didn’t seem so confident. Even so, he wasn’t sure what more he could do.

“Oh, I broke your pillar, by the way. Sorry.”

“I saw that,” you smiled a little, but he frowned.

“I told you to stay out of sight of the windows,” he reminded you.

You sighed. “I know, I know, I just…” you trailed off, lip quivering a little as you got emotional again. “I know it’s stupid but—”

“No, don’t say that,” he interjected.

“— but I was so scared,” you finished, voice wavering as you ran towards him, suddenly pulling him into a tight hug. It took him by surprise, but he figured it was okay to hug you back. He was only wearing a robe, he suddenly remembered, and your face was against the exposed portion of his bare chest. If he hadn’t gotten off just minutes ago, he certainly would’ve gotten hard just from that (embarrassingly enough).

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed gently, indulging himself in resting his chin on top of your head as he stroked your hair.

“Thank you,” you mumbled against his skin, pulling him even closer, “god, I don’t even know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here.”

A pang of guilt rattled in his chest; you trusted him so completely and he was crushing on you, spying on you (only the once, but still), taking advantage of your need for protection, staying in your guest bedroom and jerking off to you in your shower— when had he turned into an unstoppable pervert?

“Will you stay in my room tonight?” you asked him suddenly, looking up at him with those big shiny eyes and a pouty lip.

“Oh nonononono,” he shook his head, instantly recognizing that trap.

“No, Bucky, please,” you whimpered, “that guy might come back, I don’t want you all the way across the house.”

“I shouldn’t— I’d be overstepping—” he stammered.

“Please,” you sighed, and he sighed too, because when you said it like that, he couldn’t say no to you.

Bucky had insisted on staying on the floor as opposed to getting up on your bed, which was a drag but whatever. At least you had a lot of good spare blankets and pillows to make him a comfy-looking pallet. He seemed to agree when he appeared behind you in the doorway to find you on your knees on the floor, putting it all together.

“You didn’t need to do that, I’m pretty good at sleeping on floors as-is,” he dismissed.

“No, I’m happy to!” you beamed, turning around and choking a bit when you looked up at him in his pajamas. Even though they were still pretty conservative, specifically sweats and a scoop neck sweater-y sort of top, it was probably more than you’d ever seen of him since his uniform was very concealing. You were kind of hoping to catch a glimpse of his metal hand— you didn’t get to see it much because he wore driving gloves the vast majority of the time, and you hadn’t really been paying attention when it was exposed earlier by his just being in a robe— but he was noticeably leaning against the doorframe in such a way that you couldn’t see it. The thing that really got a reaction out of you was his dog tags, though; you’d never seen him wear them before and there was something perfect about the way the silver chain dangled over the slight peek of collarbone visible above his neckline. “Aren’t you warm wearing that much to bed?”

“No, it’s fine,” he dismissed. You hoped he wasn’t wearing more just for your benefit. Shirtlessness would’ve benefited you more, certainly. In fact, now you felt kind of bad that you were just wearing a thin, silky short-and-tank set. Hopefully it didn’t make him uncomfortable.

Getting up from the floor, you slipped under your covers and motioned for him to do the same. He turned off your lamp first, stealing your last chance at a good view of the hand, and you heard him get comfortable on the floor.

“Thank you for this,” you mumbled quickly into the darkness. “I don’t think I’d be able to fall asleep if you weren’t in here.

“Oh, of course,” he replied softly.

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

“Goodnight,” he answered back, and his low, sleepy voice was somehow both soothing and energizing.

You weren’t sure if you even tried to fall asleep, or how long you laid staring out into the void of the darkness. It was so dark in your room that you saw purple spots dancing in the corners like static as your eyes adjusted, incomprehensible shapes forming to make up for the lack of visual stimulation. You wished that there was enough ambient light to be able to see Bucky’s shape on the floor and know he was there; instead, you settled for the subtle sound of his slow breathing. When you heard him adjust slightly, you decided maybe just the breathing wasn’t enough to be sure it was really safe.

“Bucky?” you whispered under your breath. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” he answered, making you sigh with relief.

“I can’t sleep.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn’t here.”

“But I never said you being here would make me sleep,” you pointed out.

“Then I should go,” he decided.

“No, please,” you hissed, “don’t go.”

“Okay.”

You took a deep breath. “Tell me something,” you requested.

“Tell you what?”

“I don’t know, anything.”

