#Lady!Reader

[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 7)

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky x Lady!Reader

Prompt: Kidnapped

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: descriptions of kidnapping; mentions of death and murder

Divider by @silkholland

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

You put up a fight.

It doesn’t matter that you lost, you keep telling yourself.

You fought. With everything you had.

You made them work for it.

They hadn’t waltzed into your home unannounced and plucked you like a ripe fruit.

No. They had to chase you. Through your father's grand halls, past portraits of ancestors who surely would have been appalled by the racket.

You had turned over tables, ducked behind curtains, slipped from one room to the next, heart pounding in your throat just like your feet on the floors.

It made them rougher. It made them intimidating. It made them brutal.

But even when they finally cornered you, when their calloused hands aggressively grabbed at your arms and pulled you, you didn’t stop. You thrashed and screamed and kicked and bit and clawed - every inch of your body on high alert and protesting against their strong hold.

They were sweating by the time they bound you, snarling curses and grunts of frustration flying at your face with the spit out of their mouths. They called you names, ugly names, growled at you to stop resisting.

One of the three men even laughed - a low, cruel sound - but it was laced with fury.

You tell yourself it was worth it.

Every bruise, every ache in your body as they now drag you down the manor steps to the waiting ship, every ragged breath you manage to gulp in your struggle - it’s all worth it. Even as your father’s angered voice fades behind you, lost in the salt-stung wind and the distant crash of waves.

Because you didn’t make it easy for them.

You fought back.

And that is something you will forever be proud of.

Although that forever might end sooner than you had envisioned before this day.

Still, you tell yourself you won something - however small.

Maybe you won’t live to see the end of this. Maybe the days ahead hold horrors you couldn’t yet imagine.

But you didn’t go quietly.

The gangplank groans beneath the firm boots of your three kidnappers as they haul you aboard. The salty air stings the cuts on your wrists where the ropes bite into your skin but you refrain from wincing.

The ship rises and falls with the swell of the sea. It’s unfamiliar. So foreign in its feeling, it reminds you just how much you leave behind by stepping foot onto this ship.

The men shove you forward.

Around you, the crew is working. You have no idea why there are so many people needed on a ship but you feel the urge to shrink into yourself at the many stares you receive.

So many men. And none of them say anything. But they smirk and chuckle menacingly and you grow more uneasy with every step you take.

A prize. That’s what you are to them.

“Cap’n’s gonna love this,” one of the men holding you mutters, spitting onto the deck. He smells of sweat and dirt.

Again, you refrain from wincing.

“Aye,” grunts the one behind you, whose arm you had managed to claw so deep, the blood is already drying in ragged streaks. “Feisty little wench. Wonder how long she’ll keep her spirit when the Captain’s done with her.”

You hope there is no fear on your face. But your heart certainly picked up in pace. Your silence seems to irk the men further, and you feel the grip on your arms tighten, yanking you forward. “Come on, girl, move!”

The boards beneath your feet are damp and uneven, smelling of seawater and tar. The crew keeps eying you with varying degrees of interest - some openly leering, others grinning like your presence on the ship is the best to have happened to them all year. A shiver crawls up your spine. Your hands ball to fists.

They part as you are dragged toward the wheel, where a figure stands. His silhouette is tall and commanding against the blood-red sunset.

That must be the captain.

He isn’t barking orders or pacing like you might have expected. Instead, he stands still, one of his arms resting casually on the hilt of a blade strapped to his hip, his other hand tracing lazy circles against the ship’s wooden railing.

His left hand is basically red with scar tissue, though he doesn’t seem to mind it’s on full display.

He looks more put together than some of the others - the three men who captured you especially. The way he carries himself seems almost careless. So nonchalant. Confident, as though he owns not only the ship but the waves themselves. His dark hair is pulled back loosely, strands of it catching the wind.

James Barnes.

It’s not like you haven’t heard the name before.

Of course, you have.

The pirate who had crawled up from the depths after losing everything, carving his name into the bones of the sea. Ruthless. Calculating. Cold.

Your father never said much about the man, but that is part of what unnerves you. He isn’t afraid of anything - at least, not that he lets show. But any time someone dared to bring up Bucky Barnes or his crew, your father’s face would harden in a way that always made your stomach twist.

Now you are standing on the deck of Barnes’s ship, caught in the middle of a vendetta you hadn’t even known existed.

All you know, all you had heard from half-overheard conversations or rumors whispered among the servants in your manor is that Bucky Barnes lost his mother and sister in a raid many years back.

It was brutal you had heard. Indiscriminate. Pirates or mercenaries stormed his village under the cover of darkness and burned torches to the ground.

He was young then, barely a man, but he fought. With everything he had. But it wasn’t enough.

The details are hazy but you heard enough to imagine how awful that must have been.

His father had survived the raid. He was a sailor then. But he joined forces and took his son along, cutting a swath of vengeance across the water. They hunted the men responsible all over the globe. That’s when he became a pirate.

His father’s obsession with vengeance consumed him until it finally cost him his life. Again, you are lost on any details. It might have been a skirmish gone wrong or the grief dragging him under the water. You can’t tell.

All you can tell is that it left Bucky alone. And it made him the cold-blooded pirate he is nowadays.

But nothing could have prepared you for the reality of him.

His eyes are a storm. Wilder than any tornado you had heard stories of. His jawline is sharp, cheekbones high, a handsome face marred only by the thin scar running from his temple to his ear.

The men haul you forward and he watches you with a calmness that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He doesn’t speak right away, just lets his gaze sweep over you slowly, deliberately, intensely, like he is studying something he’s been waiting for a long, long time.

“Cap’n Barnes,” one man says. His lip is split, a crimson smear trailing down to his chin. You did that. “We got her.”

Rough hands shove you forward unceremoniously. You stumble but don’t fall, catching yourself just in time. You keep your expression as blank as it would go.

Bucky’s lips twitch at the corners, but it’s not quite a smile. He steps down from his spot near the wheel, boots hitting the deck with a weight that silences even the wind. He looks at the men then and there is something darkly amused in the way his brow arches.

