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celestialseph · 5 days ago

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hymn to virgil (part ii)

read part i here!

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? Your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence, knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, tattoos, minor injury, gay panic, eventual smut maybe, tags will be added as we go!!

authors note: find me on ao3 as well! posting this so soon because it's already on there, lol. enjoy ✨

word count: 2.6k

You don’t get a chance to corner Peter that night when you get to the compound, with it being late in the evening and him having class the next morning (you truly don’t know how he does it).

You’re left now with your racing thoughts, of what the hell Peter and Bucky were talking about. You wonder if you could track down Bucky instead…

After a hot shower and slipping into some soft pajamas, you decide to make your way to the kitchen two floors down.

Luckily, Bucky is there making food with Sam. Unfortunately, Yelena is sitting at the island in front of them, snacking on a handful of Cheez-Its, sharing the box with Kate.

Your growing suspicion that Barnes and Parker were somehow talking about Yelena being a fucking simp- and not people simping over Amanda from Smosh- gnaws at you.

“Okay, so, you have to get Bucky alone,” you whisper to yourself in the doorway of the elevator.

You try to devise a plan as you walk into the room, maybe you could ask for Barnes’ help with something? What could he not refuse.

“Hey, guys! What’s on the menu tonight?” You say with a smile as you reach the group, leaning on the edge of the counter next to the stove.

They all greet you, and Wilson replies cheerily, “We’ve got some pasta going, and there’s chicken in the oven, and there is also a pot of boxed mac and cheese on for Yelena,” he rolls his eyes when he mentions the Russian’s favorite food.

“Why do you dislike it so much? It is so good, and so versatile!” Yelena pipes up defensively, throwing her hands up in the air for dramatics. It makes everyone chuckle, and she feigns offence at the reaction.

It’s now or never. Get Bucky out of here so you can pick his brain.

You lean a little further on the counter, closer to Bucky who is currently stirring both pastas.

“Barnes, after the whole… goo… incident today, would you want to help me with some target practice? Maybe run some simulations?”

Bucky turns to you as you speak, but before he can even open his mouth, Yelena is interjecting.

“I will help you! This sounds like fun, and we all know that I am a better shot than James, anyway.” She’s out of her seat now, already walking towards the elevator.

Sam is doubled over at her jest towards Bucky, and Bucky is still standing with his mouth open, looking between you and Yelena.

You have a hard look in your eye, clearly frustrated. Pleading? He can’t read you fully in the moment.

Yelena is impatiently pressing the buttons as she turns back towards you. “Well, come on! Let’s go destroy things!” She yells, ushering you to follow as the doors open.

You look between her and Bucky, shooting him glare as he simply shrugs and smirks.

Somewhat defeated that your tactic didn’t work, you follow Yelena into the elevator, pressing the button for the floor the simulation rooms are on.

“This will be fun! We do not get to practice together often.” She looks over to you, bumping you with her shoulder as she speaks.

The blonde’s bright demeanor always seems to rub off on you, instantly feeling the irritation fade away.

“You’re right, I feel like Wanda and I always end up doing our own thing.” You turn to her as you speak, taking in her still-damp hair from her own shower, and the lack of her signature eyeliner.

She’s wearing sweats and a tank top, the tattoo on said shoulder that she got in memory of Natasha on full display.

You smile at it, admiring the flowers and Cryllic letters that trail from the base of her neck to her elbow.

She watches you as you look, a smirk crossing her own face. “Do you have any of your own, киса?”

“Yeah, a few.” You chuckle- realizing that most of your ink typically hides beneath your clothes or your suit.

You’re wearing some yoga pants and a long sleeve shirt, so you bend to lift your pant legs, pulling them up to just over your knee.

This allows her have a peek at the colorful traditional flowers, pinups, and… cat portraits, almost fully covering your right leg.

The left is littered with black and grey traditional- dead vines, bats, and a large dagger spanning the inside of your calf.

You observe her expressions as she examines them, moving around you in the small elevator to get a better look. “Wow…” she whispers.

“Life and death,” you state. “The same style, but one side representing bright, light things. The other, decay and ruin.”

She takes particular interest in the dagger, naturally, and reaches out to turn your leg ever so slightly so she can see it more clearly.

“These… these are beautiful, I had no idea you had such a love for tattoos,” she mutters, her voice still soft.

You arrive at your floor as she says this, the doors opening up onto the training floor.

“Well now you know, Belova,” you tease lightly, “Now come on, let’s fuck some shit up.”

You allow your pant legs to fall as you step into the room, leaving Yelena trailing behind you, her jaw slack- clearly unable to digest the fact that you’ve hidden the tattoos for so long.

You approach the screen on the wall, and start to scroll through the list of simulations.

“So, I didn’t really have anything specific in mind,” you attempt to ground yourself, trying your best to put Peter and Bucky’s words out of your brain for the time being.

Yelena is soon coming up next to you, humming in contemplation.

The two of you assess the options, and she perks up at one- “Here, this will be good to help you with the targets. The enemies are easy to lock onto, but there are lots.”

She presses it before you can even really take a look, the system whirring to life.

An automated voice rings out, “You have 90 seconds. Gather your supplies, get into position.”

“Yelena!” You screech over the noise, “I wasn’t ready! Oh, my god-”

As she runs over to the weapons bench, the assassin lets out a fucking cackle. The audacity.

“You have more than enough time! You do not even have to choose what you will kill them with!” She’s picking through knives and throws a gun across her back, placing widow’s bites snugly on her wrists.

“Oh my god,” you whisper again at her retorts. “Still! I-”

“You have 30 seconds.”

You haven’t used this sim before, and are scrambling to find the starting point, a slight panic starting to overcome you for the second time today.

“Yelena!” You whine, “Where the FUCK DO I GO?”

The holograms begin to come into view, creatures start to materialize that are akin to the Chitauri.

Your whole body begins to light up, pink tendrils coming from your hands already.

“Oh, you are okay, look.” She is waltzing over to you, in absolutely zero rush, and points to a small box on the floor glowing green.

You wave your hands frantically as you search the floor.

Yelena comes up behind you, her hands resting on your hips, maneuvering you to where you need to be.

“Here,” she says.

“10 seconds.”

She cooly takes her place in another box about five feet to your right, and flips a blade in each hand. She grips them easily when they fall into place.

You’re honestly more focused on her confidence than anything right now, watching as she fixes her stance, readying for the fight.

She takes note of your glances, and flexes her muscles the tiniest bit before she shakes off.

“You ready, киса?” She’s got a grin on her face, and she winks at you before turning to the holograms in front of the two of you.

You roll your eyes just a bit at her cockiness, muttering “As I’ll fucking ever be.”

You prepare your stance as well, raising your hands in the direction of the enemies and allowing balls of magic to form in your palms.

“Commencing simulation 14.”

The electronics come to life, creatures beginning to growl and hiss and move erratically.

Within seconds, both Yelena and yourself are locked in. There are blasts of power coming from you, taking out the holograms or moving fake objects to throw into them.

Yelena is switching between all her weapons, knives flying and bullets ringing out interchangeably. She’s jumping and flipping over the opponents as they come her way.

About seven minutes in, you’ve become irritated with the way that the holograms move. They’re jumpy and jolt in all directions, making it hard for you to catch them in just the right spot.

Yelena is killing it. She’s smoothly taking out the enemies with headshots, seemingly without breaking a sweat or letting a hair get out of place.

In just the split second you take to check in on your teammate, one of the creatures sneaks up on you, the advanced technology causing it to solidify as it approaches.

The thing crashes into your stomach, making you to collapse and land right on your ass on impact.

A hot, bright, pink flash waves out of you as you hit the ground. You roll onto your side, and let out a small groan.

As Yelena hears and sees the commotion, she yells “STOP!”

The simulation immediately begins to fade, the sounds and lights falling away quickly.

She rushes to you, dropping to her knees at your side.

You’re clutching your stomach, hands still glowing and warm.

“Oh, no,” she whispers at your state.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Yelena lightly situates a hand under your shoulder that’s on the ground, and places the other on top of your own resting on your stomach.

She jumps slightly at the heat of your hand, feeling the warmth even through her glove.

“Yeah,” you say, breathy and out of it, “I’m fine, just… got the wind knocked out of me.”

“Where are you hurt? How did it happen?” Her brows knit together, she almost looks scared.

“I just wasn’t focused enough, was pulling my punches and it caught me off guard.” You groan again. “Got me in the abdomen, but I’ll be okay.”

She examines your face as well now, trying to make sure you’re telling the truth.

Hesitantly, she asks, “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Her hands are still hovering over your stomach and holding onto your shoulder, respectively. She’s watching you expectantly, nerves starting to get the best of her as the hand not touching you begins to shake slightly.

Normally, when someone takes a hit from a hologram, it doesn’t leave permanent damage. Bruises happen frequently, there’s an occasional scratch, and only two bones have been broken (ahem, Peter, Kate).

With the amount of pain you’re in, you figure it wouldn’t hurt for her to double check that there’s nothing of concern. You nod, “Sure, yeah, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” Yelena replies quietly, attempting to soothe you with her tone.

She removes her hand from your shoulder, the movement jostling you slightly as you press flat against the floor now.

You let out a small cry as the pain begins to radiate.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “Can I see?”

You nod, not wanting to risk speaking at the moment.

The assassin moves to carefully lift the hem of your shirt to allow her to check for any signs of injury.

She lets out a small gasp as she sees the entirety of your stomach.

“Ugh, shit,” you say. “Is it that bad?”

“No- no, no,” she rushes out.

“You.. have more tattoos,” her voice is quiet and there is a lilt to it that makes it seem like a question.

A chuckle slips out of you, leading you to whine again at the way the pain stabs at you as your stomach moves, a small burst of magic escaping you again at the feeling.

“Sorry. Yes, I do. I’ve got a lot.”

She seems to be in awe of you again, maybe surprised, as she admires the way the large moth fully envelops your abdomen. The tops of the wings rest right below your bra line.

You have to break Yelena out of her trance-like state as she begins to run her fingertips along the lines of the moth’s wings.

It makes you shiver, a hand instinctively grasping her wrist as it moves against you, hoping to avoid another jolt from the injury.

You don’t expect her to meet your gaze so quickly when you do so, but she locks onto you immediately.

Her eyes are dark and unreadable, her lips are slightly parted.

You’ve never seen her look like this, and her face flushes ever so lightly as you examine her expression.

Magic starts to leave you again as her eyes bore into you, the warmth soaking into her wrist.

Yelena doesn’t move a muscle, her stare unwavering.

As soon as you recognize the pink glow, you retract your hand, a “Sorry” leaving your lips quietly.

This seemed to finally end her stupor, the assassin pulling her eyes away to follow your hand.

“No, I…” she says, her tone low. “I did not mean to,” she stumbles over her words. “I am sorry- you just, I had no idea.”

A small smile crosses your face as she apologizes, “It’s alright, what can I say?” You try to hold down another laugh. “I’m full of surprises.”

Yelena seems to soften at this, a smirk tugging at her lips, “Apparently you are.”

“So,” you say, “any damage, doctor?”

She stumbles once again, “Um, is it, is it okay if I feel around? It may hurt.”

You nod, bracing yourself for the way she starts to press her hands into different locations on your stomach.

When she reaches the tender spots where you took the hit, your hands clench at your sides as you try to restrain the magic.

She continues to poke and prod for a minute or so, ruling out any major damage.

“Okay,” she sighs, leaning up and sitting back down on her heels.

“Nothing seems out of place. You have a large area of redness that you should keep your eye on. It will bruise, but other than this, you will be okay.”

Yelena gently moves your shirt back down as she finishes her assessment. She stands, offering to help you up with an outstretched hand.

You take it, groaning and wincing as she hauls you off the floor. As you gain your balance, you look towards her.

The blonde avoids your gaze, a hint of blush still lingers on her cheeks and nose.

“Thank you, Belova.” You move towards her, causing her eyes to finally meet yours again. “I really appreciate it, sorry I cut our practice short.”

She chuckles at this, and the sound makes you smile.

Yelena doesn’t respond, so you clasp a hand on her shoulder as she had done to you just minutes ago- “Let’s go grab some food upstairs, yeah?”

This time, her face fully lights up. “Yes, please, I am starving!”

The two of you start to walk back towards the elevator, and when you reach the doors she pipes up again, “Do you think Wilson sabotaged my mac and cheese?”

It takes everything in you to not collapse with laughter. “Honestly, if he did, I would fucking kill him,” you reply with a fully straight face.

She does not have the same control, nearly hysterical at your comment as she presses the floor’s button repeatedly once again.

When the doors close and she has regained some semblance of composure, you turn back to Yelena, “No, I swear to god if he messed it up, I will throw him off the roof. No wings.”

She howls at the comment, and is still chuckling by the time the elevator opens up to the kitchen.

✨ taglist ✨

@verynormalsstuff

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x fem!reader #yelena belova fanfiction #marvel #black widow #marvel fanfic #thunderbolts #my fics!

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celestialseph · 5 days ago

Text

hymn to virgil

pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Witch!reader

summary: Yelena is notoriously difficult to get close to- she has a hard time opening up or connecting with all she's been through. However, after two years of working together, she... seems to have a soft spot for you? What you don't know is that your teammates have started to take note of this, and after a mishap on a mission, you start to think that maybe something is up with the former widow.

warnings: little to no descriptors of reader’s features, mentions of sensory issues and insecurities, canon typical violence, canon divergence, knives, cursing, fluff, Yelena's a Simp, Bucky is a good friend, eventual smut maybe (will be posted in individual chapter warnings!), tags will be added as we go!!

word count: 3.4k

authors note: Hiiiii who knew I’d end up posting my self-insert to tumblr?? Anyway, this started as a “maybe I want to write a knifeplay fic, I can get it done in 5k words,” and has turned into a fucking monster. I’ve got a few more chapters done, so this will be posted in parts! (Title from Hozier!)

*ALSO* would like to note that I agree fully with the comic-canon of Yelena being aroace!!! As I said, this is straight up self service at this point. If anything romantic/smutty happens, it’s just for me honestly. I will label it appropriately if it does make it in. Thanks for reading, enjoy ✨

You were always in awe of your teammates - never afraid to get in the middle of the action and get their hands dirty. However, you could not relate.

To say that being able to control and move things with your mind from a distance is a blessing… would be an understatement. For as long as you could remember, touching anything sticky or slimy and not being able to immediately wash it off, can send you into a spiral.

To be fair, many of your coworkers have sensory issues of their own: Peter refuses to touch microfiber, because he has chronically dry hands and he “always forgets” to use the nice lotion you bought for him.

Bucky hates whipped frosting on anything because it leaves a weird film on his tongue, so Sam makes it a point to buy whipped-frosting cupcakes for any occasion.

Kate despises the way that mud feels when it dries on her skin, making it anyone else’s responsibility to play outside with Lucky in the rain.

From what you knew of Natasha, she could never stand velvet. Once, Tony had ordered her a velvet dress for an undercover mission and was insistent that she wore it because it “matched the theme of the gala.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so she took one of his suits outside, put multiple grenades in it, and laughed while watching it blow up. Allegedly.

Yelena is no different with her aversions, strongly disliking the way that sweatshirts pill up on the inside after getting some good use. While her and Natasha may not have been truly related, they do (allegedly) take out their frustrations the same way.

The other day, you’d been heading to your car and found Yelena standing over a smoldering pile of fabric. When you asked her what the hell was going on, she simply replied, “They were getting scratchy.” and shrugged before walking off.

When she’s in her element though, Yelena has no issues being drenched in your worst nightmares, getting back on the quinjet coated in blood and gore. Maybe it was a Russian thing, because Bucky is no different. They’d stroll up the ramp, grab a clean cloth, and start wiping down their weapons without a second thought spared for the enemy’s brains stuck in their hair.

Sometimes it makes you gag, just imagining the feeling of blood between your fingers.

Now you’re here, on a mission fighting some massive, ungodly creatures from who-knows-where.

Picking a target across the street, you lift a sprinter van off the ground with a pink tendril of magic, and throw the car towards the monster. Apparently, you had fully underestimated the range at which the green… goo of their insides would splatter. The impact and subsequent explosion caused their viscera to splash all over your face and torso, making you freeze and rendering you unable to move.

Feeling the way it starts to run down your skin and cling to your suit makes the panic start to set in.

Your voice is scratchy and small as you speak into your earpiece.

“Uh, guys, can I have some assistance over here? Please? I’m sorry- I just…” trailing off into a whine and trying to stop yourself from crying.

Yelena is the first person you see. She’s on top of a neighboring building, blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight, engaging in hand-to-hand combat with one of the more humanoid creatures.

The moment she hears you, her eyes begin to search the area- locking onto you almost instantly. You can’t quite read the expression on her face from this far away, but her movements somehow quicken as she kicks the enemy, pulling two knives off her sides and shoving them into its neck.

At this point you’ve dropped to your knees, hands held out in front of you, a slight pink glow emanating from your skin, your anxiety starting to visibly radiate off you.

The Russian’s smooth, even tone rings in your ears, assuring that she is on her way. Your eyes trail back up towards her, catching sight of her hooking the ledge of the building before throwing herself off the roof with practiced ease.

Your gaze shifts back to your hands, and a sob escapes you now that the slime has started to cool and dry onto your skin. You are soon aware of Yelena’s presence as her shadow falls over you, a quiet “Shhhh,” hitting your ears.

“We’ve got to get you away from here, киса, up, up.” Hearing her nickname for you eases your panic slightly, knowing you’re safe now that a teammate has made it to you.

Her gloved hands rest on the sides of your torso, gently urging you off the concrete.

You stand slowly, her voice muttering, “It’s alright, I got you, come this way,” as she ushers you towards the back of a nearby alley, away from the middle of the action.

Her voice raises and hardens slightly as she calls out for Barnes, giving him an update in Russian over the comms. You sense urgency in her tone, some anxiety of her own blending into the words she says.

She leans you against the brick wall, the coolness shocking you out of your current state, making you shiver slightly as she guides you back to the ground.

Once you get settled, and the pink aura around you starts to dissipate, you notice Yelena fumbling around with the pockets of her vest.

She’s muttering and cursing to herself, and apologizes when she notices your brows furrow.

“Sorry, it’s new, I can’t- fuck, where are they…” she trails off while still rummaging.

You can’t really comprehend how long it takes, but she suddenly exclaims “YES! Ha! I knew I did not forget them!”

You jump at the noise.

“Oh, I am sorry, but look!”

She pulls out a little Ziploc baggie with… baby wipes.

A goofy grin stretches across her face.

“Yelena, what is that, what are you doing?” You ask as she pulls a wipe from the bag, reaching for your temple.

You flinch slightly at the sudden movement.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it is just a wet wipe.” She says as she retracts her hand, a look of concern taking over. She waits to move again until you consent.

“Why? Why do you have them?” Your brows knit together again, eyes questioning, confusion evident.

Yelena is not one to worry about her own hygiene while on missions, more worried about stashing snacks on her person and on jets.

Her head cocks to the side a bit before stating, “They are for this! You do not like when things get on you, no? You almost throw up when cracking eggs, and won’t touch Fanny or Lucky’s toys if they are wet. I keep them to help you!”

She outstretches the wipe once again, eyes questioning if she can go ahead.

You give her a small nod, and gesture to have one for yourself.

She passes you the one she has been holding, no longer pristine and white as the goo on her own hands has rubbed off on it as well.

Yelena grabs another, and works to wipe off your forehead as you attempt to clean your hands, trying not to look as you do so.

Kate’s voice in your ear causes you to jump again, and you feel the blonde’s other hand come to rest on your shoulder to ground you.

Kate is muffled, but you think she mentions Maria expediting extraction and sharing the meetup location.

Barnes, Sam, and Peter all respond with their understanding.

Yelena grabs another wipe after tossing the original to the side, and offers you a fresh one as well. You accept, and continue to work on cleaning up your wrists and arms.

She starts on trying to get some chunks out of your hair when she is abruptly interrupted by a creature growling from the mouth of the alley.

Naturally, your hands begin to warm and glow, prepping for an attack, but Yelena is already up and striding away towards the monster.

She pulls out her knives again, closing the distance without hesitation. The assassin throws one from at least ten feet away, the blade settling straight in the enemy’s torso. It seems to be caught off guard, a loud cry coming from its throat as it stumbles.

She screams as she picks up speed, reaching for a larger weapon before launching herself off the side of a garbage bin. She lands on the shoulders of the creature, shoving one of the knives into an eye, and using the larger blade to slit its throat in a quick, smooth motion.

The gash is deep, and they both quickly fall to the ground.

You watch helplessly, still sitting down and holding the wipe between your fingers.

Yelena easily slips out from beneath the large figure, she then rolls it on its back, pulling each of the knives from where they are embedded. She wipes the metal along her thighs to clean up some of the mess, before coolly making her way back towards you.

She is ruthless. A killing machine. Raised to murder and then run. Watching her take out enemies never fails to shock you.

Her brutal nature rivals Bucky’s, as they are fearless even when using such small weapons or even their bare hands. They walk away unphased, like they didn’t brutally take a life or blow up a building.

And yet, here she is, walking right back up to you with a look of worry etched in her features.

“Are you alright, киса? The jet will be here any moment.”

You don’t realize you’ve been staring. She calls to you again, hesitant.

“Yes, yes I’m alright, ‘Lena, thank you.”

You reach for the Ziploc and hand it to her, feeling decently clean compared to how you started.

She accepts it, still holding her blades now all in one hand. The blonde pulls out a wipe, and begins to carefully clean the crevices of the knives.

You giggle and roll your head back.

She glares.

“Why are you laughing?” Her eyes are focused, and she pulls another wipe out for the next weapon.

You keep chuckling, “Yelena, please, your gloves are covered in green! Why would you not clean them first? You are going to keep getting goo all over your things.”

She looks quizzically between you, the wipes, and the knives.

“But there will not be enough baby cleaners to use on myself and on them! Why would I waste using on me?”

An explanation starts to leave your mouth when the sound of the quinjet can be heard overhead, comms lighting up with instructions quickly after.

Yelena helps you up and brushes your shoulders off, shaking you lightly for reassurance. You both head towards the street, seeing your team already gathering.

Bucky is equally as covered in shit as Yelena is, but that’s to be expected at this point.

“You okay, kid?” He starts to walk towards you, and you nod. He pulls you under his metal arm as the jet lands, and you all start to make your way over.

“I’m okay. Could be better, just can’t wait for a fucking shower, man.”

The two of you laugh, but you do need to give credit to Yelena.

“It’s really all thanks to Lena, though,” you lower your voice to a whisper before asking “did you know she keeps wet wipes in her vest for me?”

A deep, hearty laugh leaves Bucky as a grin slides across his face.

“I did not, but that’s fuckin’ hilarious. Never knew she’d be such a softy, never pegged her as this much of a simp.”

You stop dead in your tracks, causing Bucky to stumble.

“James. What the actual shit did you just say to me? ‘Simp’? Who the hell are you?”

He doesn’t really know what to say, concerned that he had said something wrong.

“Uh, Peter- he,” he gestured to the kid ahead of them, “he told me that it means like, ‘head over heels’ or some shit like that?”

“Why on god’s green earth would he be teaching you that? You’re literally so old. You don’t need to be saying that.”

Bucky pulls you back into him, both of you trying not to lose your breath from laughing.

Yelena and Kate have already made it to the jet and the blonde yells out once she makes it inside.

“Hey, nerds! Hurry! There are snacks in here guys!” She holds up some Goldfish and granola bars as she frantically waves her hands at you.

Once everyone has boarded and you start towards the compound, you make your way to where Peter is double-fisting bags of Gushers.

“Spoods, are you sure you need that much sugar?”

“Listen, my blood sugar drops after so much activity! Gotta restock the energy, y’know?” He says, through a mouth full of fruit snacks.

“Mhm, yeah okay, Pete. Anyway, got a question for you.”

“Sure, hit me. Not physically, please!” He yelps as you make your way closer to him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine. So. Bucky said that you’ve been teaching him some slang? How did you manage to use ‘simp’ in a conversation with that man? Because color me intrigued.” You ask, sitting down next to him in a row of seats, starting to snack on some carrots.

Peter’s face instantly turns as red as his suit as he stutters and reaches for another pack of Gushers.

“Nuh-uh. None of that. You have to tell me, because I am hella suspicious of you. Don’t make me whip out the magic in the jet, I know you hate the turbulence it causes.”

You’ve snatched the Gushers out of his hands, and make the threat when he grabs for the actual box.

“Who were you talking about when ‘simp’ came up in the conversation, Spidey.”

“No one! I was making him watch Smosh! Um, specifically the Submissive and Breedable music video with bbno$!”

His words come out so fast that you can barely comprehend it.

“He, um, he commented on Amanda being hot! And I told him that everyone simps over her!”

“I do not believe you. No shot Barnes would not have commented on Amanda, he would have seen bbno$ and passed out because that man is gay as hell. Don’t lie to me.” You say incredulously, rolling your eyes dramatically.

Peter leans into you, voice soft.

“Listen, can we talk about this later? I promise I’ll tell you the truth?”

He’s hesitant, and his eyes flicker behind you for a fraction of a second before shifting his gaze out the window, then back to you.

You narrow your own eyes at him before turning to look behind you.

Yelena and Kate are seated across the aisle now, Maria standing with her arms resting on the back of their seats. Kate has her back to you, but she’s animatedly telling Maria about the fight, gesturing with her hands, ponytail bouncing as she moves.

Yelena has her cleaning kit laid across her and Kate’s laps, four blades resting on the leather mat, another in her hands. She’s finally taken off her gloves, and is using a clean cloth and a bottle of water to wipe them down.

Bucky yells out to her in Russian, and she tosses the water over to him.

You turn to find Barnes, standing next to the small table, with Wilson across from him. They are both also cleaning their weapons- Bucky using a cloth and the water to clean his knives, Sam making a show of wiping down Redwing. Bucky scoffs and shoots Sam an annoyed glare.

“Kate, oh my god, please stop moving!” Yelena groans, causing your attention to shift back to the group of women.

She’s attempting to keep her knives on the kit as the archer continues to explain the mission.

“I’m sorry! It was just so cool, did you not see the way it fell? It was like out of a movie, man!” Kate replies, the leather shifting on her lap again as two of the weapons hit the floor.

