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redeemingvillains · 2 months ago

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closed & locked - lorenzo berkshire

summary: fact: you are overwhelming smitten with lorenzo berkshire. fact: you think he's smitten with you too. but when you and pansy hear something you shouldn't have, it has you questioning everything you thought you knew about hogwarts' biggest flirt.

words: 3.5k

warnings: v suggestive, probably a bit 18+

author's note: i apparently write for enzo now? who knew. we only have @pizzaapeteer & @prythiansprincess to blame as they have been fueling my obsession completely. i loved this! it was so fun to write! mwahhh!

soundtrack: where i wanna be - arizona

_______when she speaks, it's a dangerous fantasy ________that sets me free, to where i wanna be

Your fingers curled into Pansy's as she tugged you along beside her in the dark corridors of the common room until you reached an alcove along a small landing that provided you both with a glimpse of the boys below. Your heart was thrumming in your chest as you tried to quiet your breathing and she waved the extendible ear excitedly in front of you; you shook your head thinking, again, how crazy this was.

"Don't you want to know what they talk about?" she'd asked you twenty minutes ago as she attempted to pry you away from studying for your potions exam in the library.

"Not particularly, no" you argued as you laughed.

"Really?" she drawled as she tilted her head and put her hand on her hip. "Not even what a certain boy has to say about when he might finally sack up and make things official with you?"

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

"That's-that's not what they sit around and talk about, surely..."

"Well, we can't know for certain unless we try, can we?" she pushed.

She knows me too well you thought now as you watched her lower the extendible ear down just out of sight of the group below. Whether she was excited for juicy gossip or was simply sick of listening to you go on and on about him, Pansy knew that hinting at anything to do with Lorenzo Berkshire was the secret to getting you to do pretty much anything, because gods you couldn't get enough of him.

Even now, you were teetering on your tiptoes trying to catch a glimpse of his lithe figure, the way you knew he'd be sprawled with his legs spread wide on the couch with his cocky smile and his long fingers that he liked to rustle through his thick hair... you felt noticeably hotter under his oversized sweatshirt as you grasped it away from your heated skin. Gods I need to get a hold of myself.

He was the flirt of your year, so you hadn't taken his attention seriously at first, but then banter became flirting became innuendos became his warm palm pressed against yours as he pulled you into him at a Slytherin house party, his plush lips finding yours as his hand cupped your face and you swore you felt fireworks in your rib cage.

You'd been kissed plenty of times before, but after that first kiss with Lorenzo, you weren't actually sure anymore.

He kissed you in a way that no one else ever had; he kissed with his entire body, his hands grasping your face or tangling his fingers in your hair, his lips soft and demanding, his tongue doing ungodly things to yours that had you grabbing for him as he undid you one seam at a time, his hips pressing into yours in a way that you felt in every fiber of your being, and when he let out a low groan against your mouth? You were fairly certain you departed from earth completely before floating back down in a haze.

Simply put, you were instantly and irrevocably addicted to him.

And the better part of you believed he felt the same way.

At first everything between you was purely physical, how often and how fast you could tear each other's clothes off, but then he'd started to slow down, to take his time with you, to pull back and lock his eyes with yours in way that felt incredibly intimate; he'd kiss you lavishly, fully, just exactly the way you loved and he'd hold you long afterward, adamant every time that you stay the night, pulling you into his arms so your head rested on his bare chest where you could hear his heartbeat and the rumble of his voice.

And you'd talk for hours, sometimes even until the grey of dawn snuck beneath the curtain of his window; he'd trail his fingers down your bare back or play with your fingers, tangling them with his own until he rested them over his heart.

He told you what scared him, what excited him, he talked about his future and, more often than not, your place in it. Surely, you thought, as you frequently did, it'll only be a matter of time until he makes things official.

But the topic always seemed to evade your conversations, and a growing part of you consistently wondered why, your insecurities popping up every time you heard another girl talk about him or another rumor circulated about who he might have hooked up with despite his adamant denial...

Pansy motioned you closer to her and the ear in her hand and you could just make out the recognizable timbres of your friends voices through the tinny line.

You both leaned in eagerly for several minutes, until you came to the realization that the boys were just as talkative and exciting together as they were with you... which was not. at. all.

After an enthralling forty-minute discussion about quidditch you were both sprawled on the floor, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Paaannnns" you whined in a whisper.

"You don't even have to say it. Terrible idea" she acknowledged. "Why are they soooo boring?"

You were about to answer her when you recognized the sound of your name and sat up quickly, eyes meeting hers.

"Where is she tonight?" you heard Mattheo ask.

"Studying, s'got a potions exam tomorrow" Lorenzo said casually.

"Hmpf" Mattheo laughed, and then, "Does that mean Aurora's coming by then?"

Several of the boys laughed.

And your heart plummeted so fast into your stomach you grasped the wall next to you to steady yourself.

"AURORA!?" Pansy whispered ferociously, looking just about as panicked as you felt. "Aurora Bellhaven!?"

You shook your head in disbelief, in shock, as you felt the stinging pressure of tears behind your eyes. There was another girl?

"Fuck off" you heard Lorenzo say.

"Whaaaat? I think it's sweet" Mattheo answered.

You were going to kill him.

You were going to kill all of them.

They knew, they fucking knew Lorenzo was hooking up with someone else and didn't tell you, not even Theo who you'd been friends with longer than Pansy. They all let you walk around like an utter fucking fool. You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment as the tears fell hot against your cheeks and you felt Pansy's arms around you.

"You could just cut that bullshit and lock things down with YN bro" you heard Theo say, but it felt like far too little too late for the sentiment even as you peeked through your fingers as Pansy.

"Seriously, what is the plan there?" Mattheo asked.

"Ehh, you know how it is" Lorenzo drawled.

And you held your breath, because you were quickly learning that you certainly did not know how it was.

"We're a thing, but the door's never completely closed."

Someone let out a low whistle.

And you heard a deep exhale like one of the guys blew out a breath in surprise.

"Cut throat, mate" Blaise muttered.

"Fucking stupid" Theo said and you could picture him shaking his head, his eyes glacial; he'd never approved of the two of you together and you were slowly realizing this may be exactly why.

"And how does she feel about that?" Mattheo asked.

"It's pretty clear she doesn't know, you ass" Theo snapped as you heard the thud of what sounded like a pillow being thrown.

There was the sound of scuffle, then a moment of silence, and then the topic of conversation changed, simple as that, leaving Pansy staring at you in open-mouthed shock before you slid your hands over your face again to muffle your own sobs.

What. The. Fuck.

The next morning Pansy marched down the stairs that led to the common room from the girls' dormitory to find Enzo in his normal spot, leaned against the wall, waiting for you.

"She's not coming" she said sharply as she walked past him.

"Well good morning to you too" he said, sitting up straighter before glancing at the empty stairwell and then back to her. "What do you mean she's not coming?"

Pansy spun to face him.

"I mean she doesn't want to have breakfast with you, and she doesn't want to see you today."

He reared back and his face broke into a smirk like she'd told a ridiculous joke.

"One, of course she wants to see me, don't be fucking daft. And two, what are you? Her guard dog? Mind your business, Parkinson, meddling doesn't suit you."

Pansy could tell he was trying to play it cool, but the way his eyes were narrowed and the way he had snapped at her at the slightest notion that he wouldn't get what he wanted, wouldn't have you, meant her words had had the desired effect; she'd listened to you actually cry yourself to sleep the night before, and she was more than ready to lay into him.

"She doesn't. want. to. see. you" she retorted, enunciating every word. "And I'm not her guard dog, I'm her friend, who happens to love her and care for her, two emotions you seem utterly incapable of. I'm not going to sit back and watch you take advantage of her anymore."

His eyebrow cocked at that.

"Babe, I promise you she would not call what I do to her taking advantage" he said as he smirked again. "If anything, she's taking advantage of me, but it's okay, I like it that way."

"You're disgusting" she said, rolling her eyes as she walked away from him.

He and Pansy had never been close, but she'd also never come at him like that. His hand flexed in and out of a fist in frustration and confusion as he watched a few other girls come down the stairs, none of whom were you.

Had he woken up in an alternate reality, because what the fuck was going on?

Breakfast was...weird.

Enzo had walked to the Great Hall alone, in silence. He was normally content to listen to you talk, to feed off of your morning energy, the way you seemed excited about every new day; he didn't realize how much he relied on that, he felt groggy and moody and instantly reached for the coffee.

Everyone had left your spot open on the bench next to him like you might appear out of thin air, slip in beside him, slide your hand onto his thigh or snuggle your head into his shoulder. But you never did. And he could definitely do without the third-degree he was getting from Theo who stared angrily at him all morning. But he brushed last night's conversation off, it wasn't his fault he didn't want to sit around and talk about his feelings.

For the rest of the morning his eyes searched the corridors for you like a lost puppy, your extended absence and Pansy's comments starting to properly bother him now as he cursed the fact that you didn't have any classes together today.

So when he laid eyes on you that afternoon in the courtyard, he felt a physical weight leave him. Fucking finally he thought, walking towards you, eager to talk to you, to touch you, to confirm for himself he hadn't dreamt the last four months you'd spent together. He was genuinely thrilled to see you... until he wasn't.

You were talking to the guys on the starting line of Hufflepuff's quidditch team, and his feet slowed as he watched you smile shyly and tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear in the very way you used to with him in the earliest days of him trying so damn hard to flirt with you.

He felt something distinctly primal shift in his chest. He swallowed deeply and a thought fluttered through his head that sounded an awful lot like 'Mine'.

He steadied his stride, walking right up to you as he wound an arm around your shoulder.

"Boys" he said dismissively.

"Babe" he shined, looking down to see your wide eyes looking up at him.

He smiled and breathed a sigh of relief; he could read you like a book he'd written himself and he knew you were looking at him in a way you'd never looked at anyone else, starry-eyed, glazed over with affection, full of adoration. Got her he thought.

But then your eyes shifted. In an instant, he watched them change in front of him like a wall coming down as you stepped out of his grasp.

"Good luck at practice" you waved to Cedric Diggory, who might as well have had hearts in his eyes as he watched you go and his teammates laughed and patted him on the back.

Enzo's attention snapped back and forth between your complete dismissal of him and the obvious way Cedric was checking you out.

"Hey - Hey! Eyes right here you fucking prick" he said, shoving Cedric's shoulder in an effort to get him to stop looking at you.

"I'm sorry?" Cedric scoffed.

"Don't fucking look at her like that."

"Like what, Berkshire? And what difference does it make to you anyway?"

Enzo could feel his blood running hot in his veins.

"I know you two had something going on" Cedric continued, "But, what is it she said, boys? Something about the door never being completely closed? Sounds like an open invitation to me."

Enzo's heart dropped into his stomach.

And for the first time in his life, he didn't have a snide remark or a quick comeback at the ready. The bell rung for class and the Hufflepuffs turned to leave, laughing as they left him there staring after them.

He carded his hands roughly through his hair and then over his face. The door's never completely closed? Hadn't he said that exact thing the night before? So why did hearing it now make him feel physically sick.

Enzo’s head was fucking scrambled, and by the time dinner came around, he couldn't tell if he wanted to scream, punch someone or to light something on fire.

Everyone at the table could sense his mood and gave him a wide berth. You weren't there, because of course you weren't and he sat in furious silence, shoveling food in his mouth.

And then, through the muffled noise of 1,000 people eating together in one room, he heard the distinct sound of your voice, your laugh and it was like his body was attuned to recognize it as his eyes shifted despite himself to see you standing with Dean Thomas in the doorway. In reality it wasn't a big deal, plenty of people were milling around or coming and going, but to him it felt like there was a spotlight on the two of you.

Dean was standing far too close to you and looked far too comfortable and happy about it, like he was flaunting it as you laughed again. Enzo wanted to steal the sound right from your lips, to put it in a jar and stash it somewhere only he could listen to it, because it was the same sound you made when he kissed the sensitive spot where the base of your neck met your collarbone and no one had the right to hear how fucking perfect that was besides him.

"Bro" he heard Blaise say, trying to get his attention.

But he couldn't look away.