“This is her?” His voice is smooth but carries an edge, the kind that could cut without raising.

Bucky’s harsh gaze flicks to the scratches on one man’s arms, then to the bruises blooming on another’s jaw, and to the trail of blood on the last man’s neck, still trailing lower, from the chapped lips you had punched open.

You allow yourself a short breath before his attention can switch back to you.

The men shift nervously under his scrutiny and the raised eyebrow. “She fights like a damn wildcat,” defends the one with the open bruises. The captain hadn’t even said anything yet. “Nearly gouged my eye out.”

Bucky barks out a laugh, the sound sharp and unexpected. “Shame it didn’t stick.”

The men grumble in discomfort, looking at each other.

The captain chuckles, though it’s low and humorless and rather terrifying. Your skin prickles.

“You mean to tell me the daughter of a landlubber put you lot on your asses?” he spits out.

You can’t help your reaction.

You are well aware that you are finding yourself in a rather dangerous position. But nobody talks your father down. Nobody gets to walk over his title in such a manner. Nobody gets to derogate your father. Not even a damn pirate captain. Running over your father’s name means running over yours as well.

So, yes, you jerk against the arms that hold you and you let your fury redden your face.

Though you should have known better.

Because Bucky’s attention is now solely focused on you, eyes like steel blazing against your skin.

He steps closer to you, his boots scuffing the wood, and you straighten instinctively, refusing to shrink under the pressure his gaze puts upon you. He stops just short of you, close enough that you can see the faint stubble on his jaw and the cold intrigue in his eyes.

His lips twitch again. This time it’s the shadow of a smirk. It unsettles you.

You shiver.

Bucky’s smirk deepens. He reaches out his scarred hand, tilting your chin upwards with two fingers. His touch isn’t rough, but it isn’t gentle either. More like he’s inspecting a piece of cargo. You try your very best to meet his gaze with eyes burning in defiance.

He looks eager - wickedly so - for something you’re not sure of but the fear you tried to shove to the deepest corners of your body comes creeping up your neck, overshadowing the pride you held for yourself just moments before.

You hate yourself for it. But your heart can’t help but thud violently.

“You’ve got your father’s looks about you,” he murmurs so quietly, you’re not sure anyone but you even heard it. It’s probably not even meant for your ears but he doesn’t seem like a person to care what people think. So why would he care if you heard him.

He sounds dangerous though. Too calm and still lethal. Your fear takes on another shape.

But as his hand moves to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, your head jerks away on its own and your lips form a slight snarl.

Bucky chuckles again. And to your surprise, it actually sounds amused. His hand falls from your face and he takes a step back from you with his wide smirk still plastered on his handsome face. He tilts his head at you slightly, studying you some more.

Pieces click into place. Actually, they’d been there all along, waiting in the corners of your mind, half-formed and heavy with a meaning that makes you shudder. But one you have to acknowledge now since you find yourself in its cause.

This isn’t a random kidnapping. This isn’t about piracy. You’re not just here because your father is able to pay a high ransom for your release.

This is something far older, far darker.

This is vengeance.

The vengeance Bucky Barnes had fought for his whole pirate life.

You don’t know any specifics. Perhaps Bucky doesn’t either. But a pirate doesn’t care for specifics after all.

Your father’s trading empire had always been shadowed by backroom deals, underhanded tactics, and alliances forged in blood. He’d always tried to hide the dark parts from you of course. He was good at hiding things - his anger, his dealings, his sins.

But you always felt like something was wrong with his world. And you were curious, foolishly so. You were a child, and children always want to touch the flame.

You never did well with the path he went down.

The first time you confronted him - clutching letters you weren’t meant to read in your trembling grip and demanding answers - he barely even looked at you as he ordered the guards to lock you in your room.

“This is not your business. And if you want to keep that little head of yours, you will learn to stay where you belong.”

You didn’t learn. You were young and stubborn and naive, so you kept pushing, kept digging into the corners he wanted you to leave untouched.

You spent weeks locked inside your room every time. He taught you lesson after lesson, each one harder than the last. Servants were forbidden to speak to you, the scraping of plates grating on you as they slid your meals through the door. No books. No letters. No glimpse outside. Just silence so suffocating, walls pressing against you from all sides, like they were on your father’s side, conspiring to keep you in.

Your father isn’t a cruel man - not in the way you’d imagine cruelty, all whips and chains and unrestrained fury. His cruelty is colder, quieter, built into the way he looks at you like you are a disappointment for daring to see too much. For daring to want too much.

He wants to protect you is what he told you. He told you it’s dangerous out there.

It is.

But it’s dangerous because of him. He hadn’t locked you away out of protection, he just tried to keep you from looking too closely at the cracks in the foundation of his empire.

And now, because of those cracks, because of his choices, you are here.

It isn’t hard to imagine that your father might have had some hand in whatever led to that fateful raid those years ago that cut down Bucky’s family.

And the pirate had lived his life thereafter chasing the ghost of his family’s ruin.

And that makes you his prize. His weapon. His proof that revenge could be tangible.

He basically lived the last years in pursuit of this moment.

The thought burns in your chest. Low and fierce. But you won’t break under the mistakes of your father’s legacy. Not for him. Not for Bucky. Not for anyone.

You press your lips together and meet Bucky’s gaze again and this time you see it. Sitting just behind his irises.

Hatred.

“Take her below,” he orders gravely. “And keep her in one piece. For now.”

[delicatebarness]

winters widow | chapter iv

Summary: The journey to the capital brings tests that bring our lord and lady closer which results in Lord James giving her his word.

Warning: Arranged Marriage. Storm/Severe Weather. Emotional Distress.

Word Count: 1096

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A/N: These two have my heart. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Winter’s Widow: @lanabuckybarnes | @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @mrsnikstan | @learisa | @railmesebstan | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @barnesxstan | @ghalouha | @mrsstuckyboo | @g-nobody

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

On the sixth day of the journey, Lord James, the bannermen, and yourself neared the borders of the neighboring land. Suddenly, a storm swept across the plains, rain lashing down and turning the ground into a quagmire. 