He paused for a moment. “Will it help you sleep?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Bucky sighed, and you heard him turn on his side. “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?” he asked, sarcasm noticeable even in a whisper.

“Yes,” you announced with a smile.

“Okay,” he pondered, “um… once upon a time—”

“Good start,” you rolled your eyes.

“No interrupting!” he scolded.

“Sorry…”

“Anyways, once upon a time there was a princess, who lived in a castle in the Isle of Manhattan.”

“A castle?” you asked excitedly.

“A somewhat modest castle, but yes. One with big golden gates and marble columns. The princess didn’t live all alone in her castle though— at least, not all the time. She had many royal attendants, and servants, and plenty of friends of course. But the problem with being a beautiful, kind, generous princess is that sometimes people get too friendly and want to visit her in the castle when she’d rather be alone. Thankfully, the princess had a last line of defense—”

“Let me guess, a knight in shining armor?” Or more like knight with shining arm.

“Wish I could say so,” he disagreed. “No, this princess needed something a little fiercer, and that was why a dragon guarded the castle.”

“A dragon?!”

“Mhmm. A big, scary dragon with sharp teeth and big wings, that breathed fire on anyone who got in his way. The thing about knights is that they’re noble, and handsome, and righteous. But righteousness prevents people from doing bad things, and sometimes bad things need to be done to protect good things. So, knights can’t protect princesses like they should. That’s what dragons are for. They’re mean and nasty— it’s their nature, after all— and sometimes you need somebody burnt up, so you call a dragon and he’ll deal with it for you. And this dragon was the meanest and nastiest of them all, and he’d burnt a lot of people in his time. Oddly enough, the princess was still nice to him, but she had a lot of knights and princes and kings who wanted her hand. Good thing the dragon was there to pick off the worst ones.”

You giggled a little, even though your heart was racing.

“The dragon watched over the castle every night— well, five nights a week… cause the princess wanted weekends to herself— but, still, he was very dedicated and did his best to keep her safe. Sometimes he would take her to whatever lavish ball she had been invited to that week; she would ride on his back as he flew there, even though he was pretty scared she would fall off or something. And sometimes…”

Your breath caught at the pause, waiting anxiously for what would come next.

“Sometimes the dragon wished he wasn’t a monster. But if he wasn’t a monster, then he couldn’t keep her safe. So, he resigned himself to a life outside the castle, because at least he could be near her— even if she was impossibly far away.”

You swallowed as you tried to process it, finding yourself at a complete loss for words.

“The end,” he whispered gently, before giving you a goodnight and saying your name in a way that he’d never said it before— at least, you’d never heard him say it that way before. But you really, really hoped you’d get to hear it again. You did manage to fall asleep eventually, dreaming about flying and wishing you didn’t have to wake up.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

Text

Burn The Witch 2 - First Impressions [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback to the first chapter my loves ! ❤ Here’s chapter 2, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: Mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language.

Summary: First impressions can be wrong.

Chapter 1

Being a spy for years had taught you to be able to tell whether a mission would be dangerous or not before they even sent you there.

For example, the mission they had put you on three years ago where you had to poison the target in a very crowded ballroom while pretending to be an artifacts expert was a dangerous one.

Or five years ago when you had quite literally brought a dagger into a gun fight in a storage unit, that was also quite dangerous.

But something told you that going after Bucky Barnes would be the most dangerous mission you’d ever had so far, and you weren’t even going to be engaged in a fight.

Instead you were expected to make him fall in love with you, which-

To be honest, engaging in a fight would’ve been much easier.

“This is unacceptable.” Your best friend paced in the empty conference room while you nibbled on the chocolate, keeping your eyes on your phone. “You should’ve said no.”

“I can’t say no, it’s a mission.”

“No, it’s my father treating you like a—like a—“ she threw her hands up, “Honey trap!”

You shrugged your shoulders, scrolling down on the screen but then looked up when she snapped her fingers in front of your eyes.

“Y/N!”

“Chloe if I nail this mission, I’ll get the position I want. I could be a handler next year, do you know how big that is?”

“You need to stop pretending like you’re fine with this.”

“You’re sending me the files tonight right?” you asked, ignoring her huff of impatience and she sat down, crossing her arms.

“Yes,” she said, “Everything there is to know about Bucky Barnes is in there, lots of things you could use. I gathered it myself. His past, his interests back then, what he has been doing since he got here, his favorite porn, his favorite musicians—“

“I’m sorry, what was that last one?”