Yelena curses in her native tongue, making Barnes whip his head up, yelling “Woah, woah, woah, language, Belova!”

She gruffly responds to him, clearly irritated.

Bucky then calls for Peter to join him and Wilson. The kid stands and starts to walk away before turning back to you.

“Deal? Later?”

You roll your eyes once again and reply “Yeah, whatever, deal.”

The plastic of the trial mix bag crinkles as you raise it and pour some in your mouth. You close your eyes and crack your neck as you chew, and when you open them Yelena is standing right in front of you.

A hand flies to your chest as you exclaim “Shit, Lena, you were not there two seconds ago.”

“Hi,” she says, slightly apologetic. “Kate is being twitchy, can I sit?”

You pat the seat next to you and she moves to sit.

“Thank you, I just really need to clean these, and she kept moving. Maria is more patient.”

Yelena casually unrolls the kit again, laying a few inches into your lap. On instinct you gently reach to hold the corner as she adjusts.

Her eyes flash up to you, a sharp glint to them, before softening again and raising the corner of her mouth into a small smile as her brain seems to realize it’s just you.

You wonder what that initial thought was that caused the hint of anger- was it just her instincts as well? Not having her own things, not having autonomy in the Red Room? Maybe it was her first line of defense back then. You’d known each other for two years now, and been on missions together for over one of those, but she was notoriously slow to warm to others..

It seemed like every time you interacted with Yelena, you saw a different piece of her rise to the surface. Whether it was her throwing her head back while laughing at a sitcom, or the look of longing in her features when she sees or hears something about Natasha. The tenderness she showed you no more than an hour ago, helping you come down for a panic attack. The unbridled rage she shows when protecting her team.

What did Bucky mean when he said he didn’t think she’s a softy? He sees the way she plays with Fanny, or how she radiates light when the team gets invited to Barton’s ranch and she gets to hang out with the children.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by Yelena’s smooth accent.

“Are you feeling okay? After getting a little bit clean, киса?” She’s still working on her blades, three of the five clean now.

“Yeah, yeah, I think so, thank you.” You’re fiddling with the buckle on the edge of the kit, “You know… Actually never mind.”

“What? What is it?” She shifts her body, turning a little towards you, concern laced in her features.

“The nickname, киса, what does it mean? Why do you call me that?” You ask softly, unsure of how the question will go over.

“Ah, it means ‘kitty,’ it is a term of endearment in Russian.” She nods as she responds, gesturing slightly with her hands, still holding a knife.

“You like cats,” she explains, “you are kind, you are sensitive, and you are reserved.”

You can’t help but smile at her reasonings, total softy, you think to yourself.

You aren’t quite sure how to best continue the conversation, because you’re sure there’s a blush crossing your cheeks if the light pink glow coming from your hands is any indication. You attempt to hide them under your thighs, balancing the kit on your knee.

“I see, I see, makes sense,” You finally reply, looking out the window instead of meeting the blonde’s gaze.

You still see Yelena in your periphery, though, and she is taking in the way your magic is escaping you.

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yes, I- I just, that is very sweet, Belova.” You nod, finally turning back to look at her, a soft smile on your lips.

She returns a smirk of her own, her focus shifting back to her weapons.

The ambiance of the rest of the team chatting and laughing echoes in the background.

The remainder of the flight back to the compound brings a comfortable, warm, silence between the two of you, your shoulders gently brushing against each other from time to time as the jet moves.

#is it a self reblog if it’s a diff acc???#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x fem!reader #marvel #black widow #thunderbolts

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celestialseph · 2 months ago

Text

It's Just 5th Grade Science

Dani is put in place as Bucky's main point of contact for repairs for his arm. Steve finally confesses his love. Congratulations, you are soulmates!

Bucky/Steve/OC (she/her)

Chapter 2 is here! I am also posting on AO3 as i go :)

WARNING!! this is 18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 1: Social Studies can be found here

Chapter 2: Phys Ed

All too soon, we arrive at the compound. Bucky shuts off the motorcycle and the silence of the parking garage is all-encompassing. I don't want to let go. We sit silently for a moment, his hand on my thigh, tracing small circles with his thumb. Giving him one last squeeze, I reluctantly ease myself off the bike, which leads to my legs promptly giving way, and I land unceremoniously on my ass with a huff.

I glare up at him with mock annoyance. "I'm down here on my ass and you're laughing at me!” I stick my lip out in an overdramatic pout.

Bucky can't help but laugh as he swings himself off the bike and kneels beside me. Still chuckling, he offers a hand to help me up. "You alright?" he asks, his amusement clear.

"Yeah, I'm laughing at you." he replies, his voice filled with affection as he helps me up and pulls me to him, resting his hand on the small of my back. It's clear that my legs are still unsteady underneath me.

"I didn't think my legs would be this tired. You might have to carry me in over your shoulder." I joke, shifting my weight from hip to hip to get my bearings.

"You want me to carry you in, huh?"

“Like you would be caught with my fat ass slung over your shoulder!” I scoff.

Bucky has a shit-eating grin on his face. "Oh honey, don't undersell your ass."

His grip tightens around my waist, and I am casually thrown over his shoulder. "James Buchannan Barnes!" I squeal as his arm casually secures my thighs in place and his laugh fills the parking garage. He adjusts his grip and I gently bounce on his broad shoulder as he starts towards the elevators, my own laughter joining his. "You know, I rather like the view from up here!" I quip, reaching down to playfully swat his ass.

"Yeah? Like what you see?"

"Oh yeah, I love a full moon!” I’m giggling like a teenager at my own joke.

The smack on my own ass takes me by surprise, as does the flush of heat that follows. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to staunch my reaction so he won’t notice, but his grip tightens.

Another slap echoes through the garage as his hand lands harder this time.

"Dani, you're trembling."

“Am I?”

"Yeah, doll, you are.”

As we reach the elevator, he slides me down until my feet hit the floor. The current running through my body pulses where his hands rest on my waist. The flush is clear on my cheeks and he inhales deeply, catching the smell of my arousal in the small, enclosed space as he eases me back against the wall. A whimper catches in my throat.

"Do you like it when I'm a little rough?"

My hands grasp his leather jacket, needing to ground myself. ‘Rough’ had never been something I had entertained. All I can manage is his name, barely audible.

"You want it, don't you? For me to take what I want?"

Once again, my whole body flushes, heat pooling in my belly. My eyes are pleading, desperate. "Please..."

"Please what? Tell me what you need."

"Damn it, Bucky, kiss me already." I beg.

I’m shoved against the wall of the elevator and Bucky is plundering my mouth. The grip he takes on my hair is unyielding, his other hand is firmly on my hip, holding me in place.

When his leg slides between my thighs, I moan fully into his mouth. He presses harder, letting me ride his thigh as his hand slides around to grab my ass and grind my hips further into him.

There is a chime as the voice of Jarvis comes over a speaker. "I am sorry to intrude, but I must let the hold on this elevator go. I have held it for several minutes and Mr. Stark is beginning to think there is an error."

We break apart like errant teenagers, suddenly remembering that we are in an elevator. At the compound. And Jarvis is everywhere.

I refuse to look at the speaker as I apologize. "Sorry Jarvis! Can we have just one more moment?"

Bucky can’t help but laugh. "Yeah, Jarvis. Just give us a sec, alright?"

Turning to Bucky, my eyes are wide. "I feel like I should apologize? I've... I've never had that kind of reaction before. So, um. Sorry?”

"You've got nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who should apologize for taking things so far in a goddamn elevator."

His gentle exasperation makes me smile. "Always the gentleman, Sergeant Barnes." I say as I reach up to neaten his hair and adjust the front of his jacket.

"Yeah, well, I did promise I would be. But you're developing a habit of making me want to throw that all away."

"Hmm. Maybe I like it." I push up on my tiptoes and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Jarvis, I think we are ready." My eyes don't leave his as the elevator shifts and the doors open.

"Well, well, well! Looks like I've interrupted something!" Sam's loud voice startles both of us, not expecting anyone to be waiting for the elevator.

Bucky’s face locks down. "Yeah, you definitely interrupted something. What do you want, Wilson?"

"Hey Sergeant Grumpy Gills, I wasn't the one hoggin' the elevator." Sam jokes. "Jarvis let us know you had arrived in the garage, but we hadn't seen you."

I giggle. “Sergeant Grumpy Gills, I gotta write that one down.” This earns me a scathing look from Bucky before he shifts his glare back to Sam.

"Yeah, well, we got... distracted. But we're here now. No thanks to you."

"Yeah, yeah, get a move on you two. Fury is already in a mood." Sam turns and heads back towards the briefing room.

I gently take Bucky's hand and give him a gentle tug. "Let's go."

The team is waiting, standing around, or sitting on the pristine white couches. Sam has joined Steve and Clint by the coffee machine. Natasha is curled into a corner of a couch while Tony talks at her animatedly. Thor is here, which is surprising, and he laughs loudly at whatever Bruce is saying.

They all seem to stop at once and look at the pair of us, standing a few steps inside the door. Bucky shifts forward as if to protect me from scrutiny.

"If you two are done being such a great door, I'd like to get this briefing started." Director Fury drawls out from behind us. Fury levels his gaze at me. "As much as it tickles me that you're here Danielle, I need you next door with the tech team for this brief." His good eye shifts to Bucky, a hint of challenge in his gaze. I give Bucky's hand a gentle squeeze and pull back.

"Yes, sir." I reply, edging out the door.

I join my own team, taking a seat next to Scott who hands me a copy of the intel. I bounce my leg, full of nerves. Not because of the mission, but because this will be the first after everything has changed. I half listen to Coulson as he runs through the information and my mind drifts to Bucky, missing his warmth and trying to tamp down the anxiety now forming in my gut.

Both teams break.

They leave tomorrow.

I leave the room slowly, anxiously looking for Bucky as everyone converges in the hallway. Damn these men all being so tall. I jump as Natasha slides up next to me and slings an arm around my shoulder.

"Well?" she asks with a knowing raise of an eyebrow.

"Well..." I reply, tucking my chin.

She grins and her eyes go to a point behind my head. I turn to look and there's Bucky, frozen in the door of the main briefing room. The tension drains out of me the moment our eyes lock.

Natasha pulls me into a quick hug, breaking my eye contact with Bucky. "You tell me if he fucks this up, okay?" she not so quietly whispers in my ear.

I give her a chuckle, "Yes, mother".

I turn back, and suddenly, it's just the two of us in the hallway. We are once again left in deafening silence. I rush to him, not prepared for how anxious the briefing would make me. Holding him feels vital right now and being back in his arms is grounding, soothing. He buries his face in my hair, taking a long, steadying breath.

"Bucky," I murmur against his chest, "I'm… scared."

"I know," he replies, voice gruff with emotion. "But I'll be fine. I'm a super soldier, remember?"

I sigh. Knowing he is capable is great, but these feelings between us are new and heady. "I hate that I have to watch you run head-first into danger." I mumble, unwilling to pull back even an inch.

Bucky runs a hand down my back. “I've been running head-first into danger my whole life." his low voice rumbles through me. "I know what I'm doing. You don’t need to worry.”

Another sigh, this time a little exasperated, slips out of me. I pull back just enough to look into his eyes. "How could I not worry, James?” His eyes are searching mine. I know the concern is etched on my features and his expression grows more serious.

He takes a deep breath before gathering my hands in his. “I need you to listen to me, okay?"

His shift in demeanor takes me a little off guard. His face is suddenly earnest, and a little anxious.

"I need you to... promise me something." His hands tighten around my own. "Promise me that if something happens on this mission, or any mission, you'll take care of yourself. You'll stay safe." His tone and hold on my hands feel almost desperate.

I can't catch my breath for a moment. The insinuation that he wouldn't come back causes an unexpected spark of anger in my chest. "James, if you don't come back to me, I will drag you out of hell myself and beat your ass. You are mine now and I don't take that lightly."

Bucky’s eyes are wide, the fierce protectiveness in my voice is unmistakable. He pulls me tighter against him. "You're goddamn right I'm yours" he growls, voice low and possessive. "And I plan on coming back to you."

I cling to him desperately for one more moment before taking a steadying breath, once again forcing myself to be the one to pull us apart. "I need to go prep. Can’t take care of any of you otherwise.”

"Yeah, you're right. "His voice is still gruff, but resigned. "I just... don't want to leave you."

"Go find Steve. Or better yet, Sam, he's great at keeping you occupied." I hesitate, my eyes skating off to the side before adding, "And if you want, you can come to my quarters when I'm done with prep?" I tuck my chin and chew on my lip, feeling like a child asking for a sleepover. "You don't have to if you don't want to!" I add quickly, nerves getting the best of me.

"I'd love nothing more," he breathes, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “And in the meantime, I will let Sam make me feel like throwing him off the roof.”

I let out the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding on a chuckle. "Okay. I'll let you know when I'm done. Give Sam some hell for me."

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. I'll keep him on his toes." He winks and saunters off, a hint of playfulness in his step.

I take a moment in the now-empty hallway to catch my breath, a silly grin plastered on my face. He was going to come stay with me tonight. With lighter steps, I head to the lab to prep the remote kit, triple-checking its contents for any necessary repairs on this run. I force myself to slow down, even though all I want to do is sprint back to my room and wait for Bucky to arrive.

After a few hours, I was confident it would be ready for anything. Pulling out my phone, I hesitate. Should I shower before he comes over? No, I couldn't wait. I fire off a text that I was heading back to my room and that he could come over anytime.

On the other side of the compound, Bucky is on his 28th eye roll at Sam when my message reaches him.

I can't help but pace around my quarters. It's only been 10 minutes since he said he was headed my way, and my inner monologue is running away from me. What if he doesn't want to come over? Or what if he does come over but doesn't want to stay? I am so deep in my frantic thoughts that the knock on the door makes me jump.

"Dani?" he calls through the door. "It's me."

My hand is on the handle as I make one more desperate attempt at composure, but the second our eyes meet, I rush him for a hug. "I was so nervous you would decide not to come over." I mumble into his chest.

“Why in the world would you think I wouldn't come over? I was counting the seconds ‘till I could see you again."

I pull back to give him a trembling smile. "Oh, I let my mind get away from me. I was going to shower, but I just didn't want to wait." I pull him into my living area and shut the door. Now that he's here, the anxiety has fled, leaving me feeling tired and droopy.

"You look worn out." His thumb is gently stroking my cheek. "Why don’t we just head to bed? We both need to rest."

"I do desperately need a shower. I hate getting into clean sheets after being in the lab without one." A blush raises as a thought comes to me. "Maybe..." I hesitate. "Maybe you would join me?" The blush deepens and I become very interested in the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He seems surprised. "You... You sure you want me to join you?"

I nod, still not able to meet his eyes.

"Yeah, I'll shower with you. But no funny business, okay? I think we both need to cool it." He says, hand rubbing softly down my spine. "But just a warning... I might not be able to keep my eyes off of you."

Oh.

He has never seen me naked.

I've never seen him naked.

Fuck.

As he shuts the door to the bathroom behind us, I am suddenly hyper aware of every single inch of my body. My hands are clutching the bottom of my sweater as he shucks his shirt and pulls his belt off in one fluid movement.

Fuuck.

Bucky's hands still on the button of his pants before he realizes I’m frozen to the spot. Eyes wide. Cheeks a very deep shade of red. With a furrowed brow, he stops. “Are you hyperventilating right now?” His hand comes to rest on my neck, checking my pulse. “Woah there, take a deep breath for me.”

I take a huge gulp of air as instructed.

“Now,” he starts, “what’s wrong?”

“I’ve never... You’ve not… Fuck...” I’m stammering like an idiot.

“Weveneverseeneachothernaked!” comes out of my mouth in a rush.

Bucky lets out a loud bark of laughter. “That’s what has you all worked up right now? We are just going to shower. No funny business, remember?” His hands smooth down my arms, trying to ease some of the nervous energy. “How about I get in first, okay? You can join me whenever you are ready. Zero pressure.” My nod is hesitant. He kisses my nose and steps back to finish getting undressed.

I am making slow work of taking my socks off as Bucky lets himself into the shower. Finally, I brave a look at him through the fogged glass. Gathering what little courage exists in me, I strip down and slide into the steam.

Bucky offers his hand as I step in. “Is it okay if I hold you?”

I tense. But he promised no ‘funny business’. “Yes, I'd like that.” I murmur. He pulls me into his arms with such tenderness that my heart stutters. I melt as his hands start rubbing the tension from my shoulders.

"You are so beautiful.” His voice is full of adoration.

I reach up, threading my arms around his neck, and give him a gentle kiss. Soft. It’s a thank you.

His breath catches as he kisses me back, his lips moving in a slow, languid dance with mine.

"Bucky?” I murmur his name as a question against his lips

"Yes?" he replies, his voice rumbling against mine, his fingers tracing patterns along my skin.

"Would you let me wash your hair?" I ask sheepishly.

He smiles, his expression tender. "Of course, I'd love that." he says, voice thick with affection.

I guide him to sit on the built-in shower seat, placing myself between his knees and grabbing my favorite shampoo, rose and honey. I work the bubbles into his hair, gently massaging his scalp and working through the long strands.

Bucky can't help but moan as his eyes close, letting himself fully relax under my touch. "Never thought having my hair washed could feel this good." He murmurs. His head ends up resting against my belly as I start in on the conditioner, carefully working the product through.

"Thank you for being gentle with me tonight." I say, petting his wet hair back from his face. I lean down so our eyes are level, needing him to understand how special this simple shower has been to me. "Not everyone would have taken a shower just to be together. Trust me, I've tried before and it ended up with me doing things I didn't want to do." My eyes squeeze shut for a moment, trying to blot out that particular memory so this one can take its place. I open my eyes again to meet his, and press a kiss to his forehead.

His grip on my hips tightens ever so slightly. “Remind me to have Jarvis track down your ex.” He mutters before bringing me closer. "You don't have to thank me. I would do anything to make you happy, anything to make you feel safe. I never want to disappoint you."

I pull him to his feet, gazing up at him. How can he be real? How could I be so lucky?

“James, I… I love you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen before a beautiful smile breaks across his face. “Oh my girl, I love you too.”

He couldn't possibly hold me any closer. Love has filled every moment of the past few weeks, and now that I've voiced it, the world feels brighter.

He turns off the water and grabs a towel, wrapping me in it before pulling me close again. "Thank you for all of this." My voice is quiet as I kiss his cheek. "Now c'mon, let's get to bed.”

I slip on my favorite old T-shirt. It's far too big (but that's why I love it), and work through my nightly routine while Bucky sits on the bed. I can feel his gaze track me as I move about the room, his eyes seeming to drink in every detail. There's a self conscious blush in my cheeks as he beckons me over, urging me to come stand between his thighs again. I fit perfectly, as if made for him. Bucky’s hands slide up my bare thighs, pulling me closer.

"You're so goddamn precious." He murmurs, voice thick with adoration. "My good girl."

The praise takes me by surprise. My tired body flickers with heat for a moment, and I can see the sly smile on his face as he takes note of the shift.

Bucky’s hands wander along my hips, his touch firmer. "You like that, don't you?" he asks. "You like when I call you my good girl?"

I chew on my lip, looking askance. I nod sheepishly.

He lifts his hand, thumb coming up to coax my lip out from between my teeth. "Don't be embarrassed," he murmurs, hands firm as he raises me to straddle him. “Just know when I do finally claim you, I'll make sure you know just how good you are.”

"Bucky..." My voice is a hoarse whisper, eyes closing as he trails kisses up my neck, his hands now kneading my back. I can't seem to get my eyes open again. Between the warmth of his body and feel of his hands, the exhaustion slams into me like a train and I fall into his shoulder. As he tucks me more securely against his chest, I catch a whisper.

"Sleep, doll, I've got you."

***

I wake up wrapped in blankets, not remembering even getting into bed. As I blink the sleep from my eyes, the clock glares at me. 12:53 am. I am suddenly very awake as I sit up, realizing I'm alone. There is no Bucky in my bed. Or even my room. Did he leave when I fell asleep?

I get up, fighting to keep my tears at bay. As I leave my room and shuffle towards the kitchen, I stop. Bucky is laying back on the couch, book in hand, the lamp on low. I let out a small sob, so relieved that he is still here, and he jumps, the book falling from his hands as he rushes to me.

"Woah there, what's wrong?!" His voice is thick with concern as he cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears. "Why're you crying? What happened?"

I take a choking breath. "I… I thought you left. That you didn’t want to st… stay."

The heartbreak in Bucky's eyes is clear. "Shh, baby, no, no, no." he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I would never leave you. Never.”

I clutch at him as he wraps me in his arms. "I'm s… sorry. I'm such a m…mess."

"No, no, don't apologize," he murmurs. "You're not a mess. This is still so new, and it's scary, but that's okay. I am right here. I've got you."

As I gain my composure, I pull back and finally see his face. "Bucky, are you okay?" The concern in my voice is very apparent, and he shakes his head.

“I'm fine," he mutters, "Just… couldn't sleep, that's all."

"James," I say seriously, "please. Let me be here for you too.” I reach up to turn his face back to me. "Did you have another nightmare?" My voice is soft, trying to be as gentle as I can.

Bucky sighs, “No, but before a mission… I usually do. And I didn't want to wake you, so I decided to just stay awake.” He shrugs.

"My Солнце." I whisper, refusing to let him downplay this. “You can’t just stay awake all night. You need rest before you fly out.”

His brows furrow in surprise. "Did… did you just…I didn't know you knew any Russian?" he stutters.

I tuck my chin, "I've been spending some time with Nat trying to learn some… is that okay?"

“Yeah, that's okay," he replies. There's pride in his voice. "More than okay.” He peppers kisses across my face. Words of endearment flowing from him in a mix of Russian and English.

Taking his hands in mine, I ask "Will you come back to bed with me? Let me hold you?" There is reticence in his face for a moment before he gives in, intertwining his fingers with mine.

I crawl up into the bed, arranging the pillows and pulling back the blankets, making a little nest. Finally sitting back, I reach for his hand, "C'mere my Солнце."

Bucky lets me pull him down onto the bed, allowing me to arrange him the way I want. He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck, body fully relaxing against me.

"Feels good...my good girl."

I card my fingers through his hair, letting out a content sigh. His breathing slows, finally asleep, tucked safely in my arms. The heat and weight of his body draped over mine is like a lullaby.

Tonight, there are no nightmares.

***

I wake slowly, warm and totally at ease. I smile down at Bucky's face, still soft in sleep, before placing a kiss on his nose. He stirs and a contented hum escapes his throat. Blue eyes peek out under heavy lashes as a lazy smile spreads across his face.

"Mornin' baby." he mumbles, voice gravelly with sleep. "Sleep well?"

"Mhmm. You're like my personal weighted blanket." I gently brush his hair back off his face before asking, "How did you sleep?" There is just a touch of concern in my voice.

Bucky shifts to pull me tighter against him. "Best sleep I've had in years." he murmurs, nuzzling his face into my neck. "Wakin' up next to you ain't too bad, either." He catches the blush that spreads across my cheeks before I bury my face in his hair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Aww, don't hide your face like that." he teases, lifting my chin with two fingers. “I like seeing you blush." He chuckles, clearly enjoying the way the color deepens at his words. His hand gently cups my face so he can trace his thumb over my warm cheeks. “You're so damn adorable." He murmurs. "Look at you, all flustered.”

I close my eyes at his touch, basking in his sweet words.

He takes advantage of my closed eyes to brush his lips against my cheeks and down my jaw, lightly nipping the flush there.

Without any input from my brain, my hips roll against his thigh. He nips again, soothing the spot with his tongue and my hips move on their own again. I know he can feel how fast my heart is beating now, and the next nip draws a gasp from me.

"Do you like it when I put my mouth on you?” He asks before he bites again, just a little bit harder.

This time, my hips know what they want.

A moan catches in his throat. “Be a good girl and tell me what you need.”

"Bucky...".

He smirks against my skin as he feels my body tremble. “I asked you a question, Dani.”

"Please, James…”

He pulls me to straddle him, using his grip on my hips to grind himself against me.

“I need to hear you say it. Tell me what you need.”

Looking down at him, seeing how dark his eyes have become, it's like he wants to devour me.

"James… I need you.”

His breath catches in his throat. “Say it again.”

I lean down to press soft kisses to his cheeks. “My Солнце," I murmur, “make me yours.”

Bucky takes my face in his hands. The kiss is desperate and rough. He coaxes my lips apart with his tongue, nipping and sucking on my lower lip as he sits up and presses me back into the bed, as his metal hand slips under my shirt, his touch rough and possessive.

I arch my back, pressing myself into his hands as they drag across my body, small needy noises slipping out.

"You're so goddamn beautiful." He breathes. "I don’t think I will ever get enough of you.” His mouth is on my chest. “Can’t believe this is all for me."

"Then take your damn pants off." I demand. I can’t get my hands close enough to tug on his sweats.

Bucky chuckles. “There's that little brat again. So impatient." He murmurs, voice rough with amusement. "Don't worry. I'll give you what you want. But first, I need to taste you."

He pulls away, his mouth moving down my body, leaving a trail of kisses. One hand whispers over my cunt and I am dripping for him already. Another deep groan rolls out of him. "God, I could tease you like this for hours."

My body starts to tremble when I finally feel his breath on my thighs.

"Are you sensitive here too?" he asks, his voice soft but rough as he gently kisses the insides of my thighs. The stubble on his cheeks tickles the sensitive skin there, causing me to buck against him before his hands pin my desperate hips to the bed.

“Bucky, please!” I beg. This is torture.

“Use your words, baby.”

"Please..." I beg again, "Make me yours."

A satisfied growl rumbles through him. "Every inch of you is gonna bear my mark. You'll never forget who you belong to." With that, he lowers his mouth to my heat, his tongue licking a slow stripe up through my folds.

My back arches at the sensation of his mouth finally on my cunt. I see stars, and the noise that escapes me is something I've never heard before. I am writhing on the bed, still held in place by his powerful arms as he draws moans and sighs from my needy body. The tension is building so quickly that I can hardly breathe. His mouth is merciless and greedy, tongue delving deep to taste every part of me.