Tents were hastily pitched as everyone sought shelter from the downpour. Huddled under a small canopy with Lord James and a few of his closest advisors, the tension in the air was thick as the storm raged. Illuminating the worried looks of the soldiers and servants, the lightning split the sky, and thunder drummed. 

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness in the discomfort of the situation as you weathered the storm with Lord James. 

“I don’t like the look of this weather,” one of the advisors muttered, their gaze fixed on the sheets of rain outside. 

“It will pass,” Lord James reassured before turning to you, speaking with a hint of concern. “Are you holding up alright, Lady Romanoff?” 

Despite the unease settling in your stomach, you offered a reassuring smile as you nodded. “I’m fine, my lord. It’s just a bit of rain.” 

He glanced down at you, a flicker of something passed through his eyes before he placed another layer of pelt around your shoulders. “Stay wrapped. We’ll resume the journey as soon as it lets up.” 

As the storm continued, raging around you, you felt Lord James’ presence closer to you. His breath was warm against your ear. “Have no fear,” he spoke firmly, his voice steady. “This storm is no stranger. I was born amidst such tempests.” 

Resonating deeply within you, his words carried a weight of resilience. Looking at him in the dim light from the flickering torches, you swore you saw a glimpse of the man behind the titles. His expression softened slightly as he met your gaze. 

“You’ve faced many trials,” you acknowledged, your voice audible to only Lord James over the howling wind.

A faint smile touched his lips. “And, I have survived them all.” 

Hours passed in comfortable silence, only broken by the occasional clap of thunder. Leaving behind a soggy landscape, the storm began to subside. Albeit at a slow pace, the decision was made to press on with cautious optimism due to the muddied roads.

Still guarded, the aftermath of the storm mirrored the newfound shift in your relationship with Lord James as you rode alongside him again. 

~

The sun hung high in the skin, a golden hue over the hills as your entourage continued the journey south. Riding alongside Lord James, Honeybreeze and Alpine trotted gracefully in tandem. The days grew warmer, and a gentle breeze carried the familiar scent of wildflowers through the air. 

Glancing over at Lord James, you noticed his jaw set in determination as his eyes scanned the horizon. His focus mirrored his reputation as the White Wolf. Clearing his throat, he jolted you out of your trance.

Realizing your eyes were locked onto his side profile, you averted your gaze and offered a sheepish smile. “My apologies, my lord,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced over at you briefly, amusement in his eyes before he returned his focus ahead, “No harm done, Lady Romanoff,” there was a hint of a smile in his reply. “Just keep your attention on the road ahead as we enter more contested lands.” 

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. Turning your focus back to the road stretching ahead, the landscape shifted around you. 

“Tell me about your sisters,” Lord James prompted, his voice carrying above the rhythmic sound of hooves against the dirt. 

You faced him, a curious expression on your face. He caught you off guard with his inquiry, but you welcomed the opportunity to share a piece of your world with him.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you began telling him about your sisters. Lord James listened intently, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he took in the details of your sisters’ strengths and characters. Bridging the gap between you both, the conversation flowed easily between you. 

~

As the weeks wore on, the relentless pace began to take its toll as the sun was high overhead. There was a growing weariness in your limbs. Honeybreeze’s usually smooth gait seemed to jar your bones. 

Ever vigilant, Lord James noticed your discomfort. Concern flickering in his gaze as he looked at you, the furrow between his brows deepened. “Lady Romanoff,” he began in a gentle tone. “You appear fatigued. Perhaps riding in the carriage would be best.” 

Shaking your head, you forced a smile. “Just a bit tired, my lord. I’m fine, I can remain here, with Honeybreeze and yourself.” 

His gaze didn’t waver. “I appreciate your desire to ride,” he admitted. “But, I worry about your safety, I would feel more at ease if you traveled in the carriage for a while.” 

You hesitated, his genuine concern tore into your steadfast decision. Your gaze moved down to Honeybreeze. Just say you were about to respond, Lord James continued, his voice gentle yet persuasive. 

“I promise you,” he continued. “I will keep Honeybreeze close to me. She will receive the best care and attention. You have my word… my lady.” 

Resonating with sincerity, his words made it difficult to refute his earnest pleas. Gazing into his eyes, you saw a depth of concern in the ocean color, touching you deeply– a concern that went beyond his obligation.

You relented with a small nod after a moment of internal struggle. “As you wish, my lord,” you acquiesced quietly. “I shall travel by carriage for a while.” 

Relief flickered across Lord James’ features. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, offering an appreciative smile. “Your decision will serve us both well.” 

As you dismounted Honeybreeze, he signaled for the carriage to be prepared. You gave Honeybreeze a reassuring pat before climbing into the waiting vehicle.

Through the window, you watched cautiously as Lord James took the reins of Honeybreeze. He gently guided her alongside Alpine, true to his word, he kept her close. 

You settled onto the cushioned seat, a surprising sense of relief as it offered a respite from the constant jostling. 

As the procession moved forward, the gentle sway of the carriage lulled you into a state of relaxation. Resting your head against the window, you noticed occasional glances from Lord James toward the carriage.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of rest. You were comforted by the knowledge that your lord– your future husband, was looking out and protecting both you and Honeybreeze.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[specialinterestshows]

Watch your metamour’s title match in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow.

(Yes, I am aware I already have a fic by this title. No, I do not care.)

Warnings for this section: Social anxiety, manipulation/gaslighting, parasocial relationships, dubcon ass-slapping, cannabis (weed) mention

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 74 of ?): Locker Room Talk

After watching Dominik do stretches and warmups, talking about anything that came to mind to make him (and yourself) feel more at ease, and listening to the Judgment Day and JD give him pep talks, you were wishing Dom good luck and sitting in full view of the locker room television. There were a few other wrestlers milling around, but they were either otherwise occupied or avoiding you. Because of whatever people say about your girlfriend? Because of what the media is saying about you? Because you aren’t part of the show, despite being in the locker room?

You tried to put the thought out of your mind as the match began on the screen in front of you.