The same fire that burned in his veins before had reignited now as he watched the two of you leave together. Why the fuck were you ignoring him and brushing him off all day? And when did every guy in the four fucking houses decide they had a chance with you when he'd spent the last four months making it abundantly clear that they didn't.

"BRO!" he heard Blaise say again, and his eyes snapped to him to see him gesturing at the table just in time for every goblet within arms-length shatter, spraying glass, water, and pumpkin juice all over the table. His anger had radiated strongly enough to shatter glass. Fucking perfect.

Someone cast a quick spell to clean it up, but the group was now staring between him, your departing figure and back again.

"Bet you'd like to close that door now, wouldn't you?" Theo muttered under his breath.

And everything clicked into place.

"You told her..." Enzo sneered as his eyes narrowed at him.

"What?"

"You told her I said that!" he said, his voice rising accusatorily as he pointed at Theo.

"I think you're a right idiot when it comes to her, that's no secret Enz, she could do a hell of a lot better–"

"–Oh, fuck off!–" Enzo said, getting to his feet.

"–But, I didn't say anything to her. You're both my friends. Bro code and whatever."

"No, she knew, she said it to Diggory."

"What?"

"He asked her about us and she said 'the door's never completely closed'!"

Fury was radiating off of him in waves, and several heads from other tables began to turn at the outburst.

"And that bothered you?" Theo clarified.

"Of course it fucking did!!" Enzo said, nearly shouting now. How fucking stupid could Theo be?

Theo gestured to him as if to say "See?! If it bothers you, how do you think it makes her feel?" Gods. How fucking stupid could Enzo be?

"Fuck!" Enzo said, exasperated as he tried to gather himself before he moved to run after you.

You were bone tired.

You had been sleepwalking through the day on less than an hour's night sleep, simultaneously fighting the urge to stay strong and to give up completely, to shuffle into Lorenzo's room, to curl into his soft, rumpled sheets that smelled like him, to curl into his arms, to let him help you forget everything you'd heard the night before.

But even thinking about what he'd said had the dam of pressure building behind your eyes even though it felt impossible to produce any more tears.

You turned down the last corridor before the dungeons which was empty and quiet with nearly everyone at dinner, when you heard quickening footsteps and turned to see Lorenzo's tall figure behind you.

"Salazar fucking Slytherin" he cursed, nearly out of breath. "You have been impossible today."

You opened and closed your mouth, your body attempting to process being alone with him and being this close to him; you could smell his cologne, could see the faint freckles on his nose, the hair falling over his face, the perfect curve of his lips and eventually the feel of his warm skin against yours as he grabbed your hand.

"Come onnn—" he said, teasingly, pulling you into him despite the resistance you showed.

Fuck he knew exactly how weak you were.

"—I don't know what you've been playing at, but I'm exhausted and I'd love nothing more than to peel every piece of clothing off of you and—"

"–Shame. Aurora just isn't doing it for you?" you quipped.

You had envisioned so many other more clever ways to confront him, but being this close to him, this tempted by him left you no choice. You had to say it as much to hear it yourself as to confront him.

Regardless your words had the intended effect as you saw his eyes widen, his mouth fall open slightly and his grasp on your hand loosened enough for you to pull away and wrap your arms around yourself.

"Merlin" he said as he ran his hands over his face and groaned as anger and pain welled up inside you.

"Fine" he said flatly, a little angrily, in a way you hadn't heard him speak to you before. "You want to know about Aurora?—" he asked, letting his cold gaze fall on you.

You tried to stand a little straighter. No. Yes? No? You opened your mouth but couldn't form a coherent reply.

"—Cause I am more than happy to fill you in on exactly how she and I spend our nights together" he said, taking a step towards you.

You took a step backwards and your face fell, as you bit your bottom lip to keep from crying.

"Lorenzo" you said quietly, begging him to stop whatever torture this was.

You saw his jaw tick at your plea.

"Aurora makes the best sleeping draught of our year."

Confusion and panic were written on your face as you tried to figure out what he was saying as his eyes met yours, unwavering.

"I don't..." you started.

He moved to close the space between you and cupped your face in his hands, holding your gaze to his own.

"I'm so fucking pathetic for you that I can't sleep when you're not with me. So I have to pay that girl an ungodly amount of money to make something to help."

Your eyes searched his, seeking even a hint of untruth and finding none. You opened your mouth and closed it again for the thousandth time as you brought your hands to rest on top of his.

"But I thought..."

"Yeah it's very clear what you thought based on the way Pansy nearly hexed me this morning."

You swallowed and closed your eyes, shaking your head to try to sort out this information.

"But you said despite what we have the door's never completely closed, I thought that meant—"

"—I knew it! I fucking knew Nott told you, I'm going to kill him!" he said, letting you go and stepping away as his hands curled into fists.

You bit your lip guiltily but didn't feel like giving him an ounce of your truth until you were sure you had all of his.

"Lorenzo" you said quietly, your voice wavering slightly, pulling his attention back to you. "Why did you say it?"

He sighed deeply as he turned back to you, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"You're the only one that does that" he said.

"Does what?" you asked, confused.

"Use my full name. And it fucking kills me every time, to hear how perfect it sounds on your lips—“

"—D-Don't change the subject."

"I'm not."

You frowned at him.

"Look…the boys hound me relentlessly about you. It's constant. All the fucking time, especially Theo" he said, getting worked up.

"And I wanted to bring us—this up—" he gestured between you "—But they started making it seem like such a big deal, like it needed to be a fucking marriage proposal; how was I going to do it? When was I going to do it? What was taking me so long? And at a certain point I didn't even know how to go about it anymore and started psyching myself out..." His face scrunched in a way you hadn't seen before as he looked down at his feet.

Was he... nervous?

"...Like, maybe you didn't even want that with me, or didn't even see me like that because why the fuck would you, you know? I don't have the most...stellar reputation, and clearly you have no shortage of fucking options... And the idea of asking you and you saying no?!?" he scoffed and grimaced, shaking his head. "Not an option, not a chance I was willing to take."

He shrugged.

"So I thought it was better to just let it play out, to stop wishing for shit that's probably too good to be true anyway and just try to enjoy what I could... I don't know… But I do know that today absolutely blew without you. Turns out I really really don't want that door to be open, YN, not even a little bit."

A sweet, slow smile spread across your face.

"But seriously Diggory's fucking dead next match, and I look forward to a long chat with your boy Dean Thomas as well."

You smiled wider and rolled your eyes, reaching to tangle your fingers into his.

"So, just to clarify" you said as you stepped towards him, "The door is closed? We're...?" you let the question hang as you gestured between the two of you. A thing?

"The door is very closed. Locked. With a fucking armoire in front of it, love, has been. There's no one else, there's not going to be anyone else."

For a brief moment, you felt overwhelmingly foolish at what you'd accused him of as you blushed deeply and averted your eyes. But reading you like he always did, Lorenzo moved to kiss you, not wasting another minute of this godsforsaken day to get his lips on yours, to hear your soft sigh of relief against him and the way you melted into him, slowly winding your arms around his neck, your hands tangling into his hair as his tongue tangled with yours.

He picked you up, pulling your legs around his waist as he began to walk you the rest of the way to the common room, never breaking contact even as you laughed and squeezed him tighter.

"Mmpf-wait-wait! It wasn't Theo" you said, pulling back briefly.

"What?" he asked, breaking your kiss only long enough to press you against the wall and begin kissing his way down your neck.

You lost your train of thought as your mind went hazy at the feeling of his wet, warm lips against your pulse.

"T-Theo didn't tell me anything, so don't be mad at him."

"So, what, you reading minds all of a sudden?" he joked. "What am I thinking right now?" he asked as he ran his hand up your thigh, under your skirt.

"I don't need to read minds to know that, because I'm thinking the same thing, Lorenzo" you whispered, drawing out the length of his name and feeling his grasp on you tighten in response.

"Fuck, I literally don't care how you knew, love. We're here now and you're fucking mine and I intend to spend the rest of the night showing you exactly what that entails" he said, kissing you again before carrying you off to his room.

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf, @sleepiibunniiii, @darlingshecried, @girllblogging777, @foivetimesacharm, @clar2aa, @broadwaybaby123, @slytherinscreamqueen, @chelawrites, @loverliner, @smut-anarchy, @locknco

#lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire fanfic #slytherin boys

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nerdygirlramblings · 2 months ago

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Ren wants her story told, y'all 😂 She keeps feeding me ideas.

The pounding on your door wakes you. "Need to get scran 'fore the mess closes!" Johnny bellows.

You disentangle yourself from the covers and roll out of bed, shaking off the remains of sleep. Captain Price had you training on the rubble last night at 2300 hours. He wanted to be sure things were dark enough. He sent you in alone or with one of the others practicing with the night vision goggles, a first for you, and following directions blind. He also had you with him, being Soap's or Ghost's or Gaz's eyes. "Never know who's gunna be where when shit goes sideways. Need to know you can follow the path even if ya can't see it. An' tha' ya can get the others ta safety."

Well not as physically demanding as the training had been, the night had been grueling nonetheless. The green glare of the night vision goggles through you off more than you expected, and despite listening well, you still ended up covered in bruises from when you accidentally walked into a wall or other debris. By the end of the night though, you were proud to say that you'd gotten a sense of distance without a visual and how it differed man to man so when Ghost told you, "Take 10 steps then turn right," you knew to account for his stride and took 15 to avoid collisions.

Giving directions was the hardest for that same reason. Your stride and your frame so much smaller than that of the men on the team that you were constantly correcting your own calculations. You knew it would take a little bit of time, but you hated the thought that you were holding them up.

"Nae worry," Johnny said when he overshot the opening you were trying to get him through. Thankfully, he knew the terrain well enough not to go galavanting off and was able to backtrack to where he needed to be.

It was on one of the stretches where you were practicing your instructions to better fit the task force that you realized how cold you were despite the jumper you wore. Sometime after half two, Gaz tapped your shoulder and held out a plain grey ASDA fleece blanket.

You'd somehow missed the small stack of them on the back seat of the golf buggy, but you recognized the ASDA tag on the blanket at the bottom and took what was in Gaz's hand gratefully. Though thin, the blanket somehow held all the warmth of home. You wrapped it around your shoulders anytime you we're in the buggy with Price, making a note to yourself about triple checking the weather before your next training and to speak to Adam about top layers in your size.

Now the blanket, along with the borrowed jersey and overly large top layers, lay piled on the top of your bed. Since he'd pulled the jersey from what you assumed was a communal footlocker, you felt you had to bring it back to the barracks once clean. From how Price talked about them, you don't think the top layers need to be returned. The blanket you planned to keep because it was so warm and so easily replaceable.

You crack open the door and see Johnny's smiling face in the hallway. He leans against the jam as you turn to get ready. He looks avidly around your room, but you don't invite him in, and he respects the sanctity of your space. "C'mon, lass, brekkie ends soon. Ye doan wan' tae miss a meal when we'll be trainin' 'gain later."

You refrain from groaning but had hoped Price was only kidding when he said you'd be back out at the training facilities again in the afternoon. Instead you ask, "Do I have time to get cleaned up?"

He makes a big show of looking at the time on his phone. "Aye, Ah guess." You grab clean clothes and hoist your shower tote as he says, "Meet us in the mess in 10, yeah?" He heads off towards the mess as you dart into the bathroom.

As you quickly clean up, Soap heads to the mess to grab a tray of food for you in case the mess lines close before you get there. He quickly piles two plates full. He's watched you at meals and knows how much you gravitate to fruits and vegetables, so he dumps a double portion on your plate. He adds a bowl of yogurt and granola so you have protein for the day. His plate is covered with rashers and eggs.

He finds the team and puts both plates down. At Price's raised eyebrow, Johnny comments, "Ren was still sleepin' when Ah went tae find 'er. Told 'er to be here in ten. Ah think trainin' is wearin' 'er down."

Price hums. "Maybe we can find a way for a break soon."

Ghost hasn't taken his eyes off Soap since the Scot sat down. "What else, mutt?" He leveles a glare at the man. "Ya look like yer schemin'."

