#I FINALLY FOUND HIM IN A VENTURE AD

[jarchaeology]

🩶THE NEWSPAPER SERIES: 1989🩶 Jensen Ackles for Venture [The Quad City Times - Dec. 3, 1989]

[nickfowlerrr]

everybody talks

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut, fluff, a bit of angst. unprotected p in v. dirty talk. nipple play. if i’m missing something that needs to be tagged, pls lmk!

words: almost 7.7k

notes: happy halloween 👻 so i had an idea for reclusive neighbor!bucky meeting reader when she stops by his house with a group of kids for trick or treating, and this is very much not that but i think it still works lol. also, i wrote this in a day? i don’t think i’ve ever written more than like 4k in a day before so, yay me!

i wanted to participate in @witchywithwhiskey’s horror movie hoe-a-thon but i decided so last minute and then thought the deadline was the 31st, but i absolutely read the guidelines wrong bc it was actually yesterday and i missed it lol. i’m linking her event still though bc i did use a quote prompt! 🖤

The loud shaking of the wobbly cart you grabbed in your hurry precedes you as you make your way through the ridiculously crowded grocery store. Normally you would have been mortified - probably would have left the cart and ventured off to grab what you needed sans basket - but you don’t have the time to be concerned about the looks you’re getting as you walk fast down the aisles. 

When your sister asked you for help organizing a family halloween party, you didn’t realize she meant an actual little community family friendly party for the street she lived on.

You had gotten two frozen pizzas, a bag of candy, a case of soda, and some random bags of chips you were sure your nieces would love, just last night. That would have certainly been enough for you, your nieces, and both your sisters, but unfortunately, that wasn’t where the guest list ended. 

The look on her face when you showed up to her house with just those few things would have been funny if she wasn’t already on the brink of a breakdown.

Her husband was out of town for work and she was doing all the halloween prep for Sid herself, thus why she enlisted your help with the party and your younger sister’s help for the trick or treating plans.

Before she could snap and completely lose her cool on you, you were already rushing to the front door, keys still in hand, promising you’d be back within the hour and she had nothing to worry about.

That’s how you found yourself among the crowd of the woefully unprepared this afternoon. 

You loaded the cart with six more frozen pizzas, three family servings of the deli’s hot and ready fried chicken, two packs of halloween cupcakes, two more cases of soda, an extra case of water, and three boxes of capri suns before you started filling the cart with the halloween party snacks you found in the holiday section. 

You were getting a workout as you pushed the basket, less shaky now thanks to the added weight, heading to the candy section to grab a few bags of whatever they had left.

You were distracted by the end cap display as you turned down the aisle and didn’t see the man standing right in front of you, accidentally running into him. Though, running into him sounds like an exaggeration. With how heavy your basket was, and how sturdy the man before you was, it was more like a bump - a love tap. He didn’t even really react to it aside from looking over briefly to you and your basket.

Even still, you apologized profusely, rambling an apology about not looking where you were going before you finally got an actual look at your victim. 

Your words stopped almost abruptly when your eyes met with crystal blues. His stare was icy, but not cold, moreso piercing.

He blinked and broke your trance, offering you a shy smile before he looked away.

“It’s okay, you’re fine,” he said, eyes fixed back on the shelves of candy.

He was dressed in dark denim jeans and a black crewneck sweatshirt, his hair was dark and down to just above his broad shoulders, and the stubble that lined his strong jaw suited him well. You didn’t realize you were staring again until he looked back up at you.

You forced yourself to smile then, ignoring the heat you could feel creeping up your neck and rising to your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you offered with a nervous laugh before you forced the cart behind where he stood to go onward. 

You could have sworn you saw a blush rising to his cheeks as he smiled to himself, avoiding your gaze, but you weren’t entirely sure. 

And you definitely didn’t have the time to ponder on it.

Instead, you began your own search of the shelves to find not only your nieces’ favorites, but your sisters’, too. 

They were both working hard to make their kids’ halloween a good one, they deserved a little treat themselves when all the work was done. You, on the other hand, still single and child free, were planning on treating yourself all night. You were there to help, sure, but most of the work wouldn’t be done by you. You were looking forward to seeing them off to trick or treat and plopping down on your sister’s couch to watch movies for the rest of the night - handing out candy, of course, should any kids come by.

Once the party was set up and over, you’d be free for the night and you couldn’t wait.

You were lucky to find most of what you were looking for, but couldn’t seem to find the last kind of chocolates you wanted to get. 

As your eyes scoured the shelves, you found yourself looking back over to where the handsome stranger still stood. His brows were furrowed as he held up two boxes of full size candy bars, seeming to be debating between the two.

The look of concentration on his face was endearing, you could almost chuckle at how serious in thought he seemed to be over candy.

You smiled to yourself, returning to your search. As your eyes left the man, traveling instead to the rows of candy in front of him, that was when you saw the bag you needed. In the section right where he was standing, because of course they’d be there. 

He huffed in exasperation before you watched him drop both boxes of candy into his cart. He turned to head down the aisle in your direction and his eyes widened slightly when he saw you still standing there.

“Oh, sorry, I’m in your way, aren’t I.”

“No, you’re fine!” You assured him as you left your basket, walking closer to him. “I just needed to grab this,” you said, looking up with the bag in hand. He hadn’t moved from where he stood as you approached, so you were inadvertently in his personal space - but he didn’t make any attempt to move from you. In fact, he looked almost frozen. 

His bright eyes were on you, one hand on his cart, the other clenched by his side. He seemed to go a bit ridge at your proximity, like he didn’t want to make any sudden movements, but he relaxed after a second after seeing your soft smile, blinking at you as his cheeks burned. 

You quickly backed away, hoping to not make him more uncomfortable and to not embarrass yourself further.

You grabbed onto your cart and looked his way once more, meeting his eye again as his sights were already on you. 

You smiled shyly, “Sorry, again, for hitting you,” you offered, “happy halloween.”

He didn’t respond verbally, but he did give you a small nod of acknowledgement.

Your smile grew tighter before you turned and made for the check out, sighing as you rolled your eyes at yourself, mentally chastising yourself for being such an awkward inducing mess. 

The lines were long and as you waited, you had to field a call from your sister, promising her you were checking out and would be back at her house soon.

You finally got through the line and were on your way out the sliding door when your cart almost crashed into another. You gasped as you pulled at your cart to stop, the heavy weight carrying it forward, its momentum causing it to almost ram right into the cart beside it.

The doors were only big enough for one cart to go through at a time, so you looked up to offer whoever it was you almost crashed into the lead.

It was your turn for your eyes to widen as you once again were met with those piercing blues.

“I am so sorry, I’m not doing this on purpose, I swear,” you laughed nervously, backing up a bit so he’d have room to go through the doors. “Go for it,” you said.

He shook his head, “Please,” he gestured for you to go in front, “ladies first.”

Had you not been in a hurry, you would’ve argued that he should go ahead, but seeing as your phone was lighting up with messages from your erratic sister, you smiled and pushed on forward. “Thank you,” you breathed.

You were trying not to pay attention as he followed behind you, but when you got to your car, halting your basket at your trunk, you couldn’t help but notice as he stopped next to you.

You looked over at him, and he looked over at you. He smiled this time, popping his trunk, “What are the odds?”

You tittered, not knowing how to respond. You couldn’t help your smile though as you turned back to your trunk and started putting the bags in.

He himself didn’t have much in the way of bags, and was finished putting his stuff away and taking his cart back by the time you were halfway done putting your stuff in your car.

You saw as he approached his door from your peripheral, and looked up and over in his direction as he abruptly stopped just before he was about to pull open his door.

For a second, he looked like he was about to turn around but then thought better of it, reaching for the door handle again before pulling away once more. 

He squeezed his car keys in his hand before he turned back around, completely this time. You blinked at him, in a bit of a stupor as he came up to you. You waited for him to speak as he opened his mouth before quickly shutting it, taking a breath, then anxiously licking his lips.

“I’m Bucky,” he introduced himself a bit stiffly before his lip quirked up in a nervous half smile. Your brows raised of their own volition before you gave him your name in turn.

He seemed to be relieved by your reply, as if he was worried you would have ignored him, before he took another step closer to your car. “Can I give you a hand?”

“Oh, uhm, sure. That’d be great, thanks.”

“Big plans for the night?” he asked as he slid the packs of soda and the water into the car.

“My sister is hosting a little halloween party for the families on her street before they head out trick or treating tonight, I’m helping her out with setup and food. But after that,” you sighed, putting a few more bags in, “I’m planning on just watching movies between trick or treaters. Nothing crazy. You?” you asked, looking over to him.

“I’m planning pretty much the same. I don’t know how many trick or treaters to expect, I’m new to the neighborhood and… maybe haven’t been the friendliest neighbor,” he cringed to himself as he grabbed the boxes of juice. “But I got the full size candy bars, so…”

“Sprung for the full size, huh? I’m sure those kids’ll love it. You’ll be the talk of the block,” you joked.

His chuckle had you smiling so hard you had to bite your lip to keep from looking like an idiot.

Bucky took the last of the bags from you and set them carefully down before he closed the trunk for you. You were hanging onto the cart, waiting to say bye before you walked it to its home, as he turned, shoving his hands in his pockets before he spoke. He had that anxious look on his face again, his eyes down at the ground while he licked his lips mindlessly before he met your eye.

“I, uhm,” he seemed to register where his hands were then and took them out of his pockets, “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous of me, but, did you maybe, want to exchange numbers?” he asked, bright blue eyes bearing into yours.

Your lips parted unbidden, eyebrows raising in surprise, or more like shock, as your eyes widened.

“You- you want my number?” you asked stupidly. You didn’t give him a chance to answer though before you continued, “Uhm, yeah,” you nodded, “sure.”

The delicate smile on your lips grew as you reached for your phone.

You exchanged numbers and said your goodbyes before you were finally headed back to your sister’s place.

You were smiling like a fool as you drove, a sense of giddy taking over you. This kind of stuff never happened to you. You were still in a bit of disbelief as you pulled into your sister’s driveway, calling her to help you unload but deciding against telling her about your little grocery store meet cute. At least until the party was underway and her stress levels came down.

—

Grumpy. 

That’s the word you would use to describe your current state.

This was not how tonight was supposed to go. You should be lounging on a couch watching scary movies with a bowl full of candy right now, not clopping down the street in your wedges - a last minute costume thrown together as your niece held your hand and pulled you along with her while your sisters and baby niece strolled behind.

Sidney had thrown a fit when she learned you wouldn’t be coming along for trick or treating and only calmed down when you finally relented and agreed. But of course, you couldn’t just go out in what you were already wearing, no, that would be too easy. You absolutely needed a costume. 

At your sisters’ and niece’s goading, you were forced to put something together. 

You were already in all black, so you snagged the leftover cat ear headband your sister had and made your already done eye look a little more exaggerated. You all left soon after, your niece’s jubilance as she skipped out of the house easing your annoyance at the change of plans. As you started down the driveway, you were cursing yourself for not having brought your sneakers, and your sisters for both having smaller feet than you.

You walked up to house after house with your niece, taking turns switching who was going up to the door every two or three houses. In between houses, you finally told your sisters about the guy you met at the store earlier, how attractive he was, how he helped you load your car, and how he asked for your number before you went your separate ways.

It was nice to be able to talk with them about it, it had been a long time since it had been just the three of you together - no obnoxious boyfriends or overly talkative husbands to interrupt your conversations. You had to say, you were starting to feel a bit more grateful for your niece’s insistence on you joining them.

As you talked to your little sister while she held her daughter, you both watched as your niece tugged on her mom’s hand, refusing to go up the pathway of the house you were now at. As you looked around, you realized everyone else seemed to be avoiding the house, too. You weren’t sure why, though. The porch light was on and there was a cute, though solitary, ghost decoration that would greet you as you walked up the path to the house. 

“What is up with that?” you asked aloud.

As your older sister walked back over, she answered your question. “She doesn’t wanna go, she says it’s haunted.”

You fixed your niece with a look, “What do you mean haunted? Who told you that?”

“Evan and Fifi. They said the metal man lives here and he kills anyone who tries to come in.”

“The metal man, huh? Well,” you said, making a point of looking all around the front of the house, “it looks to me like whoever lives here is ready to pass out candy to anyone brave enough to knock. The lights are on, and did you see the ghost up front? They’re probably just as excited about Halloween as you are.”

“No.” she responded flatly.

“No?” you scoffed. “Ohhh, okay,” you exaggerated, “I get it, you’re too scared to go. That’s all you had to say, Sid, no shame.”

“I’m not scared,” she argued, her face scrunched in annoyance at your insult.

“Really? If you’re not scared then why won’t you go knock on the door?”

She floundered for a second before she narrowed her gaze at you. You wanted to laugh at the low growl that radiated from her but held it together. 

“We’ll all go,” she finally decided, looking all three of you in the eyes to make sure you were all ready to accompany her.

—

It had been two hours since the trick or treaters had started their nights. 

Bucky could hear the laughter and screams of playful fright as family after family and group after group of friends passed by his house. 

The bowl of king size candy bars sat on his coffee table untouched as It played on his screen. 

Every now and again he’d get up and look out the kitchen window, hoping to see a dead street to make himself feel better about the lack of trick or treaters, but only found the streets full of people.

The more time that passed without a single knock or ringing of his bell, the worse he felt. 

He could lie and say he didn’t know why he was taking this so hard, he wasn’t one to complain about his solitude, but truthfully, he knew why.

He had heard the neighbor kids talking about him the other week, telling tales of horror about the metal man who lived next door. If seeing his arm was all it took to spur their tales and ignite their fear of him, God, he didn’t even want to know what would come if they found out even a little bit of his past. 

And if it wasn’t the kids starting their own urban legend at his expense, it was the adults who would gossip about him at their backyard barbecues. The mysterious man who lived alone and kept to himself was an easy target for lowly neighborhood gossip, and the few people who had pieced together who he was seemed to be tight lipped about it. Anytime they saw him in public, their eyes would bug and they would quickly avert their gaze, like they were scared what would happen if he knew they knew. It’s not like his identity was a secret, but he wasn’t planning on striking up a conversation with them to let them know that. Especially not when they looked at him like that. Like he was some kind of monster.

Even still, he didn’t want to be the social pariah on the block. He hated to think that anyone was scared or weary of him, though he knew most of them were.

He sighed heavily as he checked the time once again. 

So much for that ghost helping to dispel his bad reputation. He’d be requesting the money he spent on it from Sam later, it was his idea for him to get halloween decorations in the first place. He should have known it wouldn’t have helped.

As his phone unlocked with his FaceID, he was tempted to send a message to the woman he’d met earlier in the day. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but he hadn’t felt so disarmed by someone in a very long time. And the fact that she was gorgeous, and didn’t seem the least bit frightened by him, was a nice feeling, too. 

But she was probably watching movies and relaxing by now, he didn’t want to be a disturbance. Tomorrow, though. He’d definitely be messaging her tomorrow.

Another sigh left him as he locked his phone again, tossing it on the coffee table before making his decision.

Bucky paused the movie before he stood, bowl in hand, prepared to take it to the kitchen and shut his porch light off on his way upstairs. It was only gonna get later and he had to accept that no one was going to trick or treat at his house this year.

But just as he was setting the bowl down on the table, he froze.

Was someone actually coming up the porch?

He swore he was just hearing things…but then came a knock.

—

“You can’t just stand there, Sid, you have to knock or ring the bell, pick one.”

“No.”

“Ugh,” you exaggerated with an eye roll, turning to look at your older sister, “you live with this everyday?”

“Everyday,” she replied.

“Sid, if you don’t knock, you don’t get candy,” you told her.

“If I don’t knock, I don’t get murdered.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll do it myself,” you shrugged, adjusting the cat ears on your head.

You raised your arm to knock on the door, but Sid stopped you, pulling it back down.

“I don’t want you to get murdered, either!”

“Sidney,” you laughed, kneeling to get on her level, “I promise you, no one is going to get murdered. This house isn’t haunted and a murderer doesn’t live here.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” your little sister chimed in, earning a glare from you before you couldn’t help your laugh, shaking your head before turning back to your niece.

“I just met Evan and Fifi at the party, and I know for a fact they were just trying to scare all of you guys. I doubt they’ve ever met whoever it is that lives here. Now, do you trust me?”

Her reluctant nod was your answer.

“Okay. Then I’m gonna knock on the door, and we’re gonna get some candy. Cool?”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” you nodded with a smile before standing back up.

Sid inched back to stand in front of her mom, pulling her arm to hide herself behind as you once again went to knock on the door, this time following through.

You knocked and heard footsteps from within, smiling as you waited for the homeowner to open the door.

Once it opened, though, you found yourself completely taken aback. 

Your breath caught in your throat as a newly familiar pair of brilliant blue eyes met yours.

Bucky stood at the open door, bowl of full size candy bars in hand. He looked just as surprised to see you there as you were him. 

He tilted his head at you, a lopsided grin spreading on his face.

“Trick or treat!” Sidney yelled, seeing the big bars and coming to stand in front of you.

Bucky looked down, smiling as he showed her the bowl, “Happy Halloween,” he said, allowing her to pick which one she wanted.

“I know how this looks, but I swear I’m not stalking you,” you promised.

“I don’t know, it seems like a lotta coincidences for just one day,” he smirked, cooly leaning against his door frame. “Nice costume,” he complimented.

“Ha, thanks,” you smiled, touching the cat ears once again. “Nice ghost,” you nodded toward the lonely decoration, “Really livens up the place,” you teased. 

“That was the intention,” he laughed, a little too glumly for your liking. “You guys are actually the first trick or treaters I’ve had all night, so I guess it didn’t really do its job.”

“Sorry, you guys know each other?” your sister asked.

“Yeah, uh,” you turned briefly, “this is Bucky,” you said.

“Bucky from the grocery store, Bucky?” your little sister asked.

You gave her a look you hoped Bucky didn’t see before answering, “Yes. That Bucky.”

Your sisters introduced themselves to him and as he switched the candy bowl from his right hand to his left, extending his palm to shake their hands, you noticed a glimmer coming from  his left side.

You moved over a bit to allow them room to shake hands and as you looked closer, you realized that, peculiarly enough, his left hand wasn’t made of flesh. 

You scoffed a laugh to yourself at his “metal man” moniker. That made some sense now… In fact, a few things were clicking into place. Bucky, you thought…Bucky Barnes? The Bucky Barnes. You wondered how you hadn’t noticed earlier, not that it mattered, but you were staring, like kind of a lot, at him when you met at the store, and even when he was helping load your groceries. You really must have been distracted by just how gorgeous his face is.

Now that you were really looking at him again, you noticed just how built he was. Strong arms, solid chest, nearly six foot tall if you had to guess. 

Your sister’s laugh brought you back to reality as you followed her gaze to Sid who was now taking a bunch of bars from Bucky’s bowl as he held it out for her again.

“I doubt anyone is coming my way again, so please, take what you want,” he offered to all of you.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you smiled as your sisters each took a bar of their own. “We’ll uh, let you get back to your movie,” you said, remembering his plans for tonight.

“The movie, yeah. I think I might have to start it over, actually. I went on my phone for a minute and looked up to see a blood covered bathroom but I have no idea how they got there,” he huffed a laugh at himself.

“Oh, what are you watching?” your little sister asked.

“It,”

“It? No way, that’s so funny. That’s the movie you were gonna watch before we left tonight, isn’t it?” your older sister asked knowingly, a smirk no one but you and your younger sister would ever catch flashing for a microsecond on her lips as she looked at you pointedly.

“Yeah,” you swallowed thickly, “it is,” you said, trying not to let the awkwardness that was eating at you consume you entirely.

“You should stay and watch it,” your little sister suggested, to your complete and utter mortification. Your eyes shot over to her, and you swear, if looks could kill. 

“I’m not just going to invite myself-”

“Come on, like he minds,” she turned to look at Bucky then, her hands still on her stroller holding her baby, “you don’t mind, do you?”

You peek over at Bucky, unsure of how you would even react if you were in his position. He met your eye and his lips quirked in a soft smile. “Not at all. If you wanted to, that is,” he added, offering you an out.

You looked at him a moment before looking over to your smugly smiling sisters and your niece as she tore into one of her candy bars, standing safely between the two of them. You inhaled sharply before looking back to a waiting Bucky. 

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Sounds…fun.”

“Great, well we were heading back anyway. So, see you later?” you sister bid. 

“Or not,” your little sister added teasingly before she shot her gaze over to Bucky once more. “But we do have her location, just so you know,” she added seriously, a hint of a warning in her words.

“Ooo-kay,” you said, breaking the forthcoming tension, “I will text you guys when I’m on my way back,” you told them, urging them to get going.

“It was nice to meet you, Bucky. I trust my sister will get home safe,” your sister said directly.

“I’ll make sure of it,” he responded gallantly while your face felt as if it was literally on fire.

What was this, it was like your parents were dropping you off for your first date in high school. But somehow worse.

She nodded, “And thank you for the candy. Sidney,” she called, getting her daughter’s attention, “what do we say?”

“Thank you! Happy Halloween!”

“You’re very welcome,” Bucky smiled. “Happy Halloween.”

—

It wasn’t long before you found yourself sitting on Bucky’s couch, a glass of water you had desperately needed sitting before you on the coffee table and Bucky sitting to the left of you, but keeping a respectable distance.

“I’m really sorry about my sisters, by the way. They can be a lot,” you huffed a laugh.

“Don’t be,” he brushed off, “It’s nice to see, honestly.”

You looked over at him, he seemed a bit forlorn before he came back to himself. 

“You know, my niece was almost too scared to come to your door. She said this house is haunted, that ‘the metal man’ lives here and kills anyone who tries to enter.”

“Ah, I see word travels fast when it comes to children.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of like their own urban legend.”

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully as you laughed, lifting a leg up to cross under your thigh as you turned to face him on the couch.

“What?” you asked, “Don’t you want to be an urban legend?”

“Not really,” he laughed with a shake of his head, turning to face you better as well. “Especially not when it leaves me with bowls full of king sized candy bars no one seems to want.”

There’s a pause before he continues,

“Honestly… I don’t like knowing people are scared of me. I mean I’ve known, for a long time, that they are, it’s just.. Different when you can see that fear on their faces, in person.”

You didn’t even realize you were moving as you scooted in closer to him while he spoke.

“I thought the city was bad, but ever since I moved out here, it’s all so much more intimate. The stares are a lot more pointed.” He laughed humorlessly at himself, “I heard a couple kids talking about my arm a few weeks ago and tried to tell myself I didn’t care, but I’ve been wearing nothing but long sleeves every time I go outside now. 

“I’m not ashamed of it,” he said quickly to clarify, “I just, I don’t want them to have to be scared of me.”

“They shouldn’t be scared of you just because you have a prosthetic arm,” you argued, knowing they surely knew nothing else of who he was, “and their parents should probably be leading by better examples.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “what can you do?” He swallowed the lump in his throat that was forming at your defense of him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring all this up-”

“No, I’m sorry, that’s on me. I am incredibly skilled at killing conversations before they even begin.”

“I don’t know about that. You don’t know me well yet, so you don’t know how big of a deal this is, but, I like talking to you,” he smiled. 

You had to look away from his gaze, breathing a laugh as you did. 

The movie was playing on screen, but neither of you were paying any attention to it as you continued talking.

Each time Bucky laughed at your lame jokes, you swore you felt like you were flying. You talked about everything and nothing. You got to know each other better, asking questions about life and preferences and favorites and what-ifs. The conversation flowed so easily, you never even really had to think about what to say next. That definitely wasn’t usual for you, and you liked it. You liked him.

Somewhere along the way, the conversation turned flirty, and again, it was completely effortless. 

Your knees were pressing against one another as you sat across from each other, almost side by side on the couch.

You laughed in unison at a cheesy line Bucky tried on you before a jump scare on the screen had you quite literally jumping. Without thought, you leaned into Bucky, and he had no qualms about it as you hid your face in his shoulder.

He laughed lightly, his arm coming around you and gently rubbing your back before you forced yourself to pull away. His warmth was so nice and welcoming, but if you didn’t back up, you would’ve tried to nuzzle right into his side - you couldn’t risk the embarrassment.

As you turned back to sit next to him though, he kept his arm around you and tugged you in a bit closer. 

You briefly wondered if he could hear your heartbeat, because you definitely could. You thought it might beat out of your chest at any moment as his warm cologne invaded your senses.

“Sorry, I guess I just assumed you liked scary movies,” he laughed.

“Ya know what’s funny is I actually hate scary movies,” you told him, “the It movies are some of the very few that don’t scare me.”

“Oh, that was you not being scared?” he smirked with a raised brow.

“That was- it just, it caught me off guard,” you defended with a smile, absentmindedly leaning more into his hold.

You had never gotten so close to someone in such a short amount of time, emotionally or physically. 

It was foreign, but you enjoyed it. It may have been sudden, but it didn’t feel rushed. 

“You get scared easily?” he asked.

“I’m the biggest scaredy cat I know,” you admitted. “I’m not hard to get a jump out of, I get scared of literally everything,” you laughed at yourself.

You turned to look at him when he didn’t say anything and felt your breath catch in your throat for the second time that night. He was so close to you now, and his eyes were piercing as he took you in, lingering on your lips and sending a chill through you.

The energy between you seemed to shift from something light and playful to something more charged, deliberate.

Your eyes drifted to his lips despite yourself, too.

He leaned in just a touch closer to you and your lips were mere inches away as he spoke,

“You’re not scared of me,” he said, though you weren’t sure if it was a question or not. Still, you responded as if it were.

Leaning in, brushing your lips against his, you breathed, “No.”

His hand was on your head then, keeping you close to him as he pressed his lips against yours, it was fervent, yet delicate, as your lips moved against one another. 

You moved a hand to hold onto his left shoulder and he tugged your body to move you completely over his lap while he continued to lead the kiss.

His metal hand found its way to your plush waist as he held you, squeezing you lightly and inadvertently causing you to sink down lower into his lap while your upper body melted into him.

His hand slid from your waist to your ass, grabbing you through your leggings, kneading your ample flesh in his large palm.

You moaned into his mouth and that seemed to spur him on because in the blink of an eye you found yourself being flipped onto your back as he pinned you beneath his large body.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were both panting, your hands fisted in his sweatshirt as his wandered your curves. 

“Do you have a bed?” you breathed, pulling him back down to be closer to you, wanting desperately to have his lips on yours once more. He nodded.

“Glad you asked,” he returned, voice low and husky.

You yelped as Bucky lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you with ease while you clung to him like your life depended on it. If he dropped you, you weren’t sure you’d be able to recover from the embarrassment. But as he began up the steps and his hold didn’t falter for a single second, you realized maybe there wasn’t anything to worry about.. He held you like you weighed nothing and honestly, it sent a new wave of arousal through you as he reached the door of his bedroom.

He tossed you down on his bed carefully, but stopped you before you could begin tugging your leggings down your thick thighs. 

You looked at him, confused and with a touch of worry you were about to be rejected.

“I’m sorry,” he began, “I should’ve said this before I brought you up here,”

That did nothing to ease your worry…

“I really like you. And I think there could be something real here between us, I don’t want to ruin that. So if you were only here for one night,-”

“I really like you, too,” you cut him off, eyes gleaming into his, “And I think you’re right, I don’t wanna ruin it either. I wasn’t planning for this to be a one night stand, but if you want to take things slower, I don’t have a problem with that.”

“No, I’m good with where we were heading, I just wanted to make it clear that I don’t want this to be just tonight.”

You nodded, a little breathless as you smiled up at him. 

