#Of course blood would be but a language to him

[usoinked]

🤍Him & I🤍 (Mafia! Roman Reigns X Black Reader)

Summary: After marrying Roman Reigns, you find yourself not only bound to him for life but also firmly entrenched in the powerful Samoan Dynasty. Though you never anticipated being drawn into the mafia lifestyle, your commitment to Roman means embracing everything that comes with him. With wealth, protection, and an unbreakable bond, your life is filled with both the luxuries and dangers of the world. This story contains a mix of romance, family loyalty, and intense tension, weaving together love and the high stakes of life that come with the Samoan dynasty🤍

CW: Mention of blood, guns, and violence, HEAVY SMUT, unprotected p in v, mature themes, orgasm denial, crying (from pleasure), nudity, mature language, bondage, choking, just…yeah it’s a lot going on basically 😭

Cross my heart, hope to die

To my lover, I'd never lie

He said, "Be true", I swear I'll try

In the end, it's him and I

The air was thick with luxury, the kind that only comes from being married into one of the most prestigious and feared families in the world. Roman Reigns, the man who dominated both the ring and the criminal underworld, stood at the altar, waiting for you in his tailored black suit with tribal print covering it. His hair was wrapped behind his head in a neat bun, while his beard was trimmed sharply but neat. While he was a mafia boss, there was something different in his eyes as he waited for you to walk down the aisle.

You had never planned on living this lifestyle. Never dreamed of being part of the mafia. But Roman, with his deep voice and intense eyes, made you believe in something you didn’t know you wanted—family. His family. Your family now.

The moment you stepped into the grand hall, the world around you seemed to disappear. All you saw was Roman, staring at you as if you were his entire world. His family surrounded you, everyone’s eyes glued on you as your black dress dragged on the ground. Your veil blending in with it as the edges were decorated with designs and soft roses. His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability shining through his otherwise stoic demeanor. You were about to say “I do” to a man who commanded empires, yet, in this moment, he was just yours. Your fiance, soon to be husband. For life.

The vows were exchanged in a blur. You were married now—protected, wealthy, and happy. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Happiness was a complicated thing when your husband’s life was one of constant danger, surrounded by enemies who wanted him gone. But for Roman, there was no question. He was the protector, the provider, the pillar of his family. And with you being his wife, he’d never put you in any danger of course but you weren’t the type to sit back and let your man go it alone. If he needed anything, you were right by his side. Even if he didn’t you were right there. If he told you to shoot, you wouldn’t hesitate. If he told you to jump, you’d ask how high. That was the type of relationship, no, that was how committed you were to this man.

“It’s you and I”, Roman whispered as the priest pronounced you husband and wife. You could hear the promise in his voice. He wasn’t just talking about your marriage. He was talking about his world. And you were his world.

He's out his head, I'm out my mind

We got that love, the crazy kind

I am his, and he is mine

In the end, it's him and I, him and I

Married life was a whirlwind, and not the kind of whirlwind you imagined when you fantasized about your wedding day. The first few weeks were filled with lavish dinners, expensive gifts, and intimate nights at his mansion, tucked away from the world. You were currently on your back with your arms tied behind your back the soft cotton rope massaged against your skin each time you moved. Your curves were slightly squeezed from the rope but not enough to where it would hurt you or make you feel too uncomfortable, they were restraints after all. Your legs were spread wide open showing off your pussy as if it were an open invitation…to only Roman of course.

Speaking of Roman, there he was making his way back into the room, switching out his striped suit he had on earlier to a regular custom midnight black one. A dangerous yet delicate color. His hair wasn’t pulled back in that neat bun he always had though, it was lengthy and free. The dangling ends moving back and forth on his shoulders as he walked, the serious expression he had on his face yet the contrast of softness he had in his eyes, and those hands…god those hands that accompanied it all completed you. As he slowly dragged his fingers on the bed while he stalked toward you, your breath hitched as you looked up at him. “You look so beautiful waiting for me, babygirl.” He said before running his hands over your cheek, the cold band of his wedding ring massaging against your skin. “You remember our safe word beautiful?” He asked gently before you nodded. “Rose.” You don’t know why you were so nervous like this when you and Roman did this several times over but this still didn’t make it any less nerve racking.