Soap smiles wide at his pack, leaning over the table to draw the others close. What he has to share isn't for others to hear. "All yoor things are on 'er bed." He pauses, long and pointed, before delivering the news he is giddiest to share. "Almost looks like she's makin' a nest."

series masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed

#cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #omegaverse #omegaverse 141 #omegaverse tf 141 #a/b/o #a/b/o 141 #a/b/o tf 141 #john price #johnny mactavish #kyle garrick #simon riley #nerdygirl says #fierce wars and faithful loves

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darylbae · 11 months ago

Note

there’s just smth about daryl seeing you injured maybe a broken leg or even an amputated one from a bite and limping, someone holding you up as you walk. he’d almost run over to you and pick you up.

a dumb idea — daryl dixon 🩰

in which you were injured on a run, and daryl can't bare to see you that way without helping.

Rick had chosen you for a run, not alone, but for you to go. He'd seen you were quick, efficient with your melee weapons, and were probably one of the best choices. You were joining Rick and Glenn, Daryl having to sit this one out by Rick's orders. He hadn't cleared the prison in full yet, so he wanted Daryl back here to keep watch. Daryl and you weren't exclusively a thing, neither of you had spoken about it at all, but everyone else could see it was waiting to happen. You were currently just really good friends hiding your feelings for each other, or at least thinking you were hiding your feelings for each other. You were sat in the backseat of the car, happily talking to Glenn as the car rolled towards the gates. You glanced out the window to see Daryl, sulking at the gate yet picking his arm up to wave at you. You returned the gesture, a sweet smile on your face that Daryl had become addicted to. One of the many addicting things about you.

Your positive-for-the-end-of-the-world attitude had come to an end when you'd ran into a building to find some cover, the darkness of the building rendering you blind as your leg had been impaled by a broken bit of a glass shelf. You let out a cry, falling to your feet as Rick and Glenn rushed over to assist you. "You good?" "What happened?" Rick had turned a flashlight to your leg, seeing your jeans ripped and stuck to your leg with the amount of blood. You almost passed out at the look of it, the glass had lodged itself in there pretty snug. "We need to get her back, now," Rick demanded, wrapping an arm around your back and coordinating with Glenn to get you safely to the car. Rick had taken his shirt off and tied it around your leg above the wound, before beginning the drive back to the prison. Glenn had trained his eyes on you and your leg for most of the drive, making sure you were still alive and not dying back there. The drive felt like hours, you felt like closing your eyes but Glenn was adamant on talking to you. Telling you about Maggie, telling you about how sweet Daryl seems to be around you, and you knew it was a distraction tactic, to keep you awake and not looking at your completely blood soaked shin.

You heard the rattle of the gates as they'd slid open for the car, and you felt a short burst of relief to be back. "Dar..." You managed to speak, wincing as Rick had reached for your hand to pull you out. "Daryl." Rick and Glenn had their arms under yours, carrying most of your weight for you. Until Daryl had heard the commotion and come out to see what the fuck people were shouting for.

Daryl saw you. Your leg, completely red from the knee down, being assisted into the prison. He wanted to help, he wanted to ease your pain even just a little. Dropping his crossbow to the ground, he'd paced over to you, relieving Glenn and Rick of their duties. "It's okay, I got ya," he cooed, "I got 'er," he'd lifted you, arms clinging to you as he led you to the cell block. "It's okay, sweetheart." Your blood loss wasn't fatal, thankfully, but Herschel was about to have you on the mend in no time.

You'd been allowed to rest, peeling your eyes open after having slept a while. The first thing you were aware of was the pain in your leg, which was thankfully still there. It was still light outside, so it must not have been long at all. A bottle of water and some pain meds were sat at your bedside, and you'd desperately taken them in order to ease your pain. "There's my girl." You heard, and Daryl had entered your cell and sat at your side. "How's the leg?" You chuckled. "It's seen better days." You could've sworn you'd spotted a smile on his face for a moment. "Were you scared? Did you think I was gonna die?" You teased, poking his arm and smiling innocently up at him. "No," he answered, "you're a fighter. I know that." There was something he was keeping to himself, you could see it in his brain. Almost as if he wasn't allowing himself to say it. It had been a tough process even getting to a friendly level with him, he had always kept his feelings to himself. But you liked to believe you were making progress with him, you wanted to. "What's on your mind?" You asked sweetly, your voice like honey, and he was addicted. God, he was addicted. He wanted nothing more than to have you night and day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But he didn't know the first thing about flirting, or even dating. "Nothin," he grumbled, and you sighed dramatically. "Come on, Daryl," you exclaimed, "talk to me. I need some sort of stimulation for my brain." Your voice was light, but you meant it. He paused, almost debating whether or not to say it. "I just care about ya, is all. When I saw ya bein carried in, my mind just stopped and all I wanted to do was make sure you were okay. Told Rick it was a dumb idea." You smiled, poking his arm again. "You care about me, that's sweet. I care about you, too." He grabbed your hand as it made contact with his arm, and just held it between his own. This was his way of expression, to show you how he felt without ruining it with his words. The pair of you just sat in silence, hands interlaced, a stupid grin on both your faces as you stared at each other. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins, a wave of confidence taking over you as you leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. Once Daryl had registered what you'd done, he'd turned his head, closing the small gap between you both for a delicate kiss. He was so gentle, his hands still holding yours firmly, and you wanted to do this forever. "I hope that speaks better than I do." He admitted, and you just laughed, resting your head on your shoulder. "Now get some rest, I don't want to see ya on your feet for the rest of the day."

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon incorrect quotes #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd

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funnyexel · 1 year ago

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what if your stalker loses the remaining piece of human decency he has left

tw: non-con

okay.

he was scaring you, acting extremely scary and out of character in your eyes. even if that's who he's always been under the mask...

"no. stay longer." he demanded said.

"it's getting late, and I've been with you for a few days." you replied back, still trying to be polite and understanding in some way. you kept a comfortable smile on your face as you continued, "remember what I said about having time to miss me?"

he didn't want to hear that shit. you said this so often that it actually made him not want to hear your voice. even with the rampant thoughts of wanting to grab the nearest fabric and shove it in your mouth to shut you up, he brushed his hair back to express mild frustration with your words.

and with all this conversation, you still didn't make a definite move. you didn't get up, you didn't sternly say you were leaving and you definitely didn't get up to automatically pack up your things.

"stay." the shorter his phrases got, the shorter his temper got as well and your patience was getting worn too. you try to be a patient person but when he acts so entitled and childish, you can't help the awkward yet strained laugh that comes from your chest.

"I can't do it. I need to go back to my house." you were stern and here comes the attempt the remove yourself from the premises.

you got up from your laying position on the bed and closed up your already packed bag, you planned this, you planned to leave today and you were executing it.

you could feel the adamant stare on your back coming from him. you rolled your eyes and shook your head. you have a minuscule understanding of what's going on in his head, quite minuscule compared to what is actually going on.

"I won't say it again." you look over to him and tilt your head, you were perplexed by his word choice.

"oh, don't be so dramatic." you utter as you put on sweatpants and you thought he was simply trying to intimidate you with his harsh tone and odd wording. but you were naïve to the obvious signs.

he considered letting you go but the way you looked in those sweats, his sweats. he couldn't. not this time.

he grabbed you by the neck, his thumb on one side of your jaw while his four fingers are on the other side. with his chest pressed up against your back, he pushed the bedroom door closed. he was breathing heavily.

like breathing uncomfortably down your ear.

you mistakenly utter his name and his thumb that was fitted on your jaw, pressed your lips together firmly.

he was clicking his tongue as you felt his head shake next to yours. as your chest was raising and falling noticeably, his icy hand slithered up your shirt and you felt a chilling sensation from your sternum to the top of your esophagus.

you felt your resolve shattering under him as he ripped the bag from your hands and spun you around. he couldn't even began to forge together any words as he brought your face close to his. your scent intoxicating him once more and he feels that certain emotion snap inside of him.

something that held him back from taking in all of you.

pushing you down onto the bed, it didn't feel like how it usually did, soft and welcoming, it felt hard and stringent. he grabs your wrist harshly and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. but his actions were still full of intent as you felt your wrist binded to the bed.

you don't know how to feel. one moment you are protesting loudly and kicking at him and the next you are moaning when he so much as squeezes and twists your nipple through your shirt.

he refused to prep you and give you that sense of pleasure, like this was supposed to be pleasureful, it wasn't. as he had you on your back—right wrist tightly tied onto the bedframe—he made you put your feet on his chest. sadistically, wanting to feel you push away from him as he pushed into you raw. it hurt. like hell.

your free hand pushed your hair harshly out your face as you threw your head back on the bed and in this specific moment he felt your resistance the most. but at the same time he felt the way you were desperately pulling him in and in. like you were just begging him to touch your cervix.

he was pushing in slowly, slow and shallow thrusts into you and rubbing your clit ever-so-often even if you obviously didn't deserve it. he wants to hear those sweet moans, even if those whiny pleads are ruining the experience.

he can't focus on your walls suffocating his dick when all you're doing is crying your heart out. with a clear irritation he pushes down on your stomach as he leans over to get a piece of tightly woven rope. you didn't get a moment to slap him away as he was already looming over you, forcefully putting the rope over your mouth and around your head. tying it tight enough so it won't come off and it will effectively muffle those loud and annoying cries.

"I don't want to hear you speak."

you were expecting a quaint 'understand?' from him but the question would've been a waste of breath because of the way your body forced itself to relax under him.

at this moment he straightened your bent legs and put them on his shoulders, folding your body in half as he stayed at an acute angle. the tears and snot running down your face shouldn't have egged him on into ramming into you harder, faster, and dry especially.

but by the time he was leg up and full on pounding into you, you were wet enough for it. you were turned on by this, by him and his authority.

at least.

that's what he was getting from this.

you bite down on the rope as you whine through yet another orgasm and you sniffle up the snot as your free hand claws into the bed. its like you were scared to touch him. and that did hurt him a bit when he realized but the warmth. the look of vulnerability in your eyes as he does nothing but bully your gummy walls, is as addicting as drugs to him.

panting like a dog above you, he completely stops for a moment. clearly getting lightheaded as he puts one hand next to your head for stability. your eyes shoot open at the suddenness of his movements and as your eyes lock, he gives you such a conceited smirk.

pleased with his actions.

even when he's clearly overexerting himself from how pussy drunk he is.

he takes a huge breath, sitting upright and running his fingers through his hair. yanking your lifeless legs to his chest, he shifts his technique to quick and shallow thrusts. your body jolting violently against your will. but this is what he wants.

against your will.

this is his will.

this is what he wants from you.

he wants you to cum, over and over and over again until you get it into your thick head.

you have no will.

and because you have no will to control your bodily functions, your bound hand clenched in a tight fist as you cum again.

you had a wicked imprint across your face and your wrist was blood red. you couldn't didn't leave. not until he said so. and he didn't say so.

not yet.

leaning down to your ear, his hand squeezes your arm tightly as you sat in his suffocating embrace. stiff in his arms as you didn't want to engage in any touch with him. it angered him.

"do I need to use the rope again."

the dead tone he used in combination to his slow pace of words sent a sharp shiver down your spine.

with a soft exhale of a shaky breath, you hesitantly shake your head and his draped arm tugs you impossibly closer to his side.

"good." he gave you a small belittling pat on your forearm as he kissed your forehead and he's quite proud to call himself

your boyfriend.

a/n: someone pls take this trope away from me. anyway thats all for now, literally can't stop thinking about the possibilities for this. thanks to the anons that were asking for more! honestly made me more incline to post.

more writing

#fanfiction #black fanfiction #smut #yandere #male yandere #yandere scenerio #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere stalker #yandere male #yandere boyfriend #yandere x darling #yandere writing #tw yandere #yandere thoughts #yandere blog #yandere smut

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liiixsturniolos · 4 months ago

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𝒮𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒹𝒶𝓎

chris sturniolo x reader!

(just fluff, use of 'baby', 'y/n')

♡ You are adamant about going to work, although you're in horrific crippling pain from cramps and back ache on your period. The triplets are NOT letting you leave. You're in for a cozy day inside instead.