There was just enough time for you to see Rhea on the sidelines, before Trick Williams rapidly gained the upper hand with a few blows. The two men grappled before Dom got a kick in and you quickly found yourself invested in a way you hadn’t been before. There was something about the match that began beautifully, like a dance, almost. The rhythm and movement enthralled you in the moments between pauses, to the point where you were gasping in awe and chuckling in wonder instead of cheering. Maybe you hadn’t experienced the sport like this before because the only matches you had been interested in watching had been Rhea’s. Your mind went directly into the gutter when you saw her fighting, especially with the way she pinned her opponents.

And now? Strangely enough, you were beginning to understand why someone might risk fame for the chance at doing something like this.

You were watching the screen so intently, the sudden appearance of Jacy Jayne in your vision made you jump.

“My girl and I just won,” she sneered, leaning in to grab her bag from the locker next to you before whispering, “How about you and yours?”

Glancing at the screen again, trying to ignore her at first, you smiled at what was happening.

“See for yourself,” you told her, gesturing to the television just in time to make her turn to watch the Judgment Day celebrating and running up to Dom before the replay reel. Your heart swelled with happiness watching your girlfriend cheer and throw an arm around her boyfriend.

“Hey, what’re we watching?” Jacy’s excitable tag team partner from earlier bounced into the locker room, holding a freshly-filled water bottle. Noticing you, she didn’t even wait for an answer before saying, “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Thea” - she reached out and shook your hand vigorously - “Are you new to NXT?”

Jacy scoffed.

“That’s just Rhea Ripley’s newest little toy,” she told Thea, who now seemed uncertain how to act toward you and settled for imitating her tag team partner’s current pose - arms crossed, leaning away slightly.

“Doesn’t even realize she’s being played,” Jacy continued, “It’s pathetic. You want to know what everyone says about Rhea?” - she was addressing you now - “She’s only nice to the people she uses. Minion, distraction, press stunt - you’re at least one of those. You’ll be old news soon enough.”

The screen - now showing Dom holding the title and all four members of the Judgment Day with their arms around each other - came back into full view as the two women walked away, passing a slightly breathless JD McDonagh in the doorway. Something about Jacy’s comment seemed very specific. It was difficult to know exactly why, until you watched her and Thea depart.

“Come on, sexy,” Jacy said as she held the door open, giving Thea’s ass a hungry look before smacking it, “I’m going to show you how grown-ass women celebrate a win together.”

The last you saw of Thea, she was glancing back at you, looking conflicted as Jacy’s arm snaked around her waist.

“Hello?” it wasn’t until JD waved his hand in front of you that you realized he had been trying to talk to you this entire time, “Are you okay?”

“Jacy is awful,” you groaned, trying to ignore the fact that you were second-guessing yourself thanks to her comments, “Doesn’t anyone realize what she’s doing?”

“Shit, did she try to rough you up?” JD asked, giving you a quick once-over for signs of blood or swelling.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you tell him, despite the uneasiness at your core, “I mean, she wasn’t nice… but someone needs to get her away from Thea.”

“HR won’t intervene unless she says she wants to get away from her partner,” JD said, “Besides, that’s not our job; we’re focused on making sure the Judgment Day remains the most dominant faction in the WWE.”

“We’re also focused on keeping Rhea’s girl safe,” Damian huffed, glaring at JD as Rhea, Dom, and Finn walked in behind him, “Y no hables como eres parte de nuestro grupo.”

“Go easy on him, babe,” Finn said softly, putting a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, “He’s helped a lot today” - Finn lowered his voice, lust dripping in every word - “Think of how good it’s going to be when we celebrate later, just the two of us.”

JD looked slightly uncomfortable at this particular method of persuading Damian to go easy on him, but wasn’t about to complain when Damian’s attention shifted to Finn instead.

“Principe mío,” he muttered, caressing Finn’s face and leaning in to whisper something none of you could hear. JD sat down by the door, awkwardly waiting for the group’s next move as your girlfriend and metamour approached you.

“So, did you see Dom’s big win?” Rhea asked, sitting down next to you and putting an arm around your shoulders.

“I did! Congrats on getting your title back,” you said, addressing Dom as he strutted toward the two of you with his title belt over one shoulder.

“How did you want to celebrate, babe?” Rhea asked him as he sat down on the other side of her.

He considered the question for a moment as you let the weight on your shoulders relax you a bit. Unfortunately, the situation with Jacy and Thea seemed to have left an uncalmable anxiety in your stomach, slightly different from what you had been feeling for the majority of today. You needed a joint.

“Can we get some munchies and go smoke?” Dom seemed to be asking you as much as Rhea, knowing you were the only one with a supply.

“You actually read my mind,” you laugh.

“Let’s do it,” your girlfriend agreed, giving both of you a kiss on the cheek before standing, turning, and putting out both of her hands to pull the both of you up at once.

“Next thing you know, she’ll be bench-pressing them,” Damian jokes, “Go ahead, I’ll spot you.”

“How about you bring the car around instead?” Rhea responded, rolling her eyes despite having initially smiled at the comment, “We’re going on a snack run.”

[end part seventy-four of ?]

Part 75: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/753746500888166400/absolute-smokeshow-part-75-of-fast-feud

-

Tag list (thank you!)

@littlemiss-fanficlover , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence , @riverina69 , @itsrheasgirl , @1-800-sinister

[brainwormsdepository]

It’s You, Nancy

Pairing: Nancy Birch x Lady!Reader

Warnings: None

You watched Nancy through your drawing room window while she paced outside your door as she usually did, building up her courage to knock. It wasn’t fair to her, you knew, but you did so like the flush that colored her cheeks after she spent so long working herself up. The two of you had a rather unusual budding friendship. She’d come by every so often, usually once a week, for tea and conversation. If she had any problems you had both the capital and space to help. In exchange, she gave you the most honest and frank company you’d ever had. No masks, just people. It helped that the view was nice too—Nancy was a handsome woman. After a few more minutes of watching, you felt she had worried herself enough and opened the door yourself.

“If you keep it up, you’ll have to stay the night.”