“His favorite musicians?” she played dumb, grinning and you shifted your weight.

“You wouldn’t do that background check on me, would you?”

Her grin widened as she wiggled her brows, “Just so you know, you’re such a cliché.”

“Jesus Christ.” You slipped a little in your seat, your cheeks burning, “I hate you so much.”

“No you don’t,” she sang and you tried to focus on the screen, but the door to the conference room opened, gathering your attention. Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw the figure stepping inside and you jumped on your feet as Chloe gasped.

“Keith?”

Keith was the third member of your small friend group. He was a field agent just like you were, and for years you, Chloe and Keith had always had each other’s backs, in or outside of missions.

Back at the academy you were inseparable and it had been months since you had last seen him.

“Figured I’d find you two here,” he said, “I just followed the scent of despair.”

“I thought you were still in Prague!” You rushed to hug him and he ruffled your hair before you batted his hand away.

“I was but I got called in at 5 in the morning. General’s orders.”

“It was about time my father did something right.” Chloe came to kiss his cheek, making him grin, “Gosh, it’s so good to have you back!”

“Good to be back, gorgeous,” he lifted her up in a hug before setting her down as she squealed, “I missed you.”

Your jaw dropped when you saw the file in his hand, “Hold on. Is that what I think it is?”

“It could be,” he told you, “That is, if you’ll have me in your mission.”

“The best news I got since I landed.” You pumped your fist in the air “Yes! Yes I do want you in the mission!”

“So then,” he said as he sat beside you and put his feet up on the table while you leaned back, “Is what I heard true?”

“Yes and you need to tell her she’s being ridiculous,” Chloe motioned at you and Keith pursed his lips.

“I just thought we put this whole honey trap thing behind us back in 1950s.”

“Exactly!”

“Guys come on, if Accords pass—screw that, even if they don’t pass, think about how we can use Barnes.”

Keith clicked his tongue, tilting his head.

“Will we use him more than we’re using you right now?” he asked and you rolled your eyes, grabbing the file in his hand.

“Your alias is Whistler this time?”

“Yep,” he nodded, “General says yours is Shrike?”

“Mm hm.”

“Considering what this Barnes mission entails, I’m surprised he didn’t call you Swallow.”

You kicked at his boot and he let out a laugh, holding his hands up.

“What? That was the terminology back in the day for agents seducing people for the mission, wasn’t it? Raven for guys, swallow for girls.”

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and Chloe sat on the table, still pouting.

“You’re both fine with this then?”

“Chloe, the guy was around in World War 2,” you said patiently, “If I don’t want to sleep with him, I’ll just tell him I’m waiting for marriage, it’s probably not a foreign concept for him, old times and all. Happy?”

She arched a brow, “If you say so,” she said, “But you know there are examples of undercover agents falling for their targets, right? Especially in situations like these.”

Keith chuckled, “Yeah, that’d make a great story for your grandchildren.”

“Except that I wouldn’t get to have those grandchildren because I’d be killed.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Just let me know beforehand if the Winter Soldier decides to make an honest woman out of you,” Keith said and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Look at you, making jokes.”

“I’m a funny guy, thank you very much,” he said, “So what are we doing tonight?”

“Killing some Hydra scum,” you said, “There’s this gallery opening, apparently evil guys love art nowadays. Who knew?”

“You need a spotter?”

“Sure thing.”

“After you guys are done killing that target, can we hang out?” Chloe asked, “We need to catch up.”

“Only if I get to pick the movie,” Keith made a face, “I don’t trust your taste after the last time.”

“10 Things I Hate About You is a classic!”

“Do you want to hear the one thing I hate about you, Chloe? Spoiler, it’s your taste in movies.”

“Play nice, kids,” you said, skimming the lines on the screen and Chloe huffed.

“Fine. And after that, we can work on the seduction mission.”

“You’re in on that as well?” Keith asked and Chloe nodded.

“Duh.”

“Look at us, Charlie’s Angels is back.” Keith said, “Wait, does that mean General is Charlie?”

You supressed a laugh and shook your head fondly, looking at Keith.

“I missed you, asshole.”

“Missed you too, trouble.”

***

Working for the division you did had its advantages, and it never stopped to surprise you how you could always get the newest gadgets before going on missions. Chloe had installed certain features into your “sniper costume” as she put it, and one of them was a ring that would call the nearby agents of your team to your location, and the other one was a ski mask that was both bulletproof and could change your voice.