Your eyes flutter open uncomfortably, you blink away your sleep, and try to sit up. Turning to your bedside, you pick up your phone wearily, missing it with your shaky hand the first time, and turn it on. The screen blinks "4AM." A rippling, aching pain is shooting through your lower stomach.

You sigh to yourself, "Fuck." as you lift yourself up from your cozy, warm bed and into the freezing bathroom to shower.

"Baby?" Chris knocks on the door worriedly, "Are you okay?" You shout a shaky reply from the shower, barely able to speak or stand up and wash yourself. The pain from your stomach was crippling.

Bursts and shoots of pain would linger for minutes on your lower abdomen, making you curl over in pain. You're yelping like an injured dog, Chris then bursts in to check on you. You stand there, curved over in the marble shower, groaning in agony as you attempt to stand straight and wash yourself.

"Let me help you, okay?" Chris asks, lifting up an eyebrow and beginning to remove his clothes. He slips into the shower and up next to you. You look up at him with sad, wide eyes. "Awh, I'm sorry baby." He tells you, as he cleans your back gently with some soap.

You breathe in vanilla scent of your shampoo, and for a second forget how bad the cramps are, focusing just on Chris' hands massaging through your hair. But of course the pain comes crashing back again eventually.

Chris jumps out of the shower first, bravely making himself freeze so he can lift a warm towel off of the rack for you.

He waits for you to step out of the shower and then wraps you up in it. You shiver and shuffle back to your shared bedroom. He gets himself changed, into a plain black t-shirt and his underwear. Then crawls immediately back to your bed next to you, to rub your shoulders with his hands and try to warm you up.

"Want me to get you some pyjamas out?" He asks softly.

"No, I'll need my work clothes." You respond. Putting on your bra.

"What?" He snaps back confused.

"I can't miss work." You tell him. Slinging the rest of your clothes.

"Of course you can, you can barely walk." He insists.

You slowly scrape yourself up from the bed. "I can walk." You mumble, limping over to the wardrobe.

"You're kidding me." He chuckles.

"Y/n, you are not going to work, you're in pain." He demands.

"I'll take some medicine, I'll feel better once I just get moving." You lie through your teeth. Exiting the room you some how climb your way upstairs and into the living room where Matt and Nick are. Flopping yourself down onto the couch.

"You don't look good y/n." Matt retorts.

"Yeah, I'm well aware." You say grumpily, with a pout on your face and a groan out in pain as your lower back starts to ache.

"Someone tell her she is not going to work today, the woman can barely walk from her cramps." Chris rolls his eyes.

"I'm going." You sigh.

"You definitely aren't y/n." Nick laughs.

"You guys don't make my decisions for me! I'm grown. I can go to work if I want to! Stay out of it!" You lash out, jumping up from the couch and attempting to storm away.

Until you realise this is stupid, you love your job but not this much. Standing up so fast made you realise how much pain you actually were in and how right the triplets were. You flunk back onto the couch, cramps practically stabbing your stomach. "Shit- nevermind." You cry, tears running down your face faster then you could try to stop them.

"C'mere baby, awh." Chris kisses your forehead, pulling you on top of his body, your head resting on his chest.

Matt gives you a gentle stroke on the arm, and Nick mutters an "I told you so." then fetches you your hot water bottle.

"Your gonna be jus' fine baby, its okay." Chris whispers, pushing stray hairs behind your ear and stroking your face with his thumb.

"Let's watch a movie, kay baby?"

"Mhm." You crack a small smile. He'll always make you feel better. You cuddle up closer to him, pulling the blanket over you both and breathing in the freshly washed smell of his wet hair, and his clean, soft shirt. You feel his heavy, slightly muscly arm wrap around you.

This one was dedicated to the bitches on their periods 🥲

I haven't written fluff in a while, so I thought it was due! :) I hope you liked this! <𝟑

taglist hoes: @matthewsroses @chrislilcumslvt @pvssychicken @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @sturniolo-fann @matts-myloverboy @emely9274 @sophand4n4 @uncannyguava @chrisfavoritewhore @certifiedstarrr

#chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #fluff #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fandom

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adragonprinceswhore · 9 months ago

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Sexting & Taking Nude Pics w/ Hockey player!Aemond

Warnings: 18+, smut, AFAB reader, naughty pictures, degradation, teasing, masturbation, edging, manhandling, orgasm denial, P in V

A/N: Sometimes ovulation wins.

Inspired by this amazing art by @novembermorgon 🩵

“Where's my reward?”

An amusement snort leaves your nose. The game only ended a few moments ago, yet he's greedily demanding that you send him what you'd promised.

“Only winners get rewarded”

“I won.”

You smile to yourself as you type, fingers quickly moving over the screen.

"We won*"

"Whatever. Send it."

"Winning by sudden death doesn't count. You should've scored before it went into overtime"

You see him typing, but knowing Aemond, the reply won't be a long one. The delayed answer is due to him not knowing what to say.

God, you love tormenting him.

In all fairness, you were just quoting what he'd told you before. Winning a match that goes into overtime means that the other team scores a point, even if they lose. "If you can't beat them in 60 minutes, you didn't win", he'd said.

"I'll do better next time. Please, send it."

Usually, it'd take more to make him beg. He must be desperate.

You're still smiling as you close your eyes momentarily, imagining him sneaking off to one of the bathrooms by the locker room, still breathing hard from the strenuous match and with sweat covering his face, droplets sliding down his neck and disappearing inside his away jersey.

If you were there, you'd help him out of the white shirt and shoulder pads, planting tender kisses to his wet neck, secretly craving the taste of his salty skin. He always smelled his best straight after a game.

Maybe you'd get a bit carried away and let your tongue glide over the smooth skin over his adam's apple, prompting him to huff in proud amusement as he teases you for being such a needy slut.

Unfortunately, he’s not playing home in Old Town tonight and you're not there to greet him as he exits the ice.

Instead, you've agreed on a different arrangement. Whenever his team wins a match, you send him a little reward.

Today, it’s a picture of your ass, clad in a black thong you know he likes. It had taken you a good 30 minutes to get the position, lightning and angle of your camera just right, and you weren't about to spoil that on someone who can't beat the Winterfell Dires before overtime.

"Only winners get rewarded. Do better."

Still smiling, you bite your lip to calm yourself.

You can picture it so clearly; Aemond frustratingly exhaling through his nose at your unwillingness to give him what he craves.

He's not much better himself. He's teased you to the brink of madness before; edged you until you couldn't think of anything but him.

You feel a dizzying yet pleasant rush of power wash over you as your screen lights up again.

"Please, baby. I need you"

Mischief makes the smile on your face grow wider.

"I don't entertain losers"

Oh he must be fuming. Running his hand over his face in annoyance, clicking his tongue, thinking of all the ways he wishes to make you submit to his will.

Surely only making his balls ache more with need.

"Please, I've thought about this all night. I'm so fucking hard."

Warmth spreads in your chest. You know he only wants you; that he's just as insatiable for you as you are for him.

Yet, opportunities to tease him like this do not come often.

"There's plenty of porn online. Enjoy!"

If you were with him right now, this is where he would've had enough. Picking you up and throwing you on the bed, climbing on top of you and caging you in. Pressing his heavy bulge against your core, lowly murmuring "If you don't shut up, I'll make you" into your ear.

But the distance between the two of you has robbed Aemond of his cockiness.

"Please."

"Show me"

Your mouth waters as you open the image he sends you. The large hand he has around his shaft holds on to it firmly, veins on the back of his hand and down his forearm popping out from the intense blood flow. The tip of his cock looks vexed; bright red and glistening with arousal. You press your thighs together, no longer able to ignore the pounding growing fiercer.

You type even faster than before.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

"You. About how badly I wish you were here. About how I'd fuck you in this filthy bathroom as the lads are getting ready outside"

Defeated by your own desires, you send him the picture of your ass before putting away your phone, closing your eyes and allowing your hand to travel down between your thighs.

You can see him clear as day. He's grabbing the side of the white sink with one hand, the other furiously stroking his length, eyes glued to the screen of his phone as it rests on the ceramic surface.

He's panting; biting his lip and huffing loudly through his nose. Sweat slides down from his forehead to his flustered cheeks, pooling above his parted lips, dripping down.

Staring at his reward, he thinks back to all the ways he's had you. In your flat, in his car, in the bathroom of that high-end restaurant.

His grip on the sink tightens, thinking about how he'd grabbed the flesh of your ass so harshly it left marks as he pounded into you, causing your unabated moans to echo through the room.

He bites his lip to stop the words from spilling;

"My little slut", "My dirty girl", "My good whore”

Mine.

Aemond runs the soft pad of his thumb on your cheeks, collecting the tears of frustration spilling from your tired eyes.

“Poor thing can’t take a bit of teasing”

He’s tone is infuriatingly smug, tutting and interrupting you when you open your mouth to protest.

”Doesn’t feel nice, does it?”

No, it doesn’t feel nice.

Or does it?

You honestly don’t know what’s pleasurable anymore, being forced to the edge of pleasure but denied release time and time again.

Aemond’s fingers, lips, tongue and teeth had coaxed you into pleasure-drunk submission. They’d made you beg for permission to cum, cry for permission to cum, plea for permission to cum. But to no avail.

“Tell you what-”, he starts, seeing eye boring into yours with an intensity only ignited when he was feeling particularly bloodthirsty.

“-I’ll take some photos of you, to enjoy when I win next week’s away game, and then I’ll let you cum”

You’re beyond feeling embarrassed, head instantaneously moving up and down in a furiously eager sign of compliance.

Aemond’s teeth sink into his bottom lip to stop the amusement bubbling up inside of him from making itself know.

He must admit that he likes you best like this; completely at his mercy. His to do whatever he wants with.

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand next to the bed he’s got you caged within his arms in, he swipes his thumb over the screen to open the camera.

He admires you through the lens. The way the short, delicate hairs by your hairline stick to your sweaty forehead. The way your naked breasts still heave from exhaustion; skin damp and glistening. The way your agape mouth pants softly.

And then, your features change.

“Stop doing that”

“What?”

Aemond looks stern, like he’s about to lecture you, “Faking it. You’re posing”

“I’m not!”, you defend yourself with a high-pitched protest.

“You are”

Mind still fuzzy from the strenuous, extensive foreplay Aemond had insisted upon, you don’t know how to appease him.

What does he want?

Sensing your confusion, he places two large palms on each side of your waist, leans down to offer you a soft kiss, and flips you over so you’re on your stomach.

Being manhandled by Aemond while your senses have left your head and relocated to your throbbing centre feels comforting, so when he grabs your hips to pull your ass up, you mumble a muffled “thank you” into the mattress.

He always moves your body with soft yet commanding hands, making his display of dominance feel more like an act of adoration and care.

And he’s always so warm, soothing your exposed skin from the chill air of the hotel room.

“Look at me”, he commands softly, tracing his fingers from the small of your back down to the velvety skin of your buttocks.

Turning your head to the side, you meet his eye, watching as he picks up his phone once more with one hand, while the other grabs his hard length, stoking it briefly before lining it up with your dripping cunt.

As he finally enters you, after god knows how much excruciating teasing, you feel your body turn into jelly; pliable to his every whim.

Your fists grab the sheets of his bed with a cramp-like grip, your mouth falls open with a loud moan, and your back arches in pleasure.

And you hear a click.

Aemond smiles behind the camera, satisfied with getting the picture he’d wanted all along. He moves it down to inspect the way you eagerly take him in, swallowing his cock over and over like the greediest of gluttons.

Enthralled, he admires the way he goes in and out; stretching and shaping you from the inside.

He puts his phone to the side, both hands once again finding home in the dip of your waist. His eye flickers to your bliss-filled face, an amused, condescending laugh leaves his lips,

“Are you drooling?”

You don’t care about his taunting anymore; too filled with him to care about anything else. Aemond moves forward, resting his face right next to yours.

The damp skin of his cheek sticks to yours, his breath fans hot air over your face,

“You’re so pretty like this”

You wait for him to kiss your cheek and award your endurance by finally paying attention to your aching clit.

Instead, he leans back once more, and pulls out.

“Aemond!”, you cry, unable to hide the utter devastation you feel at being denied your peak yet again.