“Same page, then.”

“Good,” he grinned before pushing you to lie back on his bed as he descended upon you. 

His lips were on your neck and as he sucked on your sweet spot, you couldn’t contain the soft moan that passed your lips. 

His hands found the waistband of your bottoms and he pulled them down as much as he could manage before you lifted your hips and wiggled a bit to assist him in getting them off of you. 

You pulled impatiently at the buckle of his jeans, earning a chuckle from him before he got to work taking them off. 

While he got rid of his jeans, you pulled your shirt up and over your head, catching on the cat ears you had forgotten you were wearing. You threw them all to the side, unclasping your bra as Bucky shrugged his sweatshirt off over his head in turn.

He was back on top of you in an instant, pulling your bra off of you and tossing it to land with the rest of your discarded clothes off the side of the bed.

His large hands immediately went to your breasts, admiring the soft, heavy feel of them in his hands while he palmed them, squeezing slightly as he felt you.

You mewled under his attention, eyes closed in delight as his touch only added fuel to the fire burning in your core. 

When he leaned down and took a pert nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking on your tit, your hand found his hair as you gasped at the sensation, holding him to you, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on your breasts.

You could feel the wetness growing between your legs as he continued to have his fun, unconsciously rutting his thick cock against you when you’d moan for him.

As he traveled down your body, his hands following your curves and his lips kissing every inch of you that he could, he paid special attention to your tummy before he traveled even lower. 

You were a writhing mess as you felt his warm breath on your folds. When your hips bucked up into his face and you felt his lips brushing your cunt, you whined obscenely at the feeling. Bucky laughed tauntingly, holding your hips back down as he poked his tongue out past his plump lips, lightly licking your folds and your sensitive clit as you gripped his hair and urged him closer, wanting, needing more.

He finally took mercy on you after a long, torturous minute, spreading you open for him before he ate you out like a man starved. 

His tongue glided all over your slick cunt, dipping in and out of your tight entrance, before coming back up to flick your clit. 

He drew figure eights over the sensitive bud and you swore you were about to come undone from that alone, but when he sunk his thick digits into your dripping pussy, curling them just right, rubbing against that special spot perfectly, you were seeing stars as your thighs threatened to clamp around his head while you shook from your orgasm. Your walls clamped down on his fingers as you came and he moaned at the feeling as he worked you through the high, more than ready to finally get his cock inside you.

“Doll, you look so gorgeous like this,” he admired as he held himself above you, “naked and sweaty beneath me. Like a fucking goddess,” he praised, grabbing his erection and positioning himself at your entrance. 

“You sure you’re ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked, running his cockhead up and down your dripping slit. 

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you moaned pathetically, spreading your legs as wide as you could for him.

“Mm, I love the way you say my name, doll,” he groaned as he pushed just his tip inside your tight cunt, moving in and out of you as you whined for him.

“God, please, Bucky, please fuck me! I want it so bad,” you whimpered. “I wanna feel you fill me up, please.”

The growl that left his throat had your pussy fluttering, squeezing around nothing before he finally gave you what you wanted.  With one hard, deep stroke, he was fully seated inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you gasped sharply, your hands gripping onto him wherever you could as he began to set his pace. With every thrust of his hips into you, he was hitting deeper and deeper inside your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” you cried.

“There you go, sweetheart. Take all ‘a my cock inside this tight pussy, taking me so fuckin’ well,” his hands were tight on your hips as he fucked into you. “This what you wanted, doll?” he panted, his pace never faltering as he fucked you harder, the slapping sound of skin on skin and his balls hitting your cunt with his every thrust filled the room, mingled with your moans and whimpers and his grunts and growls. “Wanted this big dick to stretch you out, huh? Wanted to feel me fill you up with my hot cum til I’m dripping outta you.”

One of his hands left your hip and instead went to grab at your breasts again, his large hand palming your tit as he squeezed and kneaded, flicking his thumb over your nipple and only adding to the pleasure threatening to send you over the edge.

“God, yes! Please, fucking yes, Bucky, please, please, please, please” you begged pathetically, reaching a hand down to find your clit, working your bud in circles as your walls tightened around his thick cock. 

Your eyes were about to roll into the back of your head as you moaned senselessly, Bucky’s hand leaving your chest and nudging your own away from your clit. He replaced your hand and circled your clit perfectly as he continued rolling his hips into yours, his pace growing more erratic and the words leaving his beautiful lips growing filthier the closer he got to his own end. 

With one perfectly angled thrust, you were crying as your body shook at the intensity of your orgasm. Wave after wave of nerve tingling pleasure lighting you up as you rode out the high. Your toes curled, legs wrapped around him as much as they could be while he grabbed at your body, falling down closer to you as he moaned, holding your body tighter as he pumped his hips, “Fuck,” he growled as he pushed himself as deep inside of you as he could, his eyes squeezing shut, holding himself there as he came, his body shaking some as he attempted to thrust once more. 

You moaned at the feeling of him painting your walls, your hands in his hair as he buried his face in your neck, holding him to you. He stayed inside of you for a long minute as you both panted, trying to catch your breath, while he ensured he got all of his load out before he finally pushed himself up off of you, gently sliding out of you.

He flipped over next to you, laying on his back before he pulled you into him. Your hand rested on his chest as you laid in his left arm.

“Holy fuck,” you breathed, your fingers playing in his chest hair mindlessly as you worked to catch your breath.

His hand was running up and down your side soothingly as he moved to try and meet your eye.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “I’m better than okay, honestly. That was…amazing.”

“Good, I’m glad,” he smiled, “but still, I’m sorry if I got carried away. I tend to run my mouth when I’m, uh,” he fumbled with his words, “ya know, in the moment.” 

He looked so bashful, you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his expression.

“You just said all of what you just said, but you had trouble with that?” you tittered, rubbing his chest before turning further into him, laying on your side as he stayed on his back, propping his right hand under his head as he relaxed into the position. “But really, Bucky, you don’t have to apologize. I don’t know if you could tell, but…I really liked it,” you simpered sensually.

Bucky smiled at you as you leaned up to meet his lips in a soft kiss. 

“It’s probably way late now, right?” you asked as you pulled away from him. “I should probably head back.”

Bucky sat up after you, “Do you have to?” he asked softly.

You looked back at him, his blue eyes set on you. You nipped at your lower lip before shaking your head lightly. A new, sweeter excitement washing over you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you could stay for the night,” he offered. “I was hoping I could take you for breakfast in the morning?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes as he waited for your response. That giddiness you felt earlier came over you once again as you held his gaze.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

[lilaccmilk]

synopsis: what happens when the most powerful and feared leader, who’s known to be a lycan, visits your village, he finds himself drawn to you, the chief’s daughter. In exchange for your tribe’s protection, he seeks something far more personal—your hand in marriage.

a/n: i apologise in advance for any inaccuracies, i tried my best. plus i didn’t really expect that this would get so long.

wc: 1.3k words

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Being the strongest and the most feared leader amongst all the other tribes, had everything he needed— power, riches, respect and what not. Everything except one– a mate. And he never really put an effort to find her. Busy between winning wars and handling his tribe after his father had followed his mother into Valhalla, leaving behind a young boy to lead the tribe. But now as he drew into his late twenties, his closest friend and second in command—Ragnar suggested he should find his mate.

That was months ago, he still hadn’t ventured to find his mate. But he did have to travel to different tribes, or invite different leaders for political discussions, which usually consisted of them asking for protection from him, in return they’d give harvests, gold, fur coats, clothing. It was a fine cycle.

Right now was such another time, he found himself in a small village that settled on the banks of a dominant river. The village was beautiful, it looked like it belonged in the mystical stories his mother used to tell him when he was a child. It was almost the most beautiful thing he had seen. Almost. Until his eyes laid upon you. You seemed to embody the essence of those ancient tales—radiant and pure, as if touched by the gods themselves.

You were a healer in your village, using both herbs and magic to heal. But today the whole village was on their toes, after all the strongest leader among all tribes was visiting your village. In exchange for his protection, your village had prepared gifts for him— herbs, weapons, harvest. And on top of it all, there was supposed to be a huge feast tonight to honour him.

You had heard rumours and stories of him, how he was the strongest warrior, ruthless, most feared and a lycan. Him being a lycan was partly the reason as to why he was feared, why people always wanted to stay on the good side of him. A few tribes who had dared challenge him were quickly defeated by him.

You were by the riverside, gathering some plants that grew there for the feast tonight. You hadn’t expected him and a few members of his tribe to arrive so soon. Moreover, you hadn’t expected him to look so…..majestic. Yes, majestic was a word that could be used to describe him, despite the scar that was running across his eye. A sleek line, probably from a battle he was in, only added to his charm. When he talked to your village chief, you could see his teeth, his canines a bit pointed. His eyes were fierce. You found yourself growing shy and quickly looked away. You finished gathering the herbs and walked away.

He could feel your eyes on him, it gave his inner beast a sense of satisfaction, subconsciously he puffed out his chest, his beast growling in pride, happy to be the subject of your attention. He quickly greeted the elders of your village and the chief, growing a bit impatient, he wanted to talk to you, after what felt like an eternity, the endless exchange of pleasantries was finally over. They suggested they’d show the place where him and his men would stay for the night, but he sent Ragnar, he looked to where you were, but you were already gone. He growled in annoyance.

It was a council meet where him and his men along with the village chief and elder council were gathered to establish the conditions of the pact. All members of your village were gathered around. His eyes endlessly searched the crowd around him until they landed on you. He smirked, and whilst they offered the gifts, he interrupted the chief, ”I don’t want all that” his voice cut through the room like ice, your chief’s eyes widened, but before the chief could speak, he continued, “I want her to be my bride, to come along with me to my village as my mate.” His finger was pointed towards you. Gasps rung through the crowd, murmurs of approvals were heard. But you, it felt like you had fallen into a frozen lake in the middle of winter. But just as soon as that coldness drowsed you, warmth enveloped you when you saw his eyes soften.

He could see Ragnar smile? smirk? He couldn’t pay attention to his friend’s reaction, not when your lips parted so prettily in shock, he had this immense urge to kiss you, take your lips between his teeth, taste you. But not yet, soon.

The chief spoke up, almost relieved that the pact was still being formed, although the exchange a bit different, “Yes. Of course. She will be your bride. Come forth child.” the chief signalled you to move closer. Ever since your parents gave you away left you on the banks of the river, the chief and his wife, unable to have children of their own had taken you in. They’d always treated you like you were their own blood. Perhaps it was true, blood may run thicker than water, but the blood of the covenant was stronger than the water of the womb.

So you did as he said, coming closer to the council table. Your chief was standing with him. As you reached the man you called father all these years, you felt a weird sense of satisfaction as you looked at the man standing next to him. He took your hand and placed it into your future groom’s. He declared your betrothal to him.

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After the council meet, he had to begrudgingly let go of your hand to discuss some political matters. You hadn’t dare look into his eyes the entire time your hand was in his. As he sat down to discuss, you quickly bid your goodbye to him and your father and went to the kitchens to assist your friends in supper.

The entire time they giggled and teased you for being the first one of them all to get betrothed. You had a smile in your face as you thought back to it. It was scary too, because of the rumours. But you didn’t let them get to your head, you’d get to know the man by yourself.

After the you all were done cooking the feast, you went to wear some presentable clothes. You braided your hair in a pretty hairstyle, subconsciously trying to look prettier, ‘not like it is for him’ you muttered to yourself.

You all were gathered together, the lavish feast laid out on the huge table surrounded with chair. Two large chairs sat at head of the table. One for the village chief and one for him.

You looked around to see if he and his men had arrived. You didn’t see him anywhere so you thought you’d sit with your friends, but before you could turn around, you felt a hard chest press into your back, you were going to push them back but then you heard the voice, “Hello my love, I believe a proper conversation between us is due, is it not?” his voice rumbled and you felt yourself growing hot. “I believe so.” you replied. He hummed in satisfaction as you exchanged your names. He asked about you, the things you liked, the things you didn’t like. Then it was time for the feast to start, you started going to take your place, but you were stopped by his hand curling around your wrist. “You are not straying far from me, my mate.” And that was how you found yourself on his lap the entire evening, you could feel his chest pressing into your back with every movement he made. The night passed like a blur. You couldn’t get enough sleep the entire night.

The morning came with a promise of your new life. You bid goodbye to your loved ones, he helped you get onto his horse and sat behind you, taking the reins and caging you in between his strong arms. He nuzzled his nose into your neck and placed a chaste kiss in the junction of your neck and shoulder. The journey would take two days. You would rest at someplace in makeshift tents for a night. You both got to know each other, he told you about his tribe, his parents and what did ‘mates’ mean.

It was a pleasant journey. As you reached his tribe, the people welcomed you with utmost kindness, care and respect. They held a feast. You had a good feeling about this all, your new life, with a man who has sworn to protect you with his life, the man who claimed you the second he saw you.

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if you guys like this, i’m thinking of turning this into like a mini series or something. lemme know! id love to hear your thoughts and inputs.

stay hydrated <3

[kitscutie]

snow and roses: part II (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none except the nature of the Hunger Games franchise! later on in the series there will be hints to dark!coriolanus snow and lots of angst so be prepared!

summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.

a/n: part two is here! hope you enjoy, remember requests are open and there are more parts to come :) p.s - all of the love on part one means the world!

word count: 2.3k

find part one here!

join my taglist here!

Over the past eighteen years you couldn't picture a single day you and Coriolanus hadn't spent together. Birthdays, school days, even throughout the war, you spent time together.

Today was different. He hadn't met you this morning and you couldn't help but miss his presence. His character enveloped a room, always making it clear he was there without really having to say a word. You found it comforting, others found it threatening.

The Tributes arrived early this morning and it was something you had dreaded, very soon you would actually have to meet Wovey. Mentor her, care for her, and it riddled you with guilt knowing that it was all a challenge. Her life was a challenge to you.

Coryo's presence could've softened that burden and yet, he wasn't here. No warning no explanation he just didn't show.

"Where's Snow?" Asked Arachne as you all stood outside your classroom at the Academy, preparing for yet another lecture from Casca.

"I wouldn't know." You shrugged, secretly seething at your boyfriends disregard to tell you where he was going before he disappeared.

"Oh please. You two are practically attached at the hip." Scoffed Festus. Fixing his hair in a small compact mirror which he carried around in his bag.

"I heard he's with his songbird." Mock sang Felix. Knowing it would most likely piss you off to the high heavens.

"And where did you hear that, Felix?" You asked, tilting your head in questions, eyebrows furrowed. While Felix was a tease he was not a liar.

"Lucky's newest interview. He was in the zoo with the tributes, I mean it was almost comedic. But, I've got to say the most interesting part was when they held hands." He said. You couldn't hide the anger on your face no matter how hard you tried and it was only made worse when you spotted Sejanus' sympathetic glance from over his shoulder.

"Well, he is very motivated to win the Prize I suppose." You murmured, now embarrassed, even if they weren't aware he was your boyfriend he was supposed to be your closest ally and here he was prancing around with his new decoration.

Much to your pleasure the large wooden door swung open, everybody filing into the room and taking their assigned seats, the one next to yours empty.

His seat.

Finally, minutes later he entered looking rather sheepish. If he was ashamed you were glad, he should be.

"Your little excursion is in violation of about five Academy rules Mr Snow." Spoke Casca. Deep down you were pleased that he had broken rules, pleading in your mind that this would prevent any further ventures. "Amongst them, endangering a Capitol student."

"Who?" He asked, stopping in his tracks as though he was insulted by the accusation.

"You. I'm moving for the Game makers to disqualify you as a mentor immediately." Casca answered. Guiltily you were happy, you just hoped your face didn't show it as Coriolanus sat down next to you.

"You said that we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away." He said leaning against the banister of your seats.

"I don't believe holding their hands was in that agreement." You snarled from behind him and you immediately regretted it as he turned to you, hurt that you weren't defending him.

"Right you are Miss L/N." Casca replied.

"Holding her hand, introducing her to people. You make it look as if were one in the same as those animas." Arachne added. You didn't agree with that, they were very much the same as us but his effort to care for her wounded you internally.

"Coriolanus didn't show those people anything they didn't already know. That the tributes are human beings. Just like us. That's why nobody wants to watch the Games, because people know deep down, that winning a war ten years ago doesn't justify starving peoples children." Sejanus added, yet you couldn't help but feel like Coriolanus didn't truly agree, he just wanted to be let loose for his wrong doings.

"Snow fell. Down in the cage, it fell down in the cage but it landed-" Doctor Gaul appeared, frightening you and many others. She had an atmosphere similar to Coriolanus, threatening and brazen. Maybe that should've scared you more than any District Twelve girl, yet it didn't.

"On stage." Snow finished her riddle without hesitation.

"You're good at games. Maybe one day you'll be a Game maker like me." She grinned evilly. You didn't miss Coriolanus' smile when hearing this and something deep within you stirred.

"Only if the games continue at all." Casca replied.

"Oh they'll continue, with performances like young Mr Snow in that zoo. In fact I came to ask your star Mentor a question. What are the Hunger Games for?" She said confidently.

"They're to punish the Districts for their uprising. To commemorate the end of the war." Coriolanus answered thou hit felt scripted and to some extent it was. That very answer was drilled into your heads from the moment you entered the Academy.

Sejanus began to discredit the Games, calling them what they are. Cruel. Doctor Gaul didn't like that.

"Perhaps the Capitol students are ill suited to be mentoring tributes, perhaps the Games time has passed." Casca said and something about it told you he was on Sejanus' side, that he didn't agree with the very games he created.

"Dean Highbottom is wrong. My classmates too. Maybe Sejanus is onto something, maybe we should be viewing those tributes as human beings." Coriolanus spoke and you tugged at his shirt for him to sit down, to stop defending this inhumane act but he slapped your hand away. "I mean you saw those kids in the zoo, they just wanted to get to know Lucy Gray. If we need people to watch we should be letting them get closer to the tributes before the games. Make the stakes personal." You felt embarrassed by his every word. Embarrassed by his obsession with Lucy Gray and embarrassed that he believed in these games.

"Who will watch the games if they care what happens to the tributes?" Asked Doctor Gaul and even to you, the answer was obvious. Everyone.

"Everyone." Answered Snow, predictable. "If they thought the tribute they cared about had a chance of winning, people need someone to root for and against. We need them to invest. If we bend a few Capitol laws, we could even have them place bets." He continued his proposal.

"You forget you're talking about real people Coriolanus, not just characters in your wider game." You said, eyes cold as he once again turned to you seeming betrayed, you no longer cared.

"Look I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena but if you give her a chance, I would bet the Plinth Prize that she can win peoples attention." He ignored you, instead once again talking about Lucy. You felt sick by his obsession, betrayed. How long had you been the one to care for him, to root for him and here he was digging a dagger in your heart.

"I would like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight Mr Snow." Doctor Gaul stated. "Perhaps your classmate can help you?" She smirked towards you in question.

You shook your head while keeping your eyes trained on the front of the room, you refused to be apart of his play for Lucy Gray's victory.

You sat alone at lunch, thinking. What was going on between him and that girl and why was he suddenly the Games biggest supporter. You understood the Plinth Prize meant a lot to him. That it would open doors but this was a step too far.

"Y/N, a pleasure." A voice you knew all too well said as it took the seat across from you.

"Coriolanus." You answered bluntly before taking another bite of your sandwich. He could tell something was off from the moment you used his full name, usually calling him Coryo.

"What was that little show back there, hm?" He asked, blue eyes a weapon as he glared at you. Something you had never been on the receiving end of before.

"I could ask you the same thing." You replied, putting your food down to glare back.

"It's a competition, Y/N. One which could change my life, I know you don't have to worry about winning but this means everything to me. You know that. I know the games are animalistic but they'll go on either way-." He defended though you cut him off.

"That's what you think I'm upset about?" You said, exaggerating the 'that's'.

"It's not?" He asked, now curious.

"I don't know, Coriolanus maybe I'm upset about you being obsessed with Lucy Gray. I mean, she's all you've spoken about since the Reaping, you held her hand! Risked your life for her!" You exclaimed in angry, drawing attention to your table.

"Oh what, so your jealous?" He smirked, clearly amused by your outrage.

"Jealous does little to describe what I am feeling, Snow. This is another level. When will you realise that that girl is using you, just as you are using her. Nothing more nothing less. I however am still here, I have been there for years, for you!" You shouted once more and he grew agitated as the room stared, grabbing your wrist with unnecessary aggression to pull your face down to this.

"Don't make a scene Y/N. You're acting like a little girl." He gritted out through his teeth.

"Fuck you, Coriolanus Snow." You replied equally quiet and with menace laced in your words. You saw his face change, as if the anger once there was replaced by a mask of sympathy. It felt ingenuine.

"Come on, Y/N. You know I love you right? I have for how long now, years." He said with kind eyes.

"Don't kid yourself." You scoffed. Though his face stayed the same his grip on your wrist tightened, leaving pink indentations.

"I love you, Y/N. Okay? Not Lucy Gray. She's my tribute just like you said, nothing more nothing less." He once again reassured, never giving up his hold.

Finally the fire in your heart gave out to him and his stupid Snow charm. It never failed to make you swoon and hearing those three words, ones you gave to each other not very often, you just wished to be in his arms.

"Okay." You retreated.

"Okay and?" He asked.

"I love you too." You answered, relieved when he let your wrist go, you were quick to move it below the table, scared to see what he had done to your wrist.

"Good. Now come on, I'm going to give some food to Lucy Gray, strengthen her, I assume you would like to meet Wovey." He said, getting up from his chair. You didn't want to meet Wovey, not really, scared to look her in the eyes. You did however want to meet his pretty little Songbird.

You walked together, hand in hand towards the zoo. He was back to his caring self after the flash of rage you previously saw. It wasn't the first time that side of him had flashed and you knew it wouldn't be the last but moments like these made it all worth it.

Your relationship was secret, but you felt no need to hide it anymore, now determined to show he was yours. Show everyone.

At first you stuck by his side, even when he spoke to Lucy Gray and you felt yourself flinch as she rushed over.

"That for us?" She asked as he held food out to her. Watching as she gave some to her fellow District Twelve Tribute, Jessup. "And who might this be?" She asked, eyeing up your joint hands.

"Wovey's mentor." He answered, without a second thought. Though when you squeezed his hand, his answer changed. "My girlfriend, I mean. Y/N L/N."

"Well Miss L/N, you sure do have the cream of the crop here with Mr Snow. He's a lovely young man." She smiled at you, you couldn't tell if it was your own paranoia telling you it was ingenuine or if she really didn't feel happy for you.

"Oh, and don't I know it." You smiled back. "You've equally had such luck I must say. He's a fine mentor." You added, patting his chest as you boosted his ego.

"Well, thank you." He said, kissing your forehead. "But uh, could you give me and Lucy Gray a moment, Mentor to Tribute?" He asked and that once burnt out flame of jealousy flickered within you as you left to speak to Wovey. You watched as they now leant against the fence to talk, lips inches away, crouched together.

Wovey was a sweet young girl, grateful as you gave her food and she shared it with Bobbin who she had been sat with, you didn't mind her sharing seeing as some Mentors has made little effort to offer any help.

You patted her shoulder through the fence, promising your support to help her reach the end of the games though it seemed she didn't care about winning and you admired her bravery.

A scream cut said conversation short as you looked to see Arachne's neck being stabbed with a smashed glass bottle. Play stupid games win stupid prizes.

You and Coriolanus both rushed over. Even if she was mean and bitchy she was your friend for the last five years and you had grown fond of the girl.

You whispered reassurances as she cried, placing pressure on her neck until you were literally dragged off of her by Peacekeepers, watching as her final breath left her body.

"No, no, no." You whispered with glassy eyes as her body became smaller and smaller on the ground - until it was too far into the distance to see.

It was clear the games had officially begun, and the tributes were winning.

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[silverzoomies]

Turkish Delight

peter maximoff x reader smut

chapter 2: holding out for a hero

link to chapter 1: here

warnings: shameless smut, porn with (slight) plot, mutual masturbation, best friends, dirty talk, kissing, risky sex, teasing, play fighting

word count: 5568

a/n: took me months to get this one done, but it's finally here !! hope it was worth the wait. i'm so freakin' nervous about it, i think i'll explode. thanks for bein' so patient !!💗again, if any russian dialogue needs correcting, lemme know please !! thank you !!

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Peter didn’t want his best pal thinking he’s a total horndog or anything. Contrary to popular belief, he was capable of restraint. Sometimes. But this raging hard-on couldn’t wait. 

And he promised he’d keep you warm, didn’t he? Like you said over the phone…it was cold out today. For all Peter knew, you were freezing your nips off. Alone in bed without a buddy. What kinda selfless superhero would he be - if he didn’t come to your aid when you obviously needed him most?

On the other end of the phone line, emptiness droned for seconds too long. You didn’t get a moment to marvel in the afterglow of orgasmic delight. Instead, anxiety boiled fiercely in the pit of your belly. Between your quivering legs, your own heat left you aching for something more. You sat up quickly in bed. Under the familiar weight of Peter’s jacket, your body burned like hellfire.

Carding your fingers through your bedhead, catching soft hairs under your nails; you spoke into the receiver.

“Peter?” Your voice wavered. More seconds passed in buzzing silence. You waited a moment longer. But only empty static answered your pleas, “Listen, dude, I’m really sorry if I made things awkwa-”

Dammit all. Peter meant to show up a lot sooner.

But he needed to dress himself first, of course. Since he couldn’t exactly go for a quick run across the sea in his boxers. Peter then found the Sokovian pop-up shop that sold your favorite Turkish delights - unfortunately - moved somewhere else. Bummer. Just his luck. Searching for the shop added an extra half-second to Peter’s spontaneous trip.

Which wouldn’t be all that bad. If not for the embarrassing fact that he tripped on his way back.

Into the ocean.

Yeah. By some impossible feat - a record breaking level of stupidity, Peter wiped out. He fell below water and made friends with a colossal tuna fish in the process. Somehow, he spared the Turkish delights any damage. And bidding his newfound, fishy pal farewell, Peter rushed home. Reeking of the ocean, he showered and threw on some fresh clothes.

After a century and a half, he arrived at your window. Realistically, the trip took only twenty seconds tops. And sure - maybe speeding around the globe in only twenty ticks might seem fast to…well…literally anyone else. But to Peter? Quicksilver himself?

C'mon…that's slow on a slow day.

A strong whoosh of wind swept your window, followed by a loud rattle. As if a ginormous bird flew head first into the glass. You parted your lips to scream. But if this were a race - your shriek vs Quicksilver speed - Peter had you beat by a thousand microseconds.

Time moved at a crawl all around him. Slipping in through the window, he stopped at the foot of your bed with a small box tucked under his arm. Whistling along to the tune in his earphones, he tilted his head to the side. Peter's lethargic gaze took a venturous journey across the length of your body. Up and down. Shamelessly. Several times over.

Okay, maybe about thirty four times. But who's counting?

Whoa, baby. Talk about a sight to behold. Curvaceous. So smooth. Nestled in your birthday suit post orgasm. Never before seen by the likes of a certain, silver comrade.

Peter's whistling veered off into stunned silence.

You. Buck naked. In his jacket. After a naughty jam session over the phone. He might need to go a few rounds in the madhouse.

Your pretty legs were stretched out, as you laid all cozy-like in bed. His heavy jacket draped your frame. Swallowing you in its heat, the silver garment kept your tits hidden from view. Even now, those beauties remained a mystery. The suspense made his crotch feel hot. Dragging his eyes down your tummy, Peter stopped at the dip between your legs.