“Batman does it, why not you?” she had said before making you try it.

“Shrike, ma’am?” Keith’s voice echoed in your ear and you adjusted your earpiece before checking the harness around your waist, just in case you needed to jump off the building. Your team was already in position if you were in any way compromised, and you started setting your sniper rifle.

“Since when do you call me ma’am?” you asked Keith and he chuckled.

“Since they put you in charge of a team.”

“Don’t listen to him, guys,” you said to the rest of the team and took a look at the city lights, taking a deep breath.

Rooftops were always peaceful, even when you were holding a sniper rifle.

“ETA of the target?”

“Two minutes.” Keith said and you pressed your lips together, pointing the rifle at the entrance of the gallery, looking through the scope.

“So I think I found a movie for tonight,” Keith said as you shook your head slightly, trying to focus.

“Later.”

“James Bond?” he asked, “We can take a shot every time the movie gets something wrong about being a spy. We’ll probably be hammered by the end of the night.”

“One minute, Shrike.” One of the agents said and you exhaled through your mouth, your finger on the trigger.

“No seriously, don’t you guys like James Bond? I think it’s because of that movie I chose this line of work, but—“ Keith was cut off when you pulled the earpiece out of your ear to have a moment of silence so that you could concentrate when the target arrived, but as soon as you grabbed the rifle again, you heard the familiar sound of someone racking the slide of a gun, followed by a calm voice.

“Easy there,” he said, “Put the rifle down.”

You cursed at yourself in your head, then withdrew your hands from the rifle. Your earpiece was off, meaning that no one in your team could hear you, and you checked whether you could grab the gun from him, but he wasn’t standing close enough.

Professional.

You held up your hands, then slowly turned to see who was threatening you before your heart dropped to your stomach.

Damn it.

This was definitely not the way you were supposed to meet Bucky Barnes.

Thankfully you were wearing a ski mask, so your identity wouldn’t be compromised and the next time you met him, you could pretend.

And he would be none the wiser.

You pressed on the ring Chloe had given you to alert the others, keeping your eyes on the barrel of the gun.

“I thought I saw a glimpse of a scope.”

“Congratulations,” you deadpanned, trying to stall so that your team could get there, “You want a watch as a prize? A refrigerator?”

He looked almost surprised at your snarky comment and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Listen, it’s my target. So if you want to kill him, too bad. I was here first, early bird and all that, shoo.”

Even you could see his confusion that lasted for a second and a small smile pulled at your lips.

“Ah. You don’t know who my target is.”

“I know I’m not going to let you kill someone in a pretty crowded gallery.”

“Even if it’s some Hydra scum?” you asked and he pulled back.

“What?”

You stole a look at the entrance of the gallery over your shoulder as the limo pulled over.

“Mm hm. You really shouldn’t be stopping me Barnes. We got this, you can go and play the superhero with Wilson.”

“You know who I am.”

“Everyone knows who you are,” you stated, making him pause for a moment.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

You tut tutted, “Don’t be greedy.”

“Well, how do I know you’re not lying about your target if you can’t even give me your name?”

“Why would I lie about my target?”

“So that I would let you shoot him.”

“Aw, you’re cute,” you taunted him, tilting your head, “But I don’t recall asking for your permission.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds.

“Who are you?” he asked and you grinned as you heard the footsteps coming closer.

“Until next time, soldier.” You said as the team burst through the door, guns blazing. He turned around to point his gun at the agents, immediately taking cover as you picked up the rifle again.

It was time to get back to work.

You looked through the scope, found the target and pulled the trigger, blood splattering over the walls and chaos erupted over the street instantly, people screaming and running everywhere. You looked over your shoulder to see your team managing to keep Barnes busy with the constant gunshots, then you checked the harness around your waist again and jumped over the roof to land on top of the car waiting for you in the street. The rope went up to the roof as you unbuckled it and got into the car, pulling the ski mask off your face.

“You weren’t compromised, right?” Keith asked and you shook your head.

“I’m not an amateur,” you said as he stepped on the gas, the car breezing through the road.

“You don’t look so happy,” Keith said after taking a look at you and you pursed your lips together, deep in thought.

“He didn’t take me hostage.”

“Hm?”

“When the team burst through the door and I turned around to kill the target. He’s a super soldier, he could’ve grabbed me, use me as a leverage to get out of there. That’s what I’d do but he didn’t attack me or the team, he took cover.”