“If you want to come you’ll have to work for it”

He’s smug again, enjoying your desperation a bit too much for your liking. Irritated and impatient, you push him to lay on his back and sink down on him in a selfish attempt to chase your own pleasure.

To your surprise, he allows you to take command; placing one of his hands on your hip, thumb coming down to flick your clit. The other hand picks up his phone again.

“You’re close?”

“Y-, yes”

His thumb continues to rhythmically circle your bundle of nerves as the grip he has on you tightens. His hips roll up to meet yours each time you sink down.

You grab his bicep, anchoring yourself to him with nails that harshly dig into his flesh.

So close.

A few more rhythmic movements and you feel fierce pleasure erupt inside of you, causing your mouth to fall open again as you whine out your pleasure.

Click.

You’re still sitting on him, breathing heavily as you try to catch your breath and come back to reality after feeling the release of seven denied orgasms wash over you.

Suddenly, you’re on your back again, Aemond hovering over your panting form. Your face is flustered and your hair is even messier than it was before.

Click.

The smug smile on his face has morphed into pride, and perhaps there’s something more, something far more vulnerable than he’s ever allowed himself to show you, hiding behind his miss-matched gaze.

“Gevie”

Thank you for reading! I have an idea for an upcoming part about these two, but with loads of angst as well 🤩 lmao you know I can’t help myself! Kisses 😙

#my fics #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond #modern!aemond #modern aemond #aemond targaryen

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adams-angels · 1 year ago

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Plssssass pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls do a adam x reader smut where adam is in heat or anything plssssssss

I had WAAAAY too much fun writing this one 🤭 I was originally gonna do another angel s/o but where's the fun in that? I spiced this up with a sinner s/o

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Heat

Smut below the cut! Minors dni

Extermination day. Once again. Yaaay! You hid in your apartment and waited. You knew he was coming. He was always coming.

You don't know why, but a couple years ago you were spared by Adam. Ever since then he always comes to check on you. Makes sure you're still alive. He says it's because it's funny watching you get pissed off at every little thing. Every little thing being his annoying ass.

You hear the knock at the door. It's the secret knock Adam made up so you'd know it was him. But this knock was rushed. Desperate almost. It sent a cold chill down your spine. It's not that you like Adam. You just don't want anything to happen to him and would be sad if he stops visiting but you don't LIKE him.

You quickly rush to the door, checking the peephole and there he was. Looking different? You unlocked the many bolts on your apartment door and let him in. He pushed himself past you, "what's up sinner tits?" Dumb name. You shut your door and lock it back up. "Hello, Adam." You look over at him and he looks restless. "You okay?" You ask, cocking an eyebrow in curiosity. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, whatever." He scratched his arm like he was a drug addict. Itching for his next hit.

Your mind raced. What if the exorcists know he's been visiting me? What if he has to kill me? What if- you're snapped out of your thoughts. "Stop overthinking. You do that too much." He groaned. "Okay?" You walk over to him, his body tenses. "Why are you acting weird?" His eyes widen, he takes a couple steps back. "M-me? Weird?! Ha! That's- that's fucking rich coming from you!"

Okay, something up. That stutter screamed something was up. You put your hands on your waist stepping closer to him, causing him to step back. You ended up cornering him once he was stopped by the wall. "what the hell is up with you, Adam. Tell me, right now!"

"I need you." He whined. You don't know if it was the fact he had no where else to go, or you were being quite demanding but you weren't expecting him to whine like that. But God, did it make you feel powerful. This devine being, whining like a whore. "Excuse me?"

"fuck, I need you, y/n. Please?" He pleaded. "Jesus, it's like you're a fucking heat." You joked but his whimper told you everything. "Noooo, fucking way. Do you- are you in heat?" You laugh at him. "Don't fucking laugh!" He grabs your wrist and spins you around, pinning you to the wall.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

"I need to fuck you. I don't want to. But I need to. I can't stop thinking about you. No one else is working, so please." He begged, never in your afterlife did you think you'd see Adam begging for you. But here you are. In your apartment, Adam pleading with you. "I'll do it." He lit up. "On one condition." He groaned his forehead resting on yours. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you want, babe."

You look him in his LED eyes, "mask off." He hesitated, removing his head from yours to get a full look at your expression. "What? Why?" He asked, his tone would tell you he was annoyed by the request but inside he was scared. What if you changed your mind once you saw his actual face. "Because I like to look at the person who's going to fuck me." He whines, he's desperate right now, he needs you. He reaches for his mask, hesitates before taking it off.

He looked gorgeous, stunning, and surprisingly embarrassed. "You so-" he couldn't wait any longer, his lips crashed into yours, his tongue explored your mouth. There was no negotiation on who was dominating the situation.

His hands caressed your body starting at your neck tracing down to your waist before getting to your legs, he lifts you up with ease. Sloppily kissing you, as he takes you to the nearest surface, your side table. Sitting you on top of it, knocking off a couple of books, a small plant and a picture frame among other things.

He releases your lips to move on to your jawline then neck, covering you in marks. His marks. You can't help but moan at the sensation. His hands head straight to your pants, gaining access to your intimate area. Once your pants are off he whips off his robe and lifts you up from the side table. Lining up with your entrance. His eyes full of lust for you. He watched your face as he slid you onto his cock. It was perfect, dickmaster is right. It was like he cock was made to fit you. He didn't give much time for you to enjoy the fit before he started thrusting into you.

His arms wrapped around your back holding you close to his body. His teeth sinked into your neck, he moaned into your skin. Your hands found their way to the back and top of his head, tugging at his brown locks. His wings burst out, twitching and trembling as he buries his cock deep inside you. Filling you fully with his member, hitting that sweet spot with each thrust. "Fuck.. so good y/n" he mumbles into your neck. "So tight.."

His hips stuttered, he released your neck and went back to your lips, feeling you moan into his mouth sent him over the edge as he finished inside of you. His wings fell to the floor and you both crashed into the sideboard, Adam leaning on you for support. "Fuck.. bitch, who knew you'd feel so good." "Who knew you liked dirty sinners." You panted. "Don't spoil it."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel smut #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam smut

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l0vergirlsw0rld · 8 months ago

Text

ravish part 3

hitchhiker!readerxperv!loganhowlett

a/n: this is the final part of the ravish series! hope you guys enjoyed it <3 T

wc: 6k

NSFW

18+ MDNI | age gap,oral sex, p in v intercourse, and sexual themes

summary: Y/N goes to Logan's cabin in Canada while she waits for him to return from Mexico. during her stay, she finds some personal mementos that give her a deeper understanding of who he really is.

"...I ain't gonna tell you again, kid, it's too dangerous." He grunted, smoothing down his beard with a hand in frustration. The roughness in his voice matched the irritation in his eyes.

You stood in front of the doorway, blocking him.

"Why are you going if you're so concerned about safety? What if something happens to you?" you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly.

You weren’t just challenging him; you were demanding an explanation, the truth, something he couldn’t dodge with huffs and empty commands.

At the crack of dawn, you had ambushed Logan, catching him off guard before he could slip away into the shadows.

The plan was simple.

Today, you weren’t separating paths; You had decided, and you weren’t about to let him just walk out without a fight.

But Logan, true to his protective nature, instantly shot down your idea, brushing it off. And now the two of you were standing there, bickering by the front door, each trying to make the other see their perspective.

"Because I can take it. You? Not so much. Now move, I gotta be somewhere." His voice was low and raspy, carrying a weight that was hard to argue with.

He took a heavy step forward making the boards creak underneath him. He meant business, and you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to play games.

But you weren’t about to back down.

"Then when am I going to see you again? If I can't go with you, how do I get in touch with you? You don't have a cell phone. Is there an address I can write to you?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

You reached out, gently touching his chest, feeling the heavy beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound almost a sigh of resignation. For a moment, the harsh lines of his face softened, and he looked at you with hurt as if he heard you for the first time this morning.

You both shared a look of longing before you cut the silence.

"I'm not being this adamant because I want to meet up again to fuck... I told you I liked you, Logan. If you leave for Mexico and we never see each other again, we won't get to explore this. I know you like me too." You slid your hand up to rest where his neck and shoulder meet.

"You're right sweetheart, I do....a lot... It's just, I don't know when I'll be back," he said, his voice low and careful as if trying to choose the right words. "This type of thing... it can take a while." He looked down at you through his dark lashes.

He was leaving, without you.

The pressure in your chest subsided, and from the hand he placed on your waist you knew he was also upset.

"Do you want to see me again?" You mumbled softly.

"Of course I do." His hands came up on your shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring. Logan pulled you in and pressed a long kiss on the top of your head. The warmth of his lips calmed every nerve in your body.

He pulled away, steady, as always, but there was something in his eyes that told you this was just as hard for him as it was for you.

"But I'm sorry, you can't come. I'd never forgive myself if something would happen to you."

"Then I'll wait for you," you said, your voice calmer.

"...Just give me a place to meet you. I don't care how long it'll take...I'll get by... I always do." You looked into his eyes, searching for some sign that he believed you, that he understood just how serious you were.

"You'll wait f'me?" His voice was softer now, almost uncertain as if he couldn't quite believe what you were saying. The gears in Logan turned as he thought of something.

"Yes, anywhere, I'll wait," you answered without hesitation.

He paused, considering your words, then nodded slowly.

"How about Canada?"

Two weeks of walking, drives, train rides and taxis. That's what it took you to get to Logan's place in Deer Lake, Alberta.

The journey up north was a first for you, an adventure into a new landscape that felt almost picturesque.

The countryside was a living canvas; Gorgeous snow-tipped mountains towered In the distance, tucked behind miles and miles of lush trees and massive lakes that shimmered reflections of a deep sapphire blue.

Logan's home—a cabin—was located deep within an untamed forest. The remoteness of the location was astonishing, so far away from any civilization, you wondered how he survived the winters alone; the taxi driver had only been able to take you so far before the road disappeared into the wild grass, leaving nothing but a rough trail that was impassable for a vehicle.

From there, it was up to you to make the final trek on foot.

As you walked, the gravel crunched beneath you, the sound was oddly comforting in the quiet of the forest. The air was crisp and clean, breathing had suddenly become easier in the forest. The scent of pine and cedar filled your nostrils, clearing your sinuses from any blockage they might've had.

Approaching the cabin, you noticed scattered logs and woodworking tools lying around the property. You pieced together that Logan had built this place with his own bare hands. The mess in the yard was evidence of the hard work that had gone into building this place. Each log and nail was a hommage to his skill and stubbornness.

Of course, Logan built his own house, you mumbled.

Your mouth fell open in awe as you took in the sight of the cabin. It was more than just a structure—it was the product of Logan's blood, sweat, and tears.

There was something deeply personal about it, something that made you feel honoured to be allowed into this part of his life. This wasn’t just a cabin, it was his getaway from all the bad things in his life.

The cabin, his home, was a mirror image of him—rugged, enduring, and built to withstand the harshest elements.

Stepping onto the front porch, your hand grazed over the smooth wooden railings of the stairs. His craftsmanship was impeccable, each detail was carefully considered, and each board was perfectly placed. Logan had picked the perfect area to carve out for himself in this remote corner of the world.

You inserted the key he had given you before he left into the doorknob and twisted. After hearing the faint clicking noise, you pushed it open to reveal the inside.

His home was open-concept, the entrance positioned right between the kitchen and the living room. To your left, a maroon leather loveseat sat next to a matching recliner, both perfectly aligned to face a stone-built fireplace that reached up to the ceiling.

The walls were decorated with Indigenous paintings, each one a cultural tapestry of the land. The artwork depicted vibrant scenes of nature and various animal spirits.

To your right was a modest kitchenette, equipped with all the essentials for a life lived simply but comfortably. The centrepiece was the sturdy table and chair set that appeared to be handmade, most likely by Logan himself.

As you ventured deeper into the space, you spun slowly in a circle, trying to take it all in, it was gorgeous. You could feel him within these walls.

The air carried a faint, lingering scent of his cigars, a comforting reminder of him. You wondered how long it had been since he was last here, sitting by the fire, drink in hand, perhaps lost in thought.