“Is your pretty little pussy going to come for me?” He whispers, slipping a thick finger deep into my cunt as his mouth continues its torture.

His name is almost a sob on my lips as the sensations become overwhelming.

"That's it, baby. Come for me."

My trembling hands fist in his hair I dive headfirst into the pleasure, totally at his mercy as waves of sensation break over me.

It takes a moment to come back down to earth and realize Bucky has sat up, my thighs resting on his as he slowly strokes himself. He is breathing heavily, eyes dark and intense as he gazes down at me. "Just look at you. All mine."

"All yours." I groan, unabashedly staring at his cock and licking my lips before returning to meet his gaze.

"You keep looking at me like that, I'm gonna lose my damn mind."

My lips curl into a slight smirk "Well?”.

"You know, you shouldn't challenge me, doll." His grip on my hip tightening as he looms over me. "Because if you do, I'm gonna turn that challenge into a lesson you won't forget."

A shudder runs through my body, remembering our moment in the elevator. "Is that a promise?"

I can see his control slipping. "You want a promise?” He leans over me, breath hot on my ear. “I'm going to fuck you again and again until you forget how to breathe."

His mouth is on mine, swallowing my moan as he slowly, deliberately, eases his cock into me.

The guttural groan that rolls from him when he is fully seated in me is filthy.

Bucky lifts my hips, somehow getting deeper and his control evaporates. I can do is scream his name. His thrusts are powerful, driving into me with desperate force. "Please!" I beg, delirious with pleasure.

He pulls me up to sit on his thighs so he can fuck into me. “Look at me. I want to see your eyes when you come.” He instructs, and it takes everything in me to focus on him as his thrusts become frantic. “Such a good girl. So beautiful when you're on my cock. Do you want to come for me, baby?”

“Yes, I’ve been so good, James.”

“Then come for me, Dani.”

It's a command, one that I eagerly follow as his name tumbles from my lips like a hymn.

Bucky follows me over the edge, his body shuddering with release as he buries himself deep. His breaths are ragged as he tries to regain control. "You're gonna ruin me, you know that?" His voice is muffled against my shoulder. "No one's ever made me feel like this."

I smile against his neck, gently running my fingers over his back, taking extra care around his scars. I've seen them, worked around them, but now my touch is almost reverent, needing him to feel my love for every inch of him. I start to hum, You Are My Sunshine floating out of me gently.

I break from humming to quietly sing the final line.

"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

I place a soft kiss on his collarbone. "We should shower, my sunshine." I murmur.

"You're right." He mutters, voice hoarse. "Just give me a minute, okay? I need to get my bearings.” He pulls back, and the sensation of suddenly being empty takes my breath away. I just can't help the pout that pulls at my lips.

"Oh no, that's not fair.” Bucky’s hands come to his hips as he appraises me. “Just look at you, pouting already. You're killin’ me."

I sit up, reaching for him again. "Just one more kiss? Please?"

"God, I’m in trouble. You don't know what that does to me." He mutters, shaking his head as he puts a knee on the bed. "I can't deny you anything when you look at me like that." He leans in and captures my lips in a kiss, his hand gently cupping my cheek.

I take his proffered hand to stand, but my legs shake and I fall back against the bed. "Guess you'll have to carry me again." I joke, but Bucky doesn’t hesitate. He scoops me up in his arms, my own coming around his neck. I can't help but laugh we head to the bathroom. “I think I could get used to this!”

I’m just starting my intricate-shower-hair-care-routine when Bucky snakes his arms around my waist. “Hey there, mister! Can’t a girl apply some product?” I swat his hands as he pulls me back against his chest.

“Not when she's still looking so sweet and fuckable.” He murmurs in my ear. My body responds quickly, a shiver coursing through me despite the heat of the water. “You drive me crazy. All I gotta do is look at you and I'm ready all over again." He captures my wrists and pins my arms above my head before hooking my leg and placing it on the seat in the shower. I gasp as my chest makes contact with the cold tile. He thrusts a finger into my cunt, groaning. “God, you are already so wet for me again.”

“James, don’t tease me.” My voice is low as he slips another finger in.

"Nobody else gets to touch you like this, nobody else gets to have you."

It's all I can do to gasp out "Yes, sir." as he finger fucks me.

"You're gonna come for me again, doll." he growls. "And you're gonna say my name when you do. I want to hear you say it." His fingers curl, the pleasure overwhelming as I scream his name.

He releases my wrists and I push back against him so I can turn and drop to my knees, catching him in my hands. “Dani, you don’t need to…” I cut him off with a firm stroke.

“It’s my turn to decide, James. Don’t act like you don’t want me like this. On my knees.”

His hands coast over the top of my head as I look up at him. His breathing is ragged, face obscured by the steam of the shower.

“I want you to use me. I’ve never asked for anyone to do that before, but I am begging you, on my knees, to use me.”

There is the barest moment of hesitation before his hand is fisted in my hair, and he is fucking into my mouth. I groan at the feeling of him taking full control. Of just being used.

How have I made it this far in life without this?

My nails are digging into his thighs as he takes my mouth. The hand not in my hair comes down to hold my jaw, keeping me in place as he fucks into my throat. I’m fingering myself to another orgasm as he comes on my tongue.

He pulls me to my feet, his touch now delicate and slow, settling me down gently on the seat in the shower. “You are magnificent.” He murmurs, running his thumb across my now swollen lips.

My eyes are closed, basking in the afterglow of being claimed so fully when I feel his hands in my hair, washing it with care. I start to hum again, my voice barely audible over the sound of the shower.

He doesn’t ask, just carries me to bed. Once I am nestled back into the pillows, he takes one foot and gently kneads the arch. He takes his time, massaging my calf slowly and thoroughly. A sigh of contentment escapes me as he works his way up my leg, touch steady and firm. By the time he reaches my other calf, my body has caved into the call of sleep. He continues the massage even after I’ve drifted off, his touch slow, making sure I am fully cared for.

***

The smell of coffee brewing nudges me awake from deep in the blankets. Soft music drifts through the open bedroom door and I smile, stretching like a pampered cat before rolling out of bed. I pause in the doorway to soak it in, Bucky's sweats slung low on his hips, hands busy making pancakes in the small kitchen. I cross the room and slide my arms around his waist as he cooks. "G'mornin" I coo.

"Mornin' doll." His voice gravelly from sleep. "Sleep well?"

"Mhmm" I reply, gently swaying us to the jazz playing through the kitchen. His body relaxes into mine and I bask in the moment, the sweetness of it, before breaking away to pour us coffee.

Bucky slides a plate of pancakes towards a stool and takes a seat, patting his lap. “C’mere pretty girl.” He pulls me up, arm snug on my waist as I nestle into his shoulder. "I think I like mornings with you. You're so sweet when you're sleepy." He murmurs against my hair.

"That's my secret," I say, stealing Bruce's famous words. "I'm always sleepy." He tucks into the pancakes, offering me the bites with more syrup. It feels domestic and easy. I settle back against his shoulder, placing a kiss against his collarbone.

He sets his fork down, pulling me closer. "You're making it hard to concentrate on eating." he teases, pinching my side to elicit my easy laugh.

There is a knock on the door. We look at each other, the domestic moment shattered.

Remembering we are at the compound.

That he will have to leave today.

The knock comes again, and a voice calls my name from the other side. I sigh and slide off Bucky's lap, pulling my shirt down to hide the fact that I'm not wearing any underwear. I find Steve waiting in the hall. He blinks several times, taking in my sleep mussed appearance as a blush rises in his cheeks, eyes darting to look to the side. "Hey, Dani. Sorry to interrupt your morning. Is Bucky here?"

Bucky is still sitting at the kitchen counter, "I'm here Steve, what do you need?"

Steve looks over my head, finding Bucky at the counter. "Hey Buck, I am sorry for… interrupting." His eyes dart back to me for just a moment. "We've got marching orders. Wheels up in 3 hours."

His eyes come back to rest on me. I nod, and I'm sure he can sense my spike in anxiety. "Ok. We will be ready, Steve. Thanks." He rests his hand on my shoulder for a moment before nodding to Bucky and heading off.

"It's going to be okay." Bucky's voice is soft as he comes to meet me where I've frozen by the door, gathering me in his arms. I pull back to gaze up at him and find a tenuous smile on his face.

"Your only option is to come back to me."

Bucky’s blue eyes are full of emotion. "I'll always come back to you." He leans down and captures my lips in a tender kiss. "We should get ready." he sighs, voice reluctant.

I sigh as well. "Yes. We should." I reply, sadness tinging my tone.

"I'll come find you before we need to load up."

"Promise?"

He takes hold of my chin, gently tilting my head up to look at him. "I promise.”

***

Scott is already in the lab when I arrive. "Hey!" I say, forcing myself to be upbeat. "You ready for this one?” I ask him.

"Always ready." He replies.

I’m doing final checks on the travel setup when the doors open and Natasha strolls in, already dressed in her usual black. "Hey, Scott, Tony wants you to look over something. He's on the launch pad." Scott nods and heads out, leaving myself and Nat in the lab alone. She levels her knowing eyes at me.

"So?”

I blush furiously. She can read me like an open book.

"And?” she prompts.

“I love him, Nat." The smile finally breaks across her face. "It's like we were made for each other. And I'm so scared now."

She comes closer to rest her hands on my shoulders. "Honey, he's the best at what he does. You don't need to be scared for him." Her voice is firm.

“I know, I know." I can’t help the sullen tone.

She pats my shoulder gently before stepping away and heading towards the door. "I'll see you on the launch pad." she calls over her shoulder.

It's just me and my rushing thoughts now. I shake my head to clear it and focus back on the equipment before loading it onto a cart for someone to take up. With nothing left to do, I head out the door, checking my phone. Nothing from Bucky. Sighing, I slowly make my way towards the elevator, scrolling through emails to keep my mind occupied. I hear the doors open and blindly walk straight into Bucky as he steps out.

"Whoa!" He catches my arms to keep me from falling, his voice a mixture of surprise and relief. "You scared me. You okay?" He asks as I rub my nose.

“It's like smacking into a brick wall, damn." I joke, trying to calm my heart rate. He's dressed in his stealth suit, dark pants fitted to his bulk, and his black leather jacket leaves his metal arm uncovered.

Bucky chuckles, "Hey, I'll take that as a compliment." A smirk growing as he notices the way my eyes trail over him. His grin widens as he steps closer, hands sliding to my hips. “Ma’am, you’re lookin’ at me like a piece of meat. I’m an upstanding gentleman here.”

His firm hands cause heat to pool low in my belly, arousal sparking and heating my skin. “Maybe I’m in the market for a choice cut.”

His grin turns sly, sliding his hand around to my back and pulling me flush against him. "Careful there," he murmurs, voice low, "I can see what you're thinking, and we don't have a lot of time."

I can feel his own arousal pressed against my stomach, and it makes me drip. I know he can smell it now as his eyes darken. "You better make it quick, then." I murmur.

Bucky leans down, lips brushing against my ear. "You're a damn tease." he purrs, guiding me back, trapping me between the heat of his body and the cold concrete. With a swift, practiced motion, he has my legs wrapped around his waist.

“Bucky, I’m still wearing my jeans.” I whine, trying to shimmy them down. He readjusts and uses his metal hand to rip the denim and my underwear out of the way before freeing himself from his tight pants. I drag him to me, my need clear in the searing kiss. He fills me with one quick thrust, swallowing my moan as he shudders.

He pulls back, eyes locking onto mine. "You're not afraid of anybody seeing us like this?"

“I don't give a damn. Fuck me, James."

It's all I can do to hold on as his hips set a punishing pace. He shifts my leg, hooking my knee over his arm, giving him even deeper access. "That's it," he growls. "Taking it so good for me.”

My whole body is trembling in his arms, my moans bounding through the concrete halls as he pushes me over the edge. His rough strokes are making me delirious as he fucks me through my orgasm before chasing his own release. I feel his rhythm change, fast and desperate against me. The feeling of being complete washing over me as he fills me again.

"You're incredible." he murmurs, lips brushing against my skin. "How the hell did I get so damn lucky?"

I laugh. "I could ask you the same thing," I sigh against his shoulder. He pulls us back from the wall, still buried in me, gripping my ass as he walks us back towards my lab. He gently sets me on a counter and finally pulls himself from my heat. I shudder. The loss of fullness is unfair. He steps back between my thighs, pulling me close and resting his head on my shoulder.

"Hey," I say, tugging on his chin so I can see his face. "I love you." My smile is a bit wobbly, but sincere.

He smiles back. "I love you too." His voice is full of tenderness. "More than I ever thought possible."

Our time is running out before he has to leave, and I don’t want to relinquish my hold on him.

He sighs, expression falling as the gravity of the situation settles back on him. "I don't want to leave you."

"I know, my Солнце." I say, brushing another kiss across his lips.

Another sigh runs through him, shoulders slumping in defeat. Straightening, he looks me over and chuckles. "I guess I might have gotten a little carried away, huh?" he says, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he takes in my ripped jeans.

"Well, I do usually get what I want." I remark as he helps me off the counter. "And if that means a pair of jeans gets ruined, I guess you’ll just have to get me a new pair." I shrug and head to my desk, bending over to rummage for the leggings tucked inside. “I always keep a change of clothes down here. One time some intern started an electrical fire and…”

The smack on my ass takes me totally by surprise

He quickly delivers another, soothing the area with his palm as a startled gasp catches in my throat. His hand comes down again, harder this time. "You do usually get what you want, but I think this time I’m going to take what I want." His voice is low and dangerous as he bends me over the desk, another slap echoing around the room. “And I want that pretty little pussy peeking out of your jeans.”

I hear his zipper and without warning, he is fully sheathed in me again. This time, it's not about my pleasure. It's about showing me he's in control. I revel in his power, one hand twining in my hair so he can use it for extra leverage. I am at his mercy and that is exactly where I want to be.

Bucky’s mouth is close to my ear. "You're so desperate for me, aren't you?"

I can only moan, completely submitting to him.

"You just can’t let go of that little attitude." he mutters against my neck. "Maybe next time you’ll remember what happens when you act like a brat.”

His teeth on my neck make me cry out. "Please," I pant.

Bucky’s fist in my hair yanks, exposing more of my neck. "You think you deserve to come?"

"I'll be good." I promise. "I'll do whatever you want just please, please let me come again." I beg.

"You'll do whatever I want?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. "You'll be my good little girl?"

"Yes!” I cry out. "So good. Only for you."

He pulls my head back even further, teeth grazing my skin. "You're mine," he growls. "I own you."

My back is arched against him now, my hips pinned against the desk, and he punishes me. “Yours. Your good girl. Only yours." I moan. I am so desperate to come.

His pace changes, hips slamming into me with new fervor. I can feel that he's close, and I desperately hope we can come together. I scream his name as I feel his release flood me, finally being allowed to fall over the edge myself as we chase the high together.

We are both gasping for breath, and I am in awe of the power he has over me. I have never wanted to belong to someone so completely and fully. He gets a fresh towel, wiping me clean once again with reverence.

Bucky helps me into the clean leggings from my desk, leaning into my touch as my hand finds his cheek. I’m in a haze, the act of submitting so fully leaving me in a fog of bliss. His hand finds my hip. "You okay, doll?"

I nod, my mind slowly returning. Reality settling back in. "We need to get going." I whisper, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

"I know," He replies, his voice soft. "But I don't want to go."

"I know, baby." I say, gently petting his hair. He leans into my touch like a cat, his eyes closing for a moment before taking a deep breath and standing up. I run my hands over his jacket, smoothing it before taking his hand. The elevator ride is silent as I lean into his side.

The doors open and the cacophony of voices floods in. Everyone is already here. Steve stands with Fury looking over a flight plan while others assist with loading cargo and other prep. Bucky gives me one more small smile before he locks in, demeanor shifting and striding over to Natasha. Sam catches my eye and waves me over.

"Will you do me a favor and do a quick check of Redwing?" He asks, handing over the small drone. I pull out my phone, syncing to it and starting a quick diagnostic scan. "You two seem happy." Sam remarks as he straightens and crosses his arms. "Are you happy?” he asks, tone serious.

Sam has become one of my closest friends, and right now he is scrutinizing me, looking for anything amiss. I don't hesitate in my reply. "I am, Sam. I've never felt so happy in my life." My smile is bright and genuine, despite the stress of the moment. His eyes narrow, assessing me again as I hand Redwing back to pack away. He then pulls me into a hug.

“Good. I’d have to drop him off the roof otherwise!” His laugh reverberates through me and I can’t help but join him.

"Go on!" I shoo Sam, tucking my phone back into my pocket, trying to find Bucky again on the busy roof. I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder. It's Steve, suited up and serious. "Everything good?" I ask "Shield magnets solid?” He nods, eyes darting away for a moment before returning to my face.

"How are you?” he asks, the depth of the question not lost on me.

"I am so wonderful." I respond, tears misting my eyes. Steve is Bucky's best friend. His oldest friend. And he's one of the few people I trust implicitly. "I never knew I could be so happy, Stevie. Is this okay with you?” My question is hesitant.

Steve’s hand comes once again to rest on my shoulder, and he gives a soft squeeze. His smile doesn’t quite fill his eyes, but I don’t notice. "If it were anyone else, I don't think I could let him fall so hard, so fast, without worrying."

His words bring the tears out fully. Knowing that he trusts me enough to be with Bucky is huge. "Thank you, Stevie," I sniffle. "Make sure he comes home to me. Please." This is not a request. He nods, giving my shoulder one last squeeze before dropping his hand.

As Steve walks away, I finally catch Bucky’s eye, and he wraps up his conversation, quickly striding towards me with concern, seeing my teary eyes.

Bucky takes my face in his hands as he studies my teary expression. "Hey, what's wrong?"

I take a quick look towards Steve. "Stevie gave me his blessing to be with you." My tone is light, but Bucky understands the weight of my statement.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as my words sink in. He wraps me in a hug. "How could he not approve?" he murmurs, voice full of emotion.

"Hey! Lovebirds!" Tony calls, "Time to get moving!” I roll my eyes and take one more moment In Bucky's arms, pouring all of my love into him.

Before we break apart, Bucky presses his forehead against mine, eyes closed as he takes a deep, ragged breath and brushing a final kiss against my lips.

"Be safe, my Солнце." I whisper, stepping back to let him go.

"I'll be back before you know it." He assures. There's a promise in his words, one that he fully intends to keep.

He steals a glance before he steps in the jet, his expression a mixture of determination and reluctance.

Once the quinjet is out of sight, everyone drifts back inside. Scott had offered to take the first shift on call, so I linger on the roof, my heart heavy. I make my way to the edge, staring out over the manicured gardens surrounding the compound.

“Danielle!”

I’m pulled from my thoughts by Bruce as he makes his way across the roof.

"Hey, sorry to bother you." His voice is quiet. "I just wanted to check on you. I've got coffee going in the lounge, if you want to join me?” I nod and we walk back to the elevator. “Sam told me you and Bucky have grown close lately. When you didn’t come back down to the lab, I was worried.”

A laugh puffs out of me. “Sam never can keep his mouth shut.”

Bruce pours us coffee and gestures to a pair of chairs posted up in front of the large windows. I tuck myself into a chair, the weight of it all catching up to me. "How do you do it?" I ask quietly. "How do you let Tony go and not fall apart?”

"I do fall apart. I'm just very practiced at containing it." His statement is matter of fact. "The first time I stayed behind, I nearly lost control." He stares deep into his coffee. "You just have to trust in the team. Trust that they have each other's backs. Trust in their abilities." He meets my eyes, a small smile breaking out. "Bucky may be a hardass, but his skills are unrivaled. Keep your faith in him."

I nod, returning his smile. My Bucky. My sunshine. I have to keep it together for him.

We chat a while longer, discussing some upcoming projects, but soon the coffee has gone cold, and Bruce finally stands. "Well, you know where to find me if you need me. In the meantime, try to get some rest."

"Thank you, Bruce. I needed this."

He pats my shoulder gently. "Anytime, kiddo."

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #stucky fanfiction #the winter soldier

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celestialseph · 2 months ago

Text

It's Just 5th Grade Science

Dani is put in place as Bucky's main point of contact for repairs for his arm. Steve finally confesses his love. Congratulations, you are soulmates!

Bucky/Steve/OC (she/her)

I have never written anything creative before so here it goes fellow freaks!

WARNING!! this will be 18+

Chapter 1: Social Studies

“One of these days I'll clean my purse. Dani why the fuck do you even have 2 pairs of socks in here?” I mumble aggressively to myself on the porch.

“Okay, how the HELL did they get INSIDE the socks?!” I finally let myself into my little row house, thankful Darcy next door did not see me talking to myself again. I still get shit for talking to a squirrel. Bucky is already here, draped across my couch.

“Sorry I’m late, I got hung up in traffic on the bridge. Let me change, we can still make our dinner reservations.”

“No worries, take your time.” he mumbled.

Detouring to the couch, the exhaustion is clear on his face as I lower myself beside him.

“Hey, are you feeling ok?” I take his hand, giving it a tug so he will sit up and look at me. There are heavy dark circles under his eyes and he seems vacant. “Bucky, did you sleep at all last night?” Even his smile is tired as he sits up, shaking his head.

“It’s just nightmares. Sometimes they keep me up,” His tired gaze softens, thumb tenderly rubbing the back of my hand. “Nothing you need to worry about, doll.”

After searching his face, I go to stand. We aren't going anywhere, not when he is so clearly not okay. “I’m going to cancel our reservation. We are staying in.” He hooks his arm around me, pulling me back down to the couch before I can even take a step.

“No need, I’m fine. I’m still trying to do this right y’know? And you’ve wanted to try this restaurant. We're going.” He meets my eyes and tries to school his face to better hide his exhaustion.

“We are canceling. The restaurant will still be there, I would rather you tell me what is causing this.” I reach out to brush a thumb along the tension he is holding in his jaw. “Or if you don’t want to talk about it, we can just relax, maybe put on a movie.”

Bucky is taking in my face, realizing this is a battle he will not win and an exasperated sigh tumbles out of him. He pulls me gently into his lap. “You’re too sweet to me.“ he hums softly, resting his chin on top of my head and exhaling deeply.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. There is no pressure behind the question. He sits for a moment, taking a few slow breaths before he speaks.

“I sometimes dream about my past. The things I did…“ His voice is quiet and unsteady. “When I wake up I feel so guilty and sick.“ His body starts to tense, breaths becoming shallow.

My hands come up to gently hold his face in my hands, "Take a deep breath for me Bucky. I'm right here with you. You’re safe.” He follows my command, taking in a deep breath and exhaling shakily, his gaze holding mine. There is a desperation in his eyes that breaks my heart.

“One more for me, you can do it” I encourage softly.

Another deep breath, this time stronger, and his body relaxes a fraction. “There we are. I know this is all new- us- but I am here to take care of you. I want to take care of you."

His jaw starts to tense again at my words. “Some days I feel like I’m still dangerous. That I could put you in danger. That I'm still not safe.”

I sit back so I can get a full view of his face. "James. I will not let you devalue yourself. I want to be here because I know who you are here and now. Do you think Steve or Sam would have let me accept the position from Tony if they thought you were dangerous?"

Bucky looks genuinely shocked and his metal arm tightens around my waist, his gaze shifting into something softer. “I don’t know what to say.“ he whispers, softly, almost shy.

"How about 'yes, you are right, as usual Dani!'" I say with a gentle laugh.

He huffs in response, shaking his head. “You’re so annoying.“ he mumbles, even though a soft smile slowly forms on his lips.

Reaching up I run a hand softly through his hair. "Like I said, we are new together, but I know your heart. And I trust you. Okay?" He takes a moment, his gaze wandering over my face as he nods.

“Okay.” he whispers, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"Good. Now, I think you deserve some cookies. Peanut butter or chocolate chip?" I give him a gentle kiss on the cheek before getting up from the couch.

“Chocolate chip.” He responds after a few seconds, his voice still somewhat quiet.

"Correct answer!" I give him a dramatic wink trying to lift his mood "Now pull your hair back because I need those strong arms in here”. Bucky’s eyes roll, but I notice the small smirk on his face replacing the tension from his nightmares.

“Would you mind being a doll for me and getting the flour down from above the fridge?" I smile to myself using his pet name for me. He groans dramatically at the request but does as he’s told.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Miss Bossy.“ he says, but I can hear the smile in his voice now.

My attempts to lighten his mood seem to be working so far. Humming to myself I continue to gather ingredients and bowls. He picks a spot out of the way and leans against the counter, watching me, gaze soft.

“Need me to do anything?”

"Yes, I’ll need you to cream the butter and sugar until it's fluffy. Let me grab this bigger bowl up here." I stand on tiptoes to get the bowl from a shelf, reaching with both hands when my feet start to slide out from under me. Bucky’s arms are pulling me against his chest before my body even registers that I am falling.

“Careful, doll.“ he huffs in my ear.

I am breathless from the small spike of adrenaline and the feel of his arms wrapped securely around me as they hold me close to his chest.

“You could have hurt yourself.“ he softly scolds, metal hand gently running over my side. I can't help but giggle nervously, hyper aware of his strength and the sudden intensity in his face. His grip around me tightens a little, his gaze still unreadable. He turns me around gently so our chests are pressed together.

“Don’t laugh. I’m serious about keeping you safe.” he scolds again, his tone somewhat playful but darker, hinting the slightest trace of something else. He lightly pushes me back, trapping me between his broad chest and the counter.

"Yes sir." I say with a touch of sarcasm. Still breathless.

Bucky’s face slowly shifts into a wolfish grin.

“Don’t get cheeky with me.“ he murmurs, his metal hand gently grasping my chin and tilting it up, forcing me to look at him. Our faces are only a few inches away from each other, his other hand still has a tight grip on my hip.

"Me? Cheeky? Never.” the attempt for continued levity is overcome by the slight tremor in my voice.

His grin widens as he softly squeezes my chin. “No? I don’t believe you one bit” His tone is dark, teasing. Predatory. “I think you’re a little brat.”

My gaze dips from his eyes to his mouth, just for a second "I think I might take offence to that," I pause for a moment before adding, "Sir." My voice is wavering.

I have never been so brazen in my life.

He can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at my little show of bravado, and his grip on my chin tightens. “Is that so? I think you need to watch your mouth.”