“So?”

“Keith, it’s the fucking Winter Soldier we’re talking about. He can kill a team of agents in seconds, but I bet he just got out of there. Without hurting anyone.”

“Maybe he’s just a good person.” Keith chuckled and you slipped a little in the seat, biting at your fingernails.

“I guess.”

“Would it be so bad?”

“It would make no difference,” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the city lights, “Good person or not, he’s my mission.”

“Clearly, but aren’t you going to feel just a little guilty if he ends up being a good guy?”

You scoffed a laugh and turned to him.

“I’m no use to anyone if I develop a guilty conscience,” you stated, “Much less to myself. You know that.”

A silence fell upon the car before he heaved a sigh.

“Listen, Chloe has a point as always,” he said, “These kind of missions are hard, okay? The longer you’re playing your part, the easier it will be to believe it. Feelings get involved, there are bunch of agents who ended up hesitating when it was time to bring their target in, so if you—“

“I won’t hesitate.”

“Y/N.”

“I won’t hesitate,” you repeated, “I swear. The minute this mission is over, I’ll bring him in. Orders are orders.”

Keith let out a whistle, “If you say so.”

You bit inside your cheek and leaned your head on the window, fixing your gaze outside.

“Considering the lack of alternatives,” you rasped out, “Yeah. Yeah I do say so.”

Chapter 3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years

Text

A Show

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: I can’t get enough of these Subby wife!Y/n concepts!! I also love love love a good camgirl!Y/n and camboy!Harry read...so I combined the two! This one is hot as fuck...enjoy🙃

3.9k words

When it came to you and Harry, the two of you were always putting on a show. From the outside looking in, the two of you looked like a young and happily married couple. And without a doubt you two were just that. Neither of you could stand being away from one another for long periods of time and the both of you could just burst at the seams with how much love you two had. It’s just that you guys’ relationship had a couple more layers that weren’t exactly obvious to the people around you two and would definitely raise eyebrows if they were.

For starters, you and Harry were in a bit of a dom/sub relationship aside from your “foundation relationship” so to speak. As your relationship together blossomed, you and Harry ventured out into trying things that you’d never even considered doing in the past. After expressing your desire to give being a submissive a try, you and Harry tried it and never looked back. Of course you two weren’t in this space 24/7 and you liked to switch it up from time to time. But for the most part, you were perfectly fine with being subby with Harry as your Dominant. Sure when you two were out and about, you both exhibited some of those dom/sub tendencies, but it was nothing like how you both were at home. If you were feeling small, you were always in his lap or on your knees beside his legs, constantly begging for touches, cuddles, kisses, and his cock. And depending on how good of a little girl you’d been, Harry never minded to give you all of those things whenever you wanted. But if you weren’t a good little girl, he’d either take you over his knee and spank you, making you count out each one, or he’d decide against giving you his cock, no cockwarming and no sex. Also when at home, you’d always be in either a pretty little set of lingerie, or a cute little outfit that you’d picked out. Either way, Harry had complete and easy access to your body at all times. From the onset of you guys’ relationship as a whole, you gave Harry permission to take you anywhere and anytime he wanted. So if you were standing at the kitchen counter, Harry could simply come up behind you, pull your panties to the side(if you were even wearing any) and push his cock into you. And of course, if you weren’t feeling it, you’d simply use the safe word and he’d stop immediately. For you and Harry, this was heaven. And neither of you could get enough of it.

Another thing that wasn’t in the forefront when it came to you and Harry was you guys’ mutual exhibitionism. It was something about the risk that captivated you two and made you want to keep going and up the ante a bit. Now you and Harry are very good at not getting caught. The two of you are pros at keeping your little sexscapades under the radar, proceed to go about your business afterwards as if nothing happened, and have everyone around you think that as well. But whenever there was an opportunity to feed into that exhibitionism, you two always did. For example, last summer Harry planned an amazing trip to Italy for the two of you. He managed to secure a suite on one of the higher floors that was absolutely amazing on the inside, with an even more amazing view. The room had a balcony facing the water and you both took advantage of it all week long. Not only did you two cuddle up in your bathrobes in the morning when you guys ate breakfast or after a night out of taking in the city, you and Harry also had some very loud and intense rounds in that balcony. He’d be giving it to you so good out there. And as he slammed himself into you, he’d constantly whisper into your ear to scream and let the people down below know how good he was making you feel. When you two were at home, he’d make sure to make you moan and scream as loud as possible while telling you that he wanted the whole neighborhood to know what he does to you and how good me makes you feel. When doing movie nights with friends, you’d always cockwarm under the blankets. And if it couldn’t get any worse, Harry had one very large window in his office at work. This meant that whenever you popped in to pay him a visit, the number one, go to spot was right against the glass. Even though no one could really see what you two were doing, there was still a thrill that came from going at it against the window. There was also a thrill when it came to the possibility of someone knocking on the door. Even though getting caught would be horrifying and humiliating, whether it was from down below, or from beyond the office door, it was still a turn on for you both.