Au naturel.

Sometime during his ocean getaway; he lost the boner that led him to you in the first place. But now, naturally, his dick twitched to hardness. Peter's coffee bean eyes widened. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Jeez…c'mon, guy! Just cool your jets. Take it easy.

He drew in a slow breath. Peter climbed over top of you as time finally caught up with him. With a knee resting between your legs, he loomed from above and clamped a hand over your mouth. Your scream ate his dust in a race against time, muffled under his palm.

His sudden appearance brought along a cool breeze. Chilly air welcomed its bite into your room. With only his jacket to keep you warm, you shivered. Aha! Just as he thought. You were freezing your nips off. Good thing Peter had the foresight to come by and help you out. Lest you freeze to death.

And wouldn't that put a damper on this unexpectedly great day? Your safety was of uber importance. Most definitely the primo reason for his visit. Even if the stiff tent in his jeans told a different story.

Peter's familiar eyes glistened, pupils blown with lustful anticipation. Silver strands of his hair fell over his brows. He kept his hand sealed over your mouth. Bringing his other hand up, he made a frantic shushing gesture. You furrowed your brows, yelping a muffled - Peebur??

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Shhhhh! It's cool, babe! It's…look, it's just me.” He whispered.

Pulling his hand from your mouth, Peter sat upright over your legs. His denim-clad knee nudged the drapery of your sex. Its heat was impossible to miss. But he forced himself to focus on your cute face instead.

“S'up. Uh, how's it goin’? Wow. Phew. Some wicked hot phone call that was, amiright?” Peter sheepishly chuckled.

“You little-” You playfully swatted him, smacking Peter on the arm.

Feelin’ feisty today, are we? The shock of his BNE must've unlocked some hidden strength inside you. After a few weak blows, one of your hits landed with accidental force. Peter winced, rubbing his arm as he hissed through his teeth.

“Ow!? Jeez! Touchy touchy!” He complained, holding his whisper, “Расслабься (relax)! Take it easy, babe!”

“Sorry! I'm sorry! But you scared the shit out of me! I almost peed myself!”

You leered your pretty eyes up at him. He cheesed a grin, leaning over you on all fours. Peter teased your pussy with his knee, barely inching forward. Your lingering arousal stained the denim there. A husky laugh bubbled low in his throat.

“Ohhhhh…is that why you're so wet?”

You squealed and smacked him on the arm again. Okay. He deserved that one, for sure. Peter almost felt bad for making you shit bricks. Still, he couldn't help but laugh. The scrunchy look of frustration on your face made him snort. He covered his mouth to conceal it, but his dimples ultimately gave him away.

“Don't laugh at me! I thought some creep broke in or something!” You huffed.

“I'm sorry! I just can't take you seriously when you're lookin’ pissed off like that. It's…it's cute, okay?"

“You're such a jackass.”

Peter hummed, lips pursed and contemplative.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

He shrugged, pulling a pink box from behind his back. A silver string decorated the box, tied in a sloppy bow. Grinning, Peter let his eyes fall half lidded. He slowly blinked. Even with his libido cranked up to eleven, he appeared unfazed as ever. Characteristically aloof.

“But this jackass brought you Turkish delights…so…”

For a fraction of a second, an electrifying flash sparkled in your gaze.

You rolled your eyes promptly after, “You’re sweet. But my family’s home.” You warned. Peter frowned, tipping his head back with an indignant groan, “Peter, I’m serious! We really can’t-”

He tore open the box, pushing a powdery candy past your lips. The sweet treat melted over your tongue and coated your taste buds in its fragrance. A joyous smile reclaimed your lips. Totally worth Peter’s accidental, oceanic wipe out. He chuckled again, popping a candy into his mouth before tossing the box away somewhere.

“Fiiiinnnnnne. I guess you found my only weakness. That’s heavenly.” Your voice stayed hushed as you spoke. Peter’s eyes flicked down to your lips, drawn to the pinch of powdered sugar left there, “But I’m not kidding, dude. If anyone catches you like this-”

Burdened with speedster impatience, Peter cut you off again. This time, not with a heavenly treat - but with an unexpected kiss. It happened on impulse, so careless and without a lick of hesitation. You squeaked into his lips, your eyes widening and quickly fluttering shut. Peter’s lips curved against yours in a victory smirk, the moment he realized you gave in.

The natural chemistry between you both flickered, igniting like a hot spark. That is, if the spark were an awkward display of experimental nuzzling. Magnetized to your soft lips, he almost fought the urge to part. His nose brushed your skin as he went for your neck. Peter covered your flesh in mouthy smooches. And when he got a little too greedy, he nibbled instead.

“Mmmmm…d’ywanna…y’know…” Peter rolled his hips into yours, nudging you with his bulge. Raising his head from your neck with a sloppy sound, his silver brows darted up and down - up and down. Playfully allusive. The tips of his fingers drew light lines down your belly, “‘Cuz I was really into the way you were talkin’ back there. All that freaky stuff you said about my fingers. And my speed. And my, uh…”

What a supreme understatement. Apparently, you were capable of spouting some outrageously juicy stuff. Even Peter didn't have the nutsack to repeat those words out loud.

“Peter…”

“Please? C'mon, I can be sooo quick about it, babe. You know me! Speed's the name of the game.”

Whatever happened to that frisky courage you had before? You weren't getting cold feet on him already, were you?

Your tiny hands rested on his broad shoulders, fingers curling into his grey flannel. Shifting your gaze bashfully, you chewed your lip. In reality, you didn't expect Peter to show up like this unprompted. Especially not with your family at home. There was a strong chance they'd catch you two in the act any moment. And the prospect of that freaked you out way more than banging your bestie.

Best case scenario; he would've been patient enough to wait for you. You'd drive to his place and meet him in his (mom's) basement. Where he'd quickly fuck your brains out to the tune of whatever song he left playing. You'd play some Mario Kart afterwards. And thanks to his ravenous libido, he'd drill you dumb again. And later, maybe even a third time.

Of course, the fact that you expected Peter Maximoff to be patient at all was entirely your fault. Right after you got him horny on the promise of pussy? Nah. Hindsight's twenty/twenty when your best friend's a hot-blooded speedster.

Since you took too long to give him an answer, Peter’s attention fixed elsewhere. He let his eyes dance all across your body again. Scanning every inch of smooth, visible skin and following silver creases in the jacket you wore. Until something lying by your side caught his eye. A small, bundled up wad of baby pink cloth.

Oh, helllllooooooooo. What’s this?

You were struck with a beat of realization, but had no time to react. Peter plucked your panties into his grasp. And judging by the mortified look on your face, followed by a petrified peep - yeah, he totally scored. Big time. What a steal! Your damp panties dangled from his fingers, and Peter’s brows rose under his bangs.

“Dude, wait! I can explain-”

“Ah. Black lace, huh?” He smirked.

Ты маленькая грязная лгунья (You dirty little liar)! Your panties looked nothing like you described over the phone. Baby pink. Lined with girly frills. Peppered in a pattern of cutesy, rubber duckies. Kind of adorable, in truth. But majorly humiliating for you. Peter’s grin turned even more impish, highlighting his dimples yet again. He snickered, waving the evidence of your naughty deception in front of you. Teasingly, he nudged his knee closer into your sex, making your breath hitch.

“L-Listen, in my defense, I didn’t think you’d find rubber duckies all that sexy.” You clarified, like a total lame-O.

Without thinking, he brought your panties to his nose. Peter’s hooded eyes fluttered and rolled back. He hummed something like a low growl. All devilish and, as per usual, carrying zero shame.

The apples of your cheeks burned exceptionally hotter, “Seriously?” You mumbled through a barely audible exhale of breath.

Nope. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

“And to think, I was totally honest with you about my Star Wars socks.” Peter clicked his tongue, shaking his head, “Were you pullin’ my leg when you said they were hot? You deceiver. You’re really breakin’ my heart, y’know?”

Adorable, the way you crossed your arms and puffed your cheeks. You blinked, and your panties vanished out of thin air. Almost like a magic trick. And if you thought Peter tossed them away, you were naive for assuming so. But, hey…would you mind at all? If you knew he stuffed them into his back pocket for safe keeping?

No? Cool. Finders keepers.

“Noooo! I wasn’t lying. They were totally hot. Actually…I couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy you’d look in them.” You teased, obviously full of shit. Peter rolled his eyes. But as you giggled and tilted your head down; you flitted your lashes and gave him a babydoll look. With the addition of a tempting lip bite, no less, “Wanna take those pants off and show me? You said you’d be quick, right?”

There it was. Your freaky confidence made a brief, cameo appearance. Peter's blood took a downward jump at light speed. His dick pulsed eagerly in his boxers. Flirty passes coming from you seemed to rewire his brain chemistry in a big way. He knitted his lips to the side, scratching the back of his neck.

“Can’t.”

“Awww…why not, huh? Are you embarrassed? You know you don't have to be. Not around me.” You cooed, and the sweet, caring nature of your voice made him blush.

“Nah. I know. It’s not that. It's just…they kinda got soaked?”

“They got…what? How does that even happen?”

Cradling his face in your palm, you urged him to meet your eyes. To tell you the ridiculous story he hadn't planned on telling you until, well…after you both boned. The sweet scent of your pussy on your fingers kept him distracted. An instinctive shudder raced through his body. Peter pressed a kiss to your palm once, twice, thrice. Just for good measure. 

His cheeks pinkened further, “Eh, I might've wiped out on the way here. Took a quick swim in the Atlantic. I met a super sized tuna fish and everything. Called him Quint. You've seen Jaws, right?”

What the hell was he on about now?? Peter caught himself before he got any further off track.

“Uh, anyways, whatevs. No biggie. At least it wasn't a jumbo sized shark ‘er anything. Pffbbttt.” 

“So, you're telling me…you were so eager to get laid; you tripped on water? You big doofus.”

You snickered so hard, you snorted. Cute. Peter sighed. Grinning crookedly, he brought his hand to yours over his cheek. He guided your hand lower and took you on a short journey. The destination? Boner city. You felt his thick bulge in your tiny palm. Trailing a few teasing nibbles up your neck, Peter's heated chuckles turned your skin to gooseflesh.

“Har. Har. Har. Laugh it up, why don't you? Lil miss rubber duckies.”

Peter rolled his hips down into your hand, once more alluding to his pent-up frustration. You’d taken so long to give him the green light; Peter could’ve raced overseas again, nearly drowned, and returned - ten times over. Again, you parted your lips to (probably) protest. And again, Peter cut you off with another feverish kiss. His sizable hands pulled your legs further apart. You mewled softly against his lips, as his knee kept teasing your cunt.

“Доверься мне (Trust me). D’you trust me?” He mumbled.

You answered with even sloppier tongue action, catching him off guard. Peter never thought he’d kiss your velvet lips like this. Relishing every second. Your nails scraped the back of his neck, triggering something primal inside him. With your other hand, you felt his dick twitch in his jeans. He trembled, whining into your mouth and pushing himself closer. His kisses delved deeper, his tongue catching the flavor of that Turkish delight.

“Ты такой сладкий (You’re so sweet)...”

“Ohmygod.” You whined. Whispers of breathy moans laced through your kisses like threads, “I’m sorry, but that’s so hot. Keep talking like that? Please?”

As you giggled, looking a little shy; Peter laughed. While your kisses were more of a soft and delicate variety; his were firm, but quick. Anticipating the next several, before they even happened.

“Is it? You really think so? Mmm…dunno if I believe you. Обманщик (Deceiver). You lyin’ again? ‘Cuz if you are...I have ways of findin' out…”

His big hands wandered, moving in a rush. As much as he wanted to spend the next eternity blowing your mind with righteous foreplay; Peter needed to speed things along. He kissed your neck, teeth nipping your skin - because for some reason, with you, he was just so...bitey. Further down, he parted the jacket you wore, revealing your tits in full. Perfect and supple. Outrageously bitchin’. Even prettier than whatever he imagined over the phone.

“Наконец (Finally)...” He mumbled, mostly to himself.

Peter squeezed the fullness of your breasts in his hands, thumbs rolling your nipples. His swollen lips enveloped one of your tits like a hungry man starved. Carelessly swirling his tongue, he sucked your stiff nub hard. A boob-induced haze clouded his prior sense of urgency. You ran a hand through his hair and tugged him back with a gentle jerk. Peter’s voice broke in a low whine. His tongue chased your poor, sore nipple again.

“Подожди (Wait)! Waiiit…’m not done…” He buried his face lazily between your breasts and took a moment to inhale. Before motorboating your rockin’ titties. Peter groaned like he’d never get enough. As he pulled back, he giggled like a dork, “Hohhh…I seriously think I might be in love with these things.”

Exchanging hot breaths and hushed chuckles, you both explored each other's bodies with your hands. Peter’s sneakers scraped the sheets of your bed, knocking your blankets to the floor. While you took initiative with his zipper, his fingers trailed under your navel. The tips of his digits teased your pretty slit. At last. Peter felt for himself, how much of a soaked mess you were over his two-tongued dirty talk.

“Fuuuck, you weren't messin’ with me, were you, принцесса (princess)?”

Parting your slick lips, he sank two digits into your quivering heat. Your plush pussy welcomed his fingers with sweltering tears of gratitude. Wet as fuuuuuuck. His fat thumb teased your clit. Expertly fondling your helpless, little bud. You froze just as you pulled his jeans apart. A dangerous squeal threatened to echo through your room. But you swallowed it, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Черт возьми (Damn it)...sucks I gotta rush this…” Peter huffed, plunging his digits deeper, “Really wanna take my time for once…”

You blindly felt for his bulge with clumsy hands. After giving his hard-on a loving squeeze, you tugged the front of his boxers down. As soon as his leaky cock bobbed in the open, you grabbed and held on tight. A quick glance downward, and you admired the shape and size of him. Girthy in your palm. Smooth, veiny, and pulsing as you tugged him. 

And while you may have told a few little, white lies over the phone. Peter most definitely didn't. His thick cock turned an almost lilac hue at the head, the more you teased him. Peter shivered, bunching his shoulders and arching his back. You stroked him for a beat more. Until he guided you elsewhere, lining his dick where you both urgently wanted him to be. Barely nudging his tip into your weepy slit, he flitted his hooded gaze up to meet yours.

“You good? ‘M not gonna hold back, if you-”

The carefree banter between the two of you never ceased. Despite any nervousness, you gave him a coy smile. Lips pouty and eyes lookin' lusty. You ghosted his lips with a teasing whisper.

"Peter, babe, Please. You are soooooo slow. Just go for it, yeah? You need me to beg?"

His eyes widened, and he cheesed another goofy grin, "Actually, yeah, that'd be awesome."

Giggling sweetly, you swallowed your nerves, finding that courage buried deep within.

"Come on, Quickie. Fuck me, please?"

Peter felt his dick spasm, leaking from the tip, spilling over your pearly clit.

“Shhhhh. Relaaax. I got this, babe. I got it. Just…”

His eyes dropped to your cunt, watching as he sheathed his needy cock in your fluttery slit. Peter's mouth fell open, brows curling inward. He bottomed out with a generous swing of his hips, and your snug, sticky heat made way for his visit. But not without the tiniest hint of resistance.

Breathlessly, he mumbled, “...just…oh…oh, you're tighter than I…thought…fuck. That's...”

Steamy gasps filtered your room, replacing erotic moans that didn’t dare slip. Sharing endless kisses, the two of you bumped noses and whirled your tongues. Making the most fun you could out of so little time. And as teasing playfulness intensified, consuming you both in awesome exhilaration; neither one of you could resist getting handsy. Touching all over. Squeezing. Feeling everything that was way out of bounds just a few hours prior. Peter rocked in and out of you fast enough to make your bed knock against the wall.

“Not too fast! Not too-” You mewled, your hands rubbing his shoulders, nails clawing down his chest over his shirt, "Fuck, the bed. Don't-"

“Shhh. Shhhh. Okay, baby. I gotcha. I-” Peter snickered, his troublemaker giggles quickly obscured by winded moans, “Ебать (Fuck)…” He whined, slowing the motion of his thrusts. Soaking in the fuzzy sensation of your spongy, wet heat cuddling his cock, “Ощущается так хорошо (Feels so good).”

Burying his reddened face in your titties, he squeezed one of those beauties in his hand. Watching in a trance, as they bounced in time with every push and drag of his cock. A lil too enthralled, Peter got ahead of even himself. He recklessly rolled you over. Hoping to see your tits go jiggle jiggle jiggle from another perspective. Until…

Peter brought you down to the floor with him by accident. Oof, he was all kinds of clumsy today, huh? Landing flat on his back with a thunderous thud, he sat up on his elbows. He gaped up at you with a dazed look, ogling the way your tits bunched and squished over his chest. Nipples so perky and brushing his shirt fabric. Oh, yeah. He was hella smitten with those puppies.

“Shit!” You cursed under your breath.

Peter blinked himself out of his second booby haze of the evening. On quivering knees, you tried to find your balance. After you both took a rough tumble to the floor, his cock unsheathed itself from your cozy heat. Throbbing and slick, Peter’s dick bounced. Eager to fuck you senseless again.

“Простите (sorry)! Sorry! You okay, babe?” Peter whispered, settling his warm palms over your ass.

An ass which he hadn’t taken the time to really feel yet. And no surprise, your plump cheeks were just as bodacious as the rest of you. He palmed and squeezed them, getting his fill while he still had the chance.

“I’m okay! Are you?” You chewed your lip again, tilting your head to the side. Giving Peter that same kittenish, doe-like look, ‘M gonna get in sooooo much trouble because of you, Pietro.”

Well…when you said it like that; slurred and giggly, drunk on the filthy thrill of everything so him. Peter chose to ignore whatever risks seemed to weigh on the back of your mind. Rolling the two of you over once more, he held his dick by the shaft and slipped inside your cunt. That familiar, comfy warmth welcomed him in again. He whispered your name, embellished with his natural accent.

And just as Peter set course to give you a good drilling; at your door, the knob jiggled. Pulling you out of euphoric stasis instantaneously. The two of you stilled, eyes wide, glancing between each other and to the door. Back and forth. Back and forth. Upon finding your door locked, mystery whoever on the other side knocked instead.

“Hey, are you alright? What was that noise I heard? Did you fall?” Mystery voice called from the void.

And what a golden - or silver, rather - opportunity they presented. Peter blinked, leering intensely down at your stunned face. His eyes gleamed mischievous lust. Within the embrace of your luscious walls, his cock twitched with interest. The length pulsed upward into pillowy heat.

A subtle nod to a fun, little scheme he quickly cooked up.

But he needed something to drown out the soon-to-be sound of speedy hanky panky. With a careful movement, Peter brought a hand to the Walkman clipped loosely on his jeans. Having memorized the buttons, he knew how to work it by muscle memory.

Loosening the earphone jack, his thick fingers clicked - a button here, a button there. And voilà. Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out for a Hero began to play. Ah, yeah. The good ol' Footloose soundtrack. He'd now dub it the soundtrack to your first, shared romp together. Which was kinda fitting. Before he showed up, you were technically holdin' out for a hero. Your eyes flicked to the source of the music, then back up to him. You gave him a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ kinda look.

Peter bit his lip, the corners of his grin curling into a diabolical smirk. As your brows knitted in suspicion; he rolled his hips sloooooowly back. You shook your head silently. Retracting his cock halfway, he took less than a millisecond to launch his hardness into your cervix. The motion knocked the wind from your chest. Covering your mouth, head thrown back; you scratched your nails into the carpet.

He arched a brow. One of his hands darted to your wrist, tugging in an attempt to unseal your mouth. Even with his dick buried deep in your insides, weakening your defenses; you fought back. You jerked away, which only encouraged him more. Peter bit his tongue to hold back a snicker. A few feisty slaps on your end, and you both fell into a play fighting frenzy. Your overstimulated cunt rippled around his dick, as he pinned your wrists to the floor.

Mystery voice called your name again. Their tone reflected growing concern for you. But you couldn't make out what they said over Bonnie Tyler amped up to high volume. Peter’s gaze stayed hard locked on yours. Picking up speed, pounding into you raw and rolling his cock so deep; he knitted his brows and nodded towards the door. As if to say - go on, say something already.

“I-I’m fine! I just…yeah, I, uh…I fell out of bed!” You yelled over the music. Your voice hitched, squeaking at the tailend. A scorching surge of ecstasy burst through your core. Continuously building, as Quicksilver focused entirely on rearranging your insides. It seemed impossible, but you managed to choke out,  “I’m oh-...okay now!”

“You fell? Are you sure you’re alright?” Ебена мать (Holy shit). Mystery voice refused to step down. They raised their tone to a high enough octave, you finally heard. The doorknob jiggled again, “I thought you said you were going somewhere tonight?”

“I-I am! I was!” You swallowed your whimpers, steadily losing your composure.

Growing hazier with every bold, speedy thrust; you raised your legs and locked them in a vice grip around him. Now, Peter had free reign to pound your tight channel at whatever speed struck his fancy. He knew after this - no man you slept with would ever dream of matching his god-given talent.

Hot white pulses of mind-altering pleasure rattled through your bones. Blocking out the sensation of rug burn itching your lower back. Your wrists tingled like pins and needles under Peter’s hold. At the corners of your glossy eyes, excessive pleasure made your tears drip in clots. Peter leaned in, muttering soft praises in your ear, broken only by his own whimpers.

“Хорошая девочка. Это моя хорошая девочка (Good girl. That’s my good girl). Это слишком быстро? Слишком быстро для тебя? Хочешь, чтобы я замедлился (Is this too fast? Too fast for you? Do you want me to slow down)?”

You responded with a tightly wound, whispery little “Fuuuuuuuck!”

And mystery voice. Bless their innocent soul. They still hadn't left you to your business. It took all the willpower left simmering inside you, to finally muster the brain cell to respond.

“I have to-” A high-pitched hiccup in your breath cut you off. Another, more kittenish squeal threatened to tumble from your lips unprompted, “Hold on! I have to get dressed! I’ll be out in a sec!”

By now, you couldn’t fathom where your pleasure was even coming from. Peter made quite the first impression in the bedroom, drilling your poor pussy to numbness. A powerful wave of blissful vibrations erupted from…somewhere. It ripped through your insides like the speediest of shockwaves. Freeing your tired wrists, Peter lifted your hips. His desperate, horny instincts then took over.

The last wave of your orgasm compressed your walls, locking his dick in a slippery death grip. As you shuddered around him, making a beautiful, sticky mess of his spent hardness; he pulled out.

Caught up in the heat of the moment, his dumb sex brain told him: Dude, cum on those titties. Which he did. Acting fast, he grabbed the thick base of his cock and stroked 'til he burst.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh sh-" He moaned.

With a look of lazy, fucked out awe on your face; you watched your bestie's ruddy dick pulsate. Generously decorating your soft tits in heated, white jets - along with the jacket you wore.

His jacket. And not just any old jacket. But one of his favorite jackets.

“Ебать! Ебать (Fuck! Fuck)!” He panted, swiping fresh cum - Eugh...yuck - from the jacket. His face scrunched in a grimace, “Awwww, man! Goddammit. Figures.”

Sometime later (only three minutes), you laid lazily on your back next to your bestest pal in the whole world; staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars decorating your ceiling. Outside, the evening already drove the sun into darkness. With only a sliver of orange light left in the distance, beyond your open window.

Peter already did the work, taking care of himself and speedily cleaning you up. An overall, blissful numbness pooled in your veins. You sleepily blinked, watching the stars on the ceiling quickly morph into...Peter's face? The confused expression overtaking your features seemed to put things into perspective for him. Like...shit...he really did a number on you, huh?

"You're still comin' over tonight, right?" He asked, prodding your cheek with his pointer finger, "Riiiight? I got a Gameboy waitin' for us and everything, dude."

Your lips slowly parted. But before you could mutter a single, breathless word; Peter delicately patted your cheek. In a blink, he stood to his feet and straightened himself out. Bringing his goggles down over his eyes, shimmying them into place; he threw you a casual salute.

"Awesome possum. Meetcha there."

He vanished out the window, leaving you to lie there on the floor. Naked as the day you were born, albeit bundled up in his jacket. Another thirty seconds passed in post sex-with-a-speedster bliss. 

And then, a shrill ringing dragged you back down to reality. You winced, narrowing your eyes and steadily pushing yourself to your knees. Loose, noodly limbs fumbled for the handset to your phone. It took you a few tries, scrambling to get a hold of it. Clearing your throat, you pressed the phone to your ear.

"Hello?"

"You ready yet?" Peter asked.

He lazed on the sofa in his (mom's) basement, his Garfield phone resting in his lap like a kitten having a catnap. The vibrant, orange cord curled around his finger as he absentmindedly toyed with it. Dawning a cheeky, dimple grin, Peter popped a candy into his mouth. He bounced a leg in rapid beats.

"You're kidding, right?" You chuckled, mussing your hair, completely overspent.

"Uh, no? Hurry up, will you? Don't forget my jacket. I gotta toss it in the wash. And, oh!" Peter chewed just a touch louder, smacking his lips, "Took your Turkish delights, by the by. So, if you want 'em...eh? Ehhh?" He wiggled his brows.

As you listened to Peter ramble about...whatever the hell; you searched for your panties. Checking the bed, then the floor. They were nowhere to be found. As if they seemingly disappeared, never to be seen again. You sighed, cradling the base of your phone in an arm, the handset nestled between your cheek and shoulder. 

"Hey, Peter?"

"Yeah? What's up, cutie? You headin' out?"

"Dude, where the hell are my panties?"

No answer. Nothing but an off-hook tone, droned on and on.

[zekepng]

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘

One evening, a familiar neighbour approaches you and requests a favour, even though it's late. You willingly assist him and he doesn't let you leave without generously rewarding you for your helpfulness. 

Milkman (Francis Mosses) one shot, explicit content - fanart: Yunonoai on twitter

Ao3 Link

Discord Server

As you settle into your seat, you feel your eyelids growing heavy from the gentle sway. It's a quiet Sunday, with only a few souls venturing through. It seems like the majority of the neighbours have chosen to stay home and take a break today.

You found some satisfaction in your job, despite your preference for being at home on a Sunday. 

At least you're earning a paycheck for your efforts to do nothing.

Just like magic, the elevator doors glide open, as if anticipating your thoughts. You awaken, your gaze drawn to the window shielding your office. Anastacha glances in your direction, offering a brief wave and a smile before gracefully heading towards the exit.

You reciprocate the gesture, ensuring there are no witnesses nearby.

Before slipping on your headphones, you steal a quick glance at the clock on the wall, hoping to see the hand inching closer to ten, but it's barely making its way to eight.

Once again, as if following a precise rhythm, your tired eyes gently close.

Until the sound of forceful pounding against the glass abruptly jolts them awake. You find yourself on the edge of your seat, suddenly snapping upright in a state of sheer panic.

You abruptly lose track of your surroundings, momentarily transported from your peaceful bed to an unfamiliar place.

You find yourself sinking into the uncomfortable chair, feeling the strain in your back as you gaze out through the transparent barrier that separates you from the outside world. You can't help but feel a rush of surprise as you lay your eyes on the towering figure before you, his gentle smile adding a touch of warmth to the scene.

"Long shift?" He asks, his head slightly tilted. His gentle, deep brown eyes fixate on you, capturing a flicker of delight in your astonished expression.

"Francis," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You remove the headphones from your ears and sit up straight in your chair.

As per his usual attire, he wears a pristine white shirt and sleek black trousers, complemented by a stylish black bow tie. With his trademark white hat perched atop his tousled brown silk hair, it's clear that he's having a particularly dishevelled day.