Nancy swung her head around, eyes wide and surprised. Before she could even question or protest, you continued. “You’ve been pacing outside this door long enough. Come inside.”

You turned on your heel and made your way toward the drawing room, knowing full well Nancy would follow. It was only a matter of seconds before you heard the click of the door closing behind you and the sound of her plodding footsteps along the corridor floor. Tea was already set and waiting as you took a seat beside the table. Nancy lingered in the doorway a moment more, face flushed from ears to neck just as you liked. She nervously clenched her hands around her flogging rod, once, twice, then three times before joining you.

“You’re more restless than usual. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Nancy answered quickly, pursing her lips. She looked back at you, expression uncertain. “Maybe.” She relented.

“You can tell me anything, Nance.” You reassured, “there’s nothing you can say that will make me think less of you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Did you sell a young girl to Quigley?”

“What? No! Never!” Nancy shouted, appalled.

“Then I think we’re sorted. So, what troubles you?” You picked up your cup and saucer and sipped daintily at your tea. Nancy, for her part, seemed to be partially eased, though admittedly not by much. She took a deep breath and exhaled shakily.

“You keep a journal…”

Ah, yes. That was another game of yours.

“I would barely classify it as such. It’s mostly poems at this point.”

You’d been purposefully leaving it out on the table for her. You’d find excuses to disappear into another room for a while, giving her time alone with temptation. And look she did, the journal always slightly shifted from where you had left it. Not that she would have known how precisely you kept track. But that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that Nancy had a brain and you did little to hide your affections in written word. Many of those poems yearned for her. She knew, just as you wanted her to and there she was ready to confront you over it.

“Yea, well, I read some of it. I know I shouldn’t ‘uv,” she rushed to say, “but I didn’t realize what it was—at first, that is.”

“I’m not upset. If I was that protective of it, the journal wouldn’t leave my bedroom.”

“Maybe… maybe you should be then.” She said quietly. You felt your cheeks warm at her words.

“That bad?” you tried to joke, suddenly and horribly vulnerable.

“No! You write beautifully. It’s just that… unless you’re writing from the perspective of a man,” her voice lowered and her eyes searched for house staff, “you seem to harbor affection for… the womanly.” She grimaced at her own fumbled choice of words.

“My staff already knows, Nance. And they’re paid too well for any of them to care.” You drank deep from your tea, equally relieved and tense. Had she not figured it out? “Is that all you wished to say?”

“Oh… well, yeah.” Okay. Maybe she didn’t know.

“Does it bother you? My affection for women?” Nancy shook her head at that, a small laugh passing through her lips.

“No, I don’t think—“ Nancy cut herself off and assessed her words for a moment. She sheepishly looked back at you. “Not really in a position to judge.”

“We’re kindred spirits, you and I. Most of those poems are about one woman, if you can believe it. She has me quite bewitched.”

“I know the feelin’,” Nancy admitted, eyes distant in thought.

“She has beautiful dark hair, if a bit unkempt.” You smiled, looking at her. “But her eyes, Nance, the most striking blue I’ve ever seen. She makes the sea look green with envy.”

Nancy dipped her head before standing up suddenly. She rapped her knuckles against the table twice and swallowed hard. “I think I should be on my way,” she said, looking rather crestfallen.

“Wait.” You followed her motion and before she could step away, took her hand in yours and reached up with the other to gently cup her face.

“She’s you, Nancy, don’t you understand? I left the journal out for you to read because I wanted you to know.” Nancy kept still, searching your eyes with a look of disbelief etched onto her face. “May I kiss you?” Nancy didn’t answer, didn’t budge—just stood as if she had been caught in the gaze of Medusa herself. You leaned forward, giving her time to respond, to pull away or turn her head but nothing came. Cautiously, you pressed your lips to hers and felt the warmth of her mouth against yours. She exhaled into you as you deepened the kiss, taking her lower lip between yours before, finally, she reciprocated. She tasted of sweat and alcohol, but you didn’t mind. How could you? It was Nancy, after all.

When she pulled away, it was with a hopeful, if shy, smile and a delightfully pink blush painted across her cheeks. “If you must go, I only ask that you don’t stay away long,” you whispered. Nancy dipped her head bashfully and nodded before strolling out of your home and into the afternoon heat. As you watched her leave from the window, you noted that her back never looked so straight.

[http-paprika]

IVY AND IRON THORNS

A TEASER / Sir Simon Riley x Lady Reader / A Medieval AU

Lightning dances across the sky, the light strikes and blinds your eyes. The deep red velvet of your dress is ruined by the rain and mud when your knees fall under you. Your cries are drowned out by the roar of the thunder as you shake from the cold.

All you had known, the world that had been promised for you had been torn from your trembling hands. God had abandoned you as quickly as the sun had abandoned the sky. You are plagued by the darkness, futilely praying to be saved, to wake up back in the safety of your castle and its walls.

Then warmth floods in your arm as a man in black armor sinks to your level, his knee digging into the mire. You cannot see his face, the intricate design of his helmet somehow scares you more than you already are. The skull helmet shines as lightning brightens the sky momentarily before he pulls up his visor and stares at you with concern. His nose and mouth are covered with a black cloth, but his eyes are aflame in the darkness. Only softening when they see how helpless you are as you shrink away from him.

Your savior.

I plan on publishing the first chapter on Wednesday once I've had time to write a few more chapters to have readied. I am so excited to share this with you, it's been on my mind for the past few weeks and I finally wrote the first chapter in a hurry last night.

The tag list for this series is open, if you would like to be notified of story updates, please comment below!

[pseudowho]

Nanami Kento who, when asked what his sexual orientation is, simply responds "my wife".