Now the third and final layer was a combination the dom/sub side of the relationship and your mutual exhibitionism. The two of you had a pretty sizable following on only fans. At first it was just you. But after things between you two got really serious and you told Harry what you were doing, you wanted him to join in on the fun. It was definitely a bit of a shock to him at first, but after mulling it over and listening to how much more jealous he’d be if he wasn’t included, Harry caved. And seeing how diligent you were about having a measure of privacy when it came to your identity was the icing on the cake. In the beginning of you guys’ “partnership”, Harry’d make an appearance every once in a while, the majority of the time popping in whenever you were live and watching you play with yourself or go on and on about how good daddy aka Harry, made you feel. This sort of pattern lasted all the way up until you guys moved in together. Once you two lived in the same space, Harry was a regular on there with you and he even had some times to himself. This platform that you once had to yourself grew and was even better than before. All of your numbers increased across the board and you both were very happy about that. Harry tended to be more happy about it out of the two of you though; he’d constantly tell you that they come to so see him and to see him rail you with a smug smile plastered across his face as he says it. And to be honest, he was kind of right. Your numbers were good before but they skyrocketed once he came into the picture and the most popular content was the content with the both of you in it. Now even though you two were enjoying yourselves, there was still a balance between public and private times. The both of you loved showcasing your amazing sex life and continuously feeding off of your mutual exhibitionism, but you and Harry also loved ditching the camera and the fans and just being alone together in that space as well. The sex was always mind-blowing, but it was taken to another level when it was intimate. The volume of intimate moments always outweighs the public ones and you two liked to keep it that way. The two of you went as far as to make a little schedule for what content you guys wanted to put out and when. And for the most part, you and Harry stuck to it.

Except for today though.

You were being a brat for the majority of the day. From the moment Harry sat down in his chair at work, your little messages game began. The first one was a simple one telling him that you were missing him already, which he thought was absolutely adorable and made him want to go back home and spend the day with you. After replying with a sweet message, he was able to go 3 hours without receiving any messages from you. In that 3 hour time period, you got some extra sleep and you got some things done around the house that needed to get done. And once you got all of that taken care of, you were on fire and you were riling Harry up. As you were doing a bit of self care you were sending Harry photo after photo, and explicit message after explicit message. He couldn’t get you to stop and he couldn’t stop himself from hardening in his pants. Every picture, message, or even the occasional short little video was more explicit than the last if that was even possible. You were going on and on about how couldn’t wait until he got home and that you needed daddy inside of you. It was so much that Harry couldn’t even leave out to get lunch. He was so hard that he locked himself inside of his office for lunch and took his cock out of his pants to let go of some of that mounting pressure. And even with that, it still wasn’t enough. As if things couldn’t get any worse for Harry, he was so close to finally getting off and coming right home to take care of the situation with you. Where was the problem? The time was moving incredibly slow as the day wound down and the workday came to an end.

Meanwhile, your little teasing session went on all the way up until a little after five o’clock. You sent your final tease to him when the time hit 5 before going into the room that you two had set up specifically for filming. You got the computer all ready, and your new toy from the box. The schedule said that today was your day to do a live performance of you playing with yourself. So you picked out a cute set of lingerie from your collection and put it on before making your way over and onto the bed in front of the camera. You then do a little test in the camera beforehand to see if everything looks good before starting your live stream. And in an instant you were flooded with viewers. Before just jumping right in, you have a little banter with your audience. You tell them in detail about how you’d been a bad girl for daddy today and that you were waiting for him to come home and deal with you. As you do this, you’re toying with your panties and playing with your breasts that were confined to the lacy bra you had on. You then go on to tell them that you were going to play with yourself anyway and just hope that you weren’t going to get into too much trouble, even though you knew for a fact that Harry was going to punish you for what you did to him today. In no time, your panties and bra are off and your legs are spread to expose the sticky area between your legs.