“Did I startle you?” He asks, his voice carrying a sense of innocence as he gently removes his hat from his head.

You tear your eyes away from his, only to steal a quick glance at the clock, hoping to catch any sign of time passing. You find it shocking that what seemed like an eternity actually lasted a mere half an hour. "Well, I never expected anyone to approach me," you murmur softly.

"My apologies, (y/n)," he says with a playful laugh, “but I need you to get into my apartment.” 

As you regain consciousness, a wave of disorientation washes over you. You gaze at him with a bewildered expression, desperately trying to comprehend his words. Suddenly, he utters, "My keys, (y/n). You have my keys, just like you do every day.” 

Your cheeks flush as a wave of embarrassment washes over you, all while he stares at you with a gentle smile, almost bordering on a smirk. “Sorry, it’s been a long night.” You casually reach over and take his house keys from the hook.

“I guess I’m not the only forgetful one here,” he chuckles, clutching the keys to his truck in his hand.

During your week of working here, you formed a pact with Francis. Because of his tendency to forget, he would often misplace one of his keys and ask for a spare. In order to avoid this recurring issue, you both decided to make an arrangement where his keys would be kept downstairs at your desk.

As he inches towards the glass, a sense of confusion washes over you until he finally says, “I have another favour I need you to do for me.” 

“Which is?” You ask, carefully examining his features. You trace the contours of his nose, gradually becoming absorbed in your own thoughts—lewd thoughts.

You find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him as he talks.

The gaze in his almond-shaped eyes carries a captivating yet mysterious allure.

Every time he passes by, his demeanour seems gloomy, but a flicker of joy illuminates his eyes when he catches a glimpse of you. However, that happiness quickly dissipates as his smile vanishes.

You can't help but imagine the intense gaze and the heated encounter as he bends you over your desk and fucks you senseless. 

Your mind is swirling with questions like, What noise does he make? Is he loud? Would he fuck you good? Is it big?

It has to be big.

There is a mysterious presence about him that eludes comprehension, yet it holds you captivated.

“So, can I?” He asks, jolting you back to reality as you realise you've completely zoned out and missed his entire conversation.

You find yourself shaking your head in disbelief, struggling to process his words. However, your mind becomes overwhelmed with a flurry of unanswered questions. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that for me?”

“I asked if I could place a few of my milk trays in your office as I unload them from my truck? It’s far colder there than it is out here,” he asks, causing your eyes to cautiously shift between his face and the office floor, contemplating if they would even fit.

“It’s just so that I don’t have to keep going to my truck all the way to the third floor.” He includes this detail in an effort to convince.

You're still apprehensive because it's against the rules to allow residents into the office, even for a brief period of time. “I don’t think I can let you in here, Francis.” You admit, a hint of guilt creeps into your expression.

"Come on," he pleads, his head tilting and his hands clasping together in a prayer-like gesture. “Please, it will only be for a few minutes, (y/n).” 

His voice trembles and his eyes become gentle, almost melting you with their intensity.

"It's late, and this secret can stay between us," he pleads, his voice filled with desperation. “I promise I’ll reward you for being good to me, (y/n).” It’s almost as if the use of him saying your name was a kryptonite to you. 

Every atom of your being trembles as your name escapes out of his mouths, sending shivers down your spine.

“Fine,” you reluctantly concede, succumbing to his pleading stare. “Just be quick.”

In a matter of moments, he effortlessly reveals a sly grin, his expression as stoic as ever, as he casually lowers his hands by his side. "You’re the best,” he exclaims while placing his hat back on his head and stepping back outside. 

You cautiously lean back in your chair, then rise to your feet and unlock the office door. Before proceeding, you cautiously survey your surroundings, ensuring that no prying eyes are present. 

The last thing you desire is to attract unwanted attention and risk being reported for violating any regulations.

As you gently nudge the door, you lean against it, ensuring it stays ajar, eagerly anticipating Francis swift return from his truck. As time passes, you observe him effortlessly using his back to swing open the door of the building. He then pivots and starts making his way towards you.

You watch as he carefully balances two crates, one on top of the other, brimming with delicate glass milk bottles. You watch as he effortlessly carries the heavy crates into the office, his white shirt rolled up to reveal his strong forearms adorned with prominent veins.

You can't help but have your attention fixated on him, like an annoying, persistent fly.

"I only have two more to carry," he says, walking past you once more before vanishing outside.

You eagerly anticipate his return, and when he finally enters the building, he is drenched from the rain. You can't help but notice how his shirt is nearly transparent, allowing a glimpse of his skin underneath. 

As raindrops trickle down his face, they leave a trail of glistening droplets in their wake.

As he enters the office with the two crates, you quietly trail behind him, allowing the door to gently shut behind you. You watch as he carefully places the crates on top of each other, his gaze sweeping across the office before he straightens up.

You watch as Francis takes off his hat, his face filled with a sense of relief. I can help you carry these up to your apartment, however, in order to do so, I'll need the key to the truck," you mention, extending your hand towards him.

You find yourself captivated by his stare as he gently places the keys in your open hand. As you casually swap the truck key for the flat key, his gaze remains fixated on you.

As you turn around to face him, you find yourself taken aback as you come face to face with him, your eyes widening in surprise at his close proximity.

His towering presence looms above you, his hand poised near the switch that will lower the shutter. You find yourself struggling to control your breathing, as if your breath has been captured by an unseen force.

“Did you think I forgot about your reward?” His voice says, sending shivers down your spine while also captivating your senses.

Without uttering a single sound, he proceeds to push the switch, causing the shutters to gradually descend, leaving only you and him in the office.

"I didn't think you were serious," you mutter, struggling to articulate your thoughts.

As he takes the keys from your grasp, his touch is tender as he delicately cradles your chin with his other hand. You find yourself instinctively retreating as he moves closer, your back pressing against the edge of your desk. “Good girls deserve to be rewarded, (y/n).”

“And you’re a good girl for helping me, aren’t you, (y/n)?” He asks, gently caressing your lips with his thumb.

You fix your eyes on him, a gaze brimming with intense desire. You find yourself completely immobilised and unable to utter a single word, ensnared in a captivating spell cast by his presence.

You want him to tear your clothes off and fuck you savagely as if you were animals.

In the blink of an eye, his tender caress transforms into something forceful. You watch as his hand swiftly clamps around your jaw, his eyes filled with intensity. "Say it," he demands, his voice filled with authority. 

In any other circumstance, fear might consume you, but instead, a surge of pleasure courses through your body, intensifying the throbbing sensation between your legs.

You swallow nervously before quietly admitting, "I am."

"Good," he murmurs, loosening his hold on your jaw as he draws you closer to him. Out of nowhere, he surprises you by gently placing his lips against yours, leaving you completely stunned.

You feel the warmth of his body as your hands instinctively glide up his neck, drawn to his touch. You can't help but be drawn to his kisses, even though they're sloppy. 

They are filled with a raw and intense passion that ignites something deep within you. You feel a gentle bite on your bottom lip, and a soft moan emerges from your throat as he takes the chance to slide his tongue through.

You can sense the heat coursing through your veins, which is matched only by the rapid thumping of your heart.

As he shifts back, a brief strand of saliva lingers between you both, only to be swiftly followed by another passionate kiss. You find yourself captivated by the gentle gaze in his eyes as he slowly moves his lips from yours to the tender skin of your neck.

You feel a soft nibble on your neck, followed by a gentle whisper in your ear, “Sit on the desk.”

You find yourself completely mesmerised by his every word, unable to resist his intriguing presence. You obediently follow the directions, concealing any signs of bewilderment. You settle yourself on the desk, feeling a slight breeze as your skirt lifts slightly.

You reach out to mend it, but he abruptly halts your movement. His hands gently lift yours away from your thighs, finding their place on either side of you.

You watch as he gracefully lowers himself to the ground, effortlessly sinking to his knees right in front of you.

You find yourself at a loss for words as you experience the sensation of his hands enveloping your thighs, gently guiding you closer to the edge of the desk.

You feel the gentle touch of his lips against the sensitive skin of your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp as you tilt your head back in response.

You feel a gentle tug on your thong, as it gracefully slides down your leg and is set aside.

You adjust your skirt higher, feeling a sudden warmth on your cheeks as you become aware of your vulnerability.

You're captivated by the intensity of his eyes, lost in the moment as he delicately positions your legs over his shoulder, drawing you nearer without disrupting the desk.

You observe him with anticipation and a heightened sense of desire as he approaches your cunt. You find yourself biting your lip, a soft whimper escaping your lips as his warm tongue playfully dances around your clit, sending waves of teasing pleasure through your body.

The tip of his tongue delicately explores and teases your pussy.

Unexpectedly, he inserts two fingers into your wet hole, eliciting a chorus of pleasure-filled sounds from your lips.

You slowly glide your hand through his soft, lustrous brown hair, then firmly grasp it as he skillfully moves his fingers in and out of you, simultaneously using his tongue to pleasure your most sensitive spot.

You are consumed by an overwhelming surge of tension, which sends waves of pleasure cascading through your entire being. "Oh fuck," you gasp, your voice filled with desire, as you tightly grip his hair.

You can feel the intensity building as his tongue quickens its pace, sending waves of tension through your body. Just as the knot of anticipation reaches its peak, he eases off, gradually slowing down.

You feel a rush of pleasure as his fingers move in and out of you, perfectly synchronised with the skillful movements of his tongue. It's as if he knows exactly how to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

As if to intensify the sensation, he adds a third finger into your dripping pussy, causing you to cry out, "Francis, please!" His tongue quickens its pace once more, heightening the pleasure even more.

You sense your proximity drawing near. You can feel the heat building up inside you, your breath quickening and your toes curling in pleasure as he expertly stimulates you with his slender fingers. "I'm getting close," You struggle to utter the three simple words, your voice trembling with emotion.

Out of nowhere, he abruptly withdraws his mouth from you, yet his fingers remain inside, delving deeper and deeper.

You're hooked by the intense stare he directs towards you, his eyes filled with a mysterious allure. A blend of your fluids and his spit moistens his mouth as he slowly smirks at you.

Author's note: part 2 is pending... ಇ

[tom-whore-dleston]

Glass Slippers

Pairing: Prince Charming!Loki Laufeyson x Cinderella!f. reader

Word Count: 2.3k

This fic contains: smut, Cinderella AU, strip tease, love bites, face sitting, light praise kink, nipple play, shoe kink, first time

Summary: You just became a princess after marrying Loki. Now that you are celebrating your honeymoon, he strives to tr(eat) you like a queen.

Notes: Believe it or not, this was a 3 year old WIP that I locked in and finally finished. What a way to kick off Kinktober huh?

The dream that you wish will come true.

It definitely came true alright. One moment you were sweeping cinders from under the fireplace and taking orders from your evil stepmother and stepsisters. Then, bippity boppity boo! Your fairy godmother heard your prayers and helped you become a princess with a little bit of magic. You danced the night away with Prince Charming, who you soon learned was named Loki, and were the princess of all of the land within days. For once you were in charge of your own life and you were calling your own shots. You had no idea what to expect as a princess, but you were grateful to have your Prince Charming teach you.

As you ventured to your honeymoon destination, a private island not too far from the kingdom, you talked about your life as the maid for your evil family members. In return, Loki discussed his own story of how he was a prince who learned magic from his mother, Queen Frigga. He showed you all of the magic tricks he had up his sleeves and you found yourself falling even more in love as the seconds flew by.

“So you are like a fairy godmother of some sort?” you inquired full of amusement. Loki laughed, making the fireworks from his hands disappear.

“Yes, my love,” Loki stated, “except I don’t need a wand. All I need is my hands.” He winked suggestively at you and warmth crept from your neck to cheeks. You weren’t sure what exactly he meant but that wink of his made you feel things in your body that you have never felt before.

You and Loki had just arrived at the private island and you were more than eager to explore. You carefully stepped off the boat in your glass slippers while Loki held the back of your dress to prevent snagging. Once your feet reached the ground, you looked back at Loki mischievously and began running towards the entrance of the estate. Loki shook his head and chased after you, catching up to your laughter. You yelped as Loki scooped you up and carried you bridal style into the estate.

“Thought you could run away from me again, Princess?” Loki tutted, reminding you of the night you abandoned him at the ball. “I will always catch you, my sweet.” He set you down so you could admire the interior design. Everything was black and gold with green accents. Just like Loki’s armor. You could easily get lost in the estate if left alone. Suddenly, Loki’s voice brought you back to reality.

“Follow me to the bedroom and I will show you more of my magic.” You reluctantly followed Loki up the staircase, excited to look around the place and also see more of the prince’s magic. You felt like a little guppy in the ocean with all the riches surrounding you.

“Oh my, everything is absolutely beautiful!” you exclaimed behind Loki, trying to keep up with Loki’s long strides, despite your dress and glass slippers. Loki chuckled at your amusement, opening a door at the end of the hallway. Walking in after Loki, you gawked at how gorgeous the bedroom was. 

“Well, Princess, enjoy it because it’s all yours too,” Loki added, placing his hands on your bare shoulders. You shivered at the feel of his hands on your skin and your eyes wandered down to his pink lips. Biting your lip, you fought back the temptation to kiss your Prince Charming.

“So, this is where the magic happens?” you awkwardly questioned, unaware of the gears turning in Loki’s head. 

“Something like that,” Loki paused to collect his thoughts. “Before I show you more of my magic, I must ask: do you trust me Princess?” You tilted your head in confusion. Of course you trusted him. He was your husband, your beloved Prince Charming, the first person you have trusted in years. Nothing he could possibly do would hurt you; you were safe with him.

“Of course, my Prince, I trust you with my life!” you professed from the bottom of your heart. He grasped your hands and kissed your knuckles lovingly.

“Good,” Loki nodded, “we will be doing more than just magic tonight. If anything makes you uncomfortable, please tell me, okay?” You let out a faint yes before he praised you with words of affirmation and sweet kisses to your painted lips. Loki strutted over to the king sized bed and plopped himself in the middle of it, spreading his legs so you had a generous view of his tight crotch.

“Strip for me, Princess!” Loki commanded seductively, sprawling his arms across the pillows. Your cheeks burned and you bashfully looked down at your glass slippers. You nervously smiled at him before reaching down to take off your shoes. Loki snapped his fingers, causing you to look back up at him, and he shook his head at you.

“Everything except those pretty glass slippers comes off,” Loki added as you apologetically bowed your head towards him. You removed the silk gloves from your hands, and slowly unraveled the bow that tied your wedding dress together. The poofy white dress pooled to your feet, leaving you in only a satin bustier and matching panties. Loki hummed and licked his lips, his eyes burning into your bare skin as if he was trying to see through your lingerie. You have never been this exposed to anyone before, but the way Loki watched you undress for him boosted your confidence and sex appeal.

You stepped out of your dress to give Loki a closer look at your body, making sure to not to get your heels caught on it. You spun around to reveal your ass to him while you unhooked the bustier. As it dropped to the floor with your dress, you bent over to slide your panties off your legs. In the midst of removing the intimate article of clothing, your slit was presented to Loki, making him moan at the sight. You smugly grinned to yourself knowing the effect you had on Loki. You slowly straightened yourself up and turned to face Loki again. He cursed under his breath as your breasts came into his view. 

“Very good, my Princess!” Loki applauded, gaining his dominance back. Goosebumps formed on your naked body as he praised you. He noticed the way you shivered at his words and it was his turn to smirk at you. “It appears my praise has an effect on you, yes?”

“I am not used to it,” you admitted.

“No need to worry, Princess. I will shower you with all the praise you deserve.” Loki’s voice was genuine and sweet but still dominant. He signaled you to join him on the bed with one of his long fingers. As if pulled by a magnet, you strutted towards the foot of the bed, glass slippers clicking against the marble floor. Then, you slowly crawled into his firm lap, tensing as your center came in contact with his hardness that was held back by his leather pants.

“Loki,” you innocently called out, “you feel hard. But it feels...good.”

Your new husband chuckled while gently feeling up your body with both hands. “Yes, my love, that’s what your beautiful body does to me.” 

With that, your lips collided furiously together. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest firmly against his. Your nipples hardened against his pecs, causing your mouth to fall open against his. This allowed Loki to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you experimentally licked against his tongue. When he responded with a guttural moan, you continued flicking your tongues together, exchanging heat and spit. Even with the amount of past suitors Loki slept with, no one was as receptive and eager to please as you and it made his cock swell.  

The dark haired prince pulled away from your pouty lips, trailing his own lips down your jaw to your neck. Chills crept down your body as he left wet kisses on your skin while gripping your hips with his large hands. He searched for your face, causing you to sigh from the abandonment of his touch.

“Let me claim you as mine, darling.” Loki breathed out. “If anything hurts or discomforts you, please stop me.” You slowly nodded with heavy eyelids as he dipped his head back towards your neck. His lips met your collarbone, leaving a soft kiss before sinking his teeth into your skin. As he started sucking, the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain coursed through your veins the same way blood rushed to where Loki’s mouth claimed you as his. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping the roots as you ground your hips against his. 

When a fresh bruise appeared, Loki whimpered a faint “Princess” before taking ownership of the skin right above your breast. Your head tilted back, giving him more access to that sensitive spot. The more he bit and sucked at you, the more you craved his mouth on other parts of your body too intimate to admit out loud. 

Luckily, Loki sensed your secret desire the way his lips attached to your nipple, licking and sucking it like a starved peasant. You assumed it was his magic that caused him to read your mind, or your unmatched chemistry and vulnerability that no magical being could manipulate. Either way, you hoped that it lasted to the end of your honeymoon, and perhaps further into the future.

“Mmmm, Loki!” You whined as Loki gave your other breast the same attention. His hands squeezed you as you ground harder against his lap that ached to be free. Your center grew wetter by the moment, and you hoped that Loki wouldn’t mind the puddle of arousal on his pants. Suddenly, the sound of Loki calling your name pulled you back towards his gaze.

“How do you feel, my bride?”

You smiled blissfully. “Absolutely wonderful!” Loki matched your smile and kissed your lips tenderly.

“I want to try something with you.” You nodded enthusiastically. “When we try this, please do not fear that you will hurt me. I promise there is nothing you can do that will hurt me.”

“Anything for you, my Prince!” You replied confidently. Loki gave you one more peck before sliding his body down the bed.

“Now, Princess, I’m gonna lay down on the bed and my head will be between your legs. All you have to do is sit down on top of my face and let me pleasure you with my mouth. Don’t be afraid of hurting me. As future queen of Asgard, I want you to use my face as the throne you deserve to be worshiped on.”

Your cunt throbbed as he spoke to you and you have never been more excited to be pleased the way Loki described. “Yes, my Prince!”  

He smiled, only inches from where you craved him most. “Good girl.” Then, with his hands, he moved you to sit right on top of his face and his tongue darted between your folds. You yelped at the sudden feeling of him licking the arousal that dripped from you. Having Loki licking your pussy was like a candle being lit. Once the flame meets the wick, the candle burns brighter and hotter as the wax melts, eventually succumbing to the heat. And you so badly yearned to succumb to Loki as you melted from his ministrations.

“Ohh, please do not stop, my Prince! It feels so amazing!” This only egged him to lick you with more fervor, occasionally sucking the hidden pearl that you once believed only you could find. Your husband’s moans vibrated against your mound, sending shock waves through the lower half of your body. You lost control of your own body as your hips rocked over his inviting tongue and your hands pushed his head further between your legs. In the midst of your hedonism, you had forgotten that Loki may be struggling to breathe, but the fact he was willing to sacrifice his breath for your pleasure caused you to chase that rapture.

“Loki, I-I feel…something. I don’t know…but, don’t stop what you’re doing! Please!” Desperation was woven in your voice as Loki lapped at your core, his fingertips ghosting the curves of your body. He grabbed the flesh of your ass, pulling you further down on him to vigorously suck your clit. The moment your eyes locked with his below you, that’s when you felt it. The flame scorched your whole being, causing you to melt and drip like the burning candle.  Your thighs shook violently against Loki’s ears, depriving him of all his senses against his taste of you. He held you against him, making sure not to miss a single drop of your arousal. 

When you couldn’t take it anymore, you climbed off his face, crashing onto the bed and cuddling next to his glistening body. You and Loki shared a moment of silence, aside from the heavy pants for fresh air. Your hands connected lovingly, and then you met each other’s gaze. 

“My dear, you taste divine! Not even a winter’s feast can sate the hunger I have for you.” You became flustered at the compliment so dirty yet so sweet. It appeared that same hunger was not satisfied with the way Loki laid you on your back and hovered over you. He left a searing kiss on your tainted lips, leaving you to savor the remains of your release before traveling back south.

“Pardon the gluttony, but I don’t think I can get enough of you, my Princess.” The god lifted your legs to the sky before slightly parting them to rest your ankles on his shoulders. The last thing you saw before he dove back down to your pussy was those shimmering glass slippers framing Loki’s head.

You silently thanked your fairy godmother that the glass slippers fit you.

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[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 4

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Ben claims his prize…

Word Count: 5.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for suggestiveness. Cheating (technically), more cat and mouse seduction, cracks in the masks, and a cat fight.

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Part 4: Better Shape Up

Who knew this man could be such a damn tease. You wouldn’t have thought him capable, for someone who wasn’t used to waiting for anything he wanted.

He demonstrated his resolve on a morning where you thought it safe to venture down to the gym. The others typically didn’t surface until around noon at least, so the morning was your time to work out and train in peace.

Today, Ben was already here. He was dressed down in a loose gray shirt and a pair of sweatpants and combat boots. He had already worked up a sweat and was now doing some impressive leg curls.

You tried not to linger your gaze on the exposed muscles of his arms and the outline of his broad back, but you slipped by him to claim a treadmill after offering him a polite good morning.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you in here,” he remarked.

You shot him a glance. “I like the quiet in the morning.”

“Matter of fact, you don’t go out of your way to hang out with anyone else on the team,” he said, as if you hadn’t answered.

He was right, but the fact that he’d noticed that about you was interesting. It proved he had his eyes on you, in more ways than one.

“Smart,” he added. “The others are dipshits.”

You smiled in amusement. You were inclined to agree.

Well, most of them, anyway. Crimson Countess was smarter than he gave her credit for, and you were sure Mindstorm was as well, even if he was a hermit.

Once you finished your cardio, you caught your breath with a few sips from the water fountain and found a small towel to wipe at your face and arms. Afterwards, you moved to the mats to stretch out. Yoga was one of the exercises that not only cooled you down and kept you limber after a workout, but it also helped you focus your internal world.

Sometimes it wasn’t easy being able to sense so many male presences around you, along with their baser emotions. It had taken several years of honing your mind and your powers to be able to spread your awareness only when you wanted to. But some energies were just too difficult to ignore.

You raised your hands high above your head, then bent at the waist to lower them all the way to the ground. From there, you walked your hands out across the mat into a downward dog pose.

As you moved through your yoga routine, you could feel a hot stare on your ass. You almost smiled to yourself.

By now, your companion had shifted to a different machine, working on his arms. After a few minutes, you heard the heavy clink of metal on metal. You looked over and saw that he’d finished, dropping the truly massive dumbbells on either side of his legs. He sat at the machine for a moment, catching his breath. His skin was glistening with a fine layer of sweat.

He pointed over to a water bottle that lied on the floor, a few feet away.

“Mind grabbing that for me, sweetheart?” he asked.

That request was harmless enough. You went over and grabbed it for him, your warm hands brushing his on the tradeoff. You meant to turn and head for the showers, but your foot got caught on one of the dumbbells. You gasped and nearly went down when you tripped.

Ben stood and hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his solid form. You grabbed onto his arms on reflex. You felt sweat under your palms and between your fingers, smelled his musky, masculine scent. Your breasts were brushing his chest with every breath.

And all the while, he looked down at you like he was thinking about devouring you. You felt his desire.

Instead, he smiled and let you go.

“You okay?” he asked.

Your brain short-circuited for a minute.

“Um, y-yeah. Thanks,” you said. Your hands slipped away from his arms, and you slowly turned and walked away. You almost stopped at the showers like you intended, but at the last second, you thought better of it and kept going all the way back up to your room.

Ben watched you go with a smirk, admiring your ass in those yoga pants.

You knew your plan was working, even with all his antics. You could ultimately use his interest in you to your advantage: for your career.

The plan had started forming the second you met him in that breakroom, and was only reinforced by Countess's superiority and general bitchiness toward you...

But you also thought that man was affecting you far more than you’d like to admit.

So you tried your best to give yourself a break from him. You trained on your own, and only engaged in minor small talk with your fellow teammates whenever you crossed paths with them; even Black Noir, the only person you’d been able to share some genuine conversation with.

You’d sensed the friction between him and Ben, and as unfair and often cruel as you thought it was, you didn’t want to give the latter a reason to resent you. It would only muddle your plans. For that matter, you tried to stay out of Countess’s way as well.

Throughout it all, you began to realize that you were even more alone than you thought you would be in this Tower.

However, your excitement bubbled up again when Arthur called you up to his office. He seemed excited too, which already had you gripped with anticipation. You were hungry to prove yourself, and also to jump on a project. Any project that they might give you to advance your career and increase your exposure to the public.

“I happened to show Soldier Boy that clip you sent in with your audition. The video of your off-the-cuff duet with Whitney Houston at that live show? Now, it was a little fuzzy. Looked like it was filmed with a kid’s Kodak, but whatever. It was brilliant.”

You smiled genuinely. “Thank you.”

Arthur nodded. “Well, Soldier Boy agrees that you’re impressive. And he’s been chomping at the bit for something new. So, I talked to Madelyn and the rest of the team, and we think you two should do a duet together. A cover.”

You blinked a bit wider. “O-Oh, really? Of what?”

“You remember ‘You’re the One That I Want,’ by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John?”

“From Grease?” you asked with furrowed brows. That movie was like, five years old already. But you did see the previews for a new movie John and Olivia just did together, Two of a Kind. It was set to come out later this year.

“Exactly,” Arthur said, pointing at you. “It could be bigger than the movie!”

You doubted that, but it was still a great opportunity for you. Exactly the kind you’d been waiting for.

There was just one problem.

“And…what about Crimson Countess? You think she’ll be okay with this?” you asked. “She hasn’t exactly warmed up to me.”

Arthur sighed, but he waved a dismissive brow.

“Let us handle that part. At the end of the day, she understands this is all business here. No one’s gettin’ married.”

You laughed politely while hiding a sliver of unease. You agreed to the idea, but if Ben had a hand in this at all, you had a feeling you knew what he was up to.

You showed up early to the studio on a Tuesday morning. Ben, of course, was an hour late. You two had already pre-recorded your vocal parts separately, so today started the filming for your version of the music video.

You were already getting ruby red lipstick painted on your lips, when Ben stumbled into the hair and makeup trailer.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he rumbled in your direction.

“Good morning,” you replied cordially, though you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

He was nursing a tremendous hangover, by the looks of it. If it wouldn’t ruin your stylist’s concentration, you would shake your head in exasperation. Could he take nothing seriously?

Angela, his stylist, began by cleaning his face with an exfoliator wipe. She spread some primer on first before she went for the foundation. He stopped her with a raise of his hand and a halting sound in his throat.

“Make me a little more tan today, eh, doll face. You washed me out last time,” he said, slapping her on the ass. Angela jolted, but she gave him a practiced smile.

“No problem, Soldier Boy.” She swapped the foundation in her hand for a warmer shade. 

You barely managed to stop yourself from frowning. Asshole.