You entered his bedroom with a gentle push of the door, revealing a space that mirrored the simple functionality of the rest of the cabin. Like the other rooms, it was decked out with only the essentials for comfort. A large bed, a handmade dresser that stood against the wall, its wood polished smooth from years of use. There was a spacious closet, probably filled with his few belongings, and a small nightstand with a simple lamp casting a soft, warm glow.

On the nightstand, you noticed an ashtray filled with grey dust.

I wonder how many lonely nights he spent in here, you thought.

Exhausted from the long journey, you decided to call it a night. You plopped down onto Logan’s bed, the mattress was firm but welcoming and pulled the blankets around you.

The scent of the cabin wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. As your head sank into the pillow, you found yourself drifting off almost immediately, surrounded by the quiet peace of Logan’s space.

Miss you, You mumbled before closing your eyes for the night.

Two weeks since your arrival:

Days at the cabin seemed to blend together, slipping by with an ease that was both comfortable and foreign.

You’d been on the road for most of your short life, always on the go, always searching for the next big thing.

But here, in this secluded corner of the world, you found yourself settling into a routine—something you hadn’t realized you craved. The mundane act of daily chores became almost therapeutic.

You had begun exploring around the cabin, finding hidden trails that led you all over the place. One path led you to a nearby town, a small, quaint place where life moved at a slower pace. The townspeople were friendly, their lives seemingly untouched by the chaos of the world.

You frequented the local general store for groceries, picking up a few items and some clothes to better suit this colder climate. The change in scenery was drastic for you, but you found yourself adapting, maybe even enjoying the peace that came with it.

As the days passed, the cabin began to feel like your own. The once unfamiliar space became a place of comfort, each creak of the floorboards and crackle of the fire made you unwind.

You decided to take on some of the household chores—tasks that probably didn’t come naturally to Logan.

Spring cleaning became your mission, tackling the tedious details he might overlook. You wiped down the insides of kitchen drawers, scrubbed the fridge, and tossed out any expired food. It felt good to take care of these small things, you were kind of being a little housewife, preparing the home for Logan's arrival.

One afternoon, while organizing the kitchen, your fingers brushed against something tucked away in the back of a drawer.

You decided to pull it out and realized it was an old map, the paper worn and creased from what seemed years of use.

As you unfolded it, you noticed several locations marked in red ink. The meaning of these places was a mystery, and despite studying the map for a long while, you couldn’t decipher their significance.

Japan, Madripoor, Northern Canada, Mexico,

Puzzled, you left the map on the table. The idea was that maybe if you came back to it later, you'd see something you hadn't noticed in the first place.

The thought occurred to you to ask Logan about it when he returned. Would he have a simple explanation or go back to shooting it down?

Over the following days, you found yourself returning to it, your fingers tracing the lines and paths, your mind wandering to what expeditions or memories these marks represented.

In these moments, you couldn't help but think,

He’s no handyman, that’s for sure.

Three Weeks since your arrival:

As you prepared for bed one night, the soft glow of the lamp illuminated the room in a gentle, amber light. During your bedtime routine, something caught your eye—a glint of metal in the corner of the room, just beside the dresser on the floor.

Curious, you approached and discovered a set of dog tags lying on the floor, half-hidden beneath a loose floorboard.

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning.

Logan had been in the military.

It was a part of his past you had no clue about, a fragment of his story that added depth to the riddle that was him. You had sensed that one night there was a darkness within him, but now, seeing these tags, you began to understand the source of that shadow—his time as a soldier, the battles fought, and the scars born.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you gently traced your thumb over the engravings on the tags. Each mark and number seemed to hold trauma, something that represented his time, far away from the peace of the cabin. You tried to imagine the weight of these tags around his neck during those times of darkness, and it filled you with sadness.

With a shaky breath, you wiped the tears from your cheeks. In this moment you were feeling an inexplicable connection to him through this small, metallic relic. A part of you wanted to honour his remarkable selflessness. You slipped the chain over your head and let the tags rest against your chest, giving them a gentle squeeze, a small gesture of comfort as you tried to steady the storm of emotions inside you.

The thought of Logan facing any dangers far away in Mexico seemed almost unbearable. The weight of the dog tags felt like a physical reminder of the challenges he faced, the unknown threats he confronted, and the loneliness that came with his life of constant danger.

He survived in the past, he'll survive again. You told yourself.

You longed to have him next to you in bed, to offer him a comforting hug, but the miles that separated you felt like an eternity away.

Four Weeks since your arrival:

After a successful day of fishing at the lake, you returned home, enthusiastic and sopping wet from an unexpected stumble into the water. Your clothing clung to you and the chilly evening air covered your body in goosebumps. You hurried inside, eager to change into some dry clothes.

Logan’s wardrobe provided a relief. You rummaged through his drawers, searching for something comfortable to wear—a t-shirt, a pair of pyjama pants, and socks. The familiar feel of his clothes was oddly comforting, a small link to him while he was so far away. After all he did only own multiples of the same clothing articles.

As you dug deeper into the drawer, your fingers brushed against something unexpected. You pulled out a Polaroid photo, slightly crumpled and tucked away behind other items. Intrigued, you examined it more closely.

The image was of a dark-haired woman with hazel eyes, seductively bound with ropes, completely nude and captured in a moment of intimacy. The rawness and vulnerability of the photo struck a jealous chord, and for a moment, you were taken aback. The woman’s identity didn't make sense to you at all, you knew Logan was single, and there was nothing left of a female in the cabin. Even though it might've been an old girlfriend, the discovery stirred a mix of emotions—curiosity, surprise, and discomfort.

You couldn’t help but wonder about the context of the photo.

Was this someone important to him?

Did he hold onto the photo for special meaning or as a memory for him?

Your mind raced with questions, each one feeling deeper and more personal. The photograph was intimate and private. It felt like a glimpse into a side of Logan you hadn’t seen before—one that was carefree, open and playful.

Feeling a surge of conflicting emotions, you gently set the photo back to where it belonged, buried under piles of socks. The photo had given you a lot to think about, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just one more piece of Logan’s past that you were uncovering from spending time in his home.

As you slipped into the dry clothes, the warmth of the t-shirt and pyjama pants was comforting, but the image lingered in your thoughts, leaving you with more questions than answers about the man whose home you now shared.

Six Weeks since your arrival:

You were determined to light a fire inside the cabin tonight. But first thing first, you now needed to chop firewood since you had used up all of Logan's. You enjoyed the luxury of a nice warm fireplace every night and that wasn't going to end anytime soon.

The task was tougher than you anticipated. You huffed as you dragged some of the smaller logs onto the chopping block. You hoisted it up on it with all your might, wincing as you felt the rough bark scrape against your palms. The pain was sharp but didn't last long as you wiped the blood on your clothes, focusing on the task at hand. You had become a woman of the forest.

You picked up the axe, its weight heavy in your hands. Hoisting it above your head, you struggled to keep it steady. With a deep breath, you brought it down with all your might. The axe’s iron head split through the wood with a satisfying thunk, sending the splintered halves flying, making a metallic clang echo beneath one of the pieces as it hit the ground.

Curious, you crouched down and peered underneath. To your astonishment, you discovered a hidden hatch covered by dirt and twigs. Your heart raced with excitement and curiosity. Dust clouded the air as you tugged the hatch open, revealing a narrow space underground.

You dropped to all fours and stuck your head down into the hatch, your breath mingling with the musty scent of hidden secrets. The space below was dimly lit by daylight filtering through the hatch, but even in the low light, you could make out the outline of a well-organized stash.

Inside, you found a collection of weapons—various blades and firearms neatly arranged and meticulously maintained. There were combat knives with polished handles, tactical pistols, and rifles of different calibres. Given Logan’s past military service, it made sense that he would keep a well-stocked arsenal on his property, even if it was hidden away for safety. Though it didn't seem completely out of the realm of expectations, the amount of weapons did make you question why he felt he needed that many.

Had he needed to use them recently?

Was he supplying a team or working alone?

Even though you knew Logan was involved in violent organizations now, you still could not bring yourself to fear him. Your gut just kept on assuring you that he was a good guy and meant no harm to you. You also trusted his judgement, he had a kind heart and you were positive that if he were to hurt someone it would be for their good.

With a final look at the hidden stash, you turned back to your woodpile, the task at hand feeling somehow more significant now. As you continued to chop the wood, your mind replayed the countless questions you now had for Logan upon his arrival.

Eight Weeks since your arrival:

You were rummaging through the cabin, searching for batteries for Logan's radio. The radio had become a comforting presence during your stay, its music, a soothing aid against the isolation and the creeping paranoia that sometimes cropped on you. The constant thought of being alone in the vast wilderness, with the constant worry of a wild animal breaking through the door, made the staticky tunes a necessity for your sanity.

After scouring every possible location, you were down to your last hope—the top shelf of Logan’s closet. Balancing on your tiptoes, you stretched your arm up, hoping to feel the familiar shape of a battery package. Instead, your hand brushed against something sharp. You pulled your hand back quickly, wincing as you noticed a shard of glass embedded in your fingertip.

Curiosity got the better of you.

Determined, you grabbed a kitchen chair and carefully positioned it beneath the closet shelf. You climbed onto the chair and reached up again, this time with more caution, and found the source of the sharp sensation—a broken picture frame.

Carefully, you lifted the frame and inspected it, noticing the fragments of glass that had scattered around. You set the frame gently on the floor, making sure not to cut yourself further, and turned it over to reveal the photograph behind the glass.

The picture was old and slightly faded, but it was clear enough to see the faces of those it depicted. Logan was in the center, surrounded by X-Men members you recognized: Jean Grey, with her vibrant red hair; Cyclops, his visor unmistakable even in this casual setting; and Storm, her white hair flowing with almost ethereal grace. They were all posed together, their faces lit with genuine smiles and laughter, capturing a good, warm moment.

As you examined the photo, a wave of realization washed over you. You had heard of the X-Men in stories and legends, but you had never imagined Logan was connected to them, let alone be one of them. The presence of these iconic figures, the heroes you had only known through tales and news reports, was a clear indication that Logan was once part of something extraordinary.

This photograph was more than just a snapshot; it was a revelation of his identity. Logan was not just a lonely man with a mysterious past—he was a mutant, a member of the X-Men, a hero with a legacy that spanned beyond what you had ever understood. The contrast between the vibrant camaraderie of the photo and the isolated, battle-worn figure you knew was striking.

What in the world had led him to such loneliness and solitude?

Why was the picture broken, had he done that to it?

As you held the frame, you felt sympathy and awe. This discovery added a new layer of complexity to your understanding of him. These were the people who had shaped him, and it deepened your appreciation for them.

You were fast asleep until the bedroom door creaked open, and your eyelids flew open in response.

Logan.

You turned over to turn on the lamp.

His complexion had deepened from the sun in Mexico, and his hair had grown out a bit, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He looked down at you with tired eyes and a soft, relieved smile. You had fulfilled your promise and waited for him.

"Logan," you rasped, your voice thick with sleep. You had been waiting for this moment for weeks.

"Hi, baby. Sorry I woke you," he whispered, approaching you and kneeling beside the bed. His hand reached out to brush some stray hairs away from your face, a tender gesture that made your heart swell.

You didn’t care about being woken up. Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He returned it with equal strength, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you as if he might never let go.

You inhaled deeply, taking in his scent—different, altered by time and distance, yet still undeniably him. His hand slid behind your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he cradled you against him.

"I missed you so much," you mumbled into his shirt, your voice muffled by the fabric but laced with raw emotion. You couldn’t bring yourself to loosen your grip on him.

"So did I, princess," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He gently nudged you back, signalling for you to look at him.

You met his hazel eyes with your own, now glistening with tears. He used his thumb to gently wipe away a tear that had escaped down your cheek before pulling you into a passionate kiss, one filled with longing and love.

His lips claimed yours hungrily, his hands cupping your face, holding you in place as if to make up for all the lost time. You melted into him, surrendering to the moment, to the feel of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the warmth of his touch.

For the past two months, he had thought of you every single day, the memory of you his constant companion amid chaos. There were moments when he had considered abandoning everything just to return to you, but he knew the importance of his mission. He had told himself that if he could endure the pain, and the heartache of being away, he would be rewarded with the sweetest reunion.

His lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw, planting soft kisses along the way. He found the sensitive spot on your neck, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your fingers instinctively gripped the back of his neck, holding him closer, wanting more. The sensation of his touch after so long sent chills down your spine, a reminder of the connection you shared. You tilted your head back, giving him full access, and his mouth left warm, wet trails on your skin as he explored further.

But then, without warning, he suddenly pulled away. You let out a small whine at the loss of his warmth, your eyes searching for his.

His gaze had dropped to your chest, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Lo?" you asked softly, following his gaze. Then you saw it—the dog tags.

His fingers traced the ball chain with a calloused touch, the metal cool against your skin as he followed its curve. You felt a shiver run through you, not just from the contact but from the significance of the moment.

"I found them," you said quietly, placing your hand over his, pressing it to your chest, where your heartbeat had begun to race. "I had no clue that you had served... You know, I learned a lot about you while you were gone."

He didn’t respond immediately, just kept his eyes down, focused on your hands entwined over the dog tags.

"What did you learn?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know who you are, Logan... I know what you are, and I'm not scared," you said, your voice trembling with sincerity.

"I have an idea of what you were doing down in Mexico, and I know you have the best intentions at heart. I trust you and your judgment. So, if you had to... hurt people... there, I know it’s because they deserved it. I'm not going anywhere, Logan. I'm just happy you're back and safe."

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. "You sure?" he asked, his voice filled with a vulnerability that took you by surprise.

You nodded, your eyes locking onto his with unwavering determination.

"I'm sure. You're home now, and that's all that matters to me. I'm all yours," You pulled him in for another kiss.

Logan's fire lit within him: you were all his.

He matched your energy once more, feeding the primal hunger that had been eating at him all this time. Your lips locked and tongues trailed on top of each other in ecstasy. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth before biting down on it gently as he had taught you. He groaned in your mouth, gripping your hips tightly, his nails dug into your sides.

"Lay down baby," He mumbled against your lips. You obliged, letting your back fall on the mattress, Logan hovered over you, taking in the sight of your body. His eyes trailed up and down, savouring every inch of your body for his memory.

"You're so fucking pretty," He cooed resuming his place on your neck. You flinched from the sudden stimulation, a surprised moan escaping your lips.

He licked his way down to the neckline of your shirt, you gripped the sheets behind you as the excitement built in your lower abdomen.

With a swift, almost imperceptible movement, Logan extended his arm, and you heard a metallic *snikt* as his claws slid out from between his knuckles. The room, which had been filled with the warmth of your reunion, now hummed with a different kind of energy—something raw and vulnerable.

You stared, wide-eyed, as the three gleaming metal blades emerged from his hand, each one impossibly sharp and perfectly aligned. They reflected the dim light in the room, casting slender, shimmering lines across the walls.

For a moment, you could do nothing but observe them in stunned amazement. This was the ability, the weapon that had been a part of him for so long, and he was sharing it with you; how special.

You reached out, almost instinctively, your fingers trembling as they hovered near the metal. Logan's eyes met yours, searching for any sign of fear or hesitation. But you felt none. Instead, there was a deep curiosity, a need to understand this part of him.

Gently, you let your fingers brush against the surface of one of the blades. The metal was cold and smooth, the edges impossibly sharp. You marvelled at how something so deadly could be a part of the man you loved. It was hard to wrap your mind around it—how could flesh and bone give rise to something so unnatural, so extraordinary?

"They're beautiful," You hummed in delight, looking up at him with the warmest smile.

"You're something else, aren't you?" He sighed relieved.

With a swift movement, he cut your shirt down the middle, your breasts falling out.

"Logan-" You gasped in surprise, his smile turned dark as he retracted the claws back inside.

"Was in my way," He smirked, dropping his face to your chest and sucking one of your nipples in his mouth. His free hand immediately finds your other one, palming your flesh, toying with your sensitive nipples with his fingers. You moan loudly, arching your back into his skilled maneuvers. It felt amazing but you needed more. More touch. More friction. More Logan.

With a distinctive pop, he releases your nipple from his grasp.

"Please," You breathed needily. You were feeling yourself getting wetter by the moment.

He admired you from below; how your hand was gripped in the sheets over your head, how your eyelids were just barely open with lust. He kissed his way down from your breasts to your stomach, leaving a few of his marks on your body. Gentle ones of course.

“I'm going to make you feel good, okay sweetheart?” Logan soothes, pulling down the pyjama pants down your legs with ease. You helped him remove them frantically, knowing what was about to happen next.

“Okay, Lo-” He tosses the bottoms to the other side of the room and spreads your legs wide open for him.

“Fuck baby," He groaned as he admired your perfectly shaped core, already dripping and aching for him.

He brought his hands to your folds, spreading them open with his thumbs. You twitched underneath his touch eager to feel some release.

"Been thinking about doing this for a long time," He mumbled before diving face-first into you. His tongue made contact with your sensitive bud sending your back into an aggressive arch. He started slowly, licking long fat lines. You twitched at every flick of his tongue on your clit.

He slid both of his hands to grip your thighs roughly, pushing them further open for him. He picks up his pace, moving his jaw faster against you. Your wetness drenched his face, dripping from his chin as he lapped rhythmically with his skilled tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure to inch you closer to your breaking point.

"You taste just as good as the first time," He praised between breaths before sucking your clit into his mouth. His warm soft lips wrapped around it tightly as he pushed against it causing the most delicious friction. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sensation.

You were already close, you hadn't touched yourself during his absence and even the slightest touch was sending you near the edge.

Logan was growing painfully hard against his jeans, every whimper and moan that escaped your lips made the pressure increase. How he adored having you in his mouth, seeing you up close like this, tasting your sweet honey on his tongue while your intoxicating smell filled his senses.

He gave a slite bite on your clit as he recalled you enjoyed that last time. With a fuck, your hands snapped to his hair, grabbing fistfuls. He grinned against you doing it again, as he pressed a finger against your entrance, slowly pushing his fingers inside. You gasped as he stretched you out. While keeping up his momentum with his tongue he began to pump his fingers with it. Both points of friction accelerated your rise to your orgasm.

You’re a whimpering mess underneath him, you try to mask the noise by biting down on the pillow.

“Don't hold back, I want to hear those pretty noises you're making darlin', ” Logan praises, thrusting deeper inside, all the way to his knuckles. You release the material from your teeth, letting out a 'gonna cum logan,'

"Cum for me princess," He moans, high off of the pleasure of eating you out. He’s devouring you, his face buried between your thighs, his tongue circling your clit. He bites down again, pulling back his fingers outside of you, you moan at the sensation. He pulls his face away from your swollen clit and slaps his hand down on your core.

Your hips buck in surprise and the slight sharpness of the pain tips you over the edge, before you know it you're rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Logan rubs his rough palm on your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm, he pulls you closer by your neck and kisses you aggressively. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling his body down so that his chest is flush with yours. “Need you inside,” you beg, lips against his. “Need you inside.”

Logan gets up and pulls his shirt over his shoulders, discarding it in some corner of the room. He drinks in the sight of your post-orgasm frame, trying to catch your breath as he fiddles with his belt. With a few clinking noises and a zip, he pushed his jeans down, his cock springing out aggressively.

He returns to his position on the bed, between your legs. His lips come crashing down on yours as he strokes it a few times to ease the tension. "Are you sure, baby? It might be a little much for you, I'm more than happy with just eating you out." He locks eyes with you, looking for your approval.

You grin. "I'm yours, Logan, I'm sure." You pull him in for another kiss as he pushes the tip of his cock past your entrance. Your body jolts in surprise by the sheer size of it, but with every inch he goes deeper, the more you get used to him. You moan into his mouth as he works his way into you.

His lips are on yours, he’s plunging into you slowly, down to the hilt. “Fuck,” he groans, his cock throbbing inside you. “You're so fucking tight,” he murmurs, buried deep inside of you. “I might not last long,” He lets out a dry laugh before thrusting in and out.

Your hands find themselves gripping Logan's back muscles, grazing your nails across his skin. He groaned as the stinging sensation began to tingle.

“Taking me so well,” Logan praises, ducking into your neck and sucking on it. He pumps along your walls, his hips snapping against yours. His pace picks up, thrusts becoming faster. Your entrance squeezed around his girth as he pounded deep inside you.

"Fuck," He grunts between breaths.

He rams into you. Over and over, his sensitive tip enveloped you, warm and wet.

“I'm so happy I'm yours,” you moan. " Always gonna be yours.” His cock twitches at your words. You watch as his abs flex, his muscles tightening and releasing with every thrust.

The kisses on your neck became sloppy, and his thrusts were irregular.

His cock twitches inside you again, throbbing against your walls. You know he's close because he's moaning and pulls away from your neck looking for your eyes.

His muscles flex as he finds your face, and he throws his head back mindlessly pumping his warm hot seed inside of you. His hands softly stroking your thigh as he comes back to his senses.

With a few other pumps, he pulls out dropping next to you in the bed. He pulls you close keeping your head on his chest. You hear his heart hammering against his ribcage.

"That was so-"

"Needed." He finished

"Yes, needed." You agreed, tracing circles against his chest as he caught his breath.

A moment of silence passed, and you both comfortably enjoyed each other's company.

As the quiet stretched between you, the soft hum of the night outside filtered into the room, making the moment feel even more serene. Logan’s heartbeat began to slow, and the steady rhythm beneath your fingertips was soothing. You felt completely at peace in his arms, as if the chaotic world beyond the four walls of the bedroom didn’t exist.

He shifted slightly, adjusting to pull you even closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. His hand drifted to your back, tracing lazy lines along your spine, the touch intimate and grounding. It was moments like this where words weren’t necessary. The connection between you spoke louder than anything you could say.

"You okay?" Logan murmured, breaking the silence in a voice so low it was barely above a whisper. His tone was soft, tender, almost as if he feared disturbing the quiet that had settled between you.

You nodded against his chest. "More than okay," you whispered back, your fingers continuing their idle patterns against his skin. "I’m happy you’re here. Really here."

His arms tightened around you in response. "I’m not going anywhere," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a promise, the kind he rarely made.

A content sigh escaped your lips as you nuzzled deeper into his embrace, the scent of him—familiar and grounding—filling your senses. His warmth enveloped you, lulling you into a state of complete relaxation. The world outside felt distant and irrelevant, and all that mattered was this moment, with him by your side.

As the minutes passed, you both drifted into a comfortable stillness, your breaths synchronizing, the only sound being the soft rustle of the sheets and the steady beat of Logan’s heart beneath your ear. This was all you needed—him, right here, with you.

As you closed your eyes, drifting on the edge of sleep, Logan’s hand gently tightened on your hip, and in a low, teasing murmur, he whispered, "Next time, I’m going to ravish you all over again."

sorry it took so long, I started uni <3 love you guys and thank you for enjoying the Ravish series. hope yall request or stick around for more.

🏷️:@babucakes@landlockedmermaid77@theoraekenslover@loreniscrying@bpmiranda @rogueinmymind @lose1tall @2fatblunt @ltristessedureratoujours @th3mrskory @angelofthorr @strawberrylore

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sceletaflores · 9 months ago

Note

i really just need art and patrick in subspace.

they don't normally sub. and they've never even kissed each other. dom reader makes them realize how much they desire the other, and can't help but allow her to slowly leading them into subspace

and all the poor guys can do is follow her like dogs in heat ;((

-🐝

auurrr sub!artrick you’re real to me…

and the thing is that their attraction to each other is so painfully obvious to quite literally everyone around them, but they themselves are completely oblivious.

It's either obliviousness or straight-up repression—a refusal to see what's right in front of them.

maybe it’s for different reasons. maybe art’s religious upbringing is still burned into his mind every time he catches himself letting his eyes linger a little too long on patrick fresh out of the shower, water dripping down the hard planes of his abs when he gets dressed in the mornings. the memory of his sunday school's youth pastor reciting, “it’s adam and eve, not adam and steve.”

and maybe patrick still has his dad’s homophobic rants ringing in his ears when he catches himself staring art’s lips wrapped around the filter of a cigarette. their shared cigarette, wet from art’s mouth when he takes it between his own lips.

but then they meet you. you with your willingness to navigate such a complex situation so delicately, carefully treading along the line of artandpatrick to help them realize that wanting to fuck each other isn't the end of the world. that sharing a girl the same way they share a cigarette is just another excuse to get as close as possible without touching.

it’s a mission, and you’re strategic about it.

you get them in bed at the same time, and they're so skittish. working around each other instead of with each other, but you're patient. you know they're both used to being in control, but they get so fuck drunk. it's like all the blood from their brains go to their dicks the second you drop your skirt, voice soft but demanding as you sit on the edge of art's bed.