[heavenbarnes]

not being able to find older bf!simon around the house and while you’re looking for him, you catch something out the window-

nearly all the women in your neighbourhood gathered at the end of your driveway

you come outside to investigate only to find them with their attention glued to the front of your car, it’s not till you walk around the front you find the lower half of simon sticking out from under it

on his back, knees bent, massive boots planted into the concrete, bare arm occasionally stretching out to find another tool

“you alright, si?”

you hear him grunt before he’s calling out to you

“yeah, i’m right sweet’art- sortin’ out that bit thas’ been givin’ y’grief”

breaking your gaze from his massive thighs flexing under his jeans, you scan back over the crowd that’d formed

all of them married, all of them a good ten years older than even he was- you couldn’t really blame them really, you had eyes

you could hear him shuffling out from under the car before he suddenly straightened to full height, wiping greasy hands on the front of his old-white-singlet

he pulled up the bottom of it to swipe his forehead and you think you heard someone gasp

wrapping a firm arm around you, he gives your backside a pat before he kisses the top of your head

“got t’keep y’safe, y’know?”

“thank you, baby- now be polite and say hello to your audience”

oblivious as ever to anything other than you, simon threw a look over his shoulder before he followed you back into the house

“oh, ‘ello ladies”

(someone throws a street barbecue and you force simon to talk to the other men around the burner and multiple husbands request him to start “doing that shit” in the garage with the door shut, please)

[makismei]

he hums, smiling down at you from between his legs, both of yours separated by his body.

nanami shakes the vibrator back and forth, watching your legs tense and your back arch dramatically.

“that was a strong one, love.” he comments, not letting up and pressing the wand harder on your clit. “can you give me another?”

you shake your head, trying to sit up on your forearms and scooting away. “c—can’t, ken—mmm—noooo!”

he pulls you toward him again, pressing the vibrator harder against you. “be good for me baby, don’t run.”

keen eyes watch your cunt drool pearly slick, your back arched up as you cried his name, shaking your head.

nanami gives your clit a break, briefly. “you have a safe word baby,” he reminds gently, “do you want to stop?”

your hips twitch, before you shake your head, “i’m okay—mmhmm, aahhh!”

he slips two fingers inside, hooking them expertly against your spot. so wet, licking his lips, cock jumping in his briefs, nanami is so enticed by your entire being. the scent of sex is heavy in the air, but both of you can’t find it in you to care when it feels this good.

“ken,” you whine, hand trying to pry his hand from your gushing cunt. “please, i want your cock noooow—wait! i’m cumming, fuck!”

he hums, pulling his fingers out to rub your clit, cum spraying everywhere. he lightly slaps your pussy, smiling at how your hips jump. “let me play with you a little more, okay love?”

[multifandominfj]

[shotmrmiller]

military issued wife but you didn't know that using the "dating app" your friend brought up once in idle talk would end with you in an office with a (signed) marriage license on the desk, actively not looking at your 'husband', the burly lummox with a skull mask who's dwarfing the chair he can barely fit in.

you'd thought it'd be like tinder. a potential dating site. as in messaging on the app, getting to know each other, exchanging personal numbers before going on a date. not marriage. not opening your front door expecting it to be your door dasher and instead it's him with a rucksack in one hand and duffel in the other.

he'd looked down his thick nose at you, grunted a quiet, "not bad", and pushed past as if you were a swinging door to a saloon. what the fuck had he been doing there? you'd only spoken a couple of times with him and left on read for the some of it. you'd chosen to move on, try to match with someone else but the app had stopped working (you couldn't swipe right or left anymore) so you'd just put it on the back burner. you had better things to worry about than another disappointment of a man then.

except now said disappointment of a overly large man is taking up most of the couch and his legs aren't even all that far apart. and he's at your house. the house you'd never sent him the address to. as a matter of fact, you'd received a text from an unknown number earlier that had said someone would be home in a few. you'd ignored it thinking it was a wrong number situation but now you're sure it was him. how he got your phone number is also a mystery.

you'd tried to argue. to threaten him with the cops. to get him out and away, far fucking away, but he'd only scooped you up and let you pelt his broad back with your fists. chuckled low in his throat while he smacked your arse to keep still. "i'd hate to drop m'wife."

whatever fight you had he ate right out of you with the heels of your feet digging into the large curve of his shoulders and his hands curled around the back of your thighs. maybe it's because it'd been a while but he'd played your body like an instrument and had you bucking your hips against his tongue, slick coating his face in minutes. (your cheeks burn furiously hot when you think back on what he'd said then. "tight little thing 'nd you've only taken my two fingers." it's flattering, sue you.)

he'd lapped at your sodden cunt until you had overstimulation clumping your lashes together, inner thighs tender from the bristles of his shorn hair and unshaven jaw, your palm on the crown of his head having both pulled him to you and pushed him away.

and then he'd wiped your release with the back of his hand, thumbed the swollen flesh of your bottom lip and rumbled that it's time for bed.

which eventually led to you being here. in front of a man he calls Price, a marriage certificate unlike any you've ever glanced upon, a large gloved hand curled snugly around your leg, fingers grazing a little too close to where he'd left aching and swollen just yesterday.

you're reading the terms and conditions of anything from here on forward. even the fine print.

and then soap comes around and plants a seed in his head of him planting a seed in you :/ at least you can tell your nosy ass aunt that at least you've got a man while she's on her 4th divorce on thanksgiving 💅🏼

[sheloveschai]

bathing with ambessa (18+)

dom! ambessa x fem! reader

older woman/younger woman, slight exhibitionism, thigh-riding, sub! reader

i cannot get this woman out of my head sitting on her lap (or her face) would solve so many of my problems URRGGHHH

“breathe, child.”

water sloshes against the sides of the luxurious bathing pool- a shuddered gasp echos back off the blue and gold mosaic walls of the room.

a bead of sweat rolls down your spine as a partially nude worker dumps another vessel of water near your bodies, and with it, a veil of steam rises giving the illusion of intimate privacy from the guards on standby.

ambessa, in all her esteemed glory, lounges lazily with her head tipped back over the edge of the pool- a warm cloth draped over her eyes. a goblet, which lays in a large rugged hand, is filled near to the brim with a rich red wine.

the other rests on the hollow of your throat- a calloused thumb ever so gently brushing over your slick skin.

“good, little one,” the warlord practically purrs. a grin graces her lips as she feels your hands slip from her shoulders and down to her submerged abdomen, your hands pressing against her scarred v-line for leverage.

her hand, in return, glides from your throat, over your shoulder, before disappearing down under the water to rest on the curve of your rocking hips- not guiding, not pushing, just to simply rest upon.