Another half hour later, you were ushered out of the makeup trailer and into the dressing room. By the time you stepped out, you were transformed fully into Sandy Olsson, Olivia Newton-John’s character in Grease, complete with the skin-tight black jumpsuit.

You were reenacting one of the final songs of the movie—the moment where Sandy drops her prim and proper upbringing to show Danny that she could live in his “edgier” world, if he was willing to step up, or shape up, for her as a man.

Vought had the money to create a truly impressive set. You stepped out towards the stage and looked around at all the people, not to mention the expensive-looking equipment on this production. You had been on big stages before, but not as the leading lady. This was big, and you could admit, it was intimidating.

Ben soon joined you, looking very much the part with a real cigarette in hand as he blew out smoke. He was made to look like John Travolta’s character, of course. His brown hair was neatly coiffed and gelled back. He was wearing a tight black shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks, with five o’clock shadow dusting his cheeks. You were a little surprised he was agreeing to something like this…but you also had a hunch on what was motivating him.  

A grin soon spread across his face. You averted your eyes, surprising yourself by the way your face warmed. However briefly it was, he’d caught you checking him out.

He returned the favor. His gaze lingered on your every curve, and finally your face.

“Lookin’ good, baby doll,” he said mildly, but he leaned over to whisper in your ear. “I’m gonna be thinking about those red lips tonight.”

Your lips pursed as you watched him walk away with his usual smooth, arrogant stride. You refused to feel how hot your face was. Instead, you relaxed your shoulders and raised your chin before you stepped onto the stage with him.

The director came over to talk you both through the script and his vision for the music video, a scene by scene replica of the fairgrounds. (And he handed Ben an ashtray for his cigarette.)

The opening scene was already set up. The pack of actors playing Danny Zuko’s friends were hanging off to the side, while a handful of young women in 1950s style dresses hung out on the other side, waiting for you.

The director called to roll sound. A production assistant handed you a fake cigarette to hold between your fingers, just like the original movie scene. Other instructions were shouted out as you stared into the cameras blankly. Your body felt stiff, your mouth heavy.

You were nervous, no matter how much you didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“Hey,” came a deep voice in your ear.

You turned to Ben and tried to hide your anxiety. He smiled and once again leaned in close. You felt the warm pressure of his hand on your lower back.

“You’ve seen cameras before. Don’t even look at ‘em. They’re not there,” he said, encouraging you to use your imagination.

You took a subtle breath. “And the thirty-something crew of people?”

“They’re the audience,” he said. “This is just a stage, like the ones you’ve been on before. Even smaller.”

You nodded subtly and tried to calm the ball of nerves rising into your throat. You made your way over to your mark and got ready with a hand on your hip, and the prop cigarette poised in the other. Ben went to his mark, with the other Greasers.

Ben smirked at you. “Remember to sing pretty.”

You shot him a teasing smile back.

“Oh, don’t worry. When I sing, people listen.”

I got chills, they’re multiplying. And I’m losing control.

‘Cause the power you’re supplying…

It’s electrifying.

He might not have had Travolta’s range, but Ben was a decent singer himself. It was rich and baritone, occasionally with some edge. They’d lowered the song down a key for him, you noticed, but you didn’t mind.

It was all you could do to remember the choreography, all while feeling the push and pull of the music, the lyrics, and the man himself. He was also making some subtle changes to the character in his performance.

“I’m not dragging myself across the fucking ground after her like some love-sick pussy,” as he’d snapped at the director.

So he was applying a more suave approach to Danny’s role, trying to persuade you with a Cary Grant-like charm. Partnered with your sensuous persona, it gave the bouncy song some new depth.

You better shape up, ‘cause I need a man.

And my heart is set on you…

It took a few hours to get through the first scenes, and you found that you and Ben worked well together. But his attention on you was intense whenever he looked into your eyes. His every small touch ignited across your skin, eliciting tingles of electricity down your spine.

When you finally got to your first verse after the chorus, you were up on one of the carnival ride platforms. Painted on one of the walls was Danger Ahead.

If you’re filled with affection, you’re too shy to convey…

Per the choreography, Ben followed you up a short flight of stairs and cornered you against a wall. You pivoted on your heels and felt bold enough to improvise. You drew him in with a hand on his stubbled cheek, and you allowed your eyes to shine with a bit of your power, giving them a violet glow.

Meditate on my direction. Feel your way…

As you sang, his hands glided up the swell of your hips and gripped you tight at the waist. His gaze lowered to your lips. You could smell his musky cologne mixed with cigarette smoke as he began to lean in. Your mouth parted unconsciously.

“Cut!” the director shouted.

The music stopped and a sharp bell rang out. You paused, letting your hand fall away from Ben’s cheek. He reluctantly released you as well. You eased away from him with a smile.

“All right! That was great guys,” the director chimed in cheerfully after he came out from behind the network of cameras. “Tell you what, let’s break for lunch.”

You sensed the burning presence following you off the stage, just a few feet behind. It shadowed you all the way to your trailer.

The moment you opened the door and stepped inside, you weren’t all that surprised when Ben grabbed your hand and turned you around into his arms. You stifled a small gasp.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, despite knowing full fucking well.

He was no longer teasing as his eyes swept down to your cherry red lips.

“I’m claiming my prize,” he said, his voice sinful and deep.

He bent down to capture you in a demanding kiss. You breathed in, and allowed yourself to give into it. Your hands slid up his arms, then wound up into his hair. He devoured you deeper with each new glide of his lips against yours, his hold on your waist moving down your hips and gripping your ass.

He mostly carried you as he guided you back against the wall of the trailer. His hand slapped against it to brace your impact, making the wall tremble. You gasped into his mouth at the suddenness of it, and he took the opportunity to taste you deeper, slipping his tongue against yours. He relished every small sound you made, and every part of you he got his hands on.

Until he broke from you suddenly, allowing you to catch your breath. You couldn’t help but blink up at him in a bit of surprise while you recovered. His smile was smug looking down at you.

“That was more than a kiss,” you said. Thank God you sounded steadier than you felt.

Ben chuckled and leaned in closer again, this time letting his lips drift across your cheek, and down your neck.

“And I promise I’m good with my hands,” he said in your ear.

You fought not to shudder at the depths in his voice. Your internal alarm finally sounded, however, when one of his hands left your hip to slip along the inside of your thigh. He stroked a thumb between your legs, over the silky leather of your pants. Your core pulsed with anticipation, but this wasn’t part of the plan. Not yet.

You tensed up and grabbed his wrist.

“Ben,” you warned in a gasp, issuing a trill of power on reflex.

Stop.

The unspoken command laced through him. He paused with a tense look, but not just because of your powers. He saw the sliver of fear in your eyes. He frowned.

For your part, you honestly didn’t mean to compel him this time. Your eyes widened, your mouth pressed into a line.

Part of you was afraid, but not for the reasons he might’ve thought. It was a delicate game you were playing with this man. And like it or not, even though you had the power to stop him if he tried to take it any farther, his influence still had power over your career.

“The fuck is your problem? You’re running hot and cold on me,” he snarked. But he relaxed, taking a step away from you. You released his wrist.

“I meant what I said,” you said. “Look, you’re helping me out a lot by doing this music video, and I appreciate that. More than you know.”

Your tone was gentle as you attempted to soothe his ego, but your words had the added benefit of being true.

“I’m still the new kid here,” you added. “Countess already thinks I’m trying to take her place.”

Which, at this point, you could admit that you were in a way. You had a feeling that she’d been using Ben the same way you were—to enhance her status and cement her position in Payback. 

He rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t have to know.”

You broke into a small smile, crossing your arms at him.

“Come on, Ben.”

His face became taciturn. You tried to gouge his reaction with your abilities, and you sensed his irritation underneath. He was likely trying to curb every inclination he had to give a nasty retort and hold onto the charm, but he was also starting to lose patience.

“So what the fuck do you want from me?” he snapped.

You held your tongue for a moment. You knew that whatever you said, whatever you did next could either make or break your plans to be successful. Still, no matter how much you actually wanted to give in to the desire in his eyes, you didn’t just want to be the equivalent of his mistress, or one of his forgettable conquests. That would make sure you remained on the sidelines forever.

No. The only way this worked was if he broke up with Countess for real. 

You stepped in close to him again. With slow moments, you rested your hands on his chest and leaned up, as if to give him a sensuous kiss. You stop just shy of his lips. He grasped your hips on instinct.

“If you really want me, you can have me,” you purred. Though you pulled away when he bent down to kiss you. You lowered back down to your heels.

“Just me,” you said. “I like you, Ben, but if you really do love Crimson Countess and want to…work it out with her, I understand.”

You crossed your arms. His jaw ticked in annoyance.

“They’re gonna have to fix your face,” he remarked with a gesturing finger. “Looks like you sucked off Ronald McDonald.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You turned to look at yourself in the large mirror on the far wall, and sure enough, your pretty red lipstick was smeared all around your mouth. When you turned back to find Ben’s more amused grin, you glared at him, feeling a hot blush coming on. Pink smudges stained his lips and chin as well.

“Yeah, well, you too, Casanova,” you say pointedly. “You look like a…a fucking clown!”

It was lame, you could admit.

He just laughed and strolled out of your trailer. You huffed and crossed your arms.

He was goddamn insufferable.

Challenges of sexual tension aside, the music video turned out to be a great success. It wasn’t a perfect frame by frame rendition of the movie, but you recreated many of the scenes at the carnival, especially the one at the end. Ben actually hit the High Striker bell so hard that it flew through the roof of the studio.

Maybe getting out some pent-up frustration there.

The video would later get splashed across MTV and all the Vought channels. It piggybacked on the publicity from your first couple of saves with Payback that finally made it to the news.

It all did wonders for your popularity, especially because the reviews on the video were mostly positive—not only for the production and the quality of the vocals, but also for the chemistry between “Soldier Boy and Sirena.”

It just had the predictable side effect of making Countess even bitchier toward you, if that were possible. To a point, you couldn’t fault her. You and Ben did have chemistry on-screen, and she was smart enough to guess at your chemistry off-screen as well. She probably already thought you two were fucking.

You knew the truth, but you also knew it was useless to try and change her mind—hers, and everyone else who gave you sidelong looks when they thought you didn’t notice. Maybe you should’ve just done it with him anyway, if people were going to think it was true no matter what you did.

The only one who congratulated you on your success with any sincerity was your brother.

“I’m proud of you, sis. You’re really doing great,” Chris said.

You shed a couple of tears on the phone with him before hastily changing the subject, asking about your nephew. He’d made a new friend at preschool.

“Aww. Lisa, huh?” you teased. “Is she gonna be his new little girlfriend?”

“Well, she shared her box of crayons and he gave her half of his oatmeal cream pie at lunch, so they’re off to a great start,” Chris joked. You were happy to hear it, and you promised to send him another gift signed by Soldier Boy soon.

After you hung up with your brother, the next call you made was to your dad. Except, you never even got the chance to mention the video.

“How’s Mom doing?” you asked.

“Well, I was actually going to call you,” your dad said. “She’s uh, she’s not doing well… It’s time, honey.”

Your breath stilled in your lungs. You almost didn’t hear his next words: that your mother had been transferred to hospice this morning. That she had a matter of days, and you should come home as soon as you could. You promised that you would.

And suddenly, you remembered every promise you’d given your parents over the past couple of months to go see them, have dinner with them. You remembered that you’d never made good on any of those promises.

Your ears were ringing after you hung up with him. You wiped your tears away.

In your dissociative state, you went to your desk and looked at your calendar to see what was next on the painstaking daily schedule you crafted for yourself. Instead of packing a bag or calling Arthur to try and negotiate some time off, you donned some activewear and went down to the breakroom.

You shoveled some oatmeal into your mouth that you didn’t even taste. Then you went to start your morning routine at the gym.

To your unpleasant surprise, Crimson Countess was there. She was running on the treadmill you usually took. You barely glanced her way as you passed by, aiming for an elliptical instead.

She smiled and tsked. “Oh, honey. That’s one rough looking hangover.”

You turned to her and tried to hide your annoyance. Your eyes were likely red rimmed from crying, not from a bender.

“You should drink more water,” she said, gesturing with a finger around her face. “Might help with the bags under your eyes.”

You sucked in your cheeks and pursed your lips. An irrational anger, dark and deep, roiled in your gut.

“Maybe you can give me the number of your surgeon too,” you shot back. “That’s how you got those plastic tits, right?”

Countess visibly paused, like she hadn’t expected you to hit back. You normally just took whatever snide remarks she made with a smile, as if it were a joke (or at worse, a look of nonchalance). Today was not that day.

She turned off her machine and slowed to a stop.

“No, but I do know someone who can suck the cellulite out of your ass,” she said snidely. She grabbed a water bottle up from the floor and took a sip. You hopped off your own machine and smacked the bottle out of her hand. It made water spill down the front of her red sports bra.

“Tell me, Donna. As the most senior female superhero in Payback, how does it feel to be every man’s guilty pleasure jerk off material?” you sniped.

That managed to strike a nerve. She sneered at you.

“That’s right, honey. Everyone in the world knows who I am,” she said with a haughty look. Her eyes were cold and cruel. “The only way someone’s gonna remember you is exactly how you got here. On your fucking knees.”

She shoved at your shoulders, pushing you back a couple of steps. Your temper finally snapped.

“Oh really? The only reason people know you is because you’re fucking the ‘boss,’” you said, air quotes included. Then you laughed. “The Sonny and Cher routine? Please. Soldier Boy doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even fucking respect you. And you let him walk all over you. Because it keeps you exactly where you want to be. On your knees, sucking off the oldest dick in the world.”

You could see how your words were cutting into her, making her seethe. Her hand came up swiftly with a slap across your face. She was strong. The force behind the hit made you stumble again, but this time, you weren’t holding back. You threw a punch that caught her on the side of her nose. (And for the record, that one actually was fake.)

It soon devolved into a petty, dirty, angry fight, complete with hair pulling, punching, and a kick to the stomach that sent Countess onto her back on the hardwood floor.

The gym doors opened to Ben and Gunpowder rushing in. They must’ve heard the commotion, because they were already on alert. Ben’s face was set with a frown while he watched you squared up on the mats. Your opponent was slowly getting to her feet, huffing and puffing with rage.

Your eyes widened when Countess raised her hands, and a red glow of energy materialized. She tossed a red hot fireball in your direction. You dove across the mat to avoid it, but it vaporized half the gym equipment on your side of the room. You twisted your ankle badly on the way down as well.

While Ben intervened and stopped Countess from hurling another fireball, Gunpowder went to you.

“You okay?” he asked. He reached out a hand to you, but stopped short, like he was afraid of your touch. You were dismayed, but you grimaced and tried to help yourself up. You’d fallen onto another exercise machine and one side of your ribs felt battered.

Meanwhile, Ben whirled Countess around by her arm and glared down at her.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” he raised his voice.

She was still livid as she tried to yank her arm out of his grasp. She pointed at you where you lied on the floor.

“Are you fucking her?!” she yelled.

He blinked in surprise, but he quickly recovered.

“What’s the matter with you? Of course not!” he bellowed. “Jesus fuck. Forget to take your damn crazy pills today?”

At that, she looked stricken. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“They’re not…I suffer from migraines,” she said.

“Yeah, well, do us all a favor and take a handful,” Ben groused. “Better yet, the whole goddamn bottle.”

You somehow managed to pull yourself to your feet. Gunpowder was useless, since he was wary of touching you. Really? Does he think I’m going to hijack his mind right here and now?

It hurt, but you hopped from machine to ruined machine in attempt to get out of the room. Ben started toward you. You held a hand up to stop him.

“I’m okay,” you said shakily. “I don’t need help.”

At this point, you were done being reckless. You didn’t want to give Countess any more ammunition against you. 

You managed to limp your way out of the gym and down the hall to the sound of Ben’s shouting, versus Countess’s enraged crying.

“I know you’re fucking her. You want to know why? Because you fuck anything with a pulse!”

“Christ on a cross, I can’t talk to a hysterical woman.”

You shook your head, despite the tears burning in your eyes. You felt your way down the wall like a one-legged crab.

Until a strong pair of arms scooped you up under your legs and around your back. 

You gasped and met a masked Black Noir.

Without a word, he carried you up to your room. There he set you on your feet, in front of your door. You braced yourself with a hand on the doorknob, but you carefully twisted around to look back at him.

“Thank you,” you said with a sniff.

He paused. You sensed his uncertainty.

“Feel better,” he said.

Then he left you alone in the hall.

You took the longest hot bath of your life, dumping in half a bottle of lavender bath soaks. It helped your aches and pains, but it still didn’t manage to wash the day away.

I need to go home, you were reminded. You needed to see your mom, before…

You covered your face with your hands, and you finally allowed yourself to cry.

Back in the gym, Ben cut off Donna's enraged rant with a sharp grip on her arm. He shook her once, hard enough to make her teeth click. It startled a gasp out of her.

She looked up at him and couldn’t entirely hide her fear.

“Get a goddamn grip,” he growled. “Never fucking disrespect me like that again. And if you make another mess like this, so help me God, you’re gonna leave me no choice but to make you regret it. Do you understand me?”

It took her a moment, but after he tightened his grip on her arms, she winced and nodded contritely.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ben,” she stammered. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

He rolled his eyes, but he released her. “Good. Go clean yourself up. You’re a fucking mess.”

He left her in the gym where she stood, still holding herself.

Ben frowned when he didn’t find you in the hallway. At the pace you were going, you couldn’t have gotten that far, he reasoned. But he still didn’t find you, even when he traveled to the elevators and up to your apartment. He stopped in front of your door.

He raised his fist up, poised to knock, but his superior hearing perked up to a sound.

He realized he could hear you crying. The kind of muffled sobs where you were trying to hold yourself back, and were failing miserably.

Ben hesitated…but ultimately, he couldn’t handle two emotional women in one day.

He walked away from your door.

AN: *Sighs* Ben isn't shaping up, is he? Don't worry though. We've still got plenty of track left to go on this rollercoaster.

Next Time:

An album was playing on his record player. You recognized Sinatra’s smooth voice singing “My Way.”

“You want a drink?” Ben asked.

“Whiskey, neat,” you replied. He rose a brow, but he fulfilled your request. While he was busy, you grabbed his forgotten half a blunt from the ashtray on the coffee table, and you lit up. You didn’t often partake in drugs because you didn’t like being out of your lucid mind. You preferred being in control.

Today was different. You needed a distraction. Maybe that was why you were here to begin with.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : IMAGINE STARGAZING WITH LOGAN HOWLETT : :;

The night was clear and calm, the sky a vast expanse of deep navy studded with countless shimmering stars. Logan and you had ventured out to a quiet spot on the outskirts of town, far from the city lights. The cool night air was invigorating, and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze provided a gentle backdrop to the evening.

Logan had been skeptical at first, questioning the appeal of staring up at a seemingly endless void of stars. But your enthusiasm had been infectious, and he had agreed to join you in what you described as your favorite pastime—stargazing.

You settled on a blanket spread out on the grass, and Logan followed suit, stretching out beside you. For a few moments, there was only the sound of your breathing and the occasional chirp of crickets.

As you lay there, eyes glued to the sky, you began to speak softly, sharing your thoughts. “I like to think of the stars as loved ones who’ve passed on,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “They’re up there watching over us, guiding us. It’s comforting.”

Logan turned his head to look at you, his gaze shifting between the serene expression on your face and the twinkling sky above. He saw a kind of peace in you, a tranquility that seemed to make the night even more magical. It was clear that this was more than just a hobby for you; it was a deeply comforting ritual.

He opened his mouth to speak, to offer his own thoughts or maybe even a witty remark, but the words caught in his throat. Seeing you like this, so serene and content, made him reconsider his initial skepticism. Instead of breaking the silence, he chose to remain quiet, allowing himself to fully immerse in the moment.

Logan lay beside you, his gaze shifting from your face to the stars. He found himself beginning to understand what you found so special about this activity. There was something undeniably peaceful about it, something that seemed to slow down time and put life’s troubles in perspective.

The night wore on, and you continued to share your thoughts, your voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of the night. Logan listened, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as if to remind himself of the warmth beside him. The comfort you found in the stars had begun to seep into him as well.

As the hours passed, Logan found himself surprisingly captivated by the night sky. It wasn’t just about the stars anymore; it was about the connection they represented and the peacefulness they brought. He didn’t need to say anything to disrupt the tranquility. Instead, he let himself be enveloped by the serenity of the night and the closeness he felt with you.

When you finally turned to him, your eyes gleaming with a mixture of contentment and curiosity, Logan smiled. “You were right,” he said softly. “This is nice. I think I’m starting to understand why you love it so much.”

You smiled back, your hand finding his in a gentle clasp. “I’m glad. It’s even better sharing it with someone who gets it.”

Logan nodded, his gaze drifting back to the stars. The night felt different now—more meaningful, perhaps. He lay there with you, savoring the moment and the newfound appreciation for the simple joy of stargazing.

In the quiet of the night, under a blanket of stars, Logan realized that sometimes the most unexpected experiences could turn into something profoundly special, especially when shared with someone you cared about.

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Also check out part 7 of the ‘Stay With Me’ Series below!!!

Oldman!Logan Howlett ➝ Stay With Me (Pt.7)

[riboism]

vaya con dios

》 c.s x fem. nun! reader

》 wc: 6.7k

》 plot: a strange visitor takes shelter in your nunnery and challenges your beliefs

》 content: religious guilt, religious themes, first-time, pornographer! san, nun! reader, eventual smut, some angst

Tossing and turning for the nth time that night, you finally found comfort in laying on your side with your hands tucked underneath your pillow. You took a deep breath before shutting your eyes, counting sheep in hopes that it’ll help you fall asleep faster, only for you to reach fifteen before your mind wandered again. 

It was impossible to sleep after the strange day that you had. You had a visitor. No one really visited the Nunnery. You often joked with your sisters that the Nunnery was your own world, a place so hidden inside the natural world that no one could ever find it. That was until he started knocking on your front door. 

Men are not allowed inside the convent. The only time a man would come into your world was when Father Aaron came to visit from time to time, and even then he’d need permission from Mother Reverend to enter her holy space. You couldn’t understand why she agreed to let him stay the night, let alone even grant him access to our quarters— not until she called you into the kitchen and tasked you with bringing him his evening meal. 

“Is he a Priest?” You inquired as you prepared his dinner plate. You heard that Father Aaron was nearing his retirement. Maybe this was his replacement. 

“No.” She answered with finality, not adding anything further. You hated it when she did that. 

“Then who is he? Why is he here? I thought men weren’t allowed in our convent.” 

Mother observed as you placed a few fresh berries into the dessert bowl. She liked to make sure that we weren’t giving others too much or too little. She didn’t like waste. “He isn’t, but I had to make an exception. He’s a traveler and he got lost and stumbled onto our doorstep. With how dark the clouds are and how windy it is outside, I figured it was best for him to rest here for the night before moving on with his journey.” 

“But he’s a man.” You emphasized. “What if he’s dangerous? It just doesn’t feel right, him showing up at our door in the middle of the night. Where was he going anyway?” 

Growing impatient with your constant questioning, Mother set down a heavy glass, the loud thump startling you into silence. “Mind your manners, child! It does not matter if he is a man. God gave him to us to protect, and that is what we’ll do. Now hurry along, he must be starving and it’s almost time for bed.” 

Nodding obediently, you ventured off into the closed-off wing of the Nunnery. The room he was staying in was made for women who were interested in joining the sisterhood and devoting their lives to prayer and servitude. Unfortunately, the Nunnery didn’t get many candidates for the past few years so the rooms remained vacant. 

The halls here felt colder. You didn’t like being in this part of the building. The Nunnery itself was old, and with that, the building creaked and bellowed from time to time, especially in this wing. The noises would scare you, especially at night, but your Sisters assured you months ago that the next few donations would be used to help reconstruct the weaker parts of the building. Maybe there were still some renovations left to do. 

Upon reaching the visitor’s door, you knocked quietly and waited until a voice called for you to enter. You kept your eyes low as you walked in. “Mother asked me to bring you your supper.” You announced quietly, before placing the tray on the side table. 

He was sitting on the bed, looking as if he was waiting for you. Your eyes remained at his feet. He still wore his shoes, which looked expensive and hardly worn. Curiosity got the best of you, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from rising from his feet to his shoulders. His shoulders were wide and broad, the suit jacket he wore ill-fitting as if he grew twice his size overnight and didn’t have time to buy a bigger one. You didn’t dare to look up any further. 

After a beat of silence, you awkwardly paced backward to exit through the door, not wishing to be around the stranger any longer than you needed to. 

“Wait,” he called, softly. 

Your body obeyed before your mind did, and you didn’t move another inch. You waited for him to say something. Perhaps he wanted only tea before bed, or maybe he wanted to ask for some fresh sheets since the room hadn’t been dusted in a while. But he didn’t speak any further after that. Growing ill at ease, you let your gaze drift upwards until you finally met his eyes. 

You didn’t expect him to look the way that he did. He was young, maybe around your age. You had never seen a man without graying hair and deep sunken eyes before. Most of the men that came to the Nunnery, whether it was Father Aaron or his acquaintances, always looked weak, gray, and brittle. The visitor looked fresh and radiant in comparison, with his sculpted cheekbones, neat eyebrows, and freshly trimmed dark hair. He was beautiful. 

And then there was the way that he looked at you. You felt trapped in his peculiar gaze, your cheeks burning up after every second that passed as you two took each other in. His eyes wandered all over you with hunger and curiosity, but upon meeting your wide eyes, his expression quickly softened, his mouth that was once agape with desire now curled up to a friendly and innocent smile. 

“What is your name?” He asked. His voice was soft and pretty. It felt like he was trying to lull you to sleep. 

“You may call me Sister ____.” 

“Sister” He nodded. “Forgive me, I guess I had taken the wrong route and got lost. I’m eternally grateful to you all for offering me shelter in this unpredictable weather. And for this hot meal.” He beamed. “I hope I haven’t caused you any trouble. I understand it’s very late.” 

“No, no trouble at all. We are glad that you are inside and safe instead of out there in the storm.” On queue, a flash of lightning illuminated the walls, and a dull crack of thunder followed shortly. The sounds of crashing thunder and the strangeness of the visitor had you uneasy, and you knew it was best for you to leave the room right away. Mother wouldn’t be too happy to hear that you were lingering in the room alone with him, engaging in mindless conversation at the odd hours of the night. But despite your efforts to bow your head and inch towards the door, the visitor didn’t seem to acknowledge your rush. 

“It’s a shame…” He said faintly. 

“What is?” 

“That you have to hide yourself with all that garb. You’re very pretty.” His eyes lingered over your chest as if he was trying to outline what your figure looked like underneath. Full chest, thick thighs, slender legs, narrow waist, or wide hips, he couldn’t tell, but he liked that he didn’t know. A uniform made to hide the essence of a woman, to protect them from perverted and hungry eyes like his, ended up doing the opposite. 

Sensing your offense, the visitor rushed to apologize before you could utter a remark. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, Sister. I work in entertainment. I go around and meet with decently looking women all the time for photoshoots and whatnot. That’s actually where I was headed now, to meet with a few women about an upcoming fashion magazine shoot. I didn’t mean to be so blunt. I guess nuns and religion and all that stuff…” He peered over to the wall that was decorated with a sole golden cross and then sheepishly looked back at you. “...Make me nervous.” 

Part of you felt he wasn’t telling the truth. You weren’t sure how to take him. There was something off about him, how he shifted from kind and unassuming to something that lacked innocence. You had a feeling that he wasn’t telling the truth.  