I take a shaky breath, my eyes once again darting down to his lips so close to mine as I gather my bravery. "And who is going to make me?”

A dark laugh moves through him.

“I will.”

Without warning I am being lifted up on the counter and his hands are pushing my knees apart to make more room for his bulk before returning to my hips. He moves so fast that my mind simply scatters and all I can do is keep breathing. Up until this moment he had strictly adhered to his promise to be a gentleman but his face is absolutely wicked now.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?“ he purrs.

Another nervous giggle escapes me as my eyes dart to his mouth again "I'd say something bigger has mine."

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and it's somehow the most indecent thing I've ever seen. “Oh yeah?“ he responds, hands gripping me tighter. “Is that a challenge?”

No turning back now."I guess you will just have to find out."

His metal hand slips up my back, arching my body into him as he runs his nose up my neck. His mouth finds my pulse and I feel his smile at the frantic beating of my heart. The hand on my hip shifts and his thumb dips under my waistband, rubbing soft circles.

“I'll make it my mission then...”

Bucky’s hands come back to my hips, brushing gently up my sides. “You're shaking, doll.” he murmurs, the hint of desire and hunger in his quiet voice. His hands are on my heated skin, now more insistent as he touches me.

An embarrassing squeak pops out of me and my eyes shoot open. Bucky’s hands stop at the sudden noise and he stops as concern takes precedence. He takes a moment, assessing, and I can see the realization come over him. “Bucky…” I warn. He can't help but let out a dark laugh. “Bucky don't you dare.”

"Dani, are you...ticklish?"

“No, I am not!” I say with more confidence than I actually feel, trying to shimmy my shirt back down but I dont get the chance. Bucky catches my wrists in one hand and pins them to the cabinet above me before trailing a single finger down my side.

"Don’t lie to me. I can see right through you.” His voice is teasing as he lowers his mouth to my side, starting to place soft kisses there.

"Bucky!! This isn't fair!!” I am starting to lose the teeny bit of composure left in me as his stubble drags across my skin. "Anything else but being tickled! Please!! I'm begging!!” The laughter is starting to overwhelm me and I can tell Bucky loves this.

"Oh...it’s so very fair..."

"Oh no, please!!” I've lost it, dissolving into shrieking giggles as he keeps me pinned in place "Bucky please!! I'll do anything!!” I am barely getting the words out, wrapping my legs around his waist to try and get some kind of control.

The torture finally stops and he asks, "You'll do anything?"

I am still gasping for breath from the laughter, almost delirious as he starts to kiss my neck. "Yes Bucky! Please! I'll do anything!”

His demeanor shifts in an instant. The playful teasing is gone as his hand is firmly back on my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "That's what I want to hear. Will you be good for me?”.

A needy whimper escapes me. "Bucky..."

He frowns and the grip on my chin tightens “I asked you a question, Danielle. I expect them to be answered.”

“Yes” I pant “I’ll be good”

A dark smile returns to his face and his mouth is back on my neck. His teeth are sharp on my skin and the feeling sends shivers coursing through me. I grab his hair and pull him back so he is just a breath away from my face, I am panting, desperate.

"Kiss me."

Bucky’s mouth is on mine and the world around us dissolves as his hand tangles in my hair and tugs, moving my head to deepen the kiss. A moan comes from deep in my chest and we are wrapped around each other, totally lost in sensation when both of our phones start to alarm.

We startle, and there is a beat as we look at each other. The oily feeling of the summons destroys the moment. "Well fuck." I whisper, knowing that if we are both receiving the call, its can’t be good.

Bucky lets out a soft sigh, his hand gently brushing over my cheek, almost reluctantly. "I guess duty calls." he murmurs softly. I can't help but lean into his touch, and I take the opportunity to kiss his palm, closing my eyes to keep the frustration at bay.

"We'll continue this later.” he murmurs with a soft smirk, a promise in his gaze.

He helps me down from the counter so we can silence our phones. As a tech, I only receive a summons prior to a mission if the bulk of the team are to be gone for more than 72 hours and will need remote assistance. I helped Tony design the remote repair kit and he insists that I do the prep work for these extended bouts.

I can feel Bucky watching me as I read the details. I take a deep breath, putting on a brave face, struggling to tamp down the panic that starts to flood my body and head to my room. "Let me throw some things together."

As I am grabbing my go bag, I call out "We can ride together if you want?” hopeful for a little extra time together. I shake my head. “Ah nevermind, you’ll want to have your bike locked up at the compound" I hope my voice doesn't betray my sadness at the loss of the little extra time a drive would have given us. "We can just go separately." I add as I return to the living room.

Bucky studies my face for a moment. "We’ll take my bike.” His voice is firm and decisive.

I stop, startled. That bike is his baby. I put on a very confident face about my weight, but my insecurities run deep. The thought of being on his motorcycle for the world to see, or even causing some kind of damage to his bike makes my palms clammy.

"Are you sure? I’m not exactly…dainty. I don't want to risk damaging your bike.”

“You’re riding with me. I never want you to think your weight is a problem because it never will be. End of discussion.”

The sudden appearance of tears in my eyes takes me by surprise. I quickly turn to slip into my shoes, trying to hide my face but his hand is on my shoulder, light pressure guiding me to turn back before gently cupping my chin in his metal hand, directing me to meet his face.

"What is it? Did I upset you?" his voice is hushed, filled with concern. My lip is trembling and he brushes his thumb over it gently.

"You said earlier that you don't deserve me. But how could I ever deserve you?” I shake my head, trying to clear my mind, and squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears in. "My ex, he was a real dick about my weight. It's hard to let go of, that feeling of not being worth certain things because I'm ‘fluffy’."

Bucky’s expression turns tender, swiping away the tears from my cheeks, the soft pad of his thumb tracing over my skin. "You don’t need to deserve me. There is nothing about you that needs to be ‘worthy’ enough. You’re everything to me."

There is a sudden mischievous sparkle in his eyes and he is on me in an instant, lifting me effortlessly and securing my legs around his waist. The pressure of his body on mine pins me to the wall.

“Didn't you say earlier you wouldnt let me devalue myself? Do you think I would allow you to think for one second that you are any less than perfection?” His voice is soft but unyielding as his eyes roam my face. “Can't you see how effortlessly you fit in my arms?”

I am both overwhelmed with emotion and flooded with heat as I can feel his arousal pressed against me. His nostrils flare and his eyes darken. "I can smell you, doll...I can feel that you want me just as much as I want you.”

Our phones start to blare again, neither of us had checked in that we were on our way. Despite the screaming alarms I haul him in for a kiss, desperate and feverish, begging for just a few more moments. He lets out a soft growl, his hands on my thighs holding me in a bruising grip, before rolling his hips against mine.

We finally break apart, panting as he rests his forehead against mine. "We should go." I whisper.

The sigh that falls from him is heavy, and the sadness in my voice is almost palpable, an echo of his own reluctance to let this moment end. Bucky leans back slightly so he can look me in the eyes, his expression torn between duty and desire.

"You’re right." His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

I kiss his forehead and he lets me down gently, his body still flush to mine, keeping me pinned to the wall. I give a small, half-hearted smirk. "I usually am."

Bucky returns the smirk, his body still pressed close to mine. "Still a little brat I see." he teases, his voice tinged with affection.

"Hey!" I exclaim, playfully smacking his chest.

Bucky catches my hand in his, lifting it to brush a kiss against my knuckles.

"We better go before someone sends a search party" I say gently. He nods, stepping back and snagging his keys from the coffee table.

Gathering my things I face him again. "Alright, let's boogie".

Bucky lets out a stifled laugh as he opens the door for me, “Boogie? Really?”

His hand briefly lingers at the small of my back, a small gesture but one that brings a smile to my face. He locks the door behind us, and makes his way to the bike parked on the street.

I freeze on the sidewalk. In the heat of the moment, I had forgotten about the motorcycle.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, concern creeping into his voice as he steps back on the sidewalk, his hand gently grasping my arm.

"Uh… I'm just now realizing I've never ridden a motorcycle." I gaze up at him, eyes wide.

"You've never ridden a motorcycle before?" he asks, his voice teasing. Bucky looks me over, my hands clutching my bag like a lifeline as I glance between him and the bike.

“It's just like riding a horse, only faster.”

“Oh good.” I mumble to myself. “I’ve never ridden a damn horse either.” My legs are a little wobbly as I come closer "Um… So, uh, do you get on first or?"

Bucky lets out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, doll, I get on first." he says, straddling it with a practiced ease.

I stand there, looking everywhere but at his face, flustered because the sight of his thighs around the bike are doing something to me. A grin breaks across Bucky’s face, clearly enjoying my reaction.

“Be a good girl and come here” he beckons, extending his hand and gently pulling me toward him. His grip is steady and strong despite the slight tremor in my fingers, and pats the seat behind him, "Just throw your leg over, easy as pie.”

"Easy as pie" I mutter.

"It's alright, I’ve got you." he says softly, hand still holding onto mine as he pats the seat once again.

I nod and take a deep breath, swinging my leg up and over. I’m barely tall enough to hoist myself up, and feel like I am going to slide off the other side. But Bucky’s hand is on my thigh, grip firm, holding me in place as I clutch at him.

"I got you, just relax."

Taking another steadying breath I catch the smell of his leather jacket, and the feeling of his metal hand grasping my thigh give me a boost of courage. "Okay. I can do this.” I wrap myself around him. "I trust you. Let's go." He starts up the bike, the power of it running through us as he pulls out into the road.

I have seen him ride before, he's fast, stealthy, finding the paths through traffic. But I can tell he is being gentle, going with traffic and taking the curves far gentler than I knew he could. Stopped at a light, I tell him "You can go faster. I can handle it."

"You sure, doll?" he asks, over the engine. There's a hint of hesitation in his tone.

"I'm sure. I trust you, James."

His hand tightens on my thigh. There is a radiant grin on his face when he turns to me and he winks. “Hang on tight spider monkey.”

The light changes and we are flying. Bucky's weaves through traffic with no hesitation. I finally get the nerve to pull my face away from his back to look around me and the exhilaration of it takes hold as the world dissolves into a blur of color and light. I let out a loud, freeing laugh. How could I have been so scared when I knew Bucky would keep me safe?

He feels my body relax against him as you get used to the speed, the wind whipping past, the world a blur of color and light. Bucky can't help but smile at the sound of my laugh, the way it's filled with joy, it’s a sound he wants to hear every day.

"See, doll?" he calls out over the roar of the engine, "ain't so bad, is it?"

I catch his words on the wind and hug him tighter. "Let's do this all the time!”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #stucky #the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction

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celestialseph · 3 months ago

Text

taking whats mine - joel miller x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ synopsis : you head to the bar to blow off some steam after a petty argument with your boyfriend, joel, but you end up flirting with the last person you should've been flirting with.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ warnings/tags : MINORS DNI, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, begging, crying, spanking, jealous sex, angry sex, rough fucking, pet names, praise, degradation, use of sir, use of daddy (once), age gap (reader is 22, joel is 48), fingering, dom!joel, jealous!joel, no outbreak, no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, pussy slapping, public sex

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ contains : older!joel miller x younger!reader, borderline infidelity, public sex, alcohol consumption, large consensual age gap

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ wc : 3.7k

the bar hums with a steady pulse of low conversation and the clinking of glass while neon lights buzz faintly above the bar counter, casting a colourful glow over people nestled into the worn leather booths and high padded stools. a jukebox in the corner crackles with the opening beat of song 2 by blur, blending with the cacophony of voices and laughter while a group of people begin to cheer after the home team scores, TV’s playing the football game. the air smells faintly of spilt beer, fried food, stale smoke, and sweat, causing your nose to wrinkle slightly as you sink down into the plush barstool.

normally, you’d be pulled tight on your boyfriends lap, his large, muscular arms pinning you against him as he ordered drinks for the both of you, fingers digging into your plush thighs as you bat your eyelashes at him in gratitude, intoxicated by his scent.

this time, however, you are alone.

joel didn’t typically feed into your petty attitudes, usually preferring to fuck them out of you and calm you down by pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. but after an especially long week at work where there seemed to be a never-ending barrage of issues with the place him and his brothers team were building and far too many 14 hour days, he snapped. you had been begging him to take you out, promising him it would ease some of his tension and stress but he repeatedly declined, telling you he had a headache and would rather stay home and watch football.

you tried to understand, really you did. but it was safe to say that after a week of barely seeing him, not being able to wrap your legs around his waist and tug on the salt and pepper curls at the base of his neck, that you didn’t really care how he was feeling, just wanting to spend time with him outside of the house and do anything other than watch sports. of course, it was petty, selfish, and immature, but being 22 will do that to you, you supposed.

you had left the house with a huff and a slam of the front door after joel had told you to “quit bein’ a fuckin’ brat and pissin’ me off. go out if you want to that badly.” with a mean lilt to his voice that made your stomach simmer with an angry burn. that was the meanest he’d ever been to you outside of your sex life. the two of you had been together for no more than two and a half months, still keeping it private and between you and him. your parents hadn’t a clue, and neither did joel’s brother. you hadn’t met him yet, the only thing about him you knew was that his name is tommy and him and joel still fight like teenage boys, a smile tugging at your lips at the thought.

you white-knuckled the steering wheel the entire drive to the bar, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as his words kept repeating in your head.

so, that’s how you found yourself nursing a lone star, your black mini skirt hugging your hips and ass while your corset top squishes your tits into your torso, accentuating your cleavage deliciously. you make conversation with the bartender as she cleans glasses, mixes drinks, and wipes down the counter, looking around at the patrons trying to find someone worth flirting with.

under any other circumstances, you would never even consider batting your eyelashes and giggling for any other man but joel, but you simply knew him too well. you knew the way you huffed and slammed the door, leaving in an anger, had left his cock angry and straining against his jeans as his mind reeled, fighting against the urge to follow you to the bar and fuck you right in his truck, setting you straight. regardless, you knew you were getting fucked tonight, but it would be much more fun if you could bring out the possessive side of joel that made him press your thighs to your shoulders while his cock abused your pussy until you couldn’t even think. the thought sent a pang of warmth straight down to your core and you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt for some semblance of relief.

as if on cue, an older man, maybe in his late 30’s to early 40’s, enters the bar and a mischievous smile makes its way onto your face. you watch with your bottom lip between your teeth as he approaches the bar, settling down in the only available stool; the one right beside you. he glances over at you and you shoot him a smile, pushing your hair off of your shoulder as you take a sip from your glass, leaning forward to lean on your palm.

“now what’s a pretty young thing like you doin’ at a bar like this?” he drawls, green eyes twinkling as he studies your face before dragging his eyes up and down your body.

bingo.

you hum, trying to decide what to say while tapping your nail against your lip as you support your head on the palm of your hand. “boyfriends bein’ an asshole so i came to blow off some steam,” you settled on telling him a half truth.

joel was being an asshole, but because you deserved it, and the only steam you were looking to blow off was with joel.

the man beside you chuckled, pushing a few stray pieces of dirty blonde hair out of his face, the rest tied back. “naughty girl,” he chided, eyes dragging up your body again and settling on your tits before making eye contact again.

something tugged at you, making your stomach churn anxiously. he looks oddly familiar, you realize, but you shake the feeling, comforting yourself with the fact that you and joel had come here many times, and you’d probably just seen this guy around before.

“somethin’ like that,” you reply with a giggle, pushing yourself to sit back up after finishing the rest of your beer, turning and ordering another one. you reach for your wallet to pay before you see a card being slid across the counter.

“let me take care of it, darlin’.” he winks, a smile spreading across his bearded face as you thank him with a light touch to his bicep.

the two of you talk for several minutes, his flirting making you giggle as your hair falls in front of your face before you take a drink of the beer he had paid for, wiping away the foam that had appeared on your top lip with your pointer finger before popping it in your mouth, making eye contact with the man beside you.

he smirks and tucks your hair behind your ear, out of your face and your stomach twists with guilt. his eyes flit down to your lips, and his thumb meets your bottom lip, swiping across it lightly.

“what i’d give to see you suck somethin’ else off them pretty fingers of yours,”

okay, now you feel really guilty.

you had expected joel to come after you sooner, have him walk in and see you simply talking to someone, but this was bordering on actual cheating. you wriggle nervously in your seat eliciting a chuckle from the man beside you, but before you could truly process your guilt, an angry voice came from behind you.

“get the fuck away from her, tommy.”

your heart drops to your stomach as the realization hits you. no wonder he was so god damn familiar, he was joels fucking brother. the guilt was eating you alive now as you whip around to face joel, his eyes dark and jaw tensed.

“joel i-“ you start, but he glares at you with a look you’ve never seen before, pointing a finger in your direction.

“dont.” he warns, and you feel a flood of warmth in your core at his words, thighs rubbing together in your seat. joel looks down at your movement and scoffs, jaw tightening so hard you thought he might break his teeth. jesus fucking christ.

“joel, what the fuck? this is the girl you’ve been seein’?” tommys mouth hangs open, looking between the two of you before standing and putting his hands up in defense as joel’s eyes meet his, glaring.

“we can talk about it later,” he grunts, looking at his brother before gripping your wrist tightly, yanking you off of the stool. “you, however,” he drawls, voice lowering as he pulls you closer to him, “are comin’ with me right the fuck now.”

you nod silently, mumbling out a quiet “it was nice meeting you,” to tommy, which only serves to make joel grip your wrist harder as he drags you out of the bar. you can feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of what’s in store for you, following joel in a horny trance as he pulls you past his truck.

“wha- where are we-“ you start before joel tugs you around a corner and into a dark alleyway before pressing your back up against the brick wall, thigh quickly finding purchase between your legs as his torso presses against yours. you whine at the pressure on your clothed cunt, trying to grind down onto his thigh only to be stopped by a bruising grip on your hips.

“you want me that fuckin’ bad? huh?” joel mocks you, his breath hot and heavy as his mouth hovers over yours, sending chills down your spine and causing more slick to collect in your panties. one hand releases your hip as it snakes up and grips your jaw as he moves your head to the left, inspecting your face before repeating the motion, turning your head to the right. a dark look washes over his face, clearly displeased at your lack of a reply.

“answer me when i speak to you.” he spits out angrily, watching as your eyes widen and a low whine escapes your throat causing his cock to twitch in his jeans.

“y-yes.” you manage to pant out, head buzzing at the sensation of his breath on your face, his burning grip on your face and hips, and the pressure burning a hole into your cunt.

“yes what?” joel grunts, eyes dragging down your body as a string of obscenities leave his mouth, studying the way the slit of your skirt just barely covers the string of your thong wrapping around your hips and the way your tits press together in your tight top. his bruising grip leaves your face and two fingers press onto your clothed clit, making you writhe against his touch.

“yes sir,” you moan out, brain and body overwhelmed as a groan leaves his lips as he realizes just how wet you are for him, panties thoroughly soaked through, leaving a wet spot on his thigh where he had pressed against you. you whine at his reaction and his eyes flit back up to yours as he quickly flips you around, hands now bracing yourself against the wall as he presses his thick bulge against your ass.

“think i ‘oughta remind you who you belong to,” joel hurriedly pulls your mini skirt up, letting it sit on your waist as he lets out a low whistle, eyes settling on the black g-string that sat between your asscheeks, a pretty gold heart holding the strings together at the top.

“what? you jealous that your brother wants to fuck me just as much as you do-” a hand comes down on your right ass cheek with burning strength as you yelp out, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at the mixture of pain and pleasure. “you put these on for me? or are they for whichever guy your greedy self set your eyes on first?” his hand comes down on your ass again, ignoring your snide comment and you push your hips back into him, grinding against his bulge.

“a-ah- i swear joel! i swear i didn’t know he was your broth-“ you stammer before receiving another three smacks on your ass with no soothing rubs to follow, leaving you to stew there with an unbearable burn, sure to turn into welts come the morning.

“dont.” he reaffirms with another smack to your ass before ripping your thong from your body as you cry out.

“joel,” you whine, fingers digging into the brick wall in front of you as your forehead rests against the wet rock. “i really liked that pair…” you mumble as he scoffs at you, fingers tracing delicate lines through your wet, swollen folds.

“p-please baby i-“ you’re interrupted by another smack to your ass and you moan as you feel more slick pour from your needing cunt, dripping down your thighs.

“you lost any control you thought you mighta had when you decided to suck on your finger and eye fuck my brother right in fronta’ me, sweetheart.” joel growls into your ear, pressing his body right up against yours as his hair raked itself through your hair, yanking your head back by his makeshift ponytail.

“joel please, i swear i didn’t know!” you beg, your voice coming out as a breathy whine as your hips grind desperately against him, hoping to find any sort of friction to release the tension coiling in your stomach.

“ohh it ain’t about knowin’ baby girl,” his fingers make their way back to your soaking cunt, sliding through your folds with ease before rubbing tight circles against your clit, finally giving you what you were craving.

“you fucked up real good.” joel continues, fingers dragging back up before plunging deep inside of your tight pussy, pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace as your back arches, slapping one of your hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence the broken moan being ripped from your throat.

“don’t go all quiet on me now darlin’,” he teases, his free arm reaching around to pull your wrist behind your back. “want everyone to know just who you belong to.” joel finishes, his fingers curling up inside you and finding that spot that has you dripping all over his hand, another loud moan being ripped from your throat.

he continues his ministrations, his thumb beginning to rub small circles onto your clit as he adds a third finger into your cunt, your head spinning as your pussy stretches to accommodate his large digits. joels mouth meets your neck, trailing wet kisses down to the crook of your neck where he sucks down hard on your skin.

“o-oh! joel-“ you can feel the coil in your stomach getting tighter, burning hotter, his fingers repeatedly stroke your g-spot, pulling a groan from his mouth as he feels your pussy clenching and fluttering around his fingers. he knows that you’re close, the way your legs are shaking and his name is leaving your lips like a prayer, pulling you closer to the edge.

“b-baby please, please ‘m so close… wanna come for you baby please,” you can feel it about to crash over you, threatening to make your knees buckle underneath you, stealing your vision. instead of your vision, joel steals your release, ripping his hand away from your dripping cunt as he plants another hard smack on your ass cheek.

“bad girls don’t get to come, baby.” he teases, watching as you cry out and writhe against his body. fat tears start to fall down your cheeks at your desperation and loss of release and joel tuts, his hands finally soothing the red of your ass.

“think ya needa be fucked till you remember whose you are, ain’t that right?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly with a hint of the same desperation you’re feeling. you nod fervently before receiving a hard slap to your cunt and you cry out, a sob coming from your mouth.

“y-yes! that’s right sir!” you correct yourself, sighing in relief as you hear the familiar jingle of his belt buckle and the zipper of his jeans, wiggling your ass for him while you try to sneakily touch yourself.

“mm-mm.” he stops you, gripping both of your wrists behind your back as you whine in disappointment.

“dunno why ya think you’re gonna be gettin’ anything ya want after the stunt ya just pulled.” joel grunted, releasing his thick cock from its confines as he tugs his pants down with one hand. a moan escapes your throat as you feel it smack against your ass, warm and heavy. you press your hips backwards, trying to will him into fucking you.

“ya want my cock baby?” he drawls, lazily dragging his tip through your drooling folds, making you shudder and inhale sharply.

“yes sir,” he hums contentedly and presses forward the smallest bit before stopping, making you whine.

“apologize.” he states flatly, cock unmoving as his hands release your wrists and grip your hips instead, forcing you to stay in place.

“‘m real sorry baby, please fuck me, i promise i learned my lesson,” you begged, attempting to push your hips backwards despite your clear inability to do so.

“you’re gonna have to try harder than that if you want my cock inside ya, darlin’.” he drawls, going back to rubbing his tip through your folds, making you cry out in desperation as your head starts to spin.

“p-please ‘m so sorry daddy, it’ll never happen again i promise, please jus’ fuck me- i need- i need you joel,” you pant out, crying again as he laughs meanly behind you. “im sor-”

you’re quickly interrupted by him stuffing your cunt with his cock, filling you to the brim in one quick stroke. “atta girl,” he praises, “knew i could get ya to listen to reason.”

you cry out in pleasure as you lose your vision, an orgasm ripping through your body at his words and the feeling of him deep inside of your sopping pussy, body shaking feverishly as he groans behind you.

“thas’ right baby, come all over my cock. show me who you belong to, angel.” he blabbers as he starts to fuck into you, hips slapping against yours as a squelching noise fills the air. joels hands reach down to grab at your ass, kneading the flesh between harsh smacks on your already sore cheeks.

“f-fuck!” you scream out as he fucks you through your orgasm, sliding his cock in and out of you at a devastating pace. you feel so fucking full, his cock reaching places deep inside you that you hadn’t even known existed until he waltzed into your life. he pulls you close to him, body pressing tightly against his as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“this perfect pussy ‘s all mine… so fucking tight baby, so perfect,” he groans into your ear, biting down on your shoulder as you shudder and gasp, barely able to make a noise with the way his cock pushes deep inside of you with every thrust of his hips. “say it. say ‘s all mine, sweet girl.”

“mmmm…” you moan as he rocks your body with his thrusts. “its all yours joel, ‘m pussy ‘s yours,” you scream out as he angles his hips higher, pushing the dip in your back further with one of his hands, cock violently punching into your g-spot.

“o-ohh,” you cry out, your wet walls clenching around his fat cock, relishing in the tingling sensation that grows inside of you.

“p-please don’t stop- ah! ‘m so close,” joel loses any control he previously had as he grabs your hips and slams your cunt onto his cock, the only sounds in the alleyway being the slapping of skin, the squelching of your wet pussy, and your loud moans that you’re sure passerby’s can hear.

“yeah?” he grunts, “such a fuckin’ slut for this cock, baby. such a good girl. come on my cock again, sweet thing,” he commands, and you know your body will obey. a burst of tension rolls through your body as he pulls your hips into him desperately like his life depends on it. you scream out again, voice sore and breaking as your second earth-shattering orgasm is ripped through you.

“fuck,” he groans, “you like makin’ me jealous baby? you like the way i slap that perfect ass of yours and fuck this tight little pussy?”

“y-yes! y-yes baby oh my god!” you whine out, coming down from your climax only to be greeted with another one quickly approaching.