“such a needy little thing,” she hums. “taking what you so desire.”

a shaky exhale escapes your lips at her words. her low and husky voice adding to your sinuous desires. your nails ever so slightly dig into her intimidating physique as your cunt throbs in need.

with your slick folds spread open over the impressive muscle of her thigh, your clit rubs deliciously over the bumps and ridges of her battle-won scars.

your wanton gasps and whines ring throughout as your head tips forward in deadweight- causing your gaze to connect with the older woman’s breasts.

just beneath the water you can make out her soft nipples. her breasts are heavy and ripened with age, and though not littered with scars won over battles, stretch marks ripple over them like hieroglyphs seen carved into ancient monumental displays.

your hand moves quicker than your brain and suddenly you’re cupping one of her breasts, raising it up and out of the water- exposing it to the colder air. you practically watch in awe as her dark nipple hardens between your fingers as you press and flatten the heavy globe against her chest.

and without a second thought, you’re lurching forward and enveloping her nipple into your warm mouth. you would’ve swallowed her whole if you could’ve, but instead you resort to swirling the sensitive bud around your tongue; licking, nipping, sucking as though you were trying to milk her.

“look at you,” ambessa rasps, a hint of humor underlaying her lust. “starving for my body. my, you’d do anything to have a taste, wouldn’t you, child?”

a low groan rumbles out of ambessa’s chest at the feeling of the scrape of your teeth, the wet heat of your tongue. in an effort to take more of her breast into your mouth, your knee presses against the slick folds of her cunt as you slide further down her thigh.

and the fearsome warlords back, ever so slightly, arches off the edge of the tub.

“like a kitten in heat, you are” she taunts, though there is no covering how she bucks her hips up in order to grind her aching pussy against you.

she begins to move in time with you, the friction your knee provided sending bolts of pleasure straight to her core.

her position of leisure and relaxation did not slip, though. with her legs still spread wide, head tilted back, ambessa had the clear headedness to bring her steel goblet up to her lips without spilling a drop of the red liquid.

with an air of authority, she licks the remnants from her now stained mouth, stretching her arm back over the edge of the pool to set the cup down- without a tremor to be seen.

with both of her hands now free, she removes the cloth from her face, revealing her dark lust-stricken gaze.

her hand slowly delves between your legs, separating your slick cunt from her thigh. she teases you for a moment, smirking as she rubs your aching nub with a feather-light touch, before pressing a digit to your entrance.

“there you go, sweet girl,” ambessa praises, sliding another thick digit along her first, your walls fluttering around the intruding appendages. “now you may have my touch.”

her thumb continues to rub slowly circles on your clit as her fingers pump in and out of you at a relentless pace.

“cum for me” she murmurs huskily as she gazes down at your desperate form still suckling at her tit. “show me how my body brings you pleasure.”

she could feel your body tensing, your muscles coiling tight as she worked her fingers inside you. she could tell you were close, the way you desperately clung to her- the way your walls squeezed around her, urging her deeper.

and it wasn’t until she curled them just right, hitting that spot inside you that had you seeing stars, did you cum.

your body convulsed, muscles squeezing around her fingers as wave after wave of pleasure came crashing down upon you. ambessa held you close as you rode out your orgasm. your body shook, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

she could practically feel your heart pounding against her chest. and as you slowly came down from your high, you pressed soft kisses and licks into the bitten skin of her breast.

“enough, child” she grunts, finally pulling you away from her raw nipple. “i desire your mouth elsewhere now.”

[delicatebarness]

He had been silently brooding at the head of the table, his eyes piecing when suddenly, he rose from his seat. His voice cold and unwavering. “Speak ill of my wife again, and you’ll learn just how fiercely I will defend what is mine.” The room fell silent, all eyes on him as he continued. “She is the future of Winter’s Reach and this House, she will have your respect.”

Lord James Bucky Barnes x Lady Romanoff Reader

{made by me, images from pinterest}

Winter’s Widow Prologue

[specialinterestshows]

Watch your girlfriend take care of business on NXT in the latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow.

Warnings for this section: Cannabis (weed), cheating, anxiety, parasocial stuff, groping mention

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 82 of ?): Fights, Camera, Getting Some Action

You sunk into the couch, alone for the night until Marisol would inevitably crawl into bed and cuddle up to you around 4AM, freshly showered and exhausted from her shift. The food she left for you every day now included sweet, flirtatious comments on the accompanying notes that made you grin from ear to ear. Almost a week of staying at Mari’s and each day seemed better than the last.

The TV was set to NXT while you packed a bowl and had a snack, but the show was currently on a commercial. There had only been brief mention of a special match tonight for the main event, but your girlfriend had yet to appear onscreen for the promo.

Since she hadn’t communicated with you last night in the same way that she had asked you to, your anxiety was making you doubt how she felt about you. Logically, you knew this was ridiculous - that your girlfriend had honestly forgotten to mention her dalliance with Cathy in the heat of the moment. But your anxiety never paid much attention to logic.

At least you had the relief of knowing that the more shows WWE aired, the more people would focus on other storylines, and the closer you were to becoming old news. You were looking forward to the day that you could go out in public again without possibly being recognized.

When the commercials ended, an empty ring was shown for a moment before Rhea’s theme started, purple and black dominating every screen in the place. She was as beautiful as ever, doing her signature stomp before raising her title belt and smirking at the camera. Casually taking your first post-work hit from Mari’s bong, your eyes remained fixed to the screen as your girlfriend strutted over to the ring. When the camera cut to a closer view of her, you noticed that Rhea had drawn two entwined Venus symbols where she usually had three hearts. Did something happen between her and Dom?

A moment later, Rhea called Jacy Jayne out to the ring. You quietly booed at the television when the graphics changed and Jacy emerged with Thea Hail. Even though Thea didn’t look nearly as uncomfortable as she had when you last saw her, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for not doing more to draw the attention of others to Jacy’s toxicity.

Thankfully, your girlfriend seemed to be doing a fine job of it - until you saw what Thea handed her tag partner.