That night in itself ended with his strong hands gripping around your body, whispering in your ear, wrinkling the sheets beyond recognition, and an overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through your bottom half. The ropes left slight intentions in your skin, not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to know something was restricting you. You two didn’t always do shibari, but when you did those sessions were something else. Roman was a man that liked taking charge but he let you have your fun too, even your way…sometimes. Outside of your dangerous life, Roman always took care of you in bed and made sure you felt every inch of him.

But all the sex, wealth, and luxury couldn’t hide the tension that crept in with every phone call Roman received.

You’d never seen him like this before. Cold. Calculated. On edge.

“Everything okay, baby?” you asked one night, as Roman set down his phone with a furrowed brow. You had learned to read his moods by now—he wasn’t the kind of man who hid his feelings, but when it came to business, he kept things locked away.

“It’s just business,” he said with a sharp tone, but when his eyes met yours, the softness returned and his voice lowered. “Don’t worry about it. You’re safe.”

You wanted to believe him. You had to. But you knew it was more than that, more than what he was letting on.

His business wasn’t just any business. Roman was the head of one of the most powerful mafia families in the country. His loyalty to his family was unshakeable, and you soon realized that when Roman said “family,” he meant the people who had his back in life and death. You were part of that family now, but you were also a target. And he’d do anything to keep you safe.

As the weeks turned to months, you found yourself falling deeper into a world you never asked to be a part of, yet it was impossible to stay away from Roman. He was everything you needed—strong, protective, and utterly devoted. But with devotion came a certain level of danger. You didn’t necessarily like it, but you couldn’t help but love the way Roman made you feel and you’d do anything for him. You had also learned that since you were going to be in this lifestyle for life, you had to protect yourself too in case Roman wasn’t able to be there. Roman was the one who taught you how to shoot, grapple, fight, strap up, and come up with a few tricks to deceive anyone. The number one rule this family had was don’t trust anyone outside the family. Family is all you got.

He made sure you never felt alone, even when the weight of his world pressed down on him. The mafia life was ruthless, but in his arms, you were safe. He had his secrets, and he kept you close enough to know just enough to stay out of harm’s way. From the wild goose chases in his black Lamborghini and getting high in his master bedroom to the lap dances you’d secretly give him in the private VIP section in the club and making love to each other all over his mansion, you were together through it all.

“I told you we’re in this together, babygirl” Roman said one night as he pulled you close, his hands lingering on your waist. The heat between you was undeniable. The chemistry you shared wasn’t just passion—it was trust. Roman’s hands, though rough from years of violence, were always gentle with you.

“I know, you know I’m not going anywhere” you whispered, your hand resting on his chest. You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your palm, a steady rhythm amidst the chaos of his life. “I still don’t understand this lifestyle fully yet, but I trust you.”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening. “You don’t have to understand it. You just have to trust me.”

“And I do”, you replied. In that moment, you understood that trust was all that really mattered in this world. And it was something you were willing to give him completely. Because, despite the dangers, the unpredictability of it all, you loved him. Deeply.

But love wasn’t enough to shield you from the reality of the mafia. You could see it now—the cracks in the perfect world Roman had created for you. There were whispers, meetings behind closed doors, and a constant fear that one day, someone would try to take him down, take you down, or both.

One night, Roman’s worst fears became a reality. The call came in the middle of the night. Roman’s eyes were dark when he hung up, the urgency in his tone sharp.

“There’s a threat,” he said, grabbing his jacket, his hands steady but his face tight. “Stay inside. Don’t leave this room.”

“I’m coming with you,” you said, moving toward him, not willing to stay behind while he faced danger alone.

He turned to you, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern. “What’d I just say huh? I can’t protect you if you’re right there with me. I said stay here and I’m gon’ handle it.”

You hated the powerlessness that surged through you. You were his wife. His partner. In the world he inhabited, women were more often shielded from danger, kept out of the crossfire while the men handled the danger itself. You understood that, but it didn’t stop the ache in your chest.