Ignoring his strange comments, you quietly bid him goodnight and then rushed off to your room. 

You wished so badly to drift off to sleep and forget about this strange encounter, but the visitor preoccupied your mind. Did he really handpick women for prestigious fashion editorials? Did he mean it when he said you’re pretty? 

No one had ever called you pretty and you honestly didn’t know how to take it. Vanity wasn’t something the sisterhood was concerned with. It was blasphemous for him to speak to you in such a manner anyway, but why did you kind of like it? 

Pretty. You. Pretty. 

Coming from someone who looked like him, it felt like a high honor. He was handsome, there was no doubt about it. He’s probably surrounded by beautiful women all the time. And he called you pretty. 

You. Pretty. 

God has a lot to say about those who let their vanity get the best of them, so you decided to brush away those thoughts and say a little prayer. Even as you prayed for forgiveness, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. 

―

The skies were even more aggravated the next day. You were a little bummed that the trip to the orphanage was canceled due to strict stay-at-home orders, so you spent the rest of the day knitting gloves and hats for the children. 

“Ouch!” You yelped, sucking on your pricked finger. This was the fourth time you pricked yourself tonight. You couldn’t stay focused on your task. Your thoughts were all about him. You had contemplated all day about going over to his room and apologizing for the way you left so abruptly. You didn’t want him to think you were being rude. After all, there’s no harm done with giving compliments, is there? 

You wondered what he was doing right now. He was probably bored all alone in his room. Mother took it upon herself to deliver him his morning and afternoon meals, so you didn’t have a reason to see him. She didn’t seem to want the other Sisters to greet the man. Perhaps your initial apprehensiveness had gotten to her and she changed her mind about you going into his room. What if she knew you were in his room for a while? What if she heard you two talking? The sudden heaviness in your stomach made you set aside your knitting needles. 

Even so, you had a strong urge to see him one more time. Who knows? Maybe the weather will clear up tomorrow and he’ll leave without you getting a chance to say something about that night. It was giving you a headache, how much you thought about him. Was such a brief conversation, yet he lived in your mind like he owned it. You couldn’t forget about those sharp cheekbones, his sweet talking voice, and that almost sinful way that he looked at you. 

The desire to see him again was too hard to ignore, so without hesitation, you sprung up on your feet and headed down to the kitchen to ask Mother Reverend if you could give the visitor his dinner tonight. She was appalled at your sudden initiative, but considering how her knees were bothering her again, she decided it was best if you took the tray up the stairs to his room tonight. 

This time when you knocked on his door, it was silent. You knocked again a little louder this time, figuring maybe he didn’t hear you, but to your dismay, there was no answer. Stumped, you lowered the tray. Why he wasn’t answering? Was he asleep? Why would he fall asleep before dinner? Was he sick? Maybe there was no harm in checking in on him, you told yourself as you twisted the door knob and stepped into the room. 

He wasn’t here. The bed looked unmade and some of his things were tossed around. The room was littered with cameras and film. He said he worked in the entertainment industry, but he didn’t specify that he was a photographer himself. There were various different types of cameras scattered on the table and some by the windowsill. One of them caught your eye― a gorgeous camera with a wooden frame and a brown leather strap attached, sitting on top of a few magazines. Setting the tray down, you walked over to the windowsill where the pretty camera sat. It looked expensive, decorated with a small graving on the side. C.S. Was that his initials? It hit you that you never got his name.

You noticed some camera film sitting next to the stack of magazines where the camera was placed. You knew it wasn’t right to snoop. It was an invasion of privacy, not to mention that God might be looking down at you and shaking his head. But you couldn’t help it. You wanted to learn more about him, and so you let curiosity get the best of you and now you stood there in the visitor’s room with his film roll in hand. Upon unraveling the roll, you were excited to see beautiful women in next season’s haute couture, but instead, you discovered something completely unexpected. 

Suddenly, a voice startled you from behind. “I could get you an advanced copy once it’s printed.” 

You gasped, whipping your body around to face the visitor who had just stumbled into his room to a nosey Nun going through his belongings. Your cheeks flamed up, too embarrassed with yourself to even notice that his hair was dripping wet from his shower. 

“If you’re interested, that is.” He smiled teasingly. It was clear he didn't mind you snooping around, but you still felt ashamed.

“Oh, no, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” In the midst of all the awkwardness, you dropped the roll and it unraveled a few inches until it stopped at the visitor’s feet. He bent down and picked it up, examining his photographs for any scratches or rips as you quivered in place, struggling to find the right words. 

“I’m sorry. Are they ruined?” You asked finally. 

“They’re okay.” He assured. There was a slight glow on his brow bone and cheeks from the hot shower. The white button-up he wore stuck to his chest, revealing some of his honey skin through its sheer and damp fabric. He noticed you staring. You quickly looked away. 

“The women in those pictures…are they-”

“Naked? Yes.” 

He spoke as if he had no shame about it. To him, it was as normal as taking photos of a rainbow or a wild deer. You wondered what Mother would think if she found out the man she let sleep in her holy Nunnery took nude photos of women for a pornography magazine. It would give her a heart attack, for sure. 

This was hard to take in. You couldn’t explain it, but you felt disappointed. How could someone like him take part in such filthy hobbies? And those women? How could they degrade and humiliate themselves like this? You couldn’t help but pity them, those poor things losing their way and succumbing to promiscuity. 

The visitor sensed your disapproval. It wasn’t a surprise, given the circumstances. Still, he felt the need to defend himself. 

“I understand you have your beliefs. But I have my own too. You may think it’s ungodly and lustful, but to me, it’s freeing, it’s human…it’s female emancipation.” 

“Female emancipation?” You said in disbelief. How are pictures of women with their legs spread open a symbol of female emancipation? Was he mad? From what you saw, it was all sinful desire catered for and by men. 

He stepped over to your side of the room, carefully returning the film roll to its case. “Have you ever touched yourself?” 

“What?” You held onto the cross that lay on your chest, dumbfounded that he would even think to ask you such a question so bluntly. 

He chuckled, “I respect all religions Sister, but there are some parts in the good book that I don’t really agree with.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, what’s the harm in pleasuring ourselves? If we see a beautiful woman or man, why should we feel ashamed for having certain thoughts about them? Humans are sexual beings, why should we feel shame if we are only feeling human emotions and desires? It’s like your God is asking us to not be human, to be something else, and that’s impossible. Isn't this how he created us? That’s why these photos represent freedom. They rip off the chains of sexual repression and free us into our natural state. The women I work with love what they do. They get to let go and embrace their femininity, something your God keeps forcing you to hide.” 

He was closer to you now. You could feel his hot breath hitting your forehead. He was riled up now, finally getting all that religious guilt that he’d been holding in for years off of his chest. You stood frozen in place, mouth open but unable to form a reply. He dipped his head down, lips almost brushing against your ear. “Why do we have to feel bad about feeling good, Sister? Do you mean to tell me you never had fantasies? You never wanted to feel another man’s touch so badly that it made you go crazy?”

He had you cornered now. Your breathing got shakier as his eyes locked into yours. He continued. “You’ve had thoughts, haven’t you? Of course, you have. And your God made you feel like there was something wrong with you like you did something unforgivable. Well, that’s just not right. Live so long feeling ashamed, you’re gonna snap.” 

That was about all you could take before you pushed him away and took off. Now lying in your bed, you struggled for the second night in a row to go to sleep because your mind was still torturing you with thoughts of the visitor. 

His words replayed in your head over and over again. You knew he was wrong. Or maybe, you wanted to believe that he was. You understood his sentiment, but there were some flaws in his beliefs. Shame can be dangerous, yes, but it’s the only thing stopping humans from committing sin. God teaches us restraint, and what he’s doing is completely sacrilegious, running around like a wild animal and giving in to temptations in the name of free will. You wanted to go back, to tell him he was wrong, to alert Mother Reverend of the pornographer currently residing in our quarters so he could be kicked out, but you remained in bed. You prayed tomorrow would be a bright and sunny day so that he may leave and you will never be disturbed by him again. 

The clock struck 2, and you turned on your side, still too restless to fall asleep. You remembered the photos that were in your hands. They were so intimate, so close to her body. There was one shot that you couldn’t stop thinking about. She lay topless on a messy and unmade bed, a coy and inviting smile playing on her lips as she held onto her breasts. From the angle, it looked like the photo was taken from on top of her. Your mind raced with images of the visitor straddling over her naked body, hiding his head behind the lenses while she let go of her breasts and unbuckles his pants, never failing to continue smiling for the camera. 

The woman looked so happy in the photos, almost as if she felt comfortable around him. What was he like with them? What did he say to get them to put their guard down? Did he touch them after? 

Your stomach is crushed with guilt. You shouldn’t be having such lewd thoughts about an ungodly man like this. But why couldn’t you stop? Maybe this is what he meant when he said it was unfair for God to make us feel shame for thinking these things. It’s inevitable. You see it now. 

With your will weakened, your mind replayed the moment he cornered you into the wall. The wall felt so cold against your back, but being so close to him made your cheeks scorn. He smelled like fresh pinewood soap. His cheeks were still rosy from the hot shower, and his white shirt was damp and almost translucent. The water from the tips of his strands dripped onto your shoes. 

Have you ever touched yourself? 

You couldn’t answer him then, but no, you haven’t. You were taught that it was wrong to feel such curiosity about your own body. It was a sin. It’s a sin, you tell yourself as your hands slip into your nightdress. This is wrong, you remind yourself as you start kneading your bare breast, just as the woman in the photos did. Your fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, the new sensation making you gasp and moan like a wild animal. Out of fear of being heard, you placed a hand over your mouth to mask your sounds. Suddenly, you felt something pooling between your legs. You pressed them shut, feeling a desperate desire for something you’ve never had before. God, what has he done to you? 

You were at his door again. Your conscience was screaming at you to go back to your room, to kneel in front of your bed and beg for forgiveness, but you didn’t listen. You were too far gone now. It was a type of craving that you knew wouldn’t go away until you satisfied it. You knocked quietly so as not to wake the others, but loud enough so that he could hear inside. It felt like torture waiting for him to open the door, but once he did, you were met with relief.

He furrowed his brows and whispered, “What are you doing here?” 

“I want you to take pictures of me.” 

He was stunned by your peculiar request, but even more so at your newfound boldness. “Are you serious? Do you know what you're asking me, Sister?” 

He watched you as you freed your hair from its bun, letting your wavy ends hit your shoulders. He studied each wave, his eyes wide like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see. “I know exactly what I’m asking,” You answered. “Now, can I come in?” 

―

You watched him from your spot on the bed as he configured with his camera. His hair was tousled, which you seemed to prefer over his neatly jelled-back hair. His shirt was unbuttoned now, exposing his well-defined chest. His skin looked so soft. You wondered what it would feel like against your fingertips. You prayed he would hurry before you changed your mind. 

“Okay. Are you ready?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

He took a step forward and met you at the end of the bed. “Lay down.” 

Your body sunk back into the mattress. He rested one of his knees on the bed, eyes scanning over your body. You felt hot under his gaze. 

“Can you unbutton that gown for me, Sister?” 

Slowly, you unbuttoned the rest of your gown, exposing to him your bare breasts. He licked his lips, your red and swollen peaks making him weak to the knees. “They’re so swollen…” He cooed, “Were you playing with them earlier?” 

You nodded again, a little embarrassed that he could tell what you were up to in your room just moments before. 

He smiled approvingly. “Play with them again for me.” 

You did as instructed and twisted the sore nubs between your fingers. They were so sensitive and hard now that even the lightest touch made you moan. The look of pleasure on your face was delicious, and he immediately raised his camera lens to snap this moment. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said between clicks, “the most beautiful one I’ve had.” 

You liked it when he called you pretty. It made you feel so special to have his eyes on you, to be the center of his fixation, to be his muse. You wanted to show him that you could be like the other girls, but better and even more obedient. He was your God now and you wanted to be a worthy disciple. 

Once he was satisfied with his shots, he lowered the camera. “Can I see the rest of you?” 

You didn’t hesitate to remove your panties and toss them on the floor, but upon realizing his watchful gaze and the intimidating black abyss of the camera lens, you froze up and pressed your thighs shut. You were upset and embarrassed with yourself for not being able to go through with it and follow his directions, but he was more than understanding. He knew that face, he had seen it dozens of times. 

“It’s okay.” He said softly. It all felt like a dream. His voice was soothing like a lullaby, and his warm and skilled hands that were rubbing your thighs made you disarm and ease back into the bed, letting him guide them apart to reveal your glistening cunt. 

He let out a low whine. “Fuck, that’s the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen.” 

That sound alone made your lower half feel heavy. You wanted to hear him make that sound again. You’d do anything to hear him make that sound again. He leaned back with his knee still resting on the bed and held up his camera, pointing its lens at your slick center. “Spread them.” 

Obediently, you pulled apart your lips with two fingers for him, your slick juices already gushing down as you did. He sighed deeply, a pained expression overwhelming his face. “So tiny,” he breathed after the camera shuttered. He had never seen anything like you before. So virtuous and delicate, yet so sinful and corrupt. You gave him so much, yet he wanted to see more of you. 

“Think you can take those pretty little fingers for me?” 

It took you a minute to understand what he meant. You were inexperienced regarding things like this, but you wanted to learn. You wanted him to teach you everything. 

“I don’t know how…” You mumbled. 

A devilish smile crept onto his face and darkened his features. “How cute,” he chuckled, amused by the holy and virtuous nun who had no idea how to make herself feel good. “Come here, I’ll show you.” 

He sets aside the camera and pulls you closer to him by your hips. Your heart fluttered at the motion, and you chewed back a whimper as he held your thighs down. He scanned your core with all his attention, examining your small hole that pulsated as you breathed in and out. “You really never touched yourself before?” 

You bit one of your fingernails and shook your head no. 

“Oh Sister, you’re really missing out.” 

Taking your hand, he guided them to your core and adjusted your fingers around your throbbing clit. It felt so foreign to you, so wet and sticky, you almost didn’t believe that this was a part of your body that you were touching. He went on to press a thumb into your inner thigh. “Rub it like this,” he said, massaging small circles into your soft skin. “Nice and gentle for me.” 

You shyly followed his directions and gently massaged over your clit. It startled you how sensitive you were to your own touch. It felt so hot as if hell’s fire was creeping over your body, but you loved it. You loved the new sensations, how filthy and impure it all was, and even more, you loved how he watched you so intently. Eyes glued to your shameless center, completely forgetting the camera he was holding and the task at hand. He knew now, that this was for him, and not for the camera. 

He had been photographing for years now and learned to hold off temptations until the end of the session, but he was struggling this time, with his cock heavy and aching to be inside of you. He found it charming just how inexperienced you were with your own fingers, and how your sloppy and awkward ministrations still made your body twitch. And those pretty pretty moans, he had never heard anything like it. So angelic, so enchanting, he almost believed you were a siren hiding behind rosaries and veils. 

Mustering up his last bit of strength, he swung his other knee over you and buckled his hips on top of you, lifting his camera up one last time. “Make yourself cum.” He demanded in between camera flashes. He absentmindedly rutted his hips against you, the weight of his heavy and clothed cock resting over your slick pussy as you played with your clit for him. His pants seemed tighter now, with the outline of his full and swollen balls peeking through. With his hard cock so close to you like this, you lost your focus and eventually, that high you worked so hard to reach went lost on you. Now feeling numb, you sighed in both exhaustion and disappointment. 

“Oh, what’s wrong Sister?” He said in a playful tone, “Too scared of the lord’s wrath to let yourself cum?” 

His chuckle dropped once he felt your hand rubbing against his crotch, your eyes so wide and innocent while shamelessly asking for a lick. “Please,” you begged, “need help.” 

God, he cursed to himself. Did you even know what you were asking him? Or were you just too needy, too far gone even to understand what you were doing? Even so, he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him, if not more. He never had someone like you before. Someone so pious, so clueless, so pure. The girls he had been with were run through, and most of them had their tricks, but you were just an amateur. Not too long ago you were standing here with your hand on your chest, shocked by the nature of his pornographic career. Fuck, you didn’t even know how to play with yourself, and now you're tracing your fingertips on his zipper fly, begging for him to help you cum? 

For the first time in his career, his moral consciousness rang in. What was he doing? As tempting as it sounded, was he really going to defile a God-fearing Nun? 

He cupped your jaw, tracing his thumb across your soft cheek. Unbeknownst to him, this was the first time another person had touched you so lovingly. You leaned into the touch, reintroducing yourself to the warmth and fuzziness of his pinewood soap. “Are you sure about this, Sister?” 

He searched in your eyes for any signs of hesitation, but all he could see was lust. It was evident that you weren’t so God-fearing anymore. Maybe his words got you, he thought. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

“Yes. I want you to show me everything.” 

―

You watched nervously as he traced his tongue along your slit. His tongue felt so warm and wet, and you could see a few strings of his saliva connecting with your slick each time he lapped against your cunt. Both of your hands were pressed against your mouth to prevent any sound from slipping out, but it was so difficult not to moan and whine while he ate you out to his heart’s content. You had never felt anything like this before. It drove you mad how much of a twitching mess you were while he laid so carefree between your legs, lazily licking and sucking at your clit, oblivious to the heat that was rushing around in your lower belly. At one point, he focused his tongue directly on your clit, and the pressure from his wet muscle alone was enough for you to lose your guard and let a low broken whine escape your lips. 

He was so attentive to every reaction your body gave him. He knew you were about to cum even before you did. He held onto your thighs as your hips bucked up and down, letting you make a mess on his mouth and face. When you were done, he held your hips down and feathered a few kisses onto your cunt until you grabbed onto his hair and pushed him away. 

He had made you cum a few times like this. Each orgasm was even more intense than the one before. As exhausted as your body was becoming, your craving for him didn’t stop. It only grew stronger. 

It had been hours now. He moved so slowly, savoring each and every part of your body, making you cum from his mouth, his fingers, and even just by sucking your nipples alone. The other Sisters would be shocked to see you in your current state, your naked body soaked in cum and sweat, hips moving with a mind of its own. You were filthy but you didn’t want to stop, because if you stopped you would have to deal with the guilt and turmoil of your actions, and you didn’t want to do either. You just wanted to keep going, keep having him use you and use you until you broke. And that feeling― that momentary bliss you felt each time you reached your orgasm was unlike anything you ever felt before, and you were hooked, unable to stop, only interested in feeling like that one more time until you couldn’t stand it anymore.

You were starting to feel feverish and weak, going in and out of consciousness until you felt his warm and heavy cock resting over your stomach. 

You peered down your body, gasping at the sheer length of his cock. The tip was so red and wet, already leaking precum and dripping onto your stomach. 

“What are you doing?” 

He took your hand and guided it to your lower stomach. “You said you wanted me to show you everything. You still want that right?” 

He helped you wrap your hands around his cock. It felt even bigger in your hand, your fingers just barely making it around his girth. You pumped him gently, using his precum to help you move up and down. He took that as a yes. 

You could hear his breathing go shaky each time you pumped him. “It feels so hard” you whined. Was he going to put this inside of you? How would it even fit? Would it hurt? 

“You make me this way.” He sighed as he watched you handle his cock. Fuck, you looked so cute the way you held him with both hands, trying your best to learn in what tempo he liked it. He leaned over, his large body completely covering yours, face just millimeters away. You gasped at the feeling of his hot tip rubbing at your entrance. “It’s San, by the way.” 

“I’m sorry?” You paused.

“My name. It’s San.” 

San. It suited him. You were about to tell him that his name was pretty, but he had taken the words right out of your mouth. A pressure pushed into you, forcing your eyes to well up in tears and words to clog in your throat. 

“San!” You yelped, hands gripping onto his wide shoulders. San leaned in close, leaving gentle kisses on your cheeks, his lips wet with your salty tears. “You’re so beautiful,” He spoke into your skin as he rolled his hips into you. “You feel so good.” You took him so well, your wet walls grasping onto him so tight that he knew he wouldn’t be able to last as long as he usually does. 

With each thrust, you sang his name as if it was the only word you knew how to say. His cock hit you so deep now, stretching you out to your limit, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on. You held him tighter and let him find your lips. You both moved with so much passion and hunger as if it was your last night on Earth together. He was all you knew and wanted to know. You didn’t wish for it to end. 

You felt a blooming in your stomach and figured San did as well. Your legs wrapped around him tight as you finally let go. Goosebumps prickled all over your body as San pulled out from you, his warm seed dripping onto your stomach. It felt like he marked you, that he had declared you as his for all eternity. You rubbed the sticky white liquid around your stomach, finally grasping at the realization of what you two had done and what it meant. San could sense your alarm and immediately reunited with your lips. He didn’t want you to regret this. He wanted you to look back at this moment and remember him fondly.  

The exhaustion weighed in and you drifted off to sleep as he kissed you. When morning came, you were disheartened to see rays of sunshine peeking through the window blinds. San was sitting at the edge of the bed, slipping into his socks. He was wearing the same ill-fitting suit jacket he first came in with that night. 

San noticed you stirring around in bed. He looked back and greeted you with a soft smile. 

“You’re awake.” 

You sat up too quickly and flinched at the sudden pain at your core. 

“Easy,” he said as he placed a reassuring hand on your leg. 

“You’re leaving already?” You asked, quickly forgetting about the pain.

San pursed his lips. It killed him to leave you after the night you two had, but he had his duties to attend to. And so did you. 

He took your hand into his. “Listen, Sister, I don’t know if you still feel the same about last night, but for me…that was incredible. But we both know I can’t stay.” 

It was the truth, but the truth hurt like a ton of bricks. Stupid girl, what did you think was going to happen? You broke your vows, and your loyalty to the church, and gave up the one thing you can never take back. You were ruined now, but you still didn’t know how to move forward. Did this mean you didn’t want to be in the convent anymore? Or did you want to stay and act as if you didn’t give in to temptations last night? Would you grab all of your things and run away with him and never look back? Or would you remain and pity yourself for the rest of your life for what you did? It was all unclear, and San knew that. You still had things to think through. 

“I know,” You said in a small voice. He couldn’t stay. And you couldn’t ask him to. 

“I’ll never stop thinking of you.” 

He was looking at you with doting eyes. You traced your thumb on the back of his hand. 

“Will I ever see you again?” You had to see him again. You couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing his beautiful face and feeling his soft hands on your skin. 

He let go of your hand and fished for something in his pocket. “Here,” He said, handing you a business card. “It’s my office in the city. If you ever change your mind…I’ll be there.” 

And with that, he pressed one last kiss on your forehead and took off. You lay there for most of the early morning, fiddling with the business card in your hand, grazing your fingers over the black raised ink. Choi San. Adult Film Photographer. 

It was pathetic to admit, but you think you loved him. And it killed you. You were only supposed to have the Lord in your heart, but it seemed you had given it away to a sinner. In such a short visit, he had made you feel things you had never felt before. You had never felt such strong emotions in the convent. The feeling of being desired, of being held, of being loved― it felt real. Tangible. Promising. Exhilarating. Feelings you were promised for years you’d feel each time you prayed, you felt all at once in one night with San. You almost believed that the Lord had robbed you of such pleasures. 

But then again, the convent was the only family you knew. They took you in, cared for you, and all you had to do in return was let the Lord into your heart. Serve him, alongside your Sisters, and blessings will come your way. 

Your feelings about the church were unclear, but one thing was for certain. In this lifetime or the next, you will see him again. 

―

a/n: I have been writing this since March. It's inspired by the 1800s painting "The Sin," and Kali Uchis's Vaya Con Dios. Please don't ask me for a part 2.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Broken Betrothals

aemond x reader

A/N: made for a request for dark aemond!

WARNINGS: allusions to threats of murder (he’s just protective that’s all😁)

WORD COUNT: 651 words

You and Aemond had been close all your lives. Officially, you were Helaena’s companion, but everyone knew you were much closer to her brother. That’s why it’s his chambers you venture to when you get the letter from your betrothed, calling off your engagement. Nobody could possibly help you through it like he could. Nobody could make your problems disappear like he could.

“(Y/N)?” He looks confused when you arrive at his door, cheeks tearstained from sobbing. “What has happened?”

“H-He’s called it off…” You breathe out. “Lord Blackwood has rescinded his offer of marriage.”

“Oh, gevie.” (beautiful) “What an awful, cowardly excuse for a man.” He brings you into his arms, stroking his fingers through your hair gently. “Did he tell you why?” Aemond asks, but he knows the answer. Lord Blackwood has broken your engagement because Aemond told him to. Consequences of disobeying his prince were… easy to assume.

“He just said things had changed and that he was no longer in a position to take me as his wife. I just don’t understand what possibly could have happened.”

“Men like that can be incomprehensible. He’s a fool to give up a girl like you.” He says gently. Aemond always knows just what to say to make you feel better.

“I feel like a fool for trusting him and I worry that other suitors will think something is wrong with me. Breaking off an engagement is such an undutiful thing to do. They’ll think he found something out about me… a-and i’ll never find a husband.”

“It’s clear the problem lies with him. I will make sure it’s known.” He holds your face in his hands, wiping away the few tears. “Trust me.”

“There’s nothing truthful to be said that would make people side with me.” You say gently, always the kindhearted girl.

“Then I will fabricate a new truth.” Aemond says with all sincerity. If it pleased you, he would do much more to that man then tell a few white lies.

“That would be unjust.” Your moral compass is a bit of a hindrance to that though.

“What he did to you is unjust. He knows he could have ruined your prospects. He deserves it.” The darkness in your friend's eyes worries you but you know it’s just because he truly cares about you. He only wants to see no wrong done to you.

You settle to please him. “If he starts spewing untruths about me, then I believe it would be fair to say something back. Only as a defence of course.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I will likely struggle to find a husband anyhow.” You say solemnly.

“I don’t believe there is a man alive who wouldn’t want to marry a sweet flower like you.” Aemond says in a sickeningly saccharine tone. The heat rises to your cheeks at his flirtatious words.

“It hardly matters how sweet I am if they believe me to be a loose woman or some other horrid thing.” You reply.

“Then i’ll marry you.”

“P-Pardon?” You stutter out, hardly believing he just suggested such a thing.

“I’ll make you my bride.” Aemond says with such finality that you can barely do more than gape at him. “I’ll take care of you. If you’d have me.”

“I would of course accept your offer if the need arises but I would never wish to push you into such a thing.”

“I would never feel pressured by such a prospect but if it makes you feel better, then we can agree to only do so if it becomes necessary.” He presents a deal that you can hardly refuse. “Do you accept?”

You think for a few moments. There could be much worse things in life than marrying your best friend.

“I accept.”

A smile comes across the prince’s face. Now, all he has to do is kill… deter all other suitors.

Comment to be added to taglist

[yikesharringrove]

He doesn't talk anymore.

It was a jarring switch, and everyone still isn't used to Steve's persistent silence.

Because before, he was nearly as chatty as Dustin. Always trying to make the kids laugh, yelling at them and calling them shitheads (albeit lovingly).

He doesn't even laugh anymore.

His windpipe had been badly crushed by the demobat's tail wrapped snugly around his neck.

He had needed surgery.

Surgery that had only added to the lacerations and the keloid scars around on his neck.

And really, it's not that he can't talk.

He couldn't for awhile, and it still hurts sometimes.

But he doesn't fucking want to.

He has nothing left to say.

Because he had made peace with death.

Several times, actually. Throwing the burning bottles, being choked in a dried-out lake by a creature straight from his nightmares.

In fact, he had been mostly ready to venture into the sweet beyond since last summer.