Watching the tabloid photo of you and Rhea light up the big screen was a surreal experience - in the worst way.

So much for people forgetting about me, you thought, pulse quickening as you took a particularly large hit and tried to ignore the accusations Jacy was throwing at your girlfriend. The latter proved to be impossible, until the photo was replaced with a video. You forgot your anxiety and your jaw dropped upon seeing Dom and JD kiss and grope each other.

Good for him, was your first thought, remembering how JD had taken to moping like a sad puppy whenever Finn and Damian were around. This thought was immediately followed by a question:

What was going through your girlfriend’s mind now?

Rhea, interestingly enough, didn’t seem surprised at all by the information that Dom and JD had probably had sex - which answered your other, earlier question: she had likely been told after the two men had spent the night together, possibly even while she had been doing her makeup before the show. At best, Rhea had mixed feelings about the situation. Jacy’s taunting didn’t seem to be helping.

It wasn’t long before your girlfriend was facing Jacy in the ring. You watched the match intently, curious to see how many moves you could recognize now that you were actually educating yourself on wrestling. The match began with an exchange of powerful blows (you excitedly identified a clothesline at one point) and submission holds. You found yourself at the edge of your seat; at first, the two women seemed almost equally matched. Rhea, however, was clearly putting more force into her technique and could endure more than what was being thrown at her. You cheered seeing her break out of another hold and shove Jacy away, all in one fluid motion.

When Rhea had turned the tables again, there was a moment where you were sure she had the match won - but she kept her opponent in a submission hold, eyes fixed on her pained expression. Why wasn’t she finishing with a riptide and pinning her for the count?

You flinched as you watched your girlfriend stomp on Jacy’s outstretched arm. This wasn’t like her. Sure, Rhea was known for her ruthlessness, but this was more brutality than you had ever seen your girlfriend put into a fight.

Was she channeling the anger she was feeling when she found out both of her partners had slept with someone new recently? Toward the paparazzi and others who were quick to publicize her private life? Or was she, perhaps, actually angry at herself for letting it all get to her?

-

Rhea stared at the bouquet of violets being offered, unsure how to react. Noticing her hesitation, Dominik decided to speak up.

“Lo siento,” he said earnestly, “I’m sorry. We were drunk last night, but I still should’ve let you know what was happening.”

Rhea softened a bit at his remorse, uncrossing her arms and allowing herself to feel a wave of sadness.

“… How long have you wanted to be with him?” she whispered, turning away for fear she would show just how much this had affected her.

“What? No, it’s not like that,” Dom reassured her, “I didn’t even think about it until JD was talking last night. He was pining over Finn and- well, you know how much I like blue eyes and accents.”

Rhea smiled at that, turning back around to finally accept the flowers. Dominik couldn’t help but grin as he watched her bring them up to her nose to take in the fragrance.

“Y’know, if we’re being honest, I haven’t been the best at communicating either,” she admitted, eyes fixed on the petals as she gently stroked one with her nail, “…I fucked Cathy last night.”

“I figured,” Dom said, smile unwavering when Rhea looked up, surprised, as he continued, “For the record, you don’t have to let me know until after you’re with someone new. I just like knowing you’re happy. And if I need to get tested.”

After a pause, he quickly added, “But I’ll do better next time letting you know before I do anything with someone new.”

Rhea smiled, plucking a violet from the bouquet and tucking it behind Dom’s ear. She admired her work for a moment before pulling him into a hug, whispering, “I love you.”

“Te amo también,” he whispered back, holding her close with a ferocity, as if he had almost lost her. Dom seemed to almost consider not letting go when Rhea pulled away, but feeling the warmth of her fingers interlocking with his immediately after they parted put him at ease. Rhea led him by the hand to the locker room, too busy trying to figure out how much time they would have alone to notice Dom shooing away the camera that had been recording other backstage activity. He shut the door before they could attempt to follow, Rhea reaching over to lock it before turning Dom to face her and pinning him to the wall.

-

It was a relief to see that Rhea and Dom had worked things out. Your heart swelled with happiness seeing a flash of the two of them holding hands before they disappeared into the locker room. As much as you wished you could join them, the distance meant you had to take your phone out instead and message them both in your collective group chat:

“Have fun making up!”

You ended the message with a winking emoji.

After other stars’ promos and a few commercials ended, the screen faded in on Rhea standing by Dominik, who was being interviewed. As he answered a couple of questions about an upcoming title defense, you noticed there was now a Mars symbol on your girlfriend’s cheek, entwined with one of the Venus symbols. The NXT North American Champion himself was shamelessly covered in smudged black lipstick prints, exuding confidence with Rhea at his side - until the interviewer changed topics.

“So is this the first… encounter you’ve had with JD McDonagh?”

He gave the microphone that now pointed at him a confused look before replying, “Uh, yeah. So?”

“What I’m getting at is,” the woman continued, “What have you been doing when Rhea and her girlfriend are-“

“That’s enough,” Rhea pushed the mic away from an increasingly uncomfortable-looking Dominik and pointed it at herself before snarling, “Unless you have any more relevant questions, this interview is over.”

The woman waited with a raised brow until Dom and Rhea walked out of earshot before speaking directly at the camera:

“Well, we’ll let you speculate on what those three get up to on their off hours, but it looks like Dominik Mysterio’s “Dirty” moniker might refer to more than just the way he fights.”

It seemed like you would be a topic of conversation for a while longer than you’d thought.

Fuck.

[end part eighty-two of ?]

Part 83: Like A Jobber Without A Work

-

Tag list (thank you!)

@littlemiss-fanficlover , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence , @riverina69 , @itsrheasgirl , @1-800-sinister , @ripleylove , @beeposts , @teganc

[iialethi]

[http-paprika]

Somehow, I’ve managed to enter a writing fad and am 2743 words into the first chapter of my next project. And let me tell you, I’m so excited to get everything ready to share with you. I think y’all are gonna love it because it may or may not include a medieval knight au… but I’m saying nothing more. You’ll just have to wait!

[rosestarlightkatarina]