Roman’s eyes softened for a moment. “I’ll be back before you know it. Trust me”, and with that, he left, the soft click of the door left nothing but silence.

Hours passed, and anxiety gnawed at you. The silence in the mansion felt suffocating. You could hear Roman’s voice in your head, telling you to trust him, telling you to stay behind. But when the clock ticked past midnight, you couldn’t sit still anymore. Fuck this. You quickly opened the bedside drawer grabbing a spare gun before making your way out of the room quietly.

You moved down the hall, a shadow in the quiet, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to know if he was okay.

As you reached the study, you heard voices—Roman’s, calm but authoritative, and another, lower, pleading. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Something felt off. But then suddenly a loud bang went off.

You jumped from the sound, but didn’t hesitate, pushing the door open, your gun drawn as your eyes instantly scanned the room. The man who had been pleading was now slumped in the chair, still and lifeless. His eyes were wide, staring vacantly, but there was no movement. The faint scent of iron lingered in the air.

Roman stood beside the chair, his back to you, his posture stiff, but there was a coldness to him that made your stomach churn. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked to you as you stepped inside.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low, almost warning.

You stood frozen for a moment, taking in the scene—the finality of it. Your breath caught, but you didn’t look away. You slowly lowered the gun before putting it down on the table.

“Roman…” you whispered, your voice trembling despite yourself.

He turned toward you, his face hard but the familiar softness in his eyes that always calmed you was gone. “What’d I tell you huh? I told you to stay in my room.”

“I couldn’t,” you replied, your voice steadying. “I wasn’t going to sit there while you—while this—happened.”

Roman took a step toward you, his eyes searching yours, but there was something different now. Something that weighed on him. “I did what I had to do. I did it for you. For us.”

The words felt heavier than usual, as if the burden was more than just the weight of the moment. You swallowed hard, the reality of it sinking in, but you didn’t back away.

You stepped closer, reaching out to him. Your fingers brushed his blood-streaked hand, and the warmth of his skin felt like a stark contrast to the cold in his gaze. “I know, give me the gun. Slow” you breathed out before slowly clutching the still warm barrel, prying it from his hands before putting it on the table beside the both of you.

He didn’t answer immediately, just stood there, his breath slow and even. Then, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, he spoke again.

“I did what I had to do for the both of us. You know I’d do anything for you. I love you Y/N.”

“I know,” you whispered, stepping into his embrace. “And I’ll always stand beside you, in front of you, and never behind you.” You replied, your head leaning against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you too.”

The tension between love and danger would always be there. But with Roman, you knew one thing for sure—you were his and he was yours. No matter the expense.

The shower after the situation felt so relaxing, the warm water hitting against your skin. Your hair was out, curly and coiling from the water hitting it as you didn’t even bother putting a shower cap on. Then there was Roman who was behind you, his toned chest dripping with water and his strong tatted arm pinning you against the wall of the walk in. You could only look up at him as his dark eyes stared into your own. “You didn’t follow my instructions earlier, so you know what that gets you right?” Your free hand lingering from your legs up to your waist, and then finally finding itself around your neck as he squeezed.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir.”

His hand slowly made its way from the shower wall and onto your shoulders using it to turn you around towards the wall, the hand on your waist only leaving it for a brief moment before returning. “Cummin’ without my permission is gon’ earn you an agonizingly slow release beautiful." He paused giving you time to process everything before continuing. “Because I’m gon’ go slower and slower every. single. time.” He breathed into your ear, the sound of the water beginning to become a blur as you concentrated on his words. With each word your body had some type of reaction.

His words felt so commanding, but no matter how they sounded you’d answer every time. Your pussy was already wet from the water but also because of the way he talked to you, it was creating a wetness of its own; it’s like he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. The pressure you felt against your folds before your insides expanded was more pleasureable than painful, the stinging sensation was there but it was almost dull because of the fact that you’ve felt this dick before. You felt what it was like to take Roman’s length inside of you whether he was gentle, rough, happy and even angry. “You’re so tight f’me, this pussy been waiting on me huh?”