“ya think you can come for me one more time baby?” he moans out, slapping your ass as he keeps fucking into you, your body shuddering as you feel the incredible size of him pumping into your cunt.

you nod your head feverishly and joel seems to be too lost in the feeling of your tight, wet walls to care that you didnt use your words.

“who else can make you cream on their cock like this, baby?” joel demands, groaning as he feels his own release quickly approaching as your walls flutter around him, your third climax rising up through your body.

“f-fuck, no one joel, no one but you,” you whine, your pussy spent and leaking your fluid as he continues fucking into you, his balls slapping against your clit bringing you even closer to finishing.

“m gonna come baby, right in this pretty little pussy of yours,” he grunts, slapping your ass as tears spill over, again. “c’mon baby give me one more, i know you can. prove to me you wanna be mine,”

joels hand reaches between your legs and he rubs delicious circles into your clit, your huge fucking mistake (being tommy) is now erased from your mind as your insides burst into flames and your hips snap backwards, meeting his thrusts as your cunt spasms around him. he lets out a long, low groan as he spills his release inside of you, fucking you through your third and final orgasm until his hips still, leaving you panting against the wall.

“such a good girl for me,” he purrs, pulling out and landing a final smack on your pussy, making your entire body convulse in overstimulation. you cry out softly and he pulls your body against him, finally holding you against his torso. you whine as you feel his spend leaking out of your pussy, and his fingers are quick to collect it and plug your dripping hole.

his fingers leave your cunt moments later and you let out a disappointed sigh as he taps your ass lightly, pressing a kiss to your marked up neck.

“now pull that slutty skirt down and get in the fuckin’ truck.”

hoep you guys enjoyed!!! this is my first time writing smut in like 5 years so i hope its good </3 older men have been consuming my head so i wrote this up in a frenzy :P will be crossposted to ao3!

constructive criticism is welcome as always!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader

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celestialseph · 4 months ago

Text

Our Merge is Eternal

Grotequerie: Father Charlie Mayhew x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 2k

Prompt: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” -Cirice by Ghost for @sweetspicybingo (Lyrical Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), religious imagery, religious guilt, handjob, public sex, spanking, whipping, pain play, penance, verbal humiliation, manipulation, bondage and sacrilege

Summary: Penance can be a beautiful, wonderful release

“Bless me, Father, for have I sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession.”

It always started the same way: with you in the confessional booth, the screen blurring Father Mayhew’s face, and you squirming on your knees as your sins poured from your lips. It always ended the same way: blistering pain delivered with the palm of his hand, the sharp crack of leather or sturdy wood (penance), on your knees with his cock in your mouth as tears dripped down your cheeks (guidance) and curled in his lap as he wiped your tears away (forgiveness). He was careful, allowing only your mouth and hands to pleasure him, as he did the same with you, always avoiding fucking. The sin of fornication will not consume us, he had whispered against your wet thigh with his mouth coated in your juices.

“I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

Every two weeks, like clockwork. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat. It kept you going and gave you something to look forward to, even if something was twisted about it. You welcomed the dalliance, running headfirst into it and into the arms of Father Charlie Mayhew. Those brown eyes would be your undoing, but who better than to forgive you than a man of God?

The cycle came full circle once again as you entered the confessional, arousal pooling hot and thick between your thighs and causing you to press them together tightly to dull the ache. The partition whooshed open, and you began your confession. The vulgar words fell from your tongue as you admitted your sin of self-pleasure. You felt unnerved as you were met with silence. Perhaps this had run its course.

“I want you to meet me tonight in the church,” he whispered, his face obscured by the screen.

Your heart thrummed in your chest. You were used to it happening in his office after he had finished with confession. This was something new. A break in the usual routine. It thrilled you.

“Yes, Father, what time?” you asked, hands still folded before you.

“At midnight. I’ll see you then,” Charlie responded before slamming the partition close. You move your hand through the sign of the cross before hurrying away.

A storm rolled in that evening, making the air hot and heavy, and thick raindrops poured from the gray sky. Thunder cracked through the air as lightning lit up the dark sky with bright bursts. You shivered as you hurried through the heavy doors, rain soaking through your clothes and leaving your skin feeling clammy as you made your way into the chapel. You had attended midnight mass, but beautiful candles had illuminated the room, which remained eerily dark tonight. A loud clap of thunder made you jump, and a crack of lightning brought Father Mayhew into view.

He stood at the pulpit in his black cassock, his expression stern and a rope dangling from one hand. You swallowed, approaching him slowly, unsure of what would unfold this evening as hee stepped down to meet you.

“On your knees, sinful girl,” he instructed, and you obeyed without a second thought.

Instinctively, you lifted your wrists toward him, your palms pressed together. He guided your arms straight up into the air, sliding your shirt overhead, and your cheeks burned hot as your bare breasts were exposed. He tutted, giving one of your nipples a chastising pinch. You watched with wide eyes and bated breath as he looped the rope around your wrist, securing them with an elegant knot. His hand gripped your chin, thumb pressing to your lower lip before tracing around the outline of your mouth. Your stomach twisted as heat palpated deeper. He tugged you to your feet with a firm grip on your roped wrists before circling you.

“You come to me repeatedly, confessing the same sin,” he stated, his dark eyes boring into you.

Your mouth felt dry. “I fear I need guidance, Father. I simply find myself giving into temptation.”

He stood behind you, his hand slapping down firmly against your ass and making you stumble over your feet.

“And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell,” he hissed into your ear, his hand crashing down against your backside over and over. Pain blossomed across your skin.

“Matthew 5:30, Father,” you sniffled as he pulled your body flush against his. Your back against his chest, and you could feel it heaving with every breath he took.

“Good girl,” he purred, one warm hand pressing against your stomach, fingers dipping into the waistband of your loose-fitting black joggers, “Is that what I should do? Cut off your hands to keep them from wandering between your thighs, to keep your fingers from dipping into your greedy little cunt?”

You let out a garbled cry, unsure of how to respond as his hand plunged into your pants and underwear, his fingers immediately seeking your drenched pussy.

“I fear for your soul, child,” he whispered as his fingertips skimmed over your folds. Your lower lip trembled. His hand squeezed your right hip, a comforting touch that kept you grounded and assured you that you were safe. All you had to do was utter a simple word, and he would stop, letting you go about your evening. Either of you could end this sinful dalliance at a moment’s notice, but it just felt so good.

“Don’t let me go astray, Father. Teach me, guide me,” you moaned, caught up in the moment and willing to explore whatever he had planned.

“I will do just that. Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” Guide me, Father, for I am but a lamb lost among the wolves.

He pulled his hand away before pushing you onto your knees and then onto your stomach before removing your shoes and tugging the clothing away from your lower half. Your face felt like it was on fire as you were exposed in such a sacred, holy area. Your eyes flickered to the statue of Mother Mary, feeling her judgment upon you. Have mercy on me, Mother.

His hands roamed over your naked skin, squeezing your prickled flesh before resting on the swell of your ass. Tears burned your eyes as his hand smacked down, over and over, searing his burning mark into your skin. You squirmed against the carpet, feeling the rug burn, irritating your stomach. You choked on your tears as they rolled hotly down your cheeks, chasing this feeling and murmuring prayers of repentance. O loving and gracious God, have mercy. Have pity upon me and take away the awful stain of my sin.

Charlie’s body pressed ontop of yours, his teeth seeking out the soft curve of your throat. You felt the swell of his erection against your abused ass. His knee slipped between your legs, pressing against your dripping cunt.

“Even now, in the sanctity of the church, your penance doesn’t deter you from your sinful nature,” he hissed into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck. Your eyes rolled back, relishing in the sweet pop of pain that throbs through your body, rutting against his knee.

All you could do was mewl pathetically in response as he rolled you onto your back and then cupped your face in his hands. He took in the sight of your tear-stained face and swollen lips, a small pang thrummed through his heart.

“How can I judge you so? You are no more sinful than I,” he whispered, stroking his thumbs over your tear tracks. His lips pressed against your trembling ones before undoing the ropes and pulling away from you.

You sniffled, struggling to catch your breath as you watched him stand and stretch out his arms before peeling his clothing away. The lightning bathed his skin in an eerie glow as you drank in the sight of his muscular body. It seemed wrong for a priest to be so beautiful and tempting. But God tests us in mysterious ways.

“You are so gracious in guiding me onto a righteous path. Let me help you,” you offered, extending your hand toward him.

His gaze softened, and you were lost in those warm brown eyes for a moment—endless pools of amber that you would gladly drown in. He sank to his knees, pressing his hand into yours before pulling your naked body against his.

“Would you?” he asked in earnest.

“Yes,” you smiled, stroking your fingers through his dark hair.

He kissed you again before handing you his knotted white cincture, pure as the driven snow.

“Turn around,” you instructed, smoothing your hand over his bare chest before getting used to the feel of the item in your hands. The darkness consumed you both, and you knew exactly what he was asking for.

He presented his bare back, laced with scars and a few open wounds that must have been placed earlier today. You traced your fingers over his skin, memorizing the layout of the marks and making a map of the area to lay the blows. It will be less intense than the leather cat o’nine tails, but it will suffice for now. You brought down the knotted rope against his skin, delighting in the grunt that he emitted. It doesn’t draw blood, but even in the dark light of the church, you can see the bruises blooming-mottled and purple.

You tossed the cincture aside, dropping to your knees behind him. Your lips ghosted over the marks, tongue pressing against a fresh one, throbbing against his skin and tasting the tang of blood. Charlie shivered under your touch as your hand slipped down his taut stomach to grasp his cock. You gently stroked and tugged on his rigid flesh as he arched against your hand as you danced him to the edge of a blessed release.

“Come for me, Father,” you purred into his ear, drunk on the dark power flowing through your veins.

He spilled into your palm, sticky and pearlescent, as the sweetess moan fell from his parted lips. His head lolled back, resting against the plush pillows of your breasts. He rested against you, gathering his strength, and your head spun as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the altar. He lowered you onto the draped table, and you squirmed as your bare, sore ass came in contact with the hard, unforgiving surface. Charlie looked almost devilish as he dropped between your thighs, splaying them wide for him before swiping his tongue over your quivering cunt.

“Recite the Act of Contrition,” he ordered before dipping his tongue inside you.

You gasped, threading your fingers through his hair and rocking against his mouth.

“Oh My God, I am sorry for my sins. In choosing to sin and failing to do good, I have sinned against you and your church.”

Charlie’s tongue pressed to your throbbing clit, tracing the delicate bud. It felt like wanton encouragement.

“I firmly intend, with the help of your Son, to make up for my sins.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, needy whines spilling from your mouth as pressure built in your lower belly—unbearable heat, making you think of the hellfire burning your skin.

“And to love as I should. Amen.” The words fell, garbled, and strangled from your mouth before a loud moans bled through the hallowed alcove. An intense orgasm washed over you, the bands of pleasure snapping through your belly as Charlie’s warm mouth pleasured you.

“Amen,” he whispered against your warm, wet flesh before lifting his head. His mouth coated in your release, and his dark eyes seemed to glow. Sinners, both of you, fallible and susceptible to the temptations of the flesh. Tainted by the sin of lust.

Your eyes meet his, the realization that the two of you are forever intertwined in sin. Lost in the waves of immorality together.

The hot water scalded your skin as you stood under the pounding water pouring from the showerhead. You scrubbed at your skin, washing away the lingering transgressions clinging to your tainted flesh. The cycle repeats two weeks later.

#father charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie mayhew

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celestialseph · 4 months ago

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and lead us not into temptation...

father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

synopsis: During Confirmation, God the Holy Spirit comes upon the person, accompanied by God the Father and God the Son. Father Mayhew, too.

a/n: ahhh, how good it feels so channel my religious trauma into absolute filth again. I was never Catholic so idk how accurate the stuff I said is but I did research and tried my best (really no one cares about Catholic accuracies why are you even stressing about this girl)

warnings: 18+, SMUT, dubcon, little bit of a corruption kink, innocence kink, clueless little church mouse!reader, blasphemous shit tbh, virginity loss, unprotected sex, a priest absolutely abusing his position,

wc: 3.2k

MAIN MASTERLIST | GROTESQUERIE MASTERLIST

They told you that the Sacrament of Confirmation was the most important event of a young girl growing closer to God. They told you it was an honour to attend this spiritual ceremony, that it was the culmination of forming a bond with Christ. They told you that it was high time you were finally sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Father Charlie Mayhew was adamant that you’d finally receive this great gift, having discussed the possibility of a personal Confirmation with your parents after Sunday Mass.

“She’s at an age where it should already have happened,” he told them. “I assume you wish her to get married soon. She ought to finally be strengthened for service to the Body of Christ.”

Your parents trusted Father Mayhew blindly, believing he was a gift sent to earth by the Lord Himself, and quickly agreed. They wouldn’t want their precious daughter to fall into disgrace should a proper suitor be found sooner rather than later.

The priest nodded, visibly satisfied with their consent. “I can arrange it for next week’s Mass, but I would like for your daughter to come see me for a private confession. The Lord has spoken to me in my prayers, and has tasked me with properly preparing the confirmands. It’s a standard practice at my church.”

Only that it wasn’t.

Father Mayhew had spent many hours not praying, not studying the Scripture, not preparing new sermons since he first saw you in all your womanly glory at Mass. Instead, he often found himself in his office, his pants growing uncomfortably tight just at the thought of you attending Mass every Sunday like the faithful girl you are, hanging on his every word.

And when you’d get on your knees during the Eucharistic prayer…

His hand would always find its way to his throbbing length during a quiet moment after Mass, the grip on his cock nearly painful as he worked himself towards the highest of highs. And more often than not he would later find white stains on his liturgical vestments, having to go through several clerical outfits in the span of only a few days.

“Tell her to come see me on Wednesday after general confession hour.”

So your parents sent you on your way, Bible in hand, rosary wrapped around your wrist. You entered the empty church, standing between the pews as you clutched your Bible to your chest.

“Father Mayhew?” A timid call for him echoed through the large building, and soon he appeared.

His chest heaved as he appeared, his robe sitting weirdly on his shoulders as if he had pulled it over his head in a hurry. His hair messy, not slicked back like he usually wore it.

The appearance caught you off guard, to say the least, and made your blood pressure rise.

“Ah, my new confirmand!” He greeted you with an open-arm gesture, then clasped his hands together. “Happy to see you. What an exciting time it must be for you.”

He closed the distance between you, turning to your side and placing his hand on your back as he led you towards the back of the church. “Let’s go talk in my office,” he said.

“I thought I came to confess?” You asked in bewilderment. “Oughtn’t we sit down in the confessional booth for that?”

But he was quick to shut down your confusion. “No. No, no, no. Let’s not stick to such ancient traditions. I’ve come to learn, in my time as a servant of the Lord, that private confessions are best made in the comfort of a priest’s office. Shall we?”

He opened the door to his office, letting you enter first before closing the door behind his back and quickly turning the lock before you would notice.

“Take a seat,” he motioned towards the armchair on the opposite side of his desk as he sat down in his own chair.

He leaned back and observed you with relaxed eyes. His stoic gaze was intimidating to you, your heart thumping against your ribcage the longer he stared.

“Father?”

The sound of your voice ripped him out of his dirty fantasy, his focus returning to the there and then, which, admittedly, didn’t help much when his hard cock ached from the torturing restraint of his pants.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, bending forward hoping it would cover the growing bulge. “Now, I have to admit I wasn’t quite honest with your parents,” he chuckled smugly.

The picture of you furrowing your brows as you slightly cocked your head to the side in a confused gesture made him lose a couple drops of cum into his boxers. How could a young girl be so cluelessly devoted to God. To him. It made him lose his mind, and throw his holy vows overboard.

To hell with abstinence. Some girls just asked for it. And he knew you were one of them.

Gifted by the devil himself, a test of his faith and obedience — the bishop had warned him many years ago that the day would come when he would find himself face to face with temptation — and presented on a silver platter right there in his own church. To him, however, a young, ripe girl like you could only have found her way into his office so he could chase the feeling of his former life.

To remind himself how good it felt to lose himself in the warmth of a tight cunt.

“I understand your parents are hoping to find you a husband soon,” Father Mayhew began. “But Confirmation isn’t the only thing necessary in preparation for marriage. You know, there are certain… other things a young woman must be prepared for before she can fulfil her duties of a devout wife.”

“Father, I don’t—”

His hand shot up, immediately shutting down any doubts or concerns you might try to raise. “Tell me… Have you ever touched yourself? After all, this is some kind of confession here, right? God needs you to be completely honest with me.”

He could sense the warmth rush to your cheeks, the way your breath hitched in your throat as your gaze shifted to the floor.

“A simple yes or no will suffice, sweetheart,” he pressed. “This is crucial for your preparation as a confirmand.” His eyes searched for yours. “You can even nod or shake your head if that’s easier.”

Then, finally, he got a reaction out of you. A timid… shake from left to right. “It’s a sin, Father.”

The change in his demeanour evaded you. The way his eyes turned into slits resembling those of a snake, the way he ever so slightly shifted in his seat as his hand carefully moved to his crotch.

A moment of silence passed in Father Charlie’s office as he let your words sink in. You had been even more clueless than he’d imagined. An enticing temptation, one that he had no choice but to succumb to.

“That is very admirable,” he praised you. “However,” he got up, “as part of this… preparation I need you to be… how should I say this… open to… sexual activities.”

He walked around his desk in a few long strides until he stood in front of you and leaned against the edge of the table, folding in hands in front of his crotch as he crossed his legs. He could feel his cock press against his palms through the fabric of his pants, begging to be freed.

“Why should—” You tried to ask, but his hand was quick to shoot up in a silencing gesture. That’s when you first noticed the bulge in his pants.

With your eyes glued to his crotch, Charlie could barely hold himself back from dragging you across his desk and shoving his cock right into your tight little cunt, no matter if you were ready for him or not.

“Get on your knees,” he said in a plain voice. You obeyed instantly.

He took the Bible and rosary from your hands and placed them on his desk before standing up right in front of you, your mouth so perfectly aligned with his length. A few quick movements got him rid of his pants and boxers just enough to pull out aching cock, tip glistening with drops of precum.

He watched your eyes go wild in shock, although he silently wished they would have gone wide from excitement and lust. He’d get you there soon enough…

“From now on, I need you to listen to me, sweetheart,” he instructed. “No more questions, no ifs and buts, alright?”

His eyes stayed focused on yours until you nodded, and he pinched your chin with his thumb and index finger as a gesture of approvement. A pleased look on his face and a satisfied smirk on his lips, he then let his thumb graze along your lower lip before pushing it in.

“Open up.” His voice turned rough, strained even, as he pulled your jaw down and forced your mouth open.

He could detect a sliver of fear glistening in your eyes as the tip of his cock met your lip, could sense your wanting to ask what he was doing, but was pleased to see you resist the urge to question his actions.

So he pushed it in. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, feeling your lips instinctively close around him. “Careful with those teeth.”

His hand found the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair to get a good grip and properly guide your movements. He pulled back and pushed back in, this time all the way until he heard and felt you gag around him.

He stopped once he could feel the back of your throat, watching you struggle and start to panic, your hands moving up to the sides of his hips in an attempt to push him back. But, of course, he was too strong for you.

“Shh, shh,” he cooed. “You’re doing so well.”

He started to pick up a pace slow enough to relish the feeling of your mouth and not already waste his seed by shooting it into the back of your throat. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out, watching the string of spit connect his tip to your bottom lip with a grin.

“You see,” he started to explain, “in order to become a full-grown adult, which you will be after your Confirmation, you need to understand certain things. And, as the priest of your church, it is my duty to teach you the necessary lessons to let you go out into world with a clear conscience.”

He watched you intently, gauging your reaction to each and every word of his. You were still kneeling in front of him so he bent down, continuing to observe you at eye level. His breath came in slow, hot bursts as it repeatedly hit your face.

“You understand now why I have to do this, do you?” He asked.

You nodded, albeit hesitantly.

“And you also understand that this is to stay between me and you, and me and you only, right?”

He waited for another nod, and when it wouldn’t come, he raised an eyebrow, his hand gripping your jaw tightly.

“Do you understand?” He repeated with more force.

“Y-yes,” you mumbled.

He let go of your jaw, clicking his tongue in approval. “Good. Now I need you to take your clothes off.”

His patience was starting to run thin, especially with the way he couldn’t find any release from this achingly throbbing tension. “Listen, we don’t have much time, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. This body of yours…”

This fucking body I need to desecrate. This body, this… tight virgin cunt.

“This body is a gift from God, wonderful and perfect like all His creations. And…” A mischievous smirk appeared on his face. “It’s not like I have never seen a woman’s body before.”

He watched your shy reaction, and your inhibitions crumble slowly. So he gave you one last push. “I’ll take my clothes off too,” he said, beginning to shed his clerical robes. “That way we’re even.”

Father Charlie watched you with satisfaction as you rid yourself of your clothes item by item. “Yeah, that’s a good girl.”

Once the last of his garments dropped on the ground, he told you to sit back down on the armchair, placing his hands on either side of you as he bent over you. His eyes travelled along your frame, wandering over the hills and valleys of your young, unsullied body.

“I need you to move your hand between your legs,” he said. “Touch yourself.”

This time you did what he said without hesitation. He could see your chest starting to heave, your breath visibly and audibly quickening as your hand slowly glided down your chest until it came into contact with your pure pussy for the first time.

“Fuck…” Charlie breathed, the grip on the armrest tightening as he fought the urge to fist his cock for at least some kind of relief. “Yes, just like that. Now push a finger in.”

You did.

“Does it feel wet? Does it slide in easily?” He asked as he observed how your lips parted at the initial sensation of pleasuring yourself.

You nodded.

“Try pushing in a second finger,” he commanded.

You did, your forehead creasing once it slipped all the way in.

“How does that feel? Tell me.”

“It feels…” You began, but couldn’t quite put it into words.

“Good?” He finished for you.

You nodded again.

“Try curling them upwards, like this,” he gestured a come hither movement with his own fingers for you to mimic.

And you did.

“But Father…” You gulped, “isn’t this… a sin?” You asked as you kept moving your hand.

He shook his head. “How can a natural urge be a sin? The Lord gave it to us.”

“I know, but—” His hand was back on your jaw, his digits pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

“No ifs and buts, remember?” he reminded you, his gaze sharp.

He quickly glanced at the clock. “You’ve been talking too much. Get up.”

You did as you were told while Charlie pushed the clutter off his desk, his movements rushed. He grabbed you by the back of your thighs, practically slamming you onto the desk and standing between your spread thighs.

So close to that heavenly cunt…

“The reason I’m doing this is because it is my duty as a priest,” he said leaning over you, his hand moving down your neck, over your collarbone, then closer and closer towards your chest.

“You need to know what it will be like to lay with your future husband,” he explained, his length pressing against your dripping core as his lips found your neck.

You reacted to his touches so organically, almost like second nature. Like this wasn’t your first time ever experiencing any kind of sexual activity.

Father Charlie knew he finally had you right where he wanted you. Where he needed you.

“It might hurt,” he mumbled against your neck as his hands cupped your tits, your nipples immediately trapped between his fingers as he pinched and pulled on them. “But that pain is gonna turn into something so much better. I promise.”

His lips travelled down your neck as he pushed you back onto the flat, cold surface of his desk, the temperature a stark contrast to your heated body. His tongue glided along your sternum, first to the left, around your now hardened nipple, then to the right, repeating the same process.

Charlie could hear your laboured breaths slowly but surely transform into hot gasps, soft moans falling from your lips whenever his tongue or fingers would graze the sensitive buds of your breasts. He knew he could take it further without much clueless confusion on your part.

He knew he could finally take you like he had wanted to for so long.

So he pushed into you in one rough motion, not stopping until he could feel the soft tissue of your hymen collapse under the pressure of his cock.

You cried out, your hands instinctively gripping his strong arms, but he was quick to collect both your wrists in one hand and pin them above your head as he grabbed your thigh with the other.

“Shh, shh,” he shut you up as he pulled your leg up and around his waist, allowing himself to fuck you from a different angle that would make it easier for him to fully thrust into your virgin cunt.

And, Lord, what a tight little cunt you had.

His breaths escaped his lungs in ragged grunts as he pushed into you again and again, feeling your tight walls give in more and more to make him fit the longer he kept ramming his cock into you. The desk creaked under the pressure of his body colliding with yours, the wood bending with each new thrust that would allow him to slip further into your silky core.

“Father—” You pleaded, arms unsuccessfully straining against his grip. “It… hurts.”

“Told you. But not much longer,” he said, his voice ragged as he ignored your attempts to make him stop. “Trust me.”

He could feel himself getting there, could feel how difficult it became to keep a steady rhythm. You were squeezing him in the best way possible, and he couldn’t even begin to think about how it would feel to have you milk his every last drop.

His moans echoed off the walls of his small office when he felt you start to relax around him. “Yeah, that’s right,” he grunted, his voice nearly failing him. “Let me hear you.”

His thumb pulled your bottom lip down so your mouth would fall open, letting those sweet, clueless whines escape your throat freely. That was all he took as a confirmation of your starting to enjoy the way he was fucking you.

And that was all he needed to find his most earth shattering release so far. He pulled out quickly, finishing off with a couple more strokes before he shot hot spurts of his cum right onto your newly stretched and glistening cunt.

“Look at me,” he groaned as he rode out his high, his eyes fixed on you, your heaving chest, your skin covered in a slight sheen of sweat, your cunt defiled and disgraced by your priest’s cum.

“Now you’re all set for Confirmation,” he said as he helped you up, then handed you a towel. “Make sure you’re clean before you come back for Sunday Mass. And remember, don’t tell your parents. If you can do that for me, I’ll show you much more if you want me to.”

They told you that during Confirmation, God the Holy Spirit comes upon the person, accompanied by God the Father and God the Son. They didn’t tell you Father Mayhew did, too.