“Do you guys like this new dildo my daddy got me? It’s not as big as him but it’ll have to do.” You say happily, bringing the toy down to rub it against your plushy and very sticky cunt. You begin to tease yourself, pushing it up and down your folds and right against your entrance. Before pushing it into your entrance, your bring the toy up to your mouth to slobber all over it and make sure it was nice and ready. You then start to slowly push it inside, and as you do, your moans get louder from the way you were being filled up with the toy. It was nowhere near Harry, but it definitely felt good.

Now while you were on camera fucking yourself with the dildo, Harry was trying to get home. All of your teasing caused him to slip into his dominant space and he planned on really giving it to you and making sure that you knew how brats were dealt with. He was filled with anticipation and excitement to get home and right into you. Harry tried his best to avoid any traffic so that he could get home as fast as possible. Luckily for him, he managed to avoid a good amount of traffic and get home in less than an hour. He practically throws himself out of the car and into the house where he shrugs his coat off and charges upstairs to you. When he makes it up the stairs, he can already hear your moans echoing from down the hall. He pretty much sprints down the hallway towards the noise, his movement coming to a halt when he finds you spread out on the bed while pushing your toy in and out of your pretty little hole and moaning your little heart out. His mind just goes to giving it to you hard and without any type of mercy. You had the audacity to tease him all day long then play with yourself while you waited for him to come back home. He could see that you were filming but he could honestly care less, if you were going to be a brat, you were going to pay for it. Harry makes his way through the doorway and goes straight to the box that held some of you guys’ toys. Your actions immediately come to a halt when is steps enter the room.

“Daddy’s home!” You announce excitedly, keeping the toy inside of you and lifting yourself up into your claves. While you sit there anxiously waiting for him to come over, Harry picks out the shiny handcuffs that were inside the box. Without saying a single word, Harry completely undresses himself from behind the camera. Even though they couldn’t see him taking his clothes off, they could hear it and they were able to get a good idea of how good he looked from the way you were rocking back and forth on the toy below you. “Missed you so much t-“ You begin, being cut off mid sentence with a hand around your throat.

“How about you shut up?!” He snarls back to you, dropping the handcuffs onto the bed and turning your around into a new position before pushing you back against the bed. He then moves onto the bed, immediately straddling your body to keep you down. Since you were in a new position, Harry adjusts the camera a bit so that the audience could get a better view of you both. “It’s funny how you think that you can just do whatever you want and not get punished.” He chuckles down to you, pushing down on your throat one final time before releasing you. “Think that you putting on your little show is gonna stop me from teaching you a lesson and taking you however I want?” He asks rhetorically, as he picks up the handcuffs and brings his free hand to your wrists. He gathers them in one hand, bringing them above your head and securing them with the handcuffs. “If you wanna be a fucking slut and send me all types of obscene things while I’m at work and then get online and fuck yourself with a dildo, then I’m gonna treat you like a little whore. Understood?” Harry growls above you.

“Yes sir.” You whisper shakily. Your heart was racing and your body was tingly. Even though it was expect that he’d establish dominance over you and do whatever he wanted, everything was live. That meant that everyone was watching as you got punished.

“Now as your first punishment, m’gonna make you gag on my cock.” Harry says, bringing himself further up your body so that his cock was even closer to your face. He then wraps his hand around his girthy shaft and lifts his cock a bit to tap at your lips. Once they open, your mouth is immediately filled with his cock. Harry pushes in and lifts himself a bit so that you’re taking all of him all at once. He wanted to be in your mouth and in your throat. “Look so cute with a mouth full of cock little girl.” He admires through a moan, finally feeling the pleasure he was in need of all day long. After calming down a bit, Harry begins to move himself in and out of your mouth, each time pushing down on your face a little harder and keeping a hand pressed down onto your wrists. The sounds of your little whimpers and gags were euphoric for Harry. He liked knowing that you were stuggling a bit and he wanted the audience to know that you could take anything he gave you. As he continued to thrust into your face, your messages were being flooded with people telling him how he was lucky to have such a pretty set of holes and how good of a girl you are for taking his big cock down your little throat. “Fuck! Such a good little hole f’me.” He sighs, pushing back down into your mouth and grinding his hips down into your face. After a couple more thrusts into your mouth, making them a bit harder than the ones before, Harry decides to pull out of your mouth so that he can push into the hole he was most excited about. Since you were lying on the bed, Harry made sure that the camera was positioned in a way that only showed the lower half of your face. This meant that the viewers could see him pull his slobbery cock from your wet mouth and him on top of you. “Look so pretty babydoll.” He admires, taking in your tearstained cheeks and glistening mouth. “Gonna make you nice and filthy once I’m done with you.” Harry promises, gripping onto his shaft to give your cheek a little tap. He then lifts his body off of you and makes his way down between your legs.