You could only moan in response as your body and face were pressed against the slightly cool shower wall, condensation dripping on the sides as your body and face made a slight outline from the pressure. That didn’t please Roman in the slightest though, which you found out due to his hand making a hard contact against your ass before gripping it. “You don’t hear me talkin’?” You bite your lip before looking back at him before nodding yes. “Yes sir” you replied as he began to thrust forward, his length rubbing against your walls as he muttered. “There she is, there’s my good girl.”

The way Roman switched from serious and dominant to calm and gentle made your pussy throb. His thrusts only got faster and with that, he also got deeper, your body being pressed against the wall with every thrust. The pressure in your bottom half had you moaning out a string of curse words, not only because it felt that good but because it was your man behind you that was causing it.

You couldn’t even hide how wet your pussy was getting as it practically was mixing with the water as a cover up. Maybe if you came, he wouldn’t notice because of the water, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“R-Roman!” you moaned out as his back muscles contorted each time he moved, his tatted arm suddenly gripping your hair as he pulled you back forcing you to look at him. “Who’s pussy is this huh? Go ahead and tell me beautiful”, his voice low and dangerous as his hips met your ass due to him pounding you from the back. His moans rang through your ears as your pussy only grew wetter and wetter the deeper he got, but you made the mistake of letting yourself go a little too much. Because while he couldn’t see it, he definitely felt it. The mix of your fluids with the water that was already dripping down your legs sent him, amused him. “You came didn’t you, you thought I wasn’t gon’ find out about it, hm?” He said before he slightly slowed his thrusts before wrapping his hand around your throat, the water from his hands dripping down your chest. “N-Nooo” you whined. You tried to keep it a secret, but you couldn’t keep anything from Roman Reigns, no matter how hard you tried, he’d find out eventually. And he did. He also never said he’d play fair because within seconds, his other hand found his way down to your clit knowing how sensitive you were. “You just won’t listen, even though I’m punishing you. You get off on this, don’tchu.” He said smirking seeing you squirm under him. “S-Shit! N-No I’m g-gonna c-cum again!” You whined out feeling the coil in your stomach start all over again.

“You can try babygirl but you already now I ain’t having that” his voice was husky and it had so much teasing behind it, but the dangerous type of teasing. The one where he would get his way because of someone else’s mistake. The sounds of the water hitting the titles of the walk in shower, wasn’t enough to drown out the sounds of both your voices and the slapping of flesh that came along with it. His dick was practically drilling you while his hand was overstimulating the most sensitive part of your lower half which caused your hips to buck forward. But he wasn’t letting you go that easy. “You tryna run from me?” He whispered in your ear before his grip around your coils tightened and he purposely pushed your body against the wall where the outline now came to your mid section. Your breaths were ragged and fogged up the glass, your pussy was overly sensitive and the man behind you was owning you and your body. It didn’t help that as your head leaned back against his shoulder blade, your neck was exposed and it gave him access to every bit of it which he took. All of it just sending you over the edge, but just when you felt you were about to crumble, he stopped and started thrusting agonizingly slow.

His strokes were slow and deliberate, which made tears form in the corners of your eyes as you felt the knot inside of your stomach slipping away. “R-Roman p-please…I need i-it….” You begged being completely at his mercy. Just how he liked it because he was the one in control, and oh the face you made when you cried under him. He loved every second of it. “Need what, babygirl. Use those words and tell Daddy what you need.”

“I wanna c-cum! Please I was s-so close!” You begged attempting to put one of your hands towards your clit to chase that orgasm that was almost long gone, yourself. But Roman wasn’t having any of it and grabbed your hand, his hand on top of yours intertwining them together and pinning them against the shower wall. His ring band right next to yours. “Bad move, princess”, he said going even slower.