His leg shook under the table, and he was staring at the silver ring on his thumb, spinning it around, and around.

He didn't really like when Robin left him alone at their donation table, she was much better at talking to the people that stopped by, bringing more clothes they didn't need, or coming to pick up something to replace what's been lost.

But Robin was doing her best to move on. Chatting up Vickie in some corner, somewhere.

A small cough got Steve's attention.

It was Susan. Hargrove. Mayfield? Did she go back to her previous name after her abusive husband left her with the corpse of his son?

"I found another box. I guess Maxine had been-" her eyes welled up, and Steve's hands stopped spinning the ring around his thumb. "Well, I think she kept some things of his."

Steve's hands shook as he stood up.

He knew Billy and Max had been much closer than they let on.

He knew Max missed Billy more than she could really express.

He opened the box.

Right on top.

It was that fucking jacket.

The brown leather one. The one that was older and softer, more worn than anything else Billy owned.

Because he loved it. Because he took care of it. Because it was his favorite.

And something in Steve broke a little, and he raised the jacket to his face, and he breathed in deeply. He didn't care who saw. He didn't care that Susan's face had gone pale and her tears had started falling for real.

"Oh."

He barely heard her voice over the blood rushing in his ears, the smell and the memories and don't fucking cry, Steven!

Susan closed the box up carefully. Steve finally lowered the jacket.

"I can put this in your car. So you can keep them. You deserve to-" she glanced down at his hands, and the silver ring, tarnished and glinting on his thumb. "keep them."

Steve brought his hand up to his wobbling chin, touching his fingertips gently under his lip, bringing his hand back down, palm up.

Thank you.

He hoped she got it. Understood the way she understood his tears.

She took his hand briefly.

"I wish we had met differently. I wish-well. I'm sure you wish the same thing."

Steve nodded. His leg had started shaking again, making his whole body tremble. He felt unsteady on his feet.

He fished his keys out of his pocket, handing them to Susan so she could take the box and tuck it in his trunk.

"You take care, then. You, you remember him well."

Steve nodded again, hot tears dripping off his chin.

Yes, ma'am. He wanted to say. I'll never forget him.

But,

he doesn't talk anymore.

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 18

Chapter Summary: You venture into the Upside Down once again in an attempt to find Vecna and stop him in his tracks before he can bring about the end of the world as you know it. With Steve and your friends by your side, you fight against time to get to Vecna before he can get to you.

Content Warning: ANGST, swearing, scary Upside Down nonsense, violence

Word Count: 7.2k

Author’s Note: Sorry this took a while for me to post! This is the last chapter of season 4 and at the time of writing, we unfortunately do not have season 5 content yet, so this story will be put on a slight pause while we wait (semi) patiently for season 5 to come out! Don’t worry though! Feel free to send in requests and I will do my best to write as many of them as possible (you can send requests set in the Adventures in Babysitting universe or requests that are unrelated!)

Message me to be added to the taglist and get updated when the next chapter is posted! I highly recommend this if you want to keep up with the story since I don’t do regular updates!

Series Masterlist | Part 17 | Next Part

***

There you stood, back at the entrance to the Upside Down in the ceiling of Eddie’s trailer. You wiped your sweaty palms on the front of your pants, trying to psych yourself up for the hell that you were undoubtedly about to endure.

You were in the middle of trying to take a deep breath to calm down when Steve gently grabbed your elbow, pulling you away from the rest of your friends who were putting the finishing touches on their packed gear.

“What?” You asked Steve, your voice hushed to preserve the obvious secrecy he was trying to maintain by moving somewhere a little more private.

A million thoughts were racing through his head. He wasn’t sure what you were all about to face or just how dangerous it might be. His heart raced as he felt fear creep up his throat. He pushed it down as he tried to get the words out that desperately needed to be spoken.

“Look, we don’t know what’s going to happen in there, and I don’t want to leave anything left unsaid,” Steve began, and you felt a lump forming in your throat at the implications of his words. “So I’m laying it all out there…just in case. Y/n, I love you and you’re really one of the only things in my life that ever feels like it’s going right. I…I-I’d like to think that I’d have found my way if I had never gotten to know you, but I know I’m only better because of you. I don’t know what the future has in store for us, but I want there to be an us when all of this is said and done, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, don’t do anything rash…I know,” you agreed, but he just shook his head.

“That’s not what I mean…I mean, obviously, I mean that too—don’t you fucking dare do anything stupid in there—but….but I mean….I guess I just don’t want to lose you in a different way when all of this is over, you know?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes searching his wide and wild ones as you tried to make out what he could possibly mean by that.

“Y/n, don’t make me say it,” his words sounded strangled as tears began to pool in his beautiful brown eyes.

“Baby, you’re scaring me,” you put a hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him towards you. “I…I-I just don’t understand.”

“I just don’t want you to fall out of love with me,” he finally spit the words out and you just stared at him dumbfounded, speechless yourself by his total misread of your relationship. Without your voice to fill the silence, he continued on. “Come on, y/n. I saw that way that you reacted when I talked about my six little Harringtons…I’m just worried that you’re realizing that we don’t want the same things.”

“Steve,” a watery chuckle escaped your lips and hurt flashed across his face before you continued, “you couldn’t possibly be more wrong, baby. I want that. I want that future with you more than anything else in the fucking world, but I…I-I’m just afraid that I’m not going to make it out of this one alive.”

Your voice dropped to a pained whisper as you explained your sadness from before, a tear slipping down your cheek as you thought about what seemed like your inevitable fate.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting anything happen to you, you know that right?”

“But, Steve, if something does happen, I want to know that you can be happy without me…I-I want to know that you’ll be okay.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’ll be okay without you. Y/n, you’re my whole fucking world,” Steve argued, taking your hands in his. This just caused you to cry harder, a small sob escaping your lips.

“Steve, please, just promise me,” you begged, tears falling delicately down your face. “Promise me you’ll be okay without me.”

You pulled a hand away from his, sticking out your pinky finger as your hand trembled. The sight was enough to break Steve’s heart. The fact that your last wish for the world was for him to be happy reminded him of how selfless you were, and even though he wanted nothing more than to respect your wishes, he knew that there was no way he’d ever find happiness without you.

So instead of taking your pinky in his, he reached his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a hug that felt a goodbye…just in case.

He swayed side to side as you buried your face in his chest, placing a gentle kiss on his neck and basking in the feeling of being loved. He placed a kiss to your temple before pulling away and placing the sweetest of kisses to your lips. It was a kiss that said more than words would ever have the capacity to, and you thanked your lucky stars that out of all the women in the world, Steve picked you to love.

When you finally pulled away, Steve wrapped his large hand around your small one, and led you back to the room with the rest of your friends. You stared at the rope from before, still dangling precariously and precisely around a point that defied physics…or at least what you knew of physics from tutoring Eddie.

“You lovebirds ready to go fucking kill this guy?” Eddie asked, a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes plastered across his face.

“I suppose it’s now or never,” you spoke up, nodding at Nancy who nodded back and then quickly began ascending the rope.

And just like that, there you all were, making your way back to the hell you’d just escaped.

***

Eddie and Dustin stayed back at the Upside Down version of Eddie’s trailer while you, Steve, Robin, and Nancy made your way to Vecna’s lair. You tried to keep your nerves at bay while you walked alongside your friends, but it was hard to when you had to constantly pay attention to make sure you weren’t stepping on any vines. It would really suck if you alerted Vecna to your presence before you could try to end him once and for all.

“Robin! Remember the hive mind!” Nancy yelled out to your clumsy friend as she hurried ahead to make sure she was paying close enough attention, which left you and Steve with a moment to yourselves.

“So…” Steve spoke up, glancing at you with a timid smirk stretched across his face.

“So…” You replied with a smile. The air between you was a bit awkward, but it was the kind of awkward you basked in. It felt like a normal, teenage sort of awkward that made you feel like your life could maybe be blissfully ordinary once you made it to the other side of this.

Steve chuckled before picking up the conversation again. “Okay, so I told you about my idea for the future, so now it’s your turn. What do you want?”

You hadn’t really thought much of it, and you didn’t like the pressure the question put on you. Your mind flashed to the acceptance letter you’d been waiting on so that you could stay close to Steve. Beyond college, though, you hadn’t really thought about it. You constantly were just fighting to survive, but after hearing Steve’s wishes for your future together, maybe you should be fighting to live. Even though it was all just semantics, it meant something to him and you wanted to give him the world.

“I mean…I’m still waiting on my acceptance letter from Purdue,” was all you ended up saying.

“Is that where you really want to go? Or is it because it’s closer to Hawkins than the other places you’ve applied to? Y/n, I don’t want you holding yourself back from what you really want for me,” Steve sighed. It was an argument you’d had before and the reason why you didn’t really talk about college. The conversation always became stilted and tense.

“Steve, how can I even care about college right now with everything that’s going on? What difference does it make if that piece of paper says Purdue or something else? Besides, Purdue is a good school; it’s not like I’d be throwing my future away,” your voice grew angry and you hated yourself for it. You didn’t want to be this person. You didn’t want to fight with him, but you were under so much stress it was hard to hold back your frustration.

“I just don’t want you to resent me for it,” Steve’s voice was small, and you felt a pang in your chest at the way he said it.

“Baby, all I want is you. I would never resent you for a decision that I made, so please stop thinking that way,” you assured him, but he still had a far off look in his eyes, so you decided to double back to his question that started this whole conversation. “Okay. I see us having a few kids—maybe not the six that you are crazy enough to want, but still a few nonetheless.”

He whipped his head around to look at you. He was in awe of how perfect you were. He thought it was kind of a shot in the dark, talking about kids the way that he had. You were both still so young, and he had spent all this time worrying that you didn’t want the same things. He stared at you, mouth agape as you continued.

“And…and we have a dog. Like a big dog that we can take on hikes and walks. The kind of dog that makes us the boring stereotypical suburban couple, but we don’t care…and I finally have my drivers license.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at your last small hope for the future. “Well, maybe when this is all said and done, I can take you out for a driving lesson, how about that?”

“Sounds like a date,” you replied, smiling up at him. You both were beaming the way that young people in love can only beam and everything would have been perfect if it wasn’t for the fact that you were traversing through the absolute worst place on earth.

“Holy shit!” You heard Robin exclaim, and the two of you hurried to meet your other friends. Robin’s words didn’t even do the sight justice. You felt your stomach drop half way to hell at the sight of the Creel house. None of it felt real.

“Okay, we’re there,” you breathed into your walkie talkie.

“Initiating phase three,” Dustin’s voice crackled through the static and you thanked the universe that the damn thing worked in the Upside Down. The bats that were swarming the house suddenly darted off into the distance.

“Dustin, please be safe,” you begged, holding your breath while you waited for his reply.

“You’re the boss,” his voice rang out again and you shook your head at the fact that he was way too nonchalant about all of this shit.

You all walked up to the door of the Creel house and you sucked in a deep breath. You hated the way the vines writhed and slithered against the frame of the door, the stained glass rose much dimmer and duller in the permanent storm of the Upside Down. You went to grab the handle, but Steve pressed an arm across your shoulders, holding you back as he took a step forward. You rolled your eyes at the way he was always protective to a fault.

You gasped as the door creaked open on its rotting and rusting hinges. If you had been nervous about stepping on a vine before, that anxiety increased ten fold as you saw that the interior of the house was filled nearly wall to wall and floor to ceiling with the trip wire that was Vecna’s vines.

“Holy shit,” Steve whispered as you all stopped to take it all in. “That’s not good.”

“No shit,” you breathed out, your dry remark losing some of its edge at the sheer shock of how fortified Vecna’s not-so-secret hiding place was. The thought of it kind of pissed you off in a way. “So he just gets to hide in here with basically a state of the art security system, meanwhile we’re out there with a bum lightbulb thinking the world is gonna fucking end? Two words: Bull. Shit.”

“Well, I mean I guess when you’re essentially a ruler of the underworld you get to make the decisions. Why fight fair when you don’t have to?” Robin spoke up and you grumbled in response.

Steve took a cautious step forward, before quickly jumping from bare patch to bare patch of the floor.

“What the fuck, Steve?!” You whisper shouted across the foyer. “This isn’t mother fucking hopscotch! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Steve just shrugged in response and waved at you to follow. You rolled your eyes, seething at how careless your boyfriend could be, before you took a careful step forward. You continued to carefully navigate with Robin and Nancy following close behind. Your eyes had been glued to the floor, but as you got closer to the stairs that Steve was standing at, you looked up, noticing the nervous look plastered across his features as he watched you navigate your way through the room.

“Absolutely not. Wipe that look off your face,” you pointed a finger at him as you took a final step towards him. However, you had spoken too soon, slightly losing balance as your ankle rolled and you began to topple towards your side. Steve was quick to snake an arm around your waist, righting you before pulling you in to his chest.

Anything else you were going to say died on your tongue as you looked up into Steve’s eyes. You suddenly felt like you did before you were dating, when you were just some silly girl with a crush on a boy that was way out of your league.

“You were saying?” Steve smirked at you, which made it really easy to snap out of your momentary blast to the past. You rolled your eyes and hit him gently with the back of your hand in the chest in a dismissive gesture.

Moving up the stairs wasn’t too difficult, and you were actually feeling optimistic for a change. The hope in your chest faltered when the ground began to shake, and the four of you huddled together to brace yourselves. Dust and ash fell from the ceiling, and you coughed a dry cough as you inhaled it, trying desperately to regulate your breathing despite the anxiety coursing through your veins.

The walkie talkie in your pocket suddenly roared to life, static spilling through the speaker before Dustin’s frantic voice rang out.

“Y/n! We don’t know how much longer we can hold them off, the bats got inside Eddie’s trailer and we think—“

Your heart dropped as his voice cut off. “Dustin!” You screamed into the transmitter, “talk to me! Say anything, just let me know you guys are okay!”

You let go of the button and listen as static crackled through the receiver. You felt the blood drain from your face when a different voice filled the airwaves.

“Y/n,” a raspy voice echoed through the walkie talkie. You gasped, instinctively dropping the device to the floor as if it had burned you.

“We need to get out of here,” you whispered, staring wide eyed as your gaze darted back and forth between the petrified expressions of each of your friends.

You barely had time to register the subtle squelch beneath your feet before you realized it was too late. A vine wrapped itself around Robin’s ankle pulling her to the wall before several other vines wrapped around her limbs and torso.

Steve darted forward, swinging his axe as hard as he could in a futile attempt to free Robin from the vines. Nancy grabbed the sawed off shotgun from your back, using the butt of the gun to hit the vines around her arm. You sprung into action to, unholstering the knife at your hip jabbing and stabbing wherever you could, but the vines wouldn’t relent.

Steve swung his arm back to hack at the vines once more when something wrapped around his axe, pulling him to the other side of the room, before you knew it, Steve was being pulled up on the wall by his neck, and your heart stopped as you watched his legs kick and flail while he wrestled with the vine around his throat.

You didn’t even have time to react before Nancy was pulled up against the wall as well, struggling as she attempted to fight against her restraints.

“Y/n! Go!” Steve screamed with all his might, his voice straining against the vines that were slowly constricting around his neck. “Please.”

The word came out in a whisper, but you froze, hyperventilating as you spun between all of your friends, helpless and bound to the walls around you. You willed your legs to move as you ran a hand through your hair, trying to breathe through the obvious panic attack that had you in its clutches. You felt a sickening feeling settle in your chest as a creak rang out on the stairs above you.

A slow and solid step sounded as your tear filled gaze slowly ascended to take in the form in front of you.

There Vecna was. No mind tricks. No gimmicks. Just him in the flesh standing right before you.

“What do you want?!” The words came out as a guttural shriek as you fell to your knees, him taking another sure and resounding step towards you.

Steve felt the vines around his neck relent slightly, realizing in horror that Vecna wanted him to be alive enough to watch. Seeing his clawed hand and ragged, decrepit skin, Steve felt nausea settle in a pit in his stomach as he realized the constant terrors you had been facing in the confines of your own mind. This was the monster that you had already met face to face countless times before. This was the man who was using your own mind—your own memories—against you.

This was the man who had taken you from him, over and over and over again.

Vecna didn’t answer your question, simply taking another step towards you.

“I said, what do you want?” You cried out again, the words dissolving into sobs as he grew ever closer to your shaking and dejected form. Ever since that day in the Byers’ living room, you always seemed larger than life to Steve. Seeing you look so small and defeated and terrified on the ash covered landing of the Creel house broke something in him.

“Leave her alone,” the words came out much more confident than Steve felt. The vines tightened, and Steve gasped, wincing and struggling at the sudden tension.

“Please!” You begged, horrified at the danger your boyfriend and friends were in. “I’ll do anything….anything.”

The promise spilled from your lips in a whisper and Steve wished he had the strength to yell at you, to tell you to fight, to flee, to do anything but that. But he couldn’t.

“Stand up,” Vecna’s voice rang out, and you quickly rose to your feet. Steve’s heart broke as he watched the way your legs shook, your knee giving out momentarily as you stumbled and righted yourself.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as Vecna approached you, putting his clawed hand around your throat. You gasped, tears spilling relentlessly from your eyes. Your hands wrapped around his wrist, as you forced yourself to meet his gaze.

“Please. I-I…I don’t wanna die,” you whispered, your face contorted in fear of what the ending would feel like and regret for all the things you’d never get the chance to do.

Vines wrapped slowly around your ankles, snaking up to grab your wrists as well, binding them behind your back to minimize your struggle.

“Try and stay very still,” his deep voice shook your heart inside your chest. Steve wanted to scream, but he couldn’t, silenced by the vines around his throat as he thrashed to no avail. Tears streamed down his face as he watched, helpless to stop the cruel fate in which you would meet your end. “It will all be over soon.”

“Please don’t hurt them,” your voice was small, and sobs wracked your frame as your words came out through hiccuped pauses. “Let them go.”

When Vecna didn’t respond, you turned your head towards Steve, meeting his big, beautiful, brown eyes for the last time. “I love you, Steve.”

With that, Vecna’s large clawed hand reached up, opening in front of your face and Steve watched as your eyes rolled back in your head.

“No!” Robin shouted, her strained, guttural cry something that would haunt Steve for the rest of his days. They all watched as your body twitched and small whimpers escaped your lips. Blood began to drip from your nose, and you breathed out one last shaky breath, and then the world went still.

Just like that, Vecna’s hand dropped and your head lolled to the side. He stepped away from your lifeless form and the vines holding you up released, and you dropped like a rag doll to the floor. Vecna turned and made his way back up the stairs, leaving you all behind. The vines released their grip on your friends as they each collapsed to the floor in a coughing fit. Steve scrambled to the heap on the floor that was your body and scooped you up in his arms.

He cried out as he cradled your head in his hands, the weight of it something so familiar as he thought back to all the times he’d cradled the nape of your neck and watched as your mouth turned into a small smile before he would kiss you. All the life, all the loveliness, everything that made you you was gone, disappearing on dust and ash as Steve could swear the room grew ten times colder. He gently wiped the blood away from your nose with his jacket sleeve, trying desperately to fix the carnage in front of him.

“No….no, no, no, no, no! Robin, I didn’t get to say it!” Steve sobbed as he pulled you into his chest to shield you. “I-I…I didn’t get to tell her I love her.”

Robin didn’t know what to say. There was nothing she could say to make any of this better. She choked back her own sob while she tried to piece together the right words. “She knew, Steve.” Tears streamed down her face as she dropped to her knees next to him.

“You don’t understand,” his words came out in a strained whisper. How could he ever find the words to explain how he failed to even be there for you? How he couldn’t even comfort you as you cried out? “It’s all my fault.”

He buried his face in your neck, his wet tears mixing with the not quite dry ones staining your face. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered into your skin, his hands running over you hair, delicately holding onto you the way he wished he could have. The way he’d never be able to again. As soon as you started having visions he should’ve put you in the passenger seat of his car and drove off as far away from Hawkins as he could get. He thought about the way you would’ve looked with the pale light of the moon filtering into the car as he watched you smile and laugh and sing while the radio played songs that neither of you really liked but you both inexplicably always seemed to know the words too. He thought about the way you could’ve started over, the way he could have made something of himself instead of being the posh, depressed, and mediocre man his parents always wanted him to be.

He thought about the love that filled his chest that would never have anywhere to go, instead just sitting there like a weight he had to carry, a fire that would spread and fester and consume.

Nothing would ever be okay again.

Nancy stood back, her jaw set with an anger that could burn the world to ashes. Hot angry tears streamed down her face as tension set across her entire body.

Steve laid his head down on your chest, and his tears flowed faster at the complete sound of silence. He tried to lose himself in a memory, but it became tainted with the pain of losing you as soon as he had conjured it in his mind.

“I can’t believe you would do that! What the hell were you thinking, y/n?!” Steve yelled as he slammed the door to his bedroom.

“Steve, please, just calm down. I’m okay! I promise! Can you please just let it go?” You begged. You tried to gently grab his wrist in an attempt to make him turn to face you, but he shook your hand off and roughly ran his hands through his hair.

“You could have died.”

He wasn’t wrong. The two of you hadn’t been working at Family Video that long and it was one of the days that Robin had band practice so it was just the two of you running the store.

You were working the register and Steve was getting a box of movies to restock in the back when a man walked up to the counter.

“Welcome to Family Video, my name is y/n if you need anything at all!” Your customer service voice dripped like honey.

“How about you open the register?” The man had asked. Something in his eyes didn’t look right and you had felt your heart rate pick up as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Excuse me?” You asked with a chuckle, hoping that keeping a light demeanor would keep the situation calm.

“I said, open the register,” he repeated himself, slowly lifting his arm, a pistol nestled between his fingers and pointed shakily right at your chest.

“You don’t have to do this,” your words sounded even and confident, even though inside you were falling apart. Dealing with the supernatural on a semi regular basis had prepared you for the unpredictable, and you slowly raised your hands up to show compliance.

“I said open the register, bitch!” The man shouted, and your heart stopped as you heard Steve’s footsteps bounding towards the front of the store. The man quickly turned to his right, training the pistol on Steve.

Without thinking, your arms had darted out and you grabbed the gun out of the man’s hand, quickly pointing it square in the middle of the robber’s chest. Your hands didn’t shake, confidence radiating from your stoic form as the man’s hands slowly raised as he backed away.

“Get the fuck out of my store,” you shouted as the criminal in front of you quickly turned heel and ran. Steve quickly locked the door behind him, and you calmly set the gun down on the counter. Steve looked at you like you were insane, but you just quietly picked up the phone and dialed the police.

After an entire evening of showing the police security camera footage, explaining what happened, and still trying to manage customers, needless to say, Steve was understandably a bit pissed off. So standing in the middle of his bedroom, you tried to calm him down once he was finally able to release all of the anger and fear he’d been bottling up all day.

“You could have died too! What was I supposed to do?” You argued.

Steve sat down on his bed, sighing as he held his head in his hands. You felt guilty. You knew he’d been stressed ever since all the shit at Starcourt happened and his parents were on his ass about having a job. This little incident didn’t do anything to help his mood.

Quietly, you sat down next to him, pulling his hands away from his face as you beckoned him to lay down next to you. He complied, and you pulled his head against your chest, laying his ear down right over your heart.

He closed his eyes as he listened to the gentle and rhythmic reminder that you were okay.

“See. I’m fine, baby,” you whispered as you ran your hands through his hair. “My heart’s still in there, still beating. All for you, baby.”

Yet here Steve was now and your heart that was always supposed to be beating strong was still. He cried as he stayed there trying to listen for something, anything. Placing a gentle kiss to your chest, he continued to fall apart. “Please, y/n, please just come back to me. I’ll get you your dog and your white picket fence—I promise—just please don’t leave me here alone,” he begged.

Suddenly, though very faint, he swore he heard the familiar thump of your heart. His eyes shot open and he held his breath as he listened closer.

“Steve, we have to get out of here,” Robin spoke up, tears still falling down her face as she pulled gently at Steve’s sleeve, doing all that she could to avoid looking at your lifeless form in his lap.

Steve quickly shushed her, listening closely, as he heard another beat of your heart against your ribcage. It was weak and it was slow but it was there and it was you.

He sat up abruptly, and began to shake your shoulders. “Y/n! Y/n wake up! Please y/n!”

“Steve she’s gone,” Robin tried to explain, looking at Steve with pity and sorrow.

“She has a pulse, Robin!” Steve exclaimed, a watery laugh escaping his lips as he wiped at his tears and placed a kiss to your forehead. He quickly grabbed Robin’s hand, placing her fingers on your neck. She felt like she could drop to her knees and just cry at the rhythmic tapping of your heartbeat.

Nancy quickly dropped to the floor next to the three of you, pulling a water bottle out of her backpack. She quickly poured the cool liquid onto the sleeve of her shirt, pressing it to your forehead. After a pause that felt like an eternity, you began to stir as you groaned, your face contorting into a pained expression.

Relieved laughter surrounded you as Steve pulled you into a sitting position, pulling you into the tightest hug you thought you would ever receive. The reality of what just happened began to sink in and you started to cry with the relief that Vecna had respected your wishes and left your friends alone.

“I can’t believe he didn’t crack me like a glow stick,” you croaked as soon as you could speak.

“This is a miracle,” Robin breathed as she pulled you into a hug as everyone helped you to your feet.

“Then we better not waste it,” you replied, your voice even and steady. You took the shotgun from Nancy and cocked it. You had escaped the worst fate imaginable. You were not messing around.

“Phase four,” Steve breathed, his hand snaking around your waist. He didn’t think he’d ever let you go after what just happened. His voice was about as shaky as his hands, and he took a deep breath to try to calm his nerves to lock in for the next part of the plan.

“Flambé,” Nancy chimed in, you looked at her stern expression and nodded, taking a step forward towards the attic.

When you silently entered the room, you watched as Vecna hovered in the center of the room, vines attached to him from all angles. You shuddered at the sight of it as Robin placed her bag down on the floor, each of you grabbing a Molotov cocktail from the bag. You heard the click of the lighter and watched as the flame began crawling up the rag in the bottle in your hand. You thought back to the same click of the lighter in Jonathan Byers’ living room the first time you encountered creations of Henry Creel’s design. You thought about the chaos that followed you since, the people you’d lost, the pain you’d felt. You thought about the life and future you’d almost just lost at his hands.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, hurling the bottle towards Vecna, watching it erupt into a spray of flames as it hit Vecna square in the chest.

He bellowed, vines retreating, as he fell from his perch in the middle of the attic. As he so roughly drew you into visions against your will, you just as abruptly pulled him out of his.

His burning body dropped to the floor, and you wished that would be the end of it. Your heart jumped to your throat when he stood up, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours as he stared at you with a focused contempt that sent a chill down your spine. He took a steady step towards you but was quickly knocked off kilter when Robin threw a second bottle at him.

You felt all the anger and resentment you’d been harboring since the Upside Down entered your life. You felt the rage of watching your friends suffer, of watching the kids grow up too fast, stuck in a battle that was not theirs to fight. Vecna had spent all this time making you feel shame and guilt, festering and spreading like a disease that wouldn’t die until it took you with it. You didn’t feel that shame anymore. Instead it was replaced with red hot hate at the man—no, the monster—that had spun this twisted web of suffering and carnage and destruction.

You aimed the shotgun square at his chest, firing the first shot. It hit him in the shoulder, knocking him backwards. You wasted no time as you cocked the gun again, firing off another shot that tore through his abdomen. You continued firing without mercy, knocking him back and back again until he stumbled through the boarded up window of the attic, falling with a sickeningly satisfying thud to the ground below.