#father charlie mayhew #father charlie mayhew x reader

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celestialseph · 4 months ago

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୨୧﹕ forgive me .ᐟ oneshot

pairing ; father charlie mayhew x fem!reader contains ; tension , smut ( oral m receiving ) a/n ; i rewatched fleabag season two and HAD to write this for my own sake ( also havent proofread this,, so just ignore any mistakes pls. summary ; it has been 160 days since your last confession.

the soft hum of hymns filled the stone walls of the church, echoing through the vast, candlelit space. the congregation sat quietly, hands folded in prayer or resting on their laps, their eyes fixed on the alter.

the heavy scent of incense hung in the air, weaving between the polished wooden pews, where you sat toward the back, trying to focus on the words of the sermon. the light from the stained glass windows poured in, casting delicate hues of red, blue, and gold across the congregation, illuminating the man at the front of the church.

father charlie.

your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of the pew. you had tried to stop coming to mass, but something always drew you back here—drew you back to him. each week, you told yourself it would be different. you would listen to the sermon, find solace in his words, and leave without this gnawing ache in your chest.

but it never worked.

father charlie stood at the altar, the bible held firmly in his hands as he delivered his message, his voice deep and smooth, filling the grand space with a quiet authority. his tone was soft, but it held power, a magnetic pull that kept everyone’s attention on him. but while the others listened intently to the words of faith, of virtue and devotion, your mind was far from holy thoughts.

your eyes traced the lines of his jaw, the way the sunlight caught in his brown hair, making the strands shine beneath the dim lighting of the cathedral. his features were sharp but kind, his strong brows furrowed in concentration as he spoke about resisting the temptations of the flesh.

temptation.

the word reverberated through you, sending a jolt of heat to your core. temptation, the feeling you knew far too well. father charlie’s hands moved as he gestured lightly with his sermon, and you found yourself imagining those hands on you, instead of the bible. you swallowed hard, pulse quickening as your thoughts drifted to places you knew they shouldn’t go, especially here — especially with him.

he was the very definition of unattainable, a man sworn to a life of celibacy, of purity. and yet, you couldn’t stop the thoughts that rushed through your mind every time you looked at him. every sunday, you sat in the same pew, feeling that same magnetic pull toward him, a pull you couldn’t explain and couldn’t resist.

his robes hung loosely on his tall, lean frame, the fabric shifting with each subtle movement he made. beneath them, you knew there was something stronger, something more human than the holy image he portrayed. and the thought of that made your stomach twist with desire.

you could barely breathe, the church suddenly feeling too warm, too confined. you bit your lip, eyes darting to the floor as you tried to steady your racing thoughts. this was wrong. so wrong. but you couldn’t help it. every word that came from his lips only seemed to make it worse, sending your mind spiraling deeper into a fantasy you had tried so hard to bury.

you imagined it so clearly now — being alone with him after the congregation had gone. the church would be empty, the candles burning low, the flickering flames casting long shadows along the stone walls. you would step toward him, heart pounding, and when your hand brushed his, you’d feel the heat of his skin, the tension between you palpable. he would hesitate, of course. his vows, his faith — they would hold him back for a moment. but then, in the quiet of the empty church, his restraint would finally break.

your pulse raced as the image flashed vividly in your mind: his hands on you, pulling you close, his lips crashing into yours with all the pent-up passion he had kept locked away for so long. the forbidden thrill of it sent a shiver down your spine, your breath coming faster as you quickly glanced back up at him, half-expecting to see him watching you, knowing your every sinful thought.

but he wasn’t. father charlie’s gaze was still fixed on the congregation, his words steady as he spoke about virtue, about control.

you looked across the church, towards one of the many paintings of god, his expression seeming almost disappointed. you felt a flush of guilt, heat rising to your cheeks. how could you sit here, in a place meant for worship, and think these things? how could you look at him — father charlie — and imagine him like that? it was wrong. but that only seemed to make the ache in your chest grow stronger, the desire burning hotter with each passing moment.

the service was drawing to a close, and your heart pounded as you realised you would soon have to face him. father charlie always stood at the door after mass, offering a handshake and a few kind words to each person who passed. every week, that brief moment of contact set your skin on fire, leaving you wanting more.

and then you saw him — father charlie, standing by the entrance, his eyes warm and kind as he greeted the parishioners. you swallowed hard, heart racing as you approached. his gaze shifted to you, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to blur at the edges, leaving only the two of you.

"god bless you, y/n" father charlie said softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as his hand extended toward yours.

you hesitated for the briefest moment, your breath catching in your throat as your hand slipped into his. his grip was firm but gentle, the warmth of his skin sending a spark of electricity through you. you looked up into his eyes, searching for… something. some sign that he could feel the same pull, the same tension that had been building between you for months. but his expression was as serene as ever, his smile kind and distant.

"thank you, father," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you let go of his hand, your fingers tingling where they had touched him, before turning around to leave the sacred building. however, you stopped in your tracks.

turning towards him, you spoke timidly, "actually, father.."

as you approached, father charlie glanced up and saw you, his warm smile instantly making your heart skip a beat. his dark eyes met yours, and you felt that familiar pull, a flutter in your stomach that made your knees weak.

"yes?," he responded kindly, his voice a calm, steady presence that filled the space between you.

"father," you began, your voice shaking slightly as you stepped closer. "i was wondering if… there’s any chance i could confess later?"

there. you’d said it. the words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you were certain he could see right through you — into your mind, your thoughts, your desires. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but the tension coiled in your chest made it nearly impossible to hide how nervous you were.

father charlie’s smile softened, a gentle, almost unreadable look crossing his face as he studied you. he took a small step closer, lowering his voice slightly as if sensing the weight of what you were carrying. "of course," he said, his tone compassionate, "confession is always available for those who seek it. Would you like to meet later this afternoon?"

the way he said it — just us — made your stomach flip. you nodded, unable to fully trust your voice at the moment. your throat felt tight, your thoughts tangled. "yes. that would be… good."

his gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer, his eyes holding yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. there was nothing inappropriate about it, nothing overt, and yet you couldn’t help but feel as if there was something deeper there, hidden beneath the surface of his composed expression. you tried to ignore the way your body reacted to it, the way your skin seemed to burn with the need for more than just words.

"come by around eight," he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he was giving you permission to unburden yourself in a way you hadn’t before. "we can speak privately in the confessional."

your heart raced as he said it, the reality of what you were asking for sinking in. it wasn’t just confession — not for you. It was a way to be close to him, a way to sit in that small, private space, separated only by the thin barrier of the confessional screen. the idea of it — of being so close, alone, with him — made your chest tighten with anticipation.

you swallowed hard, nodding again. "thank you, father," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he gave you one last kind, reassuring smile before you turned to leave, the echo of his words still ringing in your ears as you made your way toward the exit. as you stepped out into the cool air, your body still tingling with the thought of what was to come, your mind raced. confession wasn’t supposed to feel like this — like a secret thrill, a forbidden opportunity. but that’s exactly how it felt.

and it wasn’t just the confession itself. it was him. the way he carried himself with such calm authority, the way his voice seemed to wrap around you, pulling you deeper into your thoughts. you had tried to fight it, tried to deny it, but there was no use anymore.

you wanted him.

by the time the clock struck eight, you found yourself back at the church, your heart racing as you made your way inside. the church was mostly empty now, the quiet stillness of the afternoon wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. you could hear your own footsteps echoing softly as you walked down the aisle toward the confessional booth.

you hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside, the small, intimate space feeling even smaller than usual. the soft rustle of father charlie’s robes reached your ears as he entered the adjacent booth, and your breath hitched in your throat. the thin screen between you offered a sense of privacy, but it did nothing to stop the electricity that buzzed in the air.

"whenever you’re ready," came his voice, low and soothing, sending a shiver through you.

your mind raced, the words you had rehearsed suddenly seeming inadequate. how could you confess these feelings to him? How could you possibly admit that the sin you carried was him? the thought alone made your throat tighten, but you knew you couldn’t back out now.

"forgive me, father, for i have sinned…" you began, your voice shaky, barely more than a whisper, "it has been 160 days since my last confession"

you weren’t sure how you were going to get through this confession, but one thing was certain — the desire that burned inside you wasn’t something that could be easily absolved.

you hesitated, grappling with the words that felt so heavy on your tongue. "i've been having… thoughts," you started, feeling your cheeks flush. "sinful thoughts that i know i shouldn’t be having."

"sinful thoughts about someone?" he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"yes," you admitted, heat creeping up your cheeks. "someone i shouldn’t be thinking about. i know it’s wrong, but i can’t help it."

"tell me more," father charlie encouraged, his tone gentle but firm, as if he could sense the struggle within you.

"it’s... complicated,” you continued, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. "i’ve been trying to push these feelings away, but every time i see him, it’s like i’m drawn to him in a way i know isn’t right."

"why do you believe these feelings are wrong?” he asked, and you could hear the slightest hint of tension in his voice, a challenge that made your heart race.

"because he’s... celibate,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "and i shouldn’t feel this way about him. but i do."

the silence that followed was deafening. you could almost hear the clock ticking, each second feeling like an eternity. you held your breath, waiting for his response, feeling the heat of your confession hang in the air between you, "i don't know what to do, father. these thoughts won't go away"

the scent of incense swirled around you like a comforting yet suffocating blanket. you could hear the soft rustle of the priest’s robes on the other side of the screen. he took a deep breath.

"kneel"

the unexpected command took you by surprise. your heart raced at the thought, a mix of anxiety and anticipation flooding your senses. "kneel?" you echoed, trying to process his words.

"i want you to kneel."

you hesitated for just a moment, but something in his voice compelled you to comply. slowly, you knelt before the screen, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath your knees. your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears as you sensed the shift in the air around you.

the curtain opened slightly, and father charlie stepped into view, his expression unreadable. the light from the candle illuminated his features, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. there was a hunger there, a spark that made your pulse quicken.

father charlie looked down at you, bringing his hand down to your chin and tilting your head upwards to look him in the eyes. as the moment hung in the air, your heart raced, a wild drumbeat echoing in your ears. you could feel the heat radiating between you both, a magnetic pull that left you breathless. anticipation coursed through your veins, mingling with a desperate thrill that made your pulse quicken.

unexpectedly, he leaned down, stopping only inches away from your lips, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. you looked down at father charlie's parted lips, before looking back up at his eyes, glistening in the candlelight. your thoughts raced, much more sinful than they were before.

and just like that, father charlie closed the gap between you in a slow but passionate kiss. it felt as if you were breathing each other's air, your fingers moving up and tracing his arm. he then pulled away. you almost followed him, desperate for more, but you couldn't.

looking up at him, your heart raced, a needy look in your eyes.

the sound of father charlie unbuckling his belt rang through the church; anyone who walks in would know what was happening. but you didn't care.

he unzipped his pants before pulling them down, just past his underwear, the thin fabric revealing his large bulge. your was mouth already salivating at the thought of it. father charlie looked down at you with a nod, giving you permission.

your fingers made their way towards his waistband, slowly curling underneath his clothing before slowly pulling them down, just enough to reveal his erection.

gasping slightly at the size of him, you hesitated, your heart quickening.

father charlie moved his hand to the back of your head, urging you.

you couldn't wait any longer. you took deep breath before licking his tip, the taste of his pre-cum giving you the need for more.

desperately, your mouth took as much of him as it could, causing him to let out a soft moan as his tip touched the back of your throat. you looked up at him. the sight of him looking down at you with so much lust, so much greed in his eyes caused your stomach to flutter.

he grabbed onto the back of your hair, lightly pushing you back and forth before picking up momentum. father charlie threw his head back in pleasure, before looking into your eyes once again.

you moaned as the pace grew faster, causing his eyebrows to furrow at the vibration. and with that, he released, the warmth of it running down your throat.

looking up at him with admiration, he smiled slightly.

you knew this wasn't the last time.

#father charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie mayhew

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celestialseph · 4 months ago

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penitent

#rhaenicent

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celestialseph · 4 months ago

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you’re how i pray.

summary: reluctantly, you found yourself reaching out to the church for guidance, to better your “wrongs.” only to meet father charlie and realize there was a whole world of sins you’ve yet to indulge in. [REQUESTED.]

pairings: charlie mayhew x fem!reader

warnings: conversations about religion and moral, blasphemy (?), charlie is a manipulative freak!. SMUT: this is DIRTYYYY, fingering (fem), oral (fem), unprotected sex, manhandling, dirty talk.

WC: 3.6K (sorry, i got into it)

my masterlist! requests are OPEN!

Your steps echoed against the cold stone floors of the church. The towering figure of your aunt walked ahead, moving with self-righteous purpose. You rolled your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek to stifle the irritation that boiled beneath your skin.

Of course, therapy had been a good start. You had actually been making progress, learning to manage your anger, to quiet the voice inside you that urged you to rebel against every rule, every boundary. But your family… they believed therapy wasn’t enough. They had another solution.

Father Charlie. You had heard of him. A young priest, charismatic and well-liked by the community.

Your aunt wasted no time, walking straight up to the office where Father Charlie stood. His presence was larger than life, draped in his priestly robes, and yet his eyes—those piercing brown eyes—held a spark that didn’t quite match the image of a humble servant of God.

“Father Charlie, thank you for meeting with us,” your aunt began, already launching into a tirade about you. Words like rebellious, problematic, and sinful spilled out as though they had been rehearsed. You stood there, arms crossed, glaring at the rows of candles flickering on the altar.

Father Charlie nodded sympathetically but his gaze never left you. He didn’t interrupt your aunt’s sermon, though, and once the woman was satisfied that she had delivered enough holy condemnation, she patted you on the shoulder.

“Father Charlie will talk to you, sweetie. He’ll help you.”

With that, your aunt left, leaving behind a cloud of forced piety. The silence settled in as Father Charlie waited until the doors shut behind her.

“Guessing by your expression, I’m sure this wasn’t your first option, coming to me.” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

You shrugged, leaning back against one of the wooden furnitures of his office. “Yeah. My family has unfortunately convinced themselves that I’m a lost cause, and that only God can save me. Or so.”

Father Charlie smiled, and something about it made you feel more cautious than comforted. “Why do you think people see you that way?”

The question took you by surprise. Not the usual condescending lecture, not yet, anyway. “Because I don’t see the point in all these rules they’re obsessed with. I do whatever I want, and that annoys people. We’re born into this world, and instead of living the lives we want, we’re told what to do from the moment we can speak. Doesn’t that sound a little… cruel to you?”

“Rules are there to keep the community together. Without them, society would fall apart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Maybe. But what’s the point if those rules only help some people? The rich keep getting richer, while the rest of us… we’re always at the bottom. And that’s okay as long as we obey, right?”

“So, you think life is about doing whatever you want? No restrictions at all?”

“Not exactly,” you said. “I just think people should be free to make their own choices. To live without constant guilt and fear hanging over them. This whole idea that we’re supposed to follow blindly or be damned… it doesn’t sit right with me.”

The priest studied you for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze. “Do you believe in God?”

Your lips pressed together in a thin line. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s something out there, something bigger than us. But the people in this community? The hypocrisy. The way they use their faith to control others. It’s toxic.”

Father Charlie nodded slowly. “You’re not the first to feel that way. But you’re not as alone as you think, either.”

“What do you mean?”

His smile was back, but this time, it held something else. Something darker. “Let’s just say… not everyone in this church follows the rules as strictly as you might think.”

A shiver crept down your spine, but you couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else. His words, his tone—they didn’t match the image of the holy man you had been expecting. You sat down on the couch, to keep some distance.

“Let’s talk more,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m curious about your thoughts on freedom. On life… on sin.”

Your pulse quickened as he took a seat next to you, far too close for comfort, but you didn’t move. There was something magnetic about him. Dangerous, but magnetic.

“You know,” Charlie began, his fingers lightly tracing the soft edge of the couch beneath both, “a lot of people in your position feel trapped by expectations. You said it yourself: you don’t like the way rules seem to be designed to keep some people down.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where this was leading, but already feeling a shift in the atmosphere.

He tilted his head, his gaze holding yours, and there was a glimmer of amusement—something almost wicked—in his eyes. “You’re not wrong to want freedom. To want more. But what you have to understand is that most people… they’re too afraid to admit it.”

“Too afraid?”

“Yes. They bury their desires under obedience, hoping it will make them feel whole. But deep down, they crave… more. They want to push against those boundaries.” He leaned in closer, his tone growing silkier. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you said, though you did know. It just didn’t feel safe to admit it—not to yourself, and definitely not to him. “I mean, I get frustrated, but… it’s not like I’m going to rebel against everything.”

“What if you did? What if, just for a moment, you allowed yourself to explore that side of you? The one that questions. The one that craves freedom… and maybe, other things?” Charlie’s eyes sparkled with something that felt far more dangerous than faith.

Other things. The way he said it, as if it were an invitation, hung heavily between both. You could feel the tension building, the heat.

“I think…” you started, your voice shaky, “I think people would lose their minds if I did something like that.”

His lips curled into a slow, knowing grin. “Maybe that’s exactly what they need.”

He let the words sink in before continuing, his voice dipping into something darker, more seductive. “You don’t need to live your life based on what others expect of you. There’s power in choosing for yourself.“

This conversation wasn’t going the way you’d imagined. You had expected judgment, correction—but instead, he was… encouraging you.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

You looked away, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” Charlie said softly, his voice dipping even lower. “I think you know exactly what you want. You just haven’t allowed yourself to feel it fully.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, and you couldn’t ignore the way his words wrapped around you like a dark temptation. There was a part of you that did want something—something wild, something free, something dangerous. But this? Here? With him?

“It’s okay to admit it,” Charlie said, leaning closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear now. “Sometimes… surrendering to what you really desire is more powerful than fighting it.”

Your breath caught, and for a second, you leaned into him, drawn by the magnetism of his words. It was intoxicating—the way he seemed to know exactly what to say. But you pulled back, confusion warring with the strange attraction that was blooming inside you.

“You’re a priest,” you said, as though reminding him—and yourself—would somehow break the spell.

Charlie chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand temptation. Sin is… fascinating, isn’t it? Especially the kind that makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.”

There was something so wrong about this conversation, and yet, you couldn’t deny the pull. The way he was making you feel—seen, understood, even desired—was something you hadn’t expected to find in this place.

He held your gaze, his confidence palpable. “You crave connection. An escape from the chains of expectation. You want to live life on your terms, even if that means stepping outside the lines drawn by those who think they know better. I admire that.”

“You really don’t know what you’re getting into,” you said, trying to regain some control.

“Perhaps,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “But what if I’m willing to take that risk? To explore those uncharted waters with you?”

“Is that what you do with all the girls who come in here, Father?” you shot back, trying to mask the way your pulse quickened at the thought.

“Most don’t provoke me the way you do,” he said, his voice low and velvety. “They’re afraid to stray too far from the righteous path. But you… you have a light about you that beckons me closer. It’s intoxicating.”

Your cheeks warmed under his intense scrutiny, but you quickly shook your head, refusing to be swayed. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You’re a priest.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, isn’t it?” he replied smoothly, his gaze unflinching. “What does that really mean? I wear the collar, sure, but I’m also a man—one who understands the darker desires that lie beneath the surface. You’re drawn to them, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I’m just curious,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.

“Curiosity is a dangerous game,” he said, his voice a seductive whisper. “Especially when it leads you to someone like me. You could explore all the answers to your questions, and perhaps even find the absolution you didn’t know you were seeking—if you dare to take that step.”

“And what’s the price for that?” you challenged, not ready to give in but undeniably intrigued.

“Just your trust,” he said, his gaze piercing through your defenses. “Let me guide you. Allow me to show you that the rules can bend, that the lines can blur. And in return, you’ll discover a side of yourself you never knew existed. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper, “but I’m not so easily led.”

He leaned in closer, their faces mere inches apart. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He ran his thumb delicately along your lower lip. “Lose yourself in me. Let me be your forbidden pleasure, your dark indulgence. Together, we can create a sin so divine, it will set your soul free.”

You feel his thumb diving inside your mouth. He pressed his thumb deeper, exploring the warm, wet cavern of your mouth as if mapping your innermost terrain.

“Mmmm, so eager to please," he purred, his other hand sliding down your side to grip your hip, holding you steady. "Your mouth was made for sin." With a subtle twist, he coaxed your tongue to swirl around the intrusion, a sinful game of give-and-take that left you breathless and wanting more. "Such a willing little temptress,"

And before you can process, he’s kissing you. And things gets heated, fast. It doesn’t seem to matter that you both were sitting on the couch from his office, inside the church. He claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging in to dance with yours in a primal, urgent rhythm. The scent of your arousal mingled with the musky undertones of his cologne, fogging the air with a heady, addictive haze. His hands roamed your body, possessive and demanding, as he pulled you closer, his own arousal throbbing against the confines of his trousers.

“So sweet," he growled against your lips, breaking the kiss only to nip and suck his way down your neck, leaving a trail of heated, open-mouthed kisses. "Such a delicious little sin."

His fingers deftly unfastened the buttons of your blouse, revealing the lacy bra beneath and the creamy swells of your breasts. You gasped, feeling his lips on your skin. Desperate and wanton, hungry.

He kissed and licked a path downward, pausing to toy with the lacy edge of your bra before tugging the delicate fabric aside with his teeth. His hot mouth closed over the swell of your breast, his tongue swirling to coax forth a responsive moan. His lips slid lower, fixating on your nipple. He suckled, the rhythmic pull of his lips and the scrape of his teeth sending jolts of pleasure-pain shooting through your sensitive flesh.

“Mmmm, you taste so divine," he purred, his free hand sliding up your thigh to brush against the damp fabric of your panties. "Every inch of you is made for sin."

You could foresee his intentions even before he started to move. His lips went lower down your chest, over your stomach, to the waistband of your skirt. With practiced ease, he slid his hands down your curves, peeling away the last of your garments with a hunger that bordered on reverence.

Your skirt and panties joined the discarded heap of your blouse and bra on the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath his intense scrutiny. His eyes raked over you, drinking in every inch of exposed flesh as if committing it to memory. The sight of you, spread out before him, was a feast for his sinful appetites.

“Exquisite," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "You're a vision of decadence. I'm going to indulge in every moment of our encounter, savoring every morsel of pleasure you offer me."

With that, he sank to his knees before you, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs as he gazed up at you with a wicked promise in his eyes. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper against your most intimate flesh.

And he went at it, eager to devour. He started off with a long, languid lick with the flat of his tongue, licking from the edge of your slit all the way to the clit. It was utterly sinful, erotic.

He lapped at you, his long, dexterous tongue swirling and delving with a sinful expertise that made you gasp and squirm. The flat of his tongue glided along your slit, gathering your sweet essence before he darted the tip to tease the sensitive bump of your clit. He licked and suckled, alternating between long, languid strokes and fast, frantic jabs of his tongue, each one designed to drive you a little crazier with need.

“You taste so good,," he purred, his words muffled against your pulsing flesh. "I could eat this sweet cunt all day and never tire of it."

Two fingers slipped inside you, stretching and filling you as his tongue continued its relentless assault. He pumped them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue's movements as he brought you closer to the edge. His fingers curled, seeking that special spot that would send you plummeting into ecstasy. With each pass, his touch grew firmer, more insistent, as if trying to coax the very essence of your being from your depths. His lips and tongue never ceased their worship of your clit, suckling and flicking against the throbbing nub in a maddening dance of pleasure and desperation.

He could feel you teetering on the brink, your sweet cum flooding his fingers as your hips bucked and writhed in mindless need. His tongue worked frantically against your clit, a dizzying whirl of licks and suckles that left you breathless and begging for more. One last, long lick, and you were sent hurtling over the edge, your orgasm ripping through like a thunderclap.

“Yes," he hummed, his voice a reverent whisper. "Let it happen. Let me feel you cum for me." And as the waves of your climax crashed over you, he remained, drinking in every last drop of your release like a man dying of thirst.

And you thought that would be it, but no. He rearranged you, laying you down as he stripped off his cassock in a hurried tug. The garment joined the pile of your clothes, and he wasted no time unfastening his belt and shucking off his trousers. His massive cock sprang free, the thick, pulsing length already flushed and throbbing with need.

He loomed over you, his thick, throbbing cock jutting out before him like a red-hot brand, burning with the need for release. With a knee, he pushed your legs apart, spreading you in blatant invitation, before positioning himself between your thighs. One hand tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his burning gaze as he lined himself up with your most intimate entrance.

“Last chance to turn back," he growled, the tip of his cock notched against your aching flesh. "Once I sink into you, there's no going back. You'll be mine, body and soul." He paused, his expression almost wistful. "But I know you won't refuse me. You want this, as much as I do."

With that, he surged forward, burying himself in your warmth with a groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

He filled you slowly, deliberately, each inch a decadent slide into heaven as he stretched you impossibly wide around his girth. The sensation was overwhelming, the burn of his intrusion mixing with the sweet, tingling pleasure that only he could evoke. When he finally bottomed out, he paused, savoring the feeling of being completely sheathed within you. He was huge, and you could feel every throbbing inch of him as he pulsed and twitched inside you.

“So perfect," he breathed, his voice low and husky with satisfaction. He took a deep breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he fought to regain his composure. "You were made for me. Every curve, every hollow, every inch of your sweet cunt is tailor-made to take my cock."

He began to move, slow and deep at first, withdrawing until only the thick head remained before plunging back in, his strokes growing firmer, more insistent as he lost himself in the mindless pleasure of the joining. — He took you like a man possessed, his pace growing faster, more erratic as he chased his release. The couch creaked in protest beneath both, the sound mingling with the ragged breathing and the obscene squelch of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy. Your back arched, pushing your pert breasts toward his devouring mouth as he feasted on one while still pounding into you. He growled against your skin, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the maelstrom of pleasure wracking your body.

Your eyes rolled back, feeling him pounding deep into your cunt as he suckled your tit. Wary, you used a hand to cover your mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

His mouth left your breast with a wet pop, and he sealed his lips over yours in a fierce, dominating kiss. His tongue invaded, claiming yours in a sensual dance that left both breathless. All the while, he continued his relentless pace, his cock pistoning in and out of you with brutal efficiency. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your sweet cream coating his shaft as you teetered on the brink of another orgasm. With a groan, he broke the kiss, his eyes blazing with a primal intensity as he prepared to unleash his own release.

“Cum for me," he commanded, his voice a raw, desperate snarl. "Take my cock, just like that. Fuck- come for me. Come on my cock.”

The mix of the sensations and the sheer desperation on his voice, how needy it suddenly sounded did it for you. As your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clamped down around him like a vice, cum gushing out to coat his cock and balls. The sensation was enough to tip him over the edge, and with a hoarse bellow, he buried himself to the hilt and came, his thick seed pulsing deep inside you as his body shuddered and spasmed.