“Roman please-“ you begged having tears in your eyes. “How much do you want it huh?” He whispered into your ear as his hips grinded against yours, his cock pushing through your walls expanding them slowly as he went. “R-Really bad. P-Please I c-can’t take it anymore! Make m-me cum and n-nut in me” you begged looking at him with pleading eyes as tears fell. How could he say no to this? With all that begging and crying, his hand tightened around your neck as he sped up again but he immediately found that spot. “Y-Yes! R-Right there baby!” you screamed out as your eyes rolled in the back of your head and a slight smile crossed your face feeling satisfied your man wasn’t teasing you anymore but giving you exactly what you wanted. Your pussy clenched onto him like your life depended on it which caused a drawn out moan to erupt from him. “Mmm, just like that beautiful. This pussy wants all of me huh”, he said as his other hand slid back over your arm before going back down to your clit. You couldn’t resist the urge of grinding against his hand because you wanted that release that bad and you felt it. Combined with him slamming against your g-spot over and over and the fact that he was rubbing against your clit, your orgasm hit you like a wave as your juices started to drip all over his cock and run down your legs.

Your moans came out as silent gasps from how good it finally felt to have another release. “Look at you crumbling f’me, so fucking beautiful” he mumbled feeling the muscles inside of you contracting before hitting that sensitive spot inside of you again one last time before letting himself loose inside of you, covering your insides in strings of white.

As both of you came down from your high, Roman wrapped his tatted arm around you; his hand resting on your right breast. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And as the night faded into dawn, Roman wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing against your forehead. “You’re mine. It’s you and I, don’t forget that.”

You smiled up at him, your hand resting against his chest. “And you and I. Always.”

Together, we were inseparable, whatever came our way—no matter what, it would always be him and I 🤍

Divider Credits: @kimjiho1, @thecutestgrotto, @firefly-graphics, @enchanthings

Taglist: @punksyeet @binnieaddict @sheaabuttaababyy @uceyliyahh @partypoison00 @empressdede @luvrsluxe @luvrgirl4roman @marsstyles @mselenalovebug

[sweetchillipeppers]

Heads or Tails?

Jason Todd x Reader - Teacher AU Pt 2

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral!Reader

While on a school trip, Two Face takes you and your class hostage in the Gotham Museum. After realising Damian is missing, you sneak away to find him, running into the Red Hood instead, who is of course, Mr Jason Todd, your colleague and forever rival, behind the mask. TW: Hostage-taking, guns, violence, blood, bad language

A/N The fic that started it. yeah I wrote this one first lol. I have not yet started writing part 3 and I have exams this week so it might be worked on next week. I don't plan on this series being longer than three parts but if inspiration strikes me, we'll see.

Tags: Rivals to lovers, mutual pining, teacher AU Word Count: 3716

Pt 1 Pt 2

Your students were rowdy on the bus. You could hardly blame them, it was far too early on a Saturday for your liking but you’d offered this history trip as an extra credit option open to your freshman class as part of your Ancient History topic and a surprising number of students were interested. So you, your teaching assistant and your 15 pupils all piled out the bus and into the Gotham Museum at 9am on a Saturday. The exhibition you were visiting was from Themyscira. Jewels, weapons, art: all very rare and very valuable. It was of course a walking advertisement to be robbed but the exhibition had been untouched for days so you had convinced your school board that this was a safe opportunity for the children to see some of the things you had been learning about in class. 

The exhibition room itself was large. It had clearly been styled to replicate Themyscira’s Greek architecture, with tall marble columns and large braziers lighting the room dramatically. Your class settles near the start of the exhibition and a tour guide who introduces themselves as Sammy begins the talk.

“And this is the original axe that Wonder Woman used. Beside it you can see some of the armour pieces she donated when the exhibition was first organised. Later you might even get to hold some.” The students all started chattering excitedly at the prospect. Your group was then led around the large room over to a tapestry depicting the history and movement of Themyscira into the international community. “Themyscira is now a thriving nation with Wonder Woman acting as their UN diplomat.” The guide then turns, “And over here we have some pottery shards depicting different parts of her life.” The first half of the tour wraps up shortly after that and the students are given some free time to explore the exhibition themselves. 

You make your way around the room, listening in and helping out the students with their worksheets until you overhear a group near the entrance. 

“It’s a pity Mr Todd couldn’t come,” you hear a student say. He wasn’t there, you’d made sure of it no matter how much your students begged. It’s unfortunate that the trip was scheduled the same day as an important rugby tournament. “Wonder Woman is his favourite superhero.”

It’s a pity that you now have to hate Wonder Woman for the rest of your life. Okay that’s dramatic but now she’s been ruined. Why would he do this to you? 