You turned back towards your friends, a look of shock on everyone’s faces, including your own. In your assessment, you had just defeated evil itself. The four of you raced down the stairs towards the front door. You felt your stomach turn however, when you noticed that Vecna was gone, nothing left but charred patches of grass and a few sputtering flames.

He had escaped.

***

The news was saying it was an earthquake, but you knew better than that. You felt guilt settle in your chest when you heard about the fissures ripping through Hawkins.

It was exactly what Vecna had shown you.

Four kills. He had done it. You had been dead—albeit not that long, but dead nonetheless.

When you had made it back to Dustin and Eddie, Eddie was pretty banged up, but nothing some bandages and a few very not professionally done stitches wouldn’t fix. He’d have to hide out; there was no way the town was going to let go of the cult leader who was picking off high school students one by one. Luckily, it was petty easy to go off the grid and disappear in small town rural Indiana.

To your complete non-surprise, Jonathan, Will, Mike, Eleven, and Jonathan’s new friend Argyle had been dealing with similarly supernatural shit in California and were no strangers to the messed up load of shit that was going on in Hawkins, so it was pretty easy to get each other up to speed. Besides, at this point, exchanging stories didn’t result in incredulous disbelief; you pretty much believed that anything was possible at this point, much to your collective dismay.

But presently, you tried to shove all of that aside, as you, Steve, Robin, and Dustin carried in boxes of stuff to donate. Hawkins High had been turned into a makeshift clinic, resource center, reunification center, etc. So many people had been displaced and injured in the “earthquake” that normal day to day activity ceased, instead everyone put all of their focus on rallying around those who needed support after the recent events that had quite literally shook the town.

Almost as soon as the four of you had arrived, you had volunteer name tags adorning your shirts as you went off to help with various aspects of disaster relief.

Robin joined Vickie at the meal prep station and you couldn’t help but smile as they chatted away.

Your smile quickly vanished when you saw Dustin talking to Eddie’s uncle. It was easier for Eddie if everyone assumed that he didn’t survive the earthquake. You had questioned him multiple times to make sure it was what he really wanted, and though you were sure the answer would never be a whole hearted “yes,” he was convinced it was easier than his uncle having to deal with the emotional turmoil of watching his nephew face multiple counts of murder that the townspeople of Hawkins were more than eager to lock him up for.

Steve nudged you slightly and you tuned back into the kind woman who was explaining how the two of you were to sort clothing donations. Steve watched the soft and polite smile on your face as you asked a couple of clarifying questions, and he felt luckier than he ever had before.

You had been gone. It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to experience, and he knew one thing was certain: he would never, ever take you for granted.

He watched as you folded clothes, carefully folding up a children’s pajama set. It felt so inexplicably domestic and he took a breath as he thought about how his hope to have a future with you was still intact.

“Hey, uh, y/n?” Steve spoke up, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?” You replied, staring up at him sweetly. He was too nervous for you to be staring at him like that because he was sure if you smiled at him like that for much longer, he would melt right then and there.

“Well, when you were…when you were gone…I-I-I promised you something,” Steve whispered.

You saw how much he was struggling with talking about it and you quickly began to spiral. “Steve,” you replied softly, taking his hand in yours, “I’m sure you were under a lot of stress, and-and I’m so sorry that I put you through all of that—believe me, I wish it hadn’t have happened that way—but I don’t even remember it, on account of the fact that I was…well, you know…dead, so please if your worried about keeping your promise, don’t because it’s not like—“

Steve quickly cut you off, softly grabbing your face and tilting your head to look up at him. “Y/n, no it’s not that—and never apologize for what you went through. That was in no way, shape, or form your fault and if you worry about that one more time I’m going to lose my mind just a little bit.”

“Hey!” You mocked offense, crossing your arms and Steve just chuckled at your antics.

He took a deep breath before he continued. “When you were gone, I promised that if you came back I would get us the white picket fence and the dog and the future that we never get to talk about because we’re always so confident that we’re not going to have it. When you came back it felt like a second chance to…to just really go for it, you know? And I kept thinking before all of this shit that we were just too young, but after almost losing you, I realized that it’s pretty fucking stupid to wait when you know you’ve met the love of your life.”

Steve reached a hand behind his back into his back pocket and pulled out a ring box. Your eyes immediately started welling with tears. You were glad that everyone was caught up in doing their part to help the people of Hawkins because, even with what felt like half the town in your high school gymnasium with you, it felt like you and Steve were the only two on earth.

“Y/n, I know it’s not much, and I really planned on doing this in a way that was a little more special, but you know me and I really just couldn’t fucking wait…will you make my life complete and be mine, til death do us part?”

You didn’t respond verbally, instead you took a step forward and threw your arms around him and buried your face in his neck. You held him so incredibly close and breathed in the scent of his cologne. This moment, it was sweet, it was simple, and it was all yours; perfectly imperfect and lovely all the same.

“Absolutely,” you responded in a whisper. He gently placed the ring on your finger and you admired it. It wasn’t anything flashy, a simple stone set into a plain band, but it was probably the nicest piece of jewelry you had ever owned. “When did you have time to get this between ‘the earthquake’ and now?” You asked incredulously. You’d spent nearly every minute together since then, so how had he been able to get that ring after having his “why wait?” epiphany.

Steve’s face flushed and he chuckled awkwardly as his hand when to the back of his neck. “Well, the thing is, I’ve had it…for a while,” he admitted. You stared up at him in disbelief and he continued. “I actually had finally saved up enough to get it shortly before everything went to shit. I-I was gonna ask you after graduation, just because that felt right at the time, you know? I-I’m sorry it’s not super fancy or anything…my parents offered to help so I could get something a little nicer, but I wanted it to be something I got on my own.”

“It’s perfect,” you stared up at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“Are you sure?” Gosh it was cute when he doubted himself.

“I promise,” you reached your hand towards his and he smiled, hooking his pinky finger around yours. He pulled you towards him and placed a sweet kiss to your lips and you smiled into it.

Everything was just so perfect.

You continued folding clothes, not wanting your proposal to get in the way of helping out your community, and you felt like nothing could take away the warmth that was radiating through your body. That was until the room darkened suddenly, and you felt a pit in your stomach. You quickly turned to Steve and you could see the worry painted across his face.

You followed the crowd that was making its way towards the windows of the gymnasium.

A chill ran down your spine as you watched white ash swirl through an overcast sky.

Steve’s hand slipped into yours, and that was when your perfect moment shattered into a million pieces before your very eyes.

***
a/n: AHHHHHHHH! It’s so crazy that we’re at (kind of) an end to this story! I wish we had season 5 out so that I could continue to write alongside the plot, but unfortunately we don’t! Keep on the look out for more stuff I write though! I have a couple of ideas that I’ve been brainstorming that I think could be good.

If you enjoyed this chapter, consider reblogging! It really helps inspire me to write more seeing the engagement and how much people are liking the story!

Thank you all for sticking with me! I love you guys!

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @palachannie @keeryverse @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek @daemonskitty @bethsvrse @aheadfullofsteverogers @quinnsadilla @chervbs @sheisjoeschateau @goosy-goose @frtfvthg @criesinlies @cycat4077 @kachelleee @killerqueenfan @newyorkangelbaby @spaghetittied @anxfl @huffledor-able541 @mikariell95 @nothergoaway @angie2274

[chilschuck]

woahhhh you should totally write about chilchuck dealing with a reader whos obsessed with bugs and keeps annoying him with them ahahaaaa twirls my hair

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ HERE IT IS. FINALLY. i know you wanted me to reply to the other ask for this but i thought having this one would make more sense. happy i could finally get this out for you!!

— CHILCHUCK: x gn!reader who likes bugs hcs.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ ment of bugs & insects!! reader is really into entomology. sfw + sweet n’ fluffy!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 575

✦ sorry this isn’t super long, i’m in the middle of finals week so i’m struggling creatively rn. :”))) i can write more for you after this is over fr!!

✦ You decided to venture down to the beginning levels of the dungeon for one reason only: entomology research. The dungeon, rich with all kinds of monsters, had attracted you to its depths for a chance to discover more than you could just on the surface.

✦ Meeting Chilchuck was an added perk. Coming across Laios’ party at the upper levels was the best thing that could’ve happened to you at that moment. Now you had a party to explore with, and even a half-foot to aggravate.

✦ And oh, how easy it was to irritate him. You’d scoop up anything that you’d find and immediately show it off to him. At first, he’d give you an unamused look and tell you to cut it out, afraid just what you’d picked up this time.

✦ Except when you started telling him about it. You’d find a treasure insect or point out a cleaner at work, giving him all the facts you knew. Occasionally he’d actually listen to you talk, finding it almost… relaxing?

✦ It wasn’t that he was completely uninterested, but you had started to grow on him the more you shared what you knew. Hearing you speak about the insects you have on the surface and how you cared for them definitely made him curious. He never knew so much time and dedication went into stuff like that.

“Look at this one, Chilchuck!” In your hand was an insect you had come across on the floor your party decided to rest on. With excited eyes, you began pointing out all the parts, their functions, and even what purpose they served in the dungeon.

For some reason, Chilchuck found that sparkle in your eye when you chattered away to be… endearing, almost. He couldn’t help but feel the corners of his mouth tug into a smile, encouraging you to keep going. After all, this was what you were passionate about. Unlike Laios’ obsession with monsters, your knowledge didn’t make you seem sick in the head; it made you unique.

✦ Chilchuck soon would find himself pointing things out to you and asking questions of his own. Maybe about what that particular insect was, what it did, maybe if it was rare or not. And more than happily, you answered him in kind.

✦ Even if you drove him crazy sometimes with shoving something in his face, he found that your presence was comforting. Having someone else here besides Laios (or even Senshi) that knew about some of the dungeon’s creatures was nice. You two would even entertain each other by sharing things you knew about insects on the surface or in the dungeon. (Not that he knew much...)

✦ Sometimes he’d even have you talk to him at night while the rest of the party got ready for bed. It wasn’t that your words put him to sleep, it was more that your voice had begun to bring him comfort. Chilchuck could feel his eyes growing heavy when you told him about some of the insects you liked on the surface, and soon enough you had managed to lull him to sleep with just the sound of your voice.

✦ Eventually you’d probably be able to get him to actually hold something. Maybe he’d see that look in your eyes again and swallow down his pride, holding out his hands to whatever you found this time. That happy look on your face made it all worth it.

[peachdues]

COALESCENCE — RANDOM SNIPPETS

Levi x F!Reader • secret pregnancy AU

I feel bad I haven’t updated anything for Coalescence recently — so have some random snippets from Part I. I will return to Coalescence once Part III of my Demon Slayer fic, In the Netherwood, is complete.

CW: MDNI • mentions of injury • pregnancy • NSFW sneak peek at the end • Hange being Hange • Hange also finds out that Levi x Reader have been fucking and Reader is now pregnant • Levi eats pussy like a god

Death was far quieter than you’d imagined. It was dark, perhaps even peaceful. An endless oblivion amidst which you floated without form; weightless.

When you’d lost unconsciousness against the rubble that was once the Main Street of Trost, you’d accepted the very real — and likely — possibility that you would not wake up again.

In your youth, death had been nothing more than an abstract concept; something that happened only to the elderly or those who caught illnesses that could not be treated, or even to those who ventured beyond the Walls.

As a soldier within the Survey Corps, however, you’d learned that death was as certain as the sun even if you might not live long enough to see it rise.

And, having spent the last eight years of your life fighting on behalf of the Corps even as your comrades dropped like flies around you, you knew you’d long overstayed your welcome in this world overrun by titans.

So when everything had begun to fade to black as you laid broken on chunks of stone and brick, you thought death had finally come to collect on the debt you owed. You supposed you were grateful that your final moments were not spent struggling in the grip of a titan as it brought you to its open, salivating mouth.

Really, it wasn’t such a bad way to go, dying from injuries sustained in an explosion — even if the explosion had been caused by the stupidity of one of your own. You could make peace with it; you almost had.

Almost.

The one, nagging thought you’d had as the world around you melted into dark oblivion had been of him — of your dark-haired, brooding boyfriend, who was likely miles away from Trost and utterly unaware of the disaster that had befallen the district; that had befallen you.

Levi, you’d known, was going to be pissed when he found out you’d gotten yourself killed, after he’d told you, so many times, to avoid doing exactly that.

As much as you’d hoped he could find it within himself to forgive you, you knew he wouldn’t, and truthfully, you didn’t think you could forgive yourself. You knew how every face of your fallen comrades haunted the Captain’s waking hours — how their screams plagued his precious few hours of sleep.

And now, it seemed, you would only be adding yourself to the festering wound he carried on his heart; so no, you probably didn’t deserve his forgiveness anyways.

It would’ve been nice to see him, one last time — you would’ve taken one of his fierce verbal lashings, if it meant hearing his voice one last time.

There was nothing you could do, however but resign yourself to death’s beckoning embrace, to fade into the nether and dissolve among the stars —

A buzz broke the quiet black of your oblivion.

You frowned; the buzz seemed to grow louder with each dull thud of your heart. You wanted to bat it away, make the silence come back and sink into the calm stupor you’d been floating in once more.

But the buzz was incessant, growing louder until you realized it was not a buzz at all, but voices. Many voices, speaking over one another in hissed, urgent tones.

“Get me a sponge, I can’t see where all this blood is coming from —“

“— Did you see her bloodwork? She’s at least ten weeks along, she’ll need to be discharged immediately —“

“That’s assuming the fetus has even survived —“

“Shush, I think she’s coming to; someone get Squad Leader Hange —

The voices melted together above you, their grate making the ache in your head grow steadily more piecing with each passing breath.

With far more effort than you wanted to believe it would take, your eyes slowly opened, struggling to adjust against the harsh overhead light of the Trost infirmary.

That light, however, was quickly blocked out by a shadowy figure leaning over you, far too close to your face for you own comfort. Your eyelids fluttered as the figure above you sharpened into focus, revealing a pair of large brown eyes blinking owlishly down at you.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier!” The unmistakable voice of your Squad Leader chirped. “Glad to have you with us!”

Your lips, dry and cracked parted to answer her, but you could do no more than respond with a strangled, pained groan.

The surface upon which you’d been lain — a cot, by the feel of it — dipped as Hange Zoe climbed atop it, legs carefully straddling your hips to keep their weight off you, as the Squad Leader leaned in close to your face.

“Squad Leader — you can’t —“ a nurse tried.

Her admonition fell on deaf ears. “You had me worried there, Y/N,” Hange’s began, fingers peeling back your eyelids to check the dilation of your pupils.

“You were in rough shape when Braus and another cadet pulled you free from that toppled building.”

You tried to ask how long you’d been out, but your mouth struggled to form around the shape of the words. Instead, all that came out was a garbled string of nonsense.

“You have a concussion, that’s for sure,” Hange said smoothly, fingers prodding at a tender spot against your temple.

“But that’s not the most important thing — Y/N, did you know you’re pregnant?”

That single word broke through the addled fog clogging your head.

“Preg—?” You managed, your tongue thick in your mouth.

Hange appeared to interpret the furrow of your eyebrows as a lack of comprehension rather than shock. “Yes, preg-nant. There is a small clump of cells growing inside you that will become a child —“

You grimaced. “N-no,” you tried. “I had — an implant —“

You heard the nurses desperately plea with your Squad Leader to get them down from where they’d perched upon your cot, but Hange paid them no mind.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, doll, but they aren’t always one hundred percent effective. It’s rare, but it happens.”

Under normal circumstances, you would have cursed your luck. Of course you’d end up being the exception.

“I can’t say I’m excited for you,” Hange continued, though it appeared they had been finally persuaded to remove themselves from your cot. The Squad Leader deftly stepped away from you, coming around the edge of your bed to take a clipboard from one of the nurses.

“You’re my best Scout; your pregnancy means I have to discharge you. No exceptions.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open, unconsciousness creeping in once more. “Is — am I still —?”

Hange looked up from your medical sheet, eyes softening. “Yes, Y/N, though you’re not entirely out of the clear, yet.”

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or not; part of you relaxed at the assurance, but until you could talk to Levi —

Levi.

Fuck, Levi.

You hadn’t known of your — condition — until mere seconds before, which meant Levi sure as hell had no clue that your birth control had failed, and you were now carrying irrefutable proof of the relationship the two of you had concealed for the last year.

Levi.

You needed to tell him, and fast; before it was too late to address the problem.

Levi.

There was nothing you could do at that moment as the world around you began to dim once more. Try as you might, your body was unable to fight off the sleep that crept in and began to tug you under, despite the urgency with which you thought of your need to get in contact with the Captain as soon as possible.

Levi. You needed to talk to Levi.

But the Trost infirmary slipped away, the voices of nurses and of Hange fading to the same buzz which had brought you back to consciousness the first time.

Before you slipped below the waves of sleep, you heard your Squad Leader’s lone gasp.

“Motherfucker-“

—-

(Levi’s POV)

Levi’s eccentric comrade emerged from the small examination room, a pensive look on their face.

Levi hadn’t given much thought as to what he would do if he ran into any of his colleagues among the upper ranks of the Scouts. His mind had been exclusively focused on her, and the news that had shaken him to his core.

He remained pressed against the corridor wall, for once uncertain whether he should make his presence known or stay still until Hange wandered away, leaving him to slip into the examination room unseen.

But the section leader had always had a peculiar sense as to when he was near, and so with a slight sense of foreboding, Levi watched as Hange’s head turned towards him, eyes as round and as bright as an owl’s.

“What a surprise it is to see you here, Levi.”

Levi kept his features neutral. “Is it?”

Hange’s expression was inscrutable. “What a day, huh?” They folded their arms across their chest and leaned against the doorway leading to her — to Y/N.

“A titan breach, gross incompetence by the Garrison causing even more casualties and destruction,” Hange counted off the day’s events on her fingers. “And to top it all off, the best scout on my squad not only got injured because of said incompetence, but she’s also pregnant.”

It took everything in him to keep his voice even and monotone. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the headache. The paperwork to discharge a scout is tedious at best.”

Levi brushed imaginary lint off the shoulder of his cape. “Better go get a move on.”

A strange smirk tugged at the corner of Hange’s mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about who the prospective father is, have you?”

There was a beat. “No.”

Hange’s smirk turned into a grin. “Poor thing has a concussion — it’s small, don’t worry,” and Levi knew his face must have tightened. “But the funniest thing happened while the poor girl was coming in and out of consciousness.”

Levi’s fists clenched slightly at the feral glint in their eye.

“It was almost hard to hear what she was muttering, the poor dear,” Hange finally kicked off the door jam and moved to saunter past her raven-haired comrade.

“I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with my scout, Levi.”

Levi’s voice dropped to a near whisper as they brushed by him. “Hange.”

“It seems the pregnancy is still viable,” the section commander said quietly.

He couldn’t stifle the faint exhale of relief which left him at their reassurance. For as shocking as the news of her pregnancy was, Levindidnt want to think about the mental toll a miscarriage could have wrought upon you.

Or himself, for that matter.

“You can go in,” Hange’s voice interrupted is slight reprieve. “I’ll make sure no one comes this way for at least a few minutes. But you can’t stay long — Erwin wants to see us.”

—-

“Well, congratulations!” Hange boomed, clapping the Captain sharply on the shoulder. “Good on you for working to restore the human race!”

A muscle in Levi’s jaw ticked. “Hange—“

“I guess the moniker ‘humanity’s strongest’ doesn’t just apply to your combat skills —“

“Hange.”

“— I’m talking super swimmers —“

“Oi. Four-eyes.” Levi pulled on the eccentric squad leader’s ponytail to command their attention. “Enough.”

—-

(NSFW bonus)

“You’ve gotta speak up, sweetheart,” Levi mocked between teasing kitten licks against your outer folds. his breath was hot as he exhaled against your damp core. “I’m waiting.”

You felt frustrated tears gather in the corners of your eyes. With an impatient whine, you rolled your hips towards him desperately, eyes wide and pleading for him to do something to fill the empty ache you felt within.

“Not good enough,” Levi growled, tongue lazily circling your entrance, twitching away every time you jerked your hips towards his mouth.

“Levi, please, I—,” you choked off with a frustrated whine. “You’re not being nice — I’m pregnant —,”

The stoic Captain pulled his mouth away from you entirely, rocking back on his heels. From between your thighs, Levi studied you, a renewed heat flaring to life in his steely eyes.

“You are, aren’t you?” He conceded, his eyes locking in on your mouth as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip and mewled. “And all because of me.”

Levi’s eyes dropped back down to your core, slick and aching, ready to take him however he wanted.

“And what kind of father would I be if I made the mother of my child suffer unnecessarily?”

Any response or yearning plea you may have answered him with died in your throat as Levi surged forward, his tongue plunging deep within your entrance, his nose pressing right against that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

You just managed to slap your hand over your mouth to stifle the scream he pulled from you as the Captain began to fuck you with his tongue.

You considered yourself to be somewhat an expert on the eccentricities of Levi Ackerman. You knew he preferred two scoops of leaves for his morning cup of tea, but only one and a half in the evenings. You knew when he bathed he followed a precise routine, always washing himself twice before his hair, and that he always used two towels to dry off because he hated trailing water beyond the washroom.

You knew that he was dust and dirt’s greatest nemesis, and that even the slightest bit of clutter or disarray set his teeth on edge. You knew he loathed sharing any space with the cadets because no matter how many times he threatened them, they never seemed to remember to clean up after themselves properly.

You’d learned all of these quirks slowly, over years of proximity and tentative friendship with the brooding captain. You’d coveted each new discovery like some precious jewel, squirreling it away in a mental folder labeled “Levi,” that you periodically turned to whenever he was stressed or on his last nerve.

But there had been one attribute of his that you hadn’t learned about until after your relationship escalated — after he’d hauled you up onto his desk for the very first time and fucked you stupid.

And that insight was this: Levi, Captain of the Survey Corps’ Special Operations Squad and Commander Erwin’s right-hand soldier, ate pussy like a man possessed.

“You’re doing so good, doll,” he groaned between lewd smacks of his mouth against your syrupy folds, his lips and teeth alternating in their ministrations against your clit. “You’re so damn good, giving me a baby, making a father out of me.”

Hearing Levi not only acknowledge your pregnancy but speak as though he were excited the pair of you were venturing into parenthood together made the coil in your belly tighten.

Levi’s hands clamped down around your shins, guiding your legs until they bent at your knees before pushing them up and level with your hips. His fingers splayed around your calves, he used his grip to rock you back and forth against his face, allowing your juices to smear across his lips and jaw until his skin was shiny with your arousal.

He hummed in response to the staccato of “oh fuck, oh fuck — Levi —“ which fell from your lips until you could no longer remember how to form words.

His eyes remained open and fixed pointedly on your face, those gray irises tracking every twitch of your mouth and pinch of your brow. The louder your strangled whimpers became, the harder he moved you, until you were nearly sobbing for him to let you come apart on his tongue.

more levi content soon, babies!

[zablife]

Now You Know the Truth (Part 6)

Tommy Shelby x wife reader

Summary: Your plot for revenge against Tommy begins to take shape, but he becomes suspicious.

Author's Note: I intended this to be the last part, but there will be at least one more. Oops 🙈 Side note, Polly died of tuberculosis in my AU.

Warnings: language, medical discussions, gaslighting, mention of pregnancy

Part 5

You talked for what felt like hours with little more than a nod from the man in the white coat sitting across from you. Finally you stopped to inhale deeply, before asking, “Well? Do you understand what it is I need from you?”

“I do,” he nodded quickly, sitting forward to rest his elbows upon his desk. He broke eye contact as he stared out the window of his office, fingers laced tightly and brow etched with concern.

His speech came haltingly, aware of your position, but more keenly, that of your husband. “I understand your predicament, Mrs. Shelby, but I can’t say I agree with this…method,” he attempted not to offend you. “The falsification of medical records, lying to a patient simply to confine him in hospital…it’s…it’s unethical,” he stressed the last word with such distaste your rage bubbled to the surface before you could contain it.

“Unethical?” you scoffed. “What of the months I spent in the care of your nurses and doctors for nervous disorders and fainting spells fabricated by my husband when I couldn’t remember anything about myself? And when you released me, you gave him medication to sedate me at will. Where was your sense of morality then?”

You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from trembling, but managed to hold the doctor’s gaze firmly. As you did so, you noticed his eyes widen, realizing the harm caused by his miscalculations in judgment.

Clearing his throat of the lump that had formed he began, “Your husband was quite convincing and I wasn’t aware of his intentions to confine you in such a way." He searched your eyes, hoping for forgiveness as he apologized as sincerely as possible. "I am truly sorry for your pain and anguish," he added, lowering his gaze shamefully. Taking another moment to sit with his thoughts he finally leaned across his desk to confide in you.

He glanced toward the door to be certain no one was approaching before adopting a low, conspiratorial tone. Then he advised, “I may be able to assist you. If your husband has these fits, as you say, a case could be made to persuade the layperson.”

You nodded in silent agreement, afraid to give yourself over to hope too quickly. “Please go on, what happens next?” you ventured breathlessly.

———————

“How was the appointment at the hospital, darling? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” Tommy apologized as he helped you remove your fur coat.

Turning to him with a tight smile you replied, “The baby’s heartbeat is strong.”

Tommy beamed with pride as he pulled you toward him for an embrace, but the large manilla envelope between you stopped him.

“What’s that?” he asked, eyes darting up to yours suspiciously.

“As I was leaving I saw Dr. Holford and he asked me to give you this,” you informed him as you proffered the envelope carefully. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath, waiting for Tommy to take the baited trap, until he whisked it from your fingers moments later. The air seemed to leave your lungs in one great breath as he strode away from you into his office.

Standing alone in the hallway you found yourself unable to move when you suddenly heard a crash. Rushing toward the noise, you surveyed the damage of the broken carafe lying in pieces and Tommy leaning over his desk, rubbing his eyes. 

“Is everything alright?” you asked sweetly.

“I told the girl to refill the whisky this morning. It’s still empty,” he muttered through clenched jaw.

“Frances will see to it. I meant the envelope,” you gestured where the contents had been scattered.

Clutching a letter in his hand, Tommy turned toward you slowly as he accused, “What do you know about this?”

You gulped as you watched his eyes darken, head tilting as he scanned your face in painstaking detail.

Heartbeat thundering in your chest, you swayed slightly in your heels from fear and exhaustion. Playing to his recent sympathy for the well-being of your child, you asked permission to sit, stalling for time.

Tommy nodded, pulling out a chair, but waited by your side.

“The doctor told me it was urgent…something to do with an x-ray they took from when Polly was ill,” you spoke the lines you’d rehearsed in the car as best you could with the feeling of his hot breath fanning the back of your neck.

Tommy scoffed. “After all this time, now they tell me?” His hand tightened around the back of your chair, causing the wood to crack beneath the pressure and you winced to yourself, wondering if his fingers might creep toward your throat next. He emitted a long, low sigh as he confessed, “Tuberculoma…what the fuck is that?”

As he hovered over you, he pulled an x-ray from the pile of documents and held it to the light for you. “I don’t see anything, do you?” he asked with irritation, shaking it a bit too harshly to straighten it when it folded in on itself.

“I’m not a doctor, Tom,” you demurred, worried his stubbornness would cause the entire plan to fail. Resting your head in your hand you wondered, Why did I believe this could work? But you had to try so you added gently, “Invite him here so he can explain it properly.”

Striding away from you suddenly, Tommy rounded his desk to pick up the phone. As he waited for the operator to connect the call he promised, “We’re all going to have a chat very soon.”

Part 7

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

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