"i want you to eat me out, both of you."

two hitching gasps ring out, shaky and broken. they're both hard.

you get them on their knees before the bed, shoulders pressed together between your thighs and matching looks of hesitation on their faces. you smile, reaching out to brush your fingers through their hair reassuringly. slowly, you start to drag art forward by the back of his head, only art.

his nose bumps against your inner thigh, short puffs of breath fanning over your aching core until he sticks his tongue out and lets you drag him wherever you want him.

patrick watches art the entire time, eyes rapidly flicking over his profile like he doesn't know where to look. tracing the bridge of art's nose, the cut of his jawline, zeroing in on where his pretty pink lips wrap around your clit. he's so quiet, the quietest you've ever heard him.

when art gets too into it, moaning and drooling, you pull him back. he groans, leaning forward to fight your grip on his hair like he'll die if he's not fucking you with his tongue. you scratch your nails against his scalp, a placating smile on your face before you're turning to patrick.

he lurches forward before you even get a hand in his hair, dragging his tongue through the mess of spit art left pooling in your hole. groaning at the taste of your pussy.

art watches him, just like patrick watched him. his head resting on your thigh, staring through half lidded eyes with parted lips.

you hold back for as long as you can stand, giving patrick his one on one time with your pussy. moaning at the way his nose nudges against your clit each time he licks a broad stripe over your hole with the flat of his tongue.

when you can feel yourself getting closer, you gently start to guide art's head closer. patrick's hair still in the tight grip of your fist, you're not moving him away.

wide blue eyes flick to your face, hazy and blown out and worried. you smile down at him, 'it's okay, baby."

apparently, that's all go ahead he needs. leaning forward enough to get his mouth back on you.

patrick, who got lost in his own little world, opening his eyes to art mouthing at your clit, lips inches away from his own, has a surprised moan ripping from deep in chest. you feel the rumble of it against your fluttering hole, long and drawn out.

it's like they both have a gravitational pull towards the other, getting closer and closer until patrick's tongue finally brushes against art's. it happens once, twice, three times before they both go still, eyes meeting in a shared moment of realization.

there’s a charged silence, broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing. it’s like the world has paused, waiting for them to decide if they’ll take that last step. you stroke patrick’s hair, steady and reassuring, and he hesitantly leans back in, his movements slow and uncertain.

art’s the first to move, taking patrick's bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a gentle tug. patrick’s eyes flutter closed, a shiver running down his spine. they’re tasting each other now, sucking the taste of you off the others tongue.

it’s hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen.

you look down at them, at your boys. faces gone soft, eyes fluttered shut as they make-out over your pussy. heat zings up your spine every time their tongues tangle over your clit, chins messy with their spit mixing with the wetness leaking from you.

the smugness you feel only adds to your orgasm. all they needed was a little push.

#-🐝 anon #your boyfriends are each others boyfriends too!#sub!artrick nation rise #i'm here for you #this really got away from me #like all things do #like i can't condense my writing to save my life #it's such a problem #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #challengers smut

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crowsofdarkness · 3 months ago

Text

Arranged-Chapter Four

*gif not mine. credit to owner*

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, 18+ smut(ch 12 & ch 17), angst, fluff, mentions of death and violence. I will update the warnings with each chapter.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: This was a story of mine on an old blog and I wanted to publish it on here. Since it's quite a long fic, I've decided to slowly updated it chapter by chapter. If anyone who is interested wants to be tagged, let me know!

My head rested against the headrest while my knee bounced with uncertainty of where we were going; all I knew was that we were headed to some lab but didn’t know what for. Steve was to my left and gave me a small smile to calm my nerves.

It didn’t.

Bucky was on my right, eyes glued to his phone while typed furiously. I didn’t dare to look to see who or what he was texting. It wasn’t any of my business and to be honest, I was slightly afraid to find out what it would be.

With the two large men on either side of me, I felt cramped and did my best to maneuver my small body hoping it would calm me.

Again, it didn’t.

I began chewing on my nails, something else I did when I was filled with nerves, and it was then that Bucky looked away from his phone and saw my worried state.

“Are you alright?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“You’re shaking the whole car,” he sighed while placing his metal hand on my knee.

It calmed me for a moment.

“Nervous habit, I guess.”

Bucky hummed. “And the nail biting?”

I placed my hands in my lap and let out a low breath.

“Y/N, there’s nothing to be nervous about. I just have to meet with one of my workers then we can head back to the house,” Bucky explained.

With a small nod, I felt the car come to a stop in front of a large building with a sign in front of it.

Barnes Laboratory.

“You own a lab?” I questioned looking at Bucky.

He nodded. “Maybe one day I can give you a tour. But right now, I need you to stay in the car.”

I didn't bother to argue, something about this whole meeting still was not sitting well with me because of the way Bucky’s demeanor changed this afternoon and last night.

“Steve, stay with her,” Bucky demanded.

We were left in the now quiet car and my eyes watched with slight worry as Bucky, along with two of his other guards, disappeared into the building. My mind raced with a million thoughts, wondering what he was doing there and who he was meeting with.

“He’s alright,” Steve’s soft voice filled the car.

“I’m assuming that you’re not going to tell me what’s going on in there,” I sighed while looking at him.

Steve shook his head. “You know I can't do that.”

“This marriage isn’t going to work if he keeps things from me.”

“It’s better if you don’t know some things, trust me,” Steve insisted.

Before I could retort back, Steve pulled out his phone and with a long sigh, he gave me a stern look.

“I’m needed inside. Can I trust that you’ll stay in the car?” He wondered.

Now my mind really began to wonder what the hell was going on inside because Bucky was adamant that Steve stay with me but now, he needed him inside?

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“Good.”

I kept a hard glance on Steve’s back until he disappeared through the same door Bucky had gone into a while ago.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered while crossing my arms over my chest.

I couldn’t dwell on the sudden loud silence because my phone rang, my moms picture appeared on the screen. It had been a few days since I last spoke with either of my parents and I knew they were wondering how things were going between Bucky and I.

“Hi mom,” I signed into the phone.

“Hey sweetheart, we’re……things……Buck….treating..right?”

Her voice was coming in broken and when I pulled my phone away, I realized that inside of Bucky’s car, I had absolutely no service.

“Hang on. I can’t hear you.”

I shuffled from seat to seat, hoping to get better service, but it only made it worse. My gaze fell to the outside and I began gnawing on my lip, Bucky’s words replaying in my mind.

Stay in the car.

“Honey….there?....Can’t hear..”

It’ll be a two minute conversation. I’ll be back in the car before Bucky even knew I didn’t listen.

“Hey mom, can you hear me better?” I asked, the wind blowing the hair from my face once I stepped on the gravel ground.

I made sure to stay close to the car, just in case.

“Oh that's better! So, how are things?”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see. “They’re good, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’s only been a day and a half, mom. I need more time to actually get to know someone,” I defended.

My mother sighed. “You don’t have more time, Y/N. The wedding is in three days. Not to mention, you haven’t sent over any details!”

My pulse began to quicken as I thought of the best way to break the news to my mom.

“Bucky and I decided to do a courthouse wedding; sign the papers, have a nice dinner to celebrate. You know, simple.”

“What?!”

I grimaced while pulling the phone away, my mother shrill ringing in my ear.

“I can’t believe you would do this to us, Y/N! After everything we did to set this up for you!”

“Are you fucking-,” I began.

“Watch your mouth!”

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek and composed myself. “I didn’t get a say in who I’m marrying. The least you and dad can do is allow me to decide if I even want a wedding or not.”

My mother kept rambling on about wedding nonsense but my attention had fallen elsewhere, lips parted in confusion. Bucky was now outside of the building, Steve close behind him, but what they were currently doing was what held my attention.

Bucky had his vibranium fingers gripped tight on someone's shirt collar and pinned up against the brick of the building. There was a slight look of fear on this man's face as he nodded profusely to Bucky’s demands; ones that I heard each and every word of.

“You’ve got one week, Banner. I need those vials in my possession by next Saturday at 10 a.m. If I catch wind of another test experiment, they won’t just be finding your experiment's body in the water. Understood?”

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

My mothers voice brought me back slightly. “Uh, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

I pocketted my phone, not even giving her the chance to yell at me more.

Steve did a quick once over of their surroundings and when it fell onto me, his face hardened and placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Not only did I feel a wave of disappointment wash over me when Bucky’s eyes locked with mine, the look of anger that he held filled me with fear. I had yet again disobeyed an order from him, the first two times he was understanding. Who’s to say this time he will be?

“Deal with him.”

Bucky roughly handed off the worker to Steve, who disappeared back into the building.

“I told you to stay in the car,” Bucky spat while closing the distance between us in just a couple strides.

“Did you just threaten that guy?” I ignored his previous statement.

Bucky’s eyes hardened, a deep scowl pulling at his lips. “Get in the car.”

His flesh fingers gripped my arm and began dragging me into the car.

“Get your hands off of me,” I snapped.

I did my best to break free from his grasp but Bucky was stronger than me and not the typical stronger a man his size would be. His strength almost felt double than normal as he lifted me into the car with ease

The door slammed behind him and I was suddenly pressed up against the other door, Bucky leaning over me slightly. His broad chest rose and fell with every deep breath and I could feel the warmth of it painting my lips. The fear that I felt dissipated, a new feeling crashing over me.

Lust.

The heat of his intense gaze, blue eyes boring into me, brought chills all over my skin.

“Did you threaten that guy?” I repeated my question.

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “That’s none of your business.”

I raised a brow. “Isn’t it? You brought me here.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“I know the feeling,” I grumbled.

Bucky shook his head with a scoff. “How many times are you going to bring up that you’re not happy with the situation?”

I didn’t like the hint of annoyance in his voice so I sat up straighter, a little tough in the cramped back seat; Bucky’s size was taking up the majority of it.

“Until I finally have a say in this relationship.”

“You do. You’re the one that decided on not having a wedding,” Bucky retorted.

I snickered. “Who would have thought that big old mob boss Bucky Barnes would want a big wedding?”

Something flashed over his eyes and his breathing echoed throughout the small space of the car.

“You’re such a smartass, you know that?” He sneered.

I lifted my chin towards him, our lips meters apart now. “Get used to it, Barnes. Cause you have to deal with it for the rest of your life.”

As hard as my heart was pounding from not only the slight fear of what I witnessed and heard prior but to how Bucky would react.

His tongue rolled over his bottom lip, so slow, and his eyes danced all over my face. My hands lay on my stomach, itching to trace over his soft features, but I clasped them together hoping it would subside.

There was this tension between us, something unknown, that began pulling us towards each other. I marveled at the way his bottom lip was so pink and plump, almost begging me to kiss them, taste them, devour them.

Bucky, almost as if he could read my mind, lowered my body deeper into the seat and I felt his lips ghost over the crook of my beck, warm breath heating my core.

“Boss, we need to go. Now.”

Bucky didn’t bother to move, merely looked over his shoulder. Steve was peeking his head in the open door, a look of urgency in his eyes.

“What’s going on,” Bucky asked while adjusting himself by fixing his suit jacket and sitting in his previous spot.

“Stark. He’s at the house demanding to see you.”

I noticed the way Bucky’s face fell for a moment before his strong demeanor returned.

“Everything okay?”

He ignored me, only keeping his attention towards Steve. “Tell the men to load up.”

Everything happened in a quick haze, Steve and the other two men jumped in the car and peeled out of the parking lot, my hand grasping for the headrest in front of me to steady myself. I didn’t know who this Stark guy was but I could tell by the way that Bucky’s breath was erratic and his hands shook with anger that this was going to be a closed door meeting.

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan

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