“Need you daddy.” You whine, squirming against the bed as he kneels between your legs and stares at your filled pussy.

“Aww, does my pretty little slut of a wife want her pussy fucked?” He patronizes, swiftly pulling the toy out of your cunt.

“Yes daddy! S’achey down there.” You cry out to him, feeling yourself slipping into your subspace.

“Should stick it in your ass and fuck you like a real whore?” Harry suggests with a cynical chuckle, ignoring your cry out to him and bringing the dildo down to tap it back and forth against your puffy cheeks.

“Please daddy!” You beg, turning your head to the side to take the toy into your mouth.

“And suddenly, my desire to push this into your ass is gone.” He promptly states, dropping the dildo next to you and pushing you body back a bit, moving your face completely out of view. He then pushes your legs back a bit more so that you’re spread even wider for him. “Now are you going to take your pounding like the good little slut I know you can be?” Harry asks, bringing his hand down to deliver a quick swat to your sensitive cunt.

“Yes sir!” You promptly whined, needing to feel him inside already. And with that, Harry lines his cock up with your entrance and slams right into you. When he does this, your eyes roll to the back of your head and the biggest moan leaves your mouth. It felt so good to have his big cock inside of you. He was so big that you felt him in the pit of your tummy. You loved that. Now instead of giving you any time to adjust, Harry doesn’t stop; he goes straight into pounding into you. He couldn’t stop himself, your cunt just felt too good around his cock for him to stop ramming his cock in and out of you. Plus you were being punished which meant that you took whatever he gave. While Harry continued to fuck his cock into you, the audience was going wild. You two were getting an insane amount of tips and messages encouraging Harry to keep on fucking you and to go even harder, and messages for you saying how cute your pitiful moans sounded as you took his cock into your stomach. Harry was making you feel so good right now, his cock was going so deep inside and he was just slamming into you over and over again. You were on cloud nine.

“Y’look like a proper slut now.” Harry hums through a string of pants, taking in your appearance below him and bringing his hand back up to your throat that in turn silences your once loud moans. “Tearstained cheeks, drool coming out of that mouth, a hand around your throat, and m’cock in this delicious cunt of yours.” He points out, beginning to change the pace of his thrusts to more of a one at a time type of pace. He was still delivering those deep and hard blows, they were just a bit slower. As he continues on, Harry shifts his weight onto the hand that was around your throat and brings his now free hand up to the side of your face. Keeping his eyes locked in on yours, he gives you a soft squeeze before drawing his hand back a little to give you a nice slap. It wasn’t extremely hard, but it wasn’t weak either. It was enough to be for pissing him off. As he feels his release getting closer and closer, Harry does a couple more things to make you a bit filthier. He gathers some of his saliva in his mouth and he spits down into yours. From your eyes alone he could tell that you wanted to sallow, but you couldn’t since he had a tight grip on your throat. He then proceeds to do this twice more, aiming for your breasts that he’d neglected this go around. “Fuck m’gonna cum!” Harry grunts, feeling the warm and bubbling sensation mounting in his lower stomach. And before he could even comprehend how amazing he felt, Harry was erupting inside of you. The audience could hear his moans as he came inside of you. Meanwhile, you were on the brink of your release, but given the fact that you were being punished, you weren’t cumming any time soon. You hadn’t cum yet you could feel a tiny bit of a soreness forming in your lower half. As Harry pumped his cum into you, the messages just cheered him on to fill you up with his seed. Once he’s all done, Harry pulls his cock out of you, allowing all of his cum to pour out of you. He then releases your throat, causing you to break into a fit of pants as you try to catch your breath. “Came a lot in there.” He observes, tapping his fingers on your lower stomach before scooping up the cum that was dripping out of you and bringing it to your pebbled nipples.

“Now were gonna sign off now, but don’t worry, we’ll record the rest.” Harry hums darkly before ending the live stream.

You were going to be in for a very long, punishment filled night. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d be ruining you tonight.

Masterlist

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