“Fuck!" he gasped, his hands gripping your hips like an anchor as he rode out the waves of his climax. "Yes... oh, god... yes..." He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch as he struggled to catch his breath.

As you recovered, you started to process. Thinking to yourself. Did you- did you just fuck a priest? Maybe you ARE as troublesome as people claim.

He slowly pulled out of you, his softening cock slipping free with a wet plop. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his eyes never leaving yours. "Don't overthink it, my sweet," he murmured against your mouth. "Just enjoy the afterglow."

He leaned on his elbow, his free hand gently brushing the hair from your face as he took in your flushed, sated features.

"We've both crossed lines. Lines we can't simply erase. But perhaps that's for the best. Perhaps this is the key to setting you free." A sly smile played on his lips as he stood, his naked form glistening with sweat in the dim light. "Now, how about we continue this little sin of ours in the bed, hmm?"

And as that idea enticed you… you realized that perhaps you ARE a lost cause.

#father charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie mayhew

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celestialseph · 4 months ago

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DADDY — FATHER C. MAYHEW

synopsis: you’re sinless; sent to father charlie mayhew to study beneath him.

cw: NSFW-MDNI HEAVY corruption, blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, daddy kink, fingering, mentions of age gap (reader is 18), misogyny, mentions of abuse, power dynamics, sorry this is super long :c

it had been four days since you’d last seen home. at this point, you are still counting the days away from it. you weren’t necessarily complaining, though. according to your father, it was the path god wanted you to take. as such, you had his full guidance and protection.

you were to study beneath father charlie mayhew. it was an honor to you and your family; poor, religious commune natives. aside from it being one less mouth to feed — a woman, no less — it was also the biggest opportunity you would ever get to learn about god in a prestigious manner. college was out of the question.

father mayhew was waiting for you at the airport. you weren’t certain why, but you didn’t expect to meet him immediately. you guessed a man like him would just send a car, but alas. he was tall and exceedingly handsome. handsome enough that it made you blush upon making eye contact with him. you decided that your reaction was fine because you could still focus properly in the meantime.

the first few minutes of the car ride were awkwardly silent, passing by painfully slowly whilst father mayhew exited the airport parking deck. by the time you were able to leave, fathew mayhew finally spoke first, “i know so little about you. please,” he insists, glancing over at you with a soft grin, “tell me about you.”

so you did. you felt embarrassed, going on a tangent to include the poverty, religious society, any education you were ever blessed with came directly from the church; your father called it god’s mouth. normally, your explanation as to your backstory ellicits a distasteful response. you’ve heard of abuse and misogyny from hateful people, often accompanied by a wince or shutter. but not from father mayhew, who nodded and listened intently without any god-straying comments in mind. it made you feel at ease.

“you consider yourself to be close with god?” he asks after you finish telling him about your desire to learn. you nodded hesitantly, shyly agreeing but still somewhat doubtful in your mind.

“there is still more to learn,” you finally say, your eyes catching onto father mayhew’s hands as they grip the steering wheel, thankful that your with someone capable of teaching you.

“of course,” he agrees, “but not tonight, i’m afraid. you must be wide awake.”

he was correct. you were extremely jet lagged from traveling across the country, and you had not eaten since the detroit airport the day prior. your nerves were shot for a majority of the trip, allowing you to go long hours without sleep and practically forgetting to eat until you’re on another plane with an hour until touchdown. currently, it was nearing ten p.m.. you nodded, agreeing and he smiled again.

finally getting to his home, there was little discomfort by this time. you felt strangely secure in charlie’s presence despite just having met him. unlike men you were accustomed to that often made you feel uncomfortable, father mayhew seemed above that; a god-abiding man full of knowledge he wants to relay. you didn’t fear inappropriate comments or impure thoughts with father mayhew.

you follow his lead to the front door, his scent enough to make your knees weak as you remained close. he opens the door, turning to face you better as his left hand moves to the small of your back, inching closely to your ass. he guided you inside, a gentle act of kindness you decided. father mayhew was not your regular guy. he didn’t indulge in temptation, nor was his mind filled to the brim with twisted fantasies.

charlie moved ahead, leading the way towards the dining room, which had an open view to the kitchen area. in a separate room was the couch, it’s room lights turned low until it was nearly pitch black everywhere else except for the kitchen.

father mayhew, despite being an evolved and sophisticated man, still harbored uncertainties. his gaze was dark; nothing like the gaze of your previous pastors or priests. it was a visual that was almost capable of running a shiver down your spine. “i don’t want you to feel as though you’re alone, right now.” he finally says, approaching you closer until he’s able to usher you into the living room after flicking on the lights.

you listen carefully, ensuring you understand what you assume to be ground rules. you expected as such, being a newcomer in someone else’s home often came with strings of some sort. with this, you had no desire to disappoint father mayhew.

“because, you’re not,” he finishes as the two of you sit down. politely, he turns closer to you, able to stare into the depths of your eyes if you let him. “while you learn, it’s my job to learn about you,” he says, his fingertips barely grazing against the hem of your skirt. “so you must tell me if anything makes you feel uncomfortable.”

you nodded simply, though you doubted there was anything father mayhew could do to make you uncomfortable around him.

“i don’t imagine that would be a problem,” your quiet tone announces. father mayhew smiles softly, as though to thank you, and it easily melts the goosebumps of terror down your back. despite carrying an energy that reads him as irritable, he was quite the opposite.

“if this is going to work, you must be comfortable with me. it’s my job to protect you while you’re with me, so i need you capable of telling me what you need, or want.”

you nodded again, gaining the bigger picture that father mayhew would act as a guardian of sorts during your time studying under him. while you never had the privilege to attend college, it was easy to pretend and think of father mayhew as a professor, you his student.

“do you know what you want?” father mayhew’s voice nearly made you tremble, interrupting your inner thoughts as you imagined father mayhew as your professor. certainly, he would be extremely kind as a professor, too.

“to be closer with god,” you reply out of instinct, having only one objective in your mind since you were young. he smiled, and almost laughed but stopped himself.

“no, with your life. certainly, there’s something you’ve wanted,” he says, “you don’t travel all that way for nothing.”

he was correct. thousands of miles later to end up on father mayhew’s couch seemed unlikely. god hasn’t directly spoken to you about this move, but you knew it to be the correct path. aside from getting closer with god, you couldn’t easily recall anything you’d wanted in life that was anything more than replaceable.

well, there was one thing you could think of, but decided against saying it aloud. not only was the prospect of it insulting to your faith, but you seriously doubted it was anything father mayhew wanted to hear.

“is it sin that holds you back?” he asks, his voice softer now as he noted the change in your expression. you’d only just thought of something and are now trying to hide it, he could tell by the shift.

you only nodded. you were a sinner, despite not having the guts to say it aloud.

“tell me your sins,” he encourages, leaning in closer to you but still keeping a comfortable distance. you hesitated, but recalled that father mayhew required you to be completely honest with him.

“it’s lust, father mayhew,” you confessed quickly, feeling a small weight removed from your shoulders and added to you stomach. you were terrified of his possible reactions, certain that he’d ask you to leave mere hours after you just arrived.

“i see,” he says beneath his breath, “it’s a normal vice for some to share. you’re only eighteen; certainly, you’ve never been in an intimate relationship?”

you shook your head, embarrassed. so embarrassed, in fact, that you didn’t notice the difference in father mayhew’s pants as he struggled to keep his erection under control. you felt the burn behind your eyes as tears made their way. you were not expecting such a confession within the first day of meeting him. “i’m not a whore, father mayhew. i can’t stop thinking about it.”

“i know you aren’t,” he quickly replied, his hand gently placing against your cheek as he swiped his thumb along your tear trails. “love keeps no record of wrongdoings. god forgives you; there is no reason other’s can’t.”

you nod weakly, despite your mindset staying the same. you couldn’t forgive yourself for your temptations; you were deadly curious, wanting to know how it felt to be held by a man.

a man like father mayhew. while it felt utterly sinful to think of him in any way other than as your mentor, you couldn’t help but wonder if the touch was at all similar to the feeling you got when father mayhew touched your cheek and rid your tears. you inspected his free hand while he didn’t notice. you saw the veins; felt the calloused padding of his fingertips against your cheek.

“it’s curiousity, isn’t it?” he asked, the faintest of grins on his face as he inspected your flushed face closely, his hand now busy moving hair out of your face. any excuse to touch you a little bit longer.

you nodded, thankful that father mayhew was able to understand your predicament.

“it’s human nature,” he eases, your eyes finally meeting his before he finally moves his hand down, a soft grin present, “you’ve never been kissed before? touched?”

“no, father mayhew, absolutely not,” you assure quickly, shaking your head briefly, “i’m saving myself.”

“for god,” father mayhew finishes with a subtle nod. you debated on correcting him before lightly shaking your head.

“for a man of god,” you correct him awkwardly, “preferably.”

something changes in his expression at your words. perhaps a brow raise or a signature, subtle grin, but he looked at you differently now. it was a good different, certainly, but still new and strange.

you felt ashamed; confessing to your mentor, a priest, of your worldly desires. you had no interest in the tangible — money, cars, properties — but instead, the intimate love of a man. you could feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment once more, this time a fire that seemed to light all over your body.

still, father mayhew remained quiet, his hand now resting extremely close to your thigh. he seemed lost within you, simply watching you with a somewhat amused expression. for a brief few moments, you assumed father mayhew would assure you that your sins were capable of being forgiven, or that perhaps there were methods to avoid temptation.

but he never did; the empty air filling the house quickly until the only thing you can hear is your heart thudding beneath your flesh.

“how did you avoid temptation, father?” you finally asked, your voice small, terrified that you may disturb some form of peace he had found. still, his expression didn’t change. if anything, he seemed lighter.

“it’s not without difficulty, of course,” he assures. he seemed nervous, now. his eyes couldn’t hold your gaze for very long anymore, “i’ve come to accept certain things, one of those being that i’m a man with needs, much like every other man. the initial task of maintaining celibacy was for eve and adam. while we want more people to join the church, we must also accept that temptation will follow. the advancement of the human race relies on men like me, and women like you, after all.”

men like him and women like you. his words replay in your head approximately twenty times and you still were unsure if you’d heard them correctly.

silence lingers between you. your mind felt fuzzy for nearly five minutes, processing father mayhew’s words carefully. you were certain you’d heard him correctly. you were certain you’d understood him perfectly.

you looked at him again. he seemed closer now, glancing down at your lips when you nervously bit the bottom one. you studied him entirely; your initial impression that he was handsome still standing strong. even now, he was capable of making you feel secure, despite the uncertainty lurking. “our god sees all. he knows your true desires, even if you can’t admit to them. what you’re experiencing isn’t sin, but a test; i can help you understand it better.”

his voice was so quiet you’d hardly heard him speak, capable of brushing it off entirely if it weren’t for his hands. one rested on the meat of your thigh, his fingers dipping ever so slightly beneath your skirt.

your breath caught in your throat, vividly memorizing the warmth that spread throughout your body, and how warm father mayhew was.

“would you like to know a man’s touch?”

you feverishly nodded, feeling his warm breath dance across your neck as you were thrown in a daze. his touch felt so pleasurable already; you could only imagine if he were to continue. besides, father mayhew was a man of god — likely the closest man to god for many, many miles.

if father mayhew partook, there was no possibility it could stray you from the lord. he was gentle, using his free hand to grab onto your waist, pulling your body onto his lap with ease, his fingertips never leaving your thighs for too long.

“have you ever touched yourself?” he asked, his tone low and raspy as his lips lazily dragged along your clothed breast, making your lips quiver.

“y—yes, father,” you reply shamefully, despite the fact that he now had his hands all over you — his mouth, too.

“did you ask for forgiveness?” he asked quickly, to which you proudly nodded in response. “good girl.”

the sentiment made your core tighten for a brief second. your panties fell damp, feeling pathetic that it merely takes his voice to summon your arousal. it almost made you feel embarrassed when father mayhew’s hand slid beneath your skirt, feeling the wet cloth covering your heat.

instead, he smiled softly, his fingertip swirling around the fabric as you bit down on your lip, unsuccessfully suppressing whines everytime he grazed against one particular spot.

“i want you to feel comfortable with me,” he spoke softly, as though his fingers weren’t actively pulling your white panties aside. your gaze met his again, starstruck by the sincerity of it. you wanted to keep looking at father mayhew while he made you feel good. “i want you to call me daddy, okay? no more ‘father’.”

his fingertips traced down your heat, your mind immediately turning into a pot of sinful thoughts as the dam of temptation shattered. you weren’t certain if the sensation made you want more, or if you were teetering on dangerous territory.

“okay?” he asks again, his voice still soft and quiet, as though he’s speaking to a stranger. you simply nodded; the only gesture you could make without embarrassing yourself further. you were trembling, and there was no doubt he could feel it.

his finger traced down your clit again, hovering over your hole before restarting the process all over again. your breaths were becoming riggid, and something clawed at the back of your throat, desperately attempting to get out. it wasn’t until his fingertips expertly began circling your sensitive nub did you recognize what it was clawing at your throat for release; you shivered and whined involuntarily, your breaths becoming your words as they grew louder and louder.

his hands were so warm, so much larger than your own and felt infinitely better. not knowing how he will touch you next was part of the thrill, keeping you dangling for more and more. out of options, your arms clung around charlie as the floating sensation returned. when his head slightly turned to plant a swift kiss against your clammy hand, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. you’ve never before experienced a moment in which you genuinely didn’t use your head until now, feverishly kissing him despite your amateur skills.

it wasn’t like it mattered — your skills, that is — because he was quick to take charge again, incapable of being left in the dark for a moment. in addition, his hand that was once busy with your clit now began prodding at your cunt. “oh, god,” you sigh quietly, feeling the tip of his finger gently prod into you, minimally stretching your virgin cunt.

“he isn’t here,” father mayhew’s voice was quiet as you continued to softly moan against his every movement, “only me.”

his fingertip dug deeper, making you squeal and instinctively close your thighs around his hand, restraining his movements despite his finger’s continuing assault against your wet cunt. the pinch of discomfort dissolved quickly into pleasure, the sensation allowing your legs some rest. father mayhew smiles softly, noting the change in your reception.

“fa — daddy, it’s —” you struggled to speak up, his finger burrowing deeper and deeper into you. he made a noise that resembled a chuckle — perhaps a satisfied one — as he slowly stroked his digit in and out of you.

“so wet,” he mindlessly says, “so special and pure.”

he seemed ignorant to your reactions, simply observing as though he had no power to control it. he enjoyed watching you, and you were beginning to think you enjoyed being watched.

“it’s why god brought you to me,” he finishes, mumbling against the skin of your neck. softly and desperately, he gently nips at your skin, leaving a trail of saliva down your throat. you moaned, the sensation of his ring finger joining his middle inside you to stretch you beyond what you ever knew before.

“it’s — ah! — i’m gonna —” your announcement dissipates into feverish, loud moans. something was overcoming you quickly; a warm gush of wetness and tension nearly bursting.

“cum for me. trust me, angel,” his voice remained soft but held a dark undertone, as though he was daring you to unravel on his hand.

you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter as your resolve crumbled. an implosion of pleasure pulsating from your wetness, which spilled all over father mayhew’s hand as you squealed once more.

“good — good girl,” he praises again, his long fingers brushing against your clit as you came down from the orgasmic high. his soft lips gently laid kisses against your neck as you caught your breath.

it seemed you’d made a deal with the devil; your body in exchange for god’s everlasting mercy.

#father charlie mayhew #father charlie mayhew x reader

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celestialseph · 4 months ago

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Doing It All For Love

𐙚 Reeling after her meeting with Rhaenyra in the sept, she takes advantage of the one thing that reminds her most of her true love; you. Even if you are Aegon’s wife, Rhaenyra’s only daughter and technically, her step-granddaughter.

𐙚 Alicent x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader (tw: step-incest, age gap; alicent is reader's step-grandmother and 38/reader is 20, manipulation, slight dub-con)

AN: i am still writing lamb to slaughter i am just rlly turned on by alicent being manipulative and being in power <3 reader is of age, no i am not doing the math

Alicent can't breathe. The power, her very control on matters is slipping. Aegon is lost, Aemond a violent monster. Helaena lost to her grief. Matters possibly be any worse. Of course they could. They always can.

She had told Rhaenyra to her face that war was due, that it was inevitable. Alicent knew the succession had not been changed, that Viserys did not change his mind.

But was Alicent to blame for wanting power of her own? To have developed a taste for it since it was first forced down her throat? Was it so bad of her? Her father had drilled in her so hard Aegon’s claim that had to be what she truly wanted. Why else would she forcibly usurp the only person that has ever loved her.

But it was far too late. All of it set in place. The board was set. Time to play the game before them. But she couldn't deny her feelings. Noy truly. She was angry. Angry at her father, angry at her king, at Aegon.

“Your grace?” you call softly.

Alicent half smiles, but it isn't sincere. She isn't the queen anymore, you are. She foolishly thought if she rushed and married you to a newly crowned Aegon that Rhaenyra would bend. She didn't know Daemon would simply declare war for his better half as you were now considered a 'hostage’ in the capital.

“You are the queen. You can call me Alicent, or mother…” Alicent walks towards you, and allows her hand to reach your face. “...or grandmother.”

“You're so young to be a grandmother.” you assure her.

“You think I look young?” Alicent feeds off your validation, so eager to please. You don't know if it's sincere or a survival tactic but she doesn't care, it turns her on all the same. “You’re such a dove, aren't you? Flaunting about the keep as you please. So insistent on making me and your betters happy.”

“I just want to please you all so you don't take my head.” you admit rashly.

“Take your head?” she cocks hers. “Why would we?”

“Because my mother is…my mother is a traitor and so is my father. I have traitor’s blood.” you say softly.

“You have the blood of the dragon and you share Aegon’s blood. Not all is treacherous.” Alicent tries to calm you, even though the words affirm what you fear people say about you is true. You are the blood of a whore, a traitor. And the worst is you are no bastard, but the daughter of an even worse fate, Daemon Targaryen.

“I wish to be a good queen to you, to Aegon and them.” Alicent reaches to hold your hand and pulls you closer. You gaze up at her.

“You are a good queen. Probably more loved than I.” Alicent’s voice is calming, but not to be sweet or kind or caring. No. She wants you in a false state of comfort.

The more Alicent looks at you, studies your face. The more you look like Rhaenyra. She could see why the court confused you two at times. You didn't have a shred of Daemon in your face, she thanks the gods for that. But you have her former friend’s face. The friend she so desperately clung to as a child. The one who turned her back on her. And now her daughter was clinging to her.

Alicent leans in and kisses you, it’s gentle and she can physically feel you react to it.

You immediately pull back, “Your grace-”

“I am not the queen, you stupid girl.” she grabs your hands firmer, her nails digging into you. “You took that position, usurped it from me.”

“As you have usurped my mother.” you speak back, matching her cold tone. As soon as the words leave you, you regret it.

“I am so sorry, have I hurt you?” she asks as she brings your hands to her face to inspect. Her tone changes to soft again, as she watches blood pool around the moons her nails left in your skin.

“I want to go home!” you admit, tears streaming your face. “I want my mother.”

“I wanted your mother too once. She was my…friend. But she has turned her back on me, on you.” Alicent kisses your hands gently.

“You lie.”

“Do I sweetling? Where is your mother? If I had heard my daughter had married my enemy I’d swarm the palace with my dragon and burn it to ash. But she has not yet even made a move and it has been weeks.” she shakes her head at you, almost mocking you for being so naive.

Alicent holds your head, and leans in to kiss you again, this time more roughly. You don't react, you let it happen. Alicent controls it, every movement she has the power and orchestrates it. And you're so stupid, naive and powerless, you let her.

“What would Aegon say?” you break away, mostly to catch your breath.

“He's with painted whores as we speak.” She licks her lips. You taste like fruit, something she knew you were fond of. She watches your face fall. “Does that upset you?”

“No.” you shake your head. “I do not think so. I don't love him.”

“I know.” Alicent goes to kiss you again, and this time you kiss back.

Your hands go to her waist and you whimper into her mouth. Her hands begin peeling you of your gown, a soft white and gold, and you work to untie the strings on the back of hers.

It’s all happening so fast you can't control anything, she's in charge. You can't help it, you miss your mother. Your gown is slipped off onto the floor and Alicent reaches to pull you closer, gently turns you and then throws you lightly on her bed.

“Have you two lied together?” she asks, finishing stripping her gown down, the dark green material pooling at her feet.

You can't help but stare at her body, despite four pregnancies her body still was slender, and a soft warm color painted her skin. You watched Alicent remove her seven pointed star necklace, kiss it and set it down.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” she asks, beginning to sit beside you on the bed.

You shake your head and watch her take pieces of your silver hair in her hands. God you looked so much like Rhaenyra, she needed to have you.

“Can you kiss me again?” you ask, snapping her out of her trance.

She smiles, mostly because she knows she has you, and she does. She kisses you again, and places herself above you.

You wonder what Rhaenyra would say, what she would think. They had been childhood friends, and now you were kissing her old friend and newest enemy, about to sleep with her. It was all entrancing. Would Daemon have your head when they eventually stormed Kings Landing?

Alicent dips her fingers in her mouth, coating them with spit before settling inside your cunt. You groan, and arch your back at her touch. Pure pleasure shoots through you as she continues to pump her digits in and out of you. She watches you with hungry eyes, picturing your mother in your spot.

You're a gentle little girl, always so keen on pleasing others, Alicent smiled slightly at you finally being pleased. She knew Aegon did not take your pleasure into account, her nasty excuse of a son could not please anyone. Not even the maids he took his pleasure from.

“Feel good sweet dove?” Alicent coos, voice full of sex.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” you cry out, pressure building as you become closer to orgasm. “Please don't stop.”

“I won't, I won't.” she says softly, mostly to herself.

You looked good like this, sweat stuck to your forehead, writhing in pleasure, pleasure given by her. Alicent pulls her fingers out, which causes you to omit soft pleading for her to go back to what she was doing.

She settles between your legs, and gives small kisses on your thighs.

“Don't tease me, please your grace.” you beg.

“I’ll do what I want, won't I?” Alicent doesn't wait for your answer until she's latching her mouth on your now wet cunt, sucking and licking away, the sounds of your moans growing louder and filling the chamber.

She didn't care if maids heard, or passed by and saw. All she cared about was that you were close to cumming on her tongue. She traced your cunt up and down with the wet muscle, ensuring your clit got the most attention.

Your orgasm hits hard, causing you to wrap your legs around her head, “Gods gods gods gods!”

As you ride your wave of pleasure, Alicent licks up the mess and gives your cunt one last kiss before pulling up and looking at you. Her mouth was wet, no soaked with your cum. You blush at the sight.

“Sweet girl.” Alicent wipes her mouth on the duvet, and lays beside you.

“Do you want me to…please you, your grace?” you ask.

She shakes her head, “Dowager queen.”

As you cuddle into her side, still breathing heavily, the one thing that crosses Alicent’s mind is your mother.

#alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #EEEEEE!!!!!

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celestialseph · 4 months ago

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Closer to the Gods || Alicent

Years into her marriage Queen Alicent permits only you to share in the more intimate parts of her routine. Despite the deep bond that connects you to Her Grace you are not certain that your feelings are returned – until she shows you.

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x lady-in-waiting!reader

Content: 3.1k words, repressed feelings, yearning, religious guilt, somewhat post-partum alicent, no y/n, smut (wlw, thigh riding, body worship, oral, v fingering, gentle smut), 18+ MDNI

Masterlist – Ao3 link

Her hair smells like citrus. The fragrance, enhanced by the steam of the hot water rising from the surface of her bath, mingles with the one of the perfumed oils that slick your hands as you weave them through her tresses. The scent makes you light-headed, as does the sight of her bare skin above the water. Her Grace sighs deeply when you massage her scalp, leaning into your touch with all the weariness she carries. You breathe her in, subtly, applying some pressure to her temples where you know her headaches to linger.

Born into a lesser house you were sent to be raised at court at a young age, a token of loyalty after the coronation of King Viserys. However, life at court changed after the death of his first wife and as a lady-in-waiting you soon became the new queen’s favourite. Ever since the birth of her first son she keeps you closer than any of the other ladies, allows you to take on the more intimate chores such as dressing and undressing her, brushing and washing her hair, keeping her company during the late hours of the day, singing and more often than not reading to her. Two years into her marriage now the queen will allow only you to take care of her in such a way and send away her servants once the more menial tasks such as filling the tub have been completed.

By now you know her whims and preferences better than your own. You feel an intimate affection for her Her Grace and it translates into the gentleness with which you touch her. Most evenings it is only you and her – unless the king requests her presence. Those nights you spend thinking of her in her soft white nightdress with her auburn hair falling in waves over her pale breasts underneath. You try to distract yourself from the thoughts of him touching her smooth skin, lacking the gentleness you know she desires. No one else but you is allowed to see her in any state of undress, let alone touch her. But he simply takes what he wants, what he thinks he is owed by right of being her husband. By right of being the king. Would that you could give her what he does, but you can never sire a son, you could never be anything but what you are now.

In front of the fire with your hands covered in scented oils you feel a shameful heat rising to your face, the immoral thoughts of replacing her husband a constant source of guilt. Rinsing her hair, you finish your routine. The water has cooled down and you know Her Grace will want to retire soon. During these moments she prefers solitude, as she told you once, dedicating herself to prayer or silent contemplation.

“I will have the servants remove the tub.” You absent yourself from her side, drying your hands on a piece of cloth. “If that would be all, Your Grace, I shall retire for the night.”

You are already turned around, placing her nightdress on the nearby table. Your hand traces the delicate ornaments of Myrish lace when her voice reaches you again. “Wait.”

You hear Her Grace stepping out of the tub and keep your gaze lowered respectfully. Once her robe is fastened around her narrow waist you dare look up again. She approaches you on bare feet, drops of water glistening on her skin like morning dew on the petals of a soft pink rose.

A damp thumb comes to swipe along your cheekbone as she considers you, soft eyes roaming your face. “You look lovely with your cheeks flushed.”