“My favourite is Batman. We’re Gothamites, remember?” One kid grins.

“Wonder Woman is an admirable hero but I must agree with Charlie, Batman is superior.” Damian interjects. You were glad he was starting to be more social in his classes after your conversation.

“I like Green Arrow.”

You can then hear raucous laughter as your student tries to defend her choice, until she locks eyes with you and decides that her safest bet is to offer you as a sacrifice instead. “Who’s your favourite hero?” 

Well you can’t say Wonder Woman anymore- even if that was a huge part in why you wanted to come to the exhibition. “Well I quite like Superman. I think he’s an inspiration to us all.” Safest choice. You get a few nods, and a couple eye rolls, of course you made this into a teaching moment. “But my favourite is Robin.” you finish.

Damian gleams at that for a second, puffing his chest out like a preening bird. He then checks his phone. “I must go to the bathroom. I will be back soon.” 

“Do you want someone to go with? The museum is pretty big.” 

“I do not require assistance. Besides, the next half of the talk will begin soon. I will not be long.”

The next half of the talk started soon after Damian left. The next speaker was very informative and the kids were filling out their worksheets diligently. The guide brought out a couple pieces of real Themyscerian armour when it happened. It started with gunshots near the front of the museum. Then silence. You ushered your kids quickly to the one side of the room alongside other museum visitors, getting them all to crouch low while you and your teaching assistant, Ms Anderson, peered into the corridor. The two security guards in the exhibit had their guns drawn, watching the front entrance double doors with bated breath. Silence. Too silent. The emergency exit door flung open behind you. You turn swiftly, using your arms to corral your kids close together by the wall in a huddle. More gunshots have you flinching. Then the spray stops. You look over at the two guards. Dead. A voice grabs your attention instead. 

Two-Face, flipping a coin absent-mindedly. “You will all be fine so long as no one plays the hero while we collect from this lovely display.” He says languidly. 

Multiple armed thugs walk into the room pointing guns at the civilians. Now hostages. 

“I would hate to hurt any of these cute kids” You scowl at him, not your smartest move but who could blame you. Two-Face smiles and flips his coin. Your eyes widen and Ms Anderson squeezes your hand. “Safe.” 

Two-Face replies. “Anyone else want a go?”

You sigh in relief, forcing yourself to swallow your pride and your anger. Your kids are here and you will not be the reason any of them die today. He had almost killed you. Your life was tethered to that stupid coin. 

Two-Face then demands everyone’s phones be handed in. You collect your classes. That’s when you notice it. Shit. You settle your class down, praying you miscounted,  sitting them on the floor and doing a quick headcount. 14. Double shit.

“Cathy.” You whispered but it came out almost like a breath. Your teaching assistant turned to you. “We’re one kid short.”

“What?” She frantically replied, “Who?”

“Damian. He went to the bathroom, just before the attack started.”

“Shit.” Cathy paused, doing a quick headcount of her own. “Shit. When Batman gets here we’ll tell him.”

“We don’t have time to wait for Batman.”

“You really think they'd hurt him? We’re hostages, how would shooting a child help?”

“I am not taking that chance. I’ve got to find him.”

“During the active hostage situation? How do you plan to do that?”

You have no idea. You suppose you’d need a distraction. Something to draw attention to the rest of the museum so you can sneak out and find Damian. 

A distant bang can be heard. More gunshots. Some of your students cover their ears. Two-Face directs three men to come with him when they leave to investigate. 

“Batman will be here soon,” Ms Anderson says with an encouraging smile to the class. Some of your students nod to each other. 

“Come on guys,” You chime up, “Do you really think Wonder Woman is going to let someone just steal all her stuff? I’m sure the entire Justice League is on their way” 

Your students seem more relaxed by this. There are only two guards left in the room both with heavy weaponry. Some kind of assault rifle you’re sure. But you still need a way out to find Damian. Now more than ever seeing as Two-Face has left the exhibition.

You take a deep breath and stand up. “Um, excuse me, Mr Guard sir,” You ask, hoping you sound very innocent, “I really need the bathroom. Like super bad.”

“Hold it.” He grunts.

“Oh um, I can’t. I have IBS?”

“Fine. Come on. Where’s the toilets?” Well, he sure changed his opinion quick. But you know what they say, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“What, you're just gonna take her?” The other guard groans. 

“Uh yeah. I have a wife with IBS. When they got to go, they got to go.”

“So you’re gonna leave me by myself for the Batman?”

“One: Batman's nocturnal. It’s lunchtime. I don’t think he’s coming.” Some of your students snicker at this but Cathy silences them quickly. “And two: you are the only one in the room with a semi automatic gun. And the emergency exit has two guards right outside. But I guess if you can’t handle it I can call in one of the boys from the prehistoric section.”

“No I can handle it… just be quick.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The goon turns to you, “Come on.”

Okay. Stage one complete. And you’re going to the toilets towards Damian which is good. Unfortunately you don’t know how to lose the guard you have. You want to observe him but he’s walking behind you so you have no idea if he has any back up weapons. You reach the nearest toilets quickly and you strain to listen for any noise coming from the men’s bathroom. Nothing. Either Damian was hiding very well or he wasn’t in there anymore. You still needed to check for yourself, just to be safe. 

“Um sorry, can you go grab my bag? I don’t have my medication on me, they're in my purse. I left it in the other room.” You ask the guard, begging for a miracle.

“Oh no problem.” You breathe in full of hope that he’s just going to leave you unattended until he pulls a plastic sandwich bag with medication out of his suit jacket and hands it to you. You blink. 

“They’re for my wife. Always good to be prepared. What kind do you need?” 

You blink again.

“Uhhh. The anti-diuretics?”

He hands you the pill pack. “I’ll wait here, be quick.” He orders.

You walk into the bathroom.

You must be in shock. Yeah, that must be it. This is the strangest hostage situation you’ve been in. But you still needed to find Damian. 

You’d only just started pacing in the bathroom when the door slams open and the goons body falls to the ground. Your eyes widen as the Red Hood stalks in. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands. The Red Hood is as imposing as one would expect an ex-crime lord turned vigilante to be. But you don’t have time to consider the politics of vigilantism. 

“It’s one of my kids. His name’s Damian. He wasn’t with the group when the attack started. He was in the bathroom. You need to help me find my kid. Please.” You beg.

Red Hood stands there for a second stunned. Jason wasn’t really used to anything but cold and snide remarks from you, and maybe the occasional light-hearted jab. Aside from that heart to heart on parents’ evening that started sincere and well-meaning, when you remembered yourself, you returned to harshness or just plain avoided him. To see you so worried over Damian was a breath of fresh air. He stood unmoving for far too long so you decided you would at least check the other bathroom while his brain rebooted or whatever. Jason only saw a glimpse of you leaving the room, when he ran out after you, and watched you enter the neighbouring door. 

“Damian.” You whisper-shouted “Damian. It’s me. Are you here? Tell me you're here.” 

No reply.

Then you spot it. Damian’s backpack on the floor of a locked cubicle. “Shit. Damian!” You pull yourself up to look into the cubicle, praying to any and all gods out there that there was a perfectly good reason he wasn’t responding. You breathe a sigh but you don’t know whether you should be relieved or not. The cubicle was empty.

“He’s not here.” You say, absentmindedly as you pull the backpack out from under the cubicle door and swing it onto your shoulder.

“You can’t just run off like that.” Red Hood chastises. “You could get hurt.”

“So could my student.” You whip back at the man. “Who is not here and could be bleeding out somewhere. I need to find him. I have a duty of care to these kids.”

This was the version of you Jason was used to. An angry spitfire, although he hadn’t seen righteous fury before. The protectiveness you have over your students, his brother in particular, made him feel something. Although he wasn’t entirely sure what.

“Look, you need to calm down. Describe the kid.” he of course knew what Damian looked like. He also knew that you wouldn’t find him because he was in his Robin costume fighting Two-Face. He was sure Alfred would be having a conversation with him about smuggling his Robin costume onto a school trip in his backpack. But he needed to calm you down and convince you that Damian was safe. 

“Damian Wayne. 5”4, dark black hair, green eyes.” You paused, thinking for a moment, “Angry eyebrows.” 

He choked a laugh back.

“I already found him. He’s safe, outside with the GCPD.” 

“Oh thank god.” Jason watches you release 10 years worth of stress from your body at that admittance. “We need to get back to the group. If I stay away too long the guards might get suspicious and something might happen to the kids.” 

God, Jason had misjudged you. You had a heart of pure, shining gold. He feels bad about all the misunderstandings now. He promises himself that he'll be nicer to you on Monday but first he needs to focus on getting you out. 

“There’s one guard in the room with the hostages and two outside the emergency exit. Do you think the GCPD has dealt with the two outside?”

Jason is attracted to competence, and holy shit you're competent right now. Making plans, working to protect the kids. Maybe his colleagues were right when they said you were amazing.

“No but Robin will have. Robin report.” He orders, pressing his fingers up to his earpiece.

You wait for a moment as he talks with Robin.

“Wait here.” He orders, “I need to deal with the one guard in the exhibition hall. Lock yourself in a stall. I’ll be back in less than five.”

And with that, the Red Hood leaves you alone. 

You move into a stall, locking the door and pulling your feet onto the toilet seat. Five minutes feels like forever. And it can’t have been more than three minutes when you see the light of the outside stream in through the open door on the floor. You get down and unlock the stall. “That was hardly five minutes,” you start as you walk into the bathroom. Then you stop. That’s not the Red Hood. 

“Fuck.”

Jason dealt with the last guard easily. No problems in the slightest. He got everyone out the emergency exit and reassured the nice old lady called Cathy that you were fine and Damian had been rescued earlier, that he was going back out for you in just a moment. He opened his com line: “Exhibition room secure, hostages with GCPD.”

“Hood, you did not save my teacher.” Robin’s voice was shaky down the line.

“Ms Anderson is with the paramedics and the rest of your class, I left (Y/N) in the bathroom with your backpack, I’m going back for her now.” Jason rolled his eyes and walked back into the building.

“Hood, building entrance. Two-Face has (L/N).”

Jason hasn’t felt this guilty in a while, running through the corridors of the museum and taking out at least 7 more goons on his way to Robin. He can’t believe he didn’t leave you somewhere more secure or at least with a weapon. Now he has to be the most nicest he’s ever been on Monday. If you make it to Monday. He spots a barely contained rage of a Robin trying to reason with Two-Face, who is holding you against himself, gun to your temple. Jason is glad he can’t see your face. He doesn’t know if he can take it. To see you so terrified when you were so strong just 10 minutes ago.

“Heads? Or tails?” Two-Face asks.

Robin is scanning for any way to disarm him, all his guards are gone but with you in the firing line there’s nothing that can be done. He starts to sneak toward the group.

“I know you’re back there, Red Hood. Stop sneaking around. Or this cute teacher gets it” Two-Face’s rough tone softens mockingly, “Make a bet, start a gamble, heads or tails?” Jason comes out of his hiding place and stalks towards his brother. He would blow Dent’s face off if he could. All he needs is an opening. He’d probably have to fight Damian for the honour though. 

“Did my class make it out okay?” It’s the first words you’ve said since Jason entered the room and judging by Damian’s barely sealed expression it’s the first they’ve heard you talk as well.

“Yes.” Jason responds.

You smile and take another breath, adrenaline spiking. “Flip the coin.”

Jason’s eyes widened, he figured they could get at least a few minutes before you’d be forced into the 50/50 but you’d sped up the process. Why? Was this confrontation really so hopeless? 

Two-Face flips the coin and as it arcs through the sky Jason shoots it, sending it careening of course toward the front desk. Two-Face lets out a wail and begins dragging you both toward where the coin landed while the vigilantes watch.

He pushes you down onto all fours, gun still at your head, “Find it.” You gulp and start searching for the coin that held your fate. There you see it, angled in a grout line and you see the coin's scars marked upwards. 

Jason didn’t think Two-Face noticed your flinch, and if he did, he probably put it towards the general anxiety. But Jason saw. Jason knows you’ve seen that coin. And he knows you didn’t make it. He knows you’re playing on borrowed time now and