Her lip trembles as she says it, as though the confidence she displays is nothing but an act. Your queen has complimented you many times before but never in a such a way that you feel her words caressing your very soul. For a moment you are quite out of breath.

Her fingers dance along your collarbones then, toying with the seams of your dress. “I do not know why you should be allowed to see me and yet I am deprived of the same pleasure.”

“My queen, I do not know–”

Her face falls as she misreads your words for rejection. You catch her hand before she manages to tear it away and press it to your heart instead. Looking down you see that she must have been biting her nails again, her skin red and scabbed where she pulled at it.

“What I mean is…” You feel tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, the sting of insecurity and hesitation. “I am not much to look at. Not compared to Your Grace.”

She shakes her head, dismissing your words. “Call me Alicent.”

“I would not–”

“Please, for once let us not hide behind curtesies. I have grown tired of it, I have grown tired of you leaving when I want you the most.”

Her words claw their way underneath your skin, your heart racing at the implicit confession. You always thought your feelings to be unreciprocated, that Her Grace merely considers you a companion, perhaps a friend. But her eyes are wet with unshed tears, her hand pressing against your aching chest as though she is trying to reach inside.

“You would truly want me?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“Every night you leave,” she says and it sounds like an accusation, laced with pain and longing.

“But Your Grace, you wished it so– I did not–”

“I know,” she interrupts. “I know.”

Her other hand moves to cradle your cheek, wiping a stray tear from your skin. She looks away for but a moment, as if to collect her thoughts, and when your eyes meet again her gaze is fierce, determined.

“I have tried to repress my feelings,” she says, her lips trembling again. “But I cannot stop– I cannot stop thinking about you. When you are not here I have to restrain myself not to call for you. I have to fight off the urge to run to your chambers to be near you. I am… so tired of pretending.”

You lean into her touch, closing the gap between you to rest your forehead against hers. “So am I, Alicent. So, so tired.”

“It is sin,” she whispers, brushing her nose against yours, her fingers ghosting over your lips. “To covet another, to covet–” Her words trail off, the thought left unspoken. “And yet I never feel closer to the Gods than when you touch me.”

Your queen swallows the air between you when she presses her lips to yours. Tentative and searching her mouth moves against yours with a softness that almost pains you. She tastes like sweet wine, smells of lavender and citrus. Unsure where to touch her you mirror her movements, stroking along her warm cheekbone, tracing the line of her jaw down to her neck where a few droplets of water have gathered. Your other hand still holds hers against your chest but then she slides it upwards to grasp your throat and you gasp into her mouth, warmth pooling into your belly. Her tongue grazes yours and she winds her fingers around the curve of your neck until they press against your spine and she can pull you in closer, lips firm and bruising.

You can feel her body through the garments between you, soft and pliable. She deepens the kiss and you get dizzy, your head spinning at the taste of her. The sensation is new, thrilling and addictive. When you break away she glances down at your dress and you make to untie it, glad to have chosen one that is not quite so hard to take off.

In your shift, you feel well-nigh naked. The cool sea air has goosebumps spreading all over your body, a breeze streaming in through the wide windows that overlook Blackwater Bay. Alicent takes you in, her eyes following her hand that drags the neckline of the sheer fabric down your shoulder until her fingers dance across your bare skin. The loose undergarment falls once it slips from your arm and you are fully bared to her. Instinctively, you cross your arms in front of your chest but she soon takes your wrists to pull them down.

“You are beautiful,” she whispers. “Do not hide from me. I have longed to see you as I have felt seen by you for a long time. Let there be nothing between us from now on.”

You nod and she unties the robe around her waist and lets it fall from her shoulders, silky fabric pooling at her feet in iridescent waves. Even though you have seen her bare many times before this time feels different. You do not have to hide your admiration, do not have to worry that she might catch you staring. Instead you allow yourself to revel in the sight of her, a body that has never truly been her own, changed from the months she carried her child, from the way she lent it to the king so he might have his son at last. Even though she does not look much changed when she is wrapped in her beautiful gowns you are witness to the subtle changes she wears underneath, the lines that run across her abdomen where her skin used to be stretched, her hips fuller and her breasts hanging lower than they used to.

To you, she is even more beautiful than ever before.

“May I kiss you?” she asks. The answer is a desperate nod.

She is more bold this time, even if you still hesitate, still wonder how you can ever touch her freely when she is your queen, when she can never truly be yours. The apprehension soon dissipates when you get drunk on the taste of her, of the feel of her soft curves following the shape of your own when she pulls you close. Her nipples brush yours and you moan wantonly, craving her so much that the feeling is akin to physical pain. Your whole body is burning, melting, your blood hot and heavy as it gathers between your legs.

You tentatively begin to run your hands over her body, following the line of her hips over her lower back, then up the ridges of her spine. She shivers underneath your fingertips, the same goosebumps that cover your body spreading across her still damp skin. As her tongue flattens against yours, her own hands curling firmly around your backside, you cannot hold back the desperate whimper that falls from your lips.

“I want you,” she whispers into your mouth. “I want all of you.”

“I am yours, Alicent,” you say. “I will always be yours.”

She breaks away and takes your hand to lead you over to her bed. Your lips are already swollen, your mind clouded by your need of her. She gently pushes you onto the soft mattress, expensive, silken fabrics welcoming you in her space. It feels too intimate, to be here, to lay where she lays. When she comes to rest on top of you it is like a vision from the Heavens, her slowly drying curls falling like a veil over your face until it is only you and her, breathing in tandem as the world around you blurs into nothingness.

Her mouth is hot when she kisses you and you meet her eagerly, pull her down until your bodies touch and you feel her weight on top of you. She moves her leg between yours, her thigh pressed against your core, and you whimper as the warmth of her touch spreads within you. A throbbing pain settles there and you cannot help but cant your hips to rub against her, soon grinding more feverishly as her tongue delves into your mouth. Alicent's hands roam your body but you hardly take note of each individual touch, so focused on the pleasure that builds inside of you.

"Please," you whisper, inching ever closer to a tipping point, your lungs struggling to inhale enough air.

Alicent looks down at you through heavy-lidded eyes, as though she wants to fully take in your reactions, helping you along as she presses her thigh firmer against your cunt, fingers teasing at your nipples. You gasp, forgetting to breathe as the pleasure tears through your body in hot tingling shudders. Alicent swallows your moans with her mouth, reaching between your legs now to feel your release, two fingers pressed against your wet core until they enter you easily. She carries you through your crest with slow rolls of her hand but soon the pressure builds again and you clench around her intrusion, unable to hold back.

When the rolling waves of pleasure finally subside, kisses turn slow and aimless and you take a moment to calm your racing heart. Alicent presses her lips to your face and neck with an ardent intensity while you hold her in your arms, fingers curled around her thigh. You can feel her arousal dripping against your fingertips and begin to stroke her there, revelling in the gasps she releases against your skin. The gentleness with which she touches you sends tears to your eyes, for what you are not quite certain. Perhaps it is the realization that you have never been loved like this, the fact that it is your queen, the woman you have been dreaming about for years, who holds such affections for you.

"Alicent," you say and she lifts her head to meet your gaze. "Please, I want to taste you."

At first she seems hesitant, almost like the young girl she used to be, uncertain whether your intentions are true. But after a moment she seems to come back to herself and remember who you are, her gaze softening, gaining confidence and trust. She settles on her back beside you, propped up by silken pillows with her skin glowing like embers, draped in the faint light of the fire and a dozen candles.

She is beautiful with her lips swollen by your kisses, her pale breasts exposed and hardened, a faint line of hair leading from her belly button to a thicker tuft at the apex of her thighs. You admire her for a moment, kneeling in front of her with your limbs still trembling in the aftermath of your pleasure. What love you held for her before this night has grown insurmountably and you believe with all your heart that this cannot be sin, that it cannot be wrong when it is nothing short of worship.

You gently spread her thighs, revealing her to you fully. Reverent kisses to the insides of her knees, down her thighs that feel so soft against your lips. She moans when you caress a particularly sensitive spot and the sound is like music, urging you to leave more kisses all over skin, following the lines on her abdomen up to her breasts. You take one into your mouth, sucking gently at her hardened nipple until it is pink and swollen. Alicent weaves her fingers through your hair, the other hand caressing your shoulder. Her hips buck, wanting for attention, and you finally succumb and settle at her core.

With your eyes locked on hers you leave a kiss on her mound. Alicent links her fingers with yours and presses your intertwined hands to her abdomen as if to ground herself. Her other hand brushes a stray curl from your forehead. You slowly press your mouth to her cunt, tongue dipping between her folds to taste her. She moans again, louder this time, and you continue to attend to her, dipping your tongue into her and kissing every part you can reach. You forget yourself after a moment, lost in the whimpers and gasps that fill your ears, her soft skin and sweet taste.

As her pleasure builds, Alicent's hand fully tangles in your hair and she pushes your face deeper against her, her other hand gripping yours so tight that you begin to feel a distant pain. You cannot help your own wanton moan, wanting to make her feel like she made you feel. As you focus on her pearl, applying gentle pressure to her most sensitive areas, you use your second hand to spread her folds and dip your finger into her entrance. When you meet no resistance you add a second one and begin to rub them back and forth inside of her. It does not take long until her hips stutter as she rolls them against your face, the music falling from her lips now muffled by her hand.

You can feel her release as though it is your own, her muscles clenching around your digits, her release wet on your tongue as her whole body shudders. You continue until she pushes your face away, looking up at you see chest rising and falling rapidly, her brow damp and lips parted. A sense of deep bliss settles inside of you at the realization that you made her feel such pleasure, that she allows you to see this intimate side of her that you are not sure anyone else has ever seen.

She releases your hand to brush her hair back and you sit back on your heels to clean your face, taking in the sight of her without shame this time. You are not sure you could leave her now, not sure if you could ever have enough of her, already feeling the need again to touch her, kiss her, worship her.

After a moment Alicent reaches out, her hand wrapping around your wrist before she pulls you toward her. Curling against her side you sigh at the softness of her body, hiding your face at her neck. She welcomes you, arms slung around you tightly as you notice her calming down more and more. You are exhausted, in a way, and yet you are not sure that the night will come to an end so soon. Her hand in your hair and the fingers trailing the curve of your breast remind you that she has not had enough of you either.

For the moment you are both content holding the other close. You breathe in the scents of her bath, listen to the slowing rhythm of her breath. Alicent trails gentle kisses along your brow, then her arms tighten around you and her mouth comes to rest by your ear.

"Promise you won't leave again."

You pull back, shifting to bring your mouth back to hers. “Promise you won’t make me.”

Thank you so much for reading! Kudos, comments, reblogs etc are as always much appreciated but most of all I hope you enjoyed the story ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3

#alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower

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celestialseph · 4 months ago

Text

The Queen

summary: dairy/letters & lingerie kink || alicent stumbles across a secret of yours and is more than happy to make it come true

pairing: modern!alicent x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, pre-established relationship, dom!Alicent, sub!reader, queen honorifics used in the bedroom, lingerie kink, use of a leather crop, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, thigh riding, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.3k

a/n: happy day seven of 12 days of smuff!! i went into a fugue state and wrote 10 pages in 2 hours. the hold that olivia cooke has on me should be studied by science. anyway.

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @olliviacooke

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

Alicent’s POV

She was humming, swaying her hips to a new album she’d downloaded earlier that week as she smoothly moved the duster along the wooden surface of your nightstand, careful as she guided it between the lamp and the small potted plant you loved so much. Getting a bit too into the music she was listening to as she tidied up your shared bedroom, though, she accidentally bumped against the growing stack of books on your nightstand.

“Shit!” Alicent hissed as a few went tumbling to the ground. Sighing, she bent down to grab them, half-heartedly cursing you for insisting on buying new books before you’d finished the ones you had.

“Huh?” She wonders outloud, pausing the music on her phone when she sees her name scrawled in your familiar handwriting. Her fingers brush over the soft, leather bound book as she picks it up, her lips pursing as she reads the words “Personal Journal” embossed on the front in fancy gold lettering. Her brown eyes widen and quickly glance around the room, despite the fact that she knows she’s the only one home. Biting her lip, she runs a finger over the spine of your diary, weighing her options. On the one hand, she knew it would be a horrible invasion of your privacy to look but… well, what if it was something important?

She shook her head at the thought. She wasn’t going to be one of those snooping partners! You already told her everything anyway, it’s not like there would be anything in your diary she didn’t already know! You were basically an open book, in fact, it was one of the things she loved most about you – your willingness to be so honest and transparent.

No, she thought, carefully setting the diary back on your bedside table, I’m not going to! I’m simply –

Okay, sue her. She’s only human and her name was right there! She’d make it up to you.

Glancing around one more time, she flipped open the leather-bound book, flipping through it to the page she’d spotted a moment ago. She found it pretty quickly and nervously bit on a nail as her eyes scanned over the page, noticing the date first. It was from only about a week ago. She read on.

I’m not even sure how to bring up the topic, it doesn’t really seem like something you’d just bring up at the dinner table? Like, “Oh, honey, yeah work was great today! Kevin from accounting is finally getting married, I know! Can you believe it? Oh. yeah, one more thing! Can you boss me around in the bedroom like a drill sergeant?” I mean, come on.

What if she isn’t even into it? What if she wants to be the submissive one? I don’t think Alicent’s totally vanilla, I mean, there have been so many sparks of… something. Sometimes she tells me to do something, usually innocuous like making sure the door’s locked before we leave or to get the laundry hamper from the closet but… God, the way she says it makes me shiver. And when she’s talking on the phone to someone at work? That authoritative voice makes me melt.

Sigh. I just need to find the courage to ask.

Alicent finally finished the entry and looked up from your journal, blinking as thoughts raced through her head. After a minute, she closed the notebook and placed it carefully back on your bedside table, just like it was before it fell off the table.

She could barely keep the smirk off her face as she grabbed her purse and keys and shut the front door behind her, a devious, delicious plan quickly forming in her head.

She knew exactly how to make up for her actions.

Reader’s POV

You sigh as you unlock the front door, quickly tossing your keys into the small bowl on the entryway table before kicking off your shoes.

“Babe?” You called, furrowing your brows at how unusually quiet the house was. Alicent’s car was in the driveway and normally she’d be playing music by the time you got home but today… nothing. You’re about to call out again when the sound of heels clicking down the hallway makes you stop in your tracks, your bag falls from your hand as your girlfriend finally appears from around the corner.

“Good day at work?” Alicent asks coolly, tilting her head as she leans against the doorway. Meanwhile, you feel dumbstruck as your eyes scan over her appreciatively, taking in every dip and curve as if you’d never seen any of them before. Your eyes skim over her outfit, a black, lacy bustier perfectly framing her chest, with a matching black thong clinging to her soft hips, fishnet stockings held up by an enticing garter belt, all the way down to black, pointed toe heels. She’d even taken the time to straighten her usually curly hair, smoothing it down into a clean, nearly intimidating style.

She smirked, brown eyes sparkling at your awe-struck expression, smiling when your eyes finally landed on her face; you couldn’t help but swallow when you saw that she was wearing that expensive red lipstick she only brought out for special occasions, the one you love so much.

Her heels click on the wood floors as she strides over to you and it’s only then you realize that she has something in her hand – a black leather crop. The sight of it makes your knees weak.

“I asked you a question, baby,” she says gently, locking eyes with you as she gently cups your cheek with in her hand, “It would be rude not to answer.” There’s a hard edge to her voice that makes you lose what little train of thought you had.

“I… uh,” you stutter, blush rising to your cheeks as you stare helplessly at her, fighting to keep your gaze locked on hers, “W-Work was good, yeah. Same as… as usual.” You finally finish, your chest already heaving as you rub your thighs together, desperate before you even know what’s going on.

“How wonderful,” she smirks and leans in, giving you a sweet kiss like she normally would, but today it has your head spinning, “What do you think of my little surprise?” She asks, though there isn’t really a question in her tone – she already knows your answer.

“I love it,” you breathe, hardly giving her time to finish speaking as you let your gaze wander over her yet again. “What, uhm,” you cough nervously, “What gave you the idea?”

She smiles again, shrugging; you nearly jump out of your skin when she softly runs the leather crop up the inside of your thigh, starting at your knee and stopping tantalizingly close to your core. “Just got the sense that maybe you’d be into it…” She says casually, like you’re talking about the weather, “Was I right?”

All you can do is nod your head, but that’s not good enough, apparently. Her eyes narrow and she wraps a hand around your neck, not too harshly, mostly just sitting it there but it’s enough to make you whimper in the back of your throat, breath catching as her perfectly manicured red nails just barely dig into your delicate skin. “I don’t think that’s the proper way to address me, is it?” She coos, a faux pout to her lips.

“N-No,” you say shakily, your eyes searching hers, “No… ma’am?” You try, inwardly cringing at how your voice squeaks.

She clicks her tongue like a disappointed mother, the sound going straight between your legs, as she fixes you with an intense stare. “Baby, you know how I sometimes call you princess?” She asks, smiling proudly when you eagerly nod, “Well, tell me. Who’s more in charge than a princess?”

Your throat goes dry and you swallow thickly, darting your tongue out to wet your lips before speaking. “T-The queen?” You ask softly, pride feathering out in your chest like the train of a peacock when she smiles and nods again.

“That’s right!” She praises, almost as if she was speaking to a child; perhaps you should be offended at her condescending tone, but, if anything, it just makes your heart beat faster. “The queen. Do you want me to be your queen today, sweet one?” Again, you nod, so she continues. “So, address me properly.”

“Yes, my queen.” You breathe the words, core clenching softly around nothing.

“Very good,” she praises, leaning in and lightly brushing her lips over the pulsepoint on your neck, “Do you want to keep being a good girl for your queen?”

“Yes, your grace, please.” You say with an eager nod, feeling like you’ll explode if she doesn’t touch you, or so something soon.

“Then be good for me and go to the bedroom,” she nods as she speaks, her big brown eyes looking directly into yours, “And strip.” She finishes coolly, leaving you no room to argue.

You nod quickly and practically leap down the hallway, blushing when you hear her giggling behind you. As soon as your feet hit the soft rug in the bedroom, you tug at your clothes, quickly shedding your sweater and work trousers before unclipping your bra and sliding your underwear down your legs, haphazardly shoving everything into the hamper because you just know she’ll say something about the mess if you don’t. Finally, not knowing what else to do, you stand by the bed, arms clasped in front of you.

She doesn’t make you wait long and you bite your lip in anticipation as her heels click slowly down the hallway, smiling shyly when you finally meet her gaze again as she enters the room. Just like you knew she would, her eyes immediately dart to the hamper and her smile widens when she sees your clothes from today resting on top.

“What a good girl I have,” she praises as she saunters over to you, her hips swinging enticingly as she moves. Without another word, she sits on the edge of the bed and gently places the crop down next to her on the bedspread, before she beckons you over with a crook of her finger, “You like your queen’s special surprise for you, huh?” She questions, tilting her head as she peers up at you, her hands resting gently on the curve of your hip.

“Yes,” you nod, your eyes trailing down to her cleavage before you can help yourself and it’s only then that you notice that she’s breathing nearly as hard as you are, a blush extending down her pale neck and chest, “I love it, my queen, so much.” You nearly whisper, dizzy at the thought that she might be enjoying this just as much as you are.

“Don’t you think you should thank me for your surprise, princess?” She asks coolly, smirk widening as she sees a look of realization in your eyes.

“Yeah, yes, please,” you nearly beg, already tempted to sink to your knees.

She smirks at your eagerness, all but laughing when you whine as she pushes herself back further, out of your grasp and into the center of the bed, making enough room for you in front of her. Again, she crooks her finger and you hastily follow after her, kneeling between her fishnet-covered legs. With another smirk, she silently spreads her legs, bending them at the knee enough that the heels of her shoes dig into the bedspread.

Something between a gasp and a whimper escapes your lips as you let your gaze travel down, between her legs, where you’re met with the shocking realization that the black thong she has on is indeed crotchless. Your eyes stay glued to her center, now beautifully framed by two strips of lace fabric; the sight makes you lick your lips without thinking, taking in the way her folds shimmer, even in the low light of the bedroom. Finally, you manage to rip your gaze away and lock eyes with her again, your blush deepening at the hazy look in her eyes as she leans back on her elbows.

“Go on, princess,” she breathes, that familiar, aroused rasp finally present, “Thank your queen.”

You spring into action, wrapping your hands around her soft thighs as you lean in, kneeling between her legs. Your eyes flutter as you look up the length of her body while you press soft, sweet kisses to the inside of her thighs, your eyes widening when you see her lean over and quickly grab the crop.

You jolt as she brings it down, smacking one ass cheek with it, not enough to hurt but enough to leave behind a pleasant little zing. “I don’t believe I asked you to tease me,” she admonishes, a playfulness to her tone still as her other hand brushes into your hair, red nails scratching soothing against your scalp, “Thank me properly.” She commands, guiding your head to exactly where she wants it.

You’re more than happy to obey and you press a kiss to the center of her folds, right on her clit, moaning against her as you feel it twitch against your lips. She lets out a breathy moan as your tongue licks a long, straight line up her center, right down the middle, before your lips gently seal around her bud.

Your eyes flutter closed again as you softly suck at her clit, moaning lowly in your throat at her familiar sweet taste. You move in just the way she likes, kissing and licking over her heat with a practiced ease, pride blooming in your chest with every moan, whine, and sigh of your name. You shake your head against her, attempting to bury your tongue in her twitching core as the tip of your nose teases her clit, your chin dripping with her when you finally pull back.

“Princess, fuck,” she breathes above you, head tilted down so she can watch as you feast on her, “Fuck me, come on.” She orders, giving another sharp little spank to your bum with the crop.

You do as she says, smiling as you flick your tongue over her bud while you glide two fingers through her folds, making sure to get them nice and wet before you slide them carefully into her, relishing the long moan she lets out as you do. You can’t help but whimper as her walls clamp down tightly, pulsing around your fingers as you crook them up in the way you know she loves, your lips sealing softly around her clit again, eyes fluttering as you watch her chest heave.

“Good fucking girl,” she whimpers, accentuating each word of praise with another slap of her crop against you, the pleasant sting you clench around nothing, “Make your queen come, princess, good girl.” She moans, tilting her head back as you redouble your efforts.

Your arm aches as you fuck your fingers into her, keeping them quirked up against that small rough patch within her, but you pay it no mind, focusing only on the hand in your hair and the taste of her in your mouth, your hips canting desperately in the air.

You flick your tongue against her bud once more, in just the right way, and it sends her over the edge with a gasp. You moan into her as the hand in your hair tightens and her walls rhythmically squeeze against your fingers, nearly tight enough to push them out. You move steadily, bringing her through her high as you have so many times before, only stopping when she finally goes lax against you.

You press kisses against her thighs and hips as she comes down, breathing heavily above you. Eventually, the hand in your hair tightens once more, and you sigh happily as she pulls you up.

“You did so good,” she praises softly, her voice breathy as she presses her lips against yours; she moans softly as your tongue licks into her mouth before she pulls away to trail kisses down your neck, “So good for your queen, my sweet princess.” You sigh happily, eyes fluttering shut as you straddle her, one of her legs between yours.

Your eyes shoot open as she bends her leg, pressing her fishnet covered thigh firmly against your center with a knowing smirk. “Goodness,” she gasps, her beautiful brown eyes widening once she feels how wet you are against her, “I think you deserve a reward too, for treating your queen so well.”

“Please, holy shit,” you gasp, your hips already moving on her leg, the pattern of her stockings adding a delicious friction, “P-Please, your grace.” You quickly correct yourself when she brings her crop down once more, making your back arch.

“Good girl,” she whispers, mouthing at your neck. She lets the crop fall to the bed again as she cups your ass with both hands, guiding your hips as you move against her, “Take what you need, princess, you earned it.” She breathes, smirking as you shudder above her.

You nod mindlessly, swallowing thickly as you already feel the knot in your stomach tightening dangerously, each drag of your clit over her stockinged thigh sends shockwaves up your spine. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier as you get closer and she smiles happily, bouncing her thigh against your wet core in the way she knows drives you insane.

“My beautiful little princess,” she whispers, red lips ghosting over your chest, “Behaving so well for her queen.”

You fall apart once her lips seal around one of your nipples, sparks of pleasure bursting behind your eyelids as she carefully sucks the sensitive bud into her mouth, gently teasing at it with her teeth. Your body tenses up as your walls clench again and again, your fingers grabbing at the sheets as you gasp her name.

Finally, your eyes flutter open as your high subsides. Thankfully, you have just enough presence of mind to roll to the side, cuddling against her as your chest heaves.

“Holy shit,” you breathe through a small laugh, your face flushed as your eyes meet hers.

“So, you liked it?” She asks, a shy lilt to her voice now that both of you have had the chance to come down.

“Liked it?” You question, staring at her wide-eyed, “I… I loved it. That was incredible.” You breathe, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder, “Where on earth did all that come from?”

She giggles softly, a guilty look appearing on her face. “Promise you won’t be too upset with me?” She asks softly.

“Of course,” your reply is instant as you card your fingers through her soft hair, “Just tell me.”

“I was cleaning a few days ago, when I had that day off,” she explains, swallowing as you nod along, “And I… may have accidentally knocked your diary off the table and then got curious when I saw my name and… yeah.” She finishes, teeth biting at her lower lip.

Your face reddens a bit, instantly knowing which entry she must’ve seen, but you merely shake your head, about to tell her not to worry about it when she starts speaking again.

“I do feel really bad about it,” she sighs, continuing quickly, “I know it’s a breach of trust but I saw my name and then… I’ll make it up to you, I pr – !”

She gasps as you cut her off with a sweet kiss, shaking your head dismissively, “Consider it made up.”

“You aren’t mad?” She asks hesitantly.

“Mad?” You echo, laughing softly, “My sexy girlfriend bought ridiculously hot lingerie, and a riding crop, just to surprise me and fucked me to within an inch of my life and I’m supposed to be mad at her over a little diary?” Both of you dissolve into a fit of giggles as you finally finish, nuzzling happily against each other, “I think not.” You quip, smirking as your eyes search hers.

“Okay, yeah,” she says with a small eye roll, “I am pretty great, huh?”

“And oh so humble,” you laugh, pressing kisses over the curve of her shoulder before leaning back to smirk at her, “Your majesty.”

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#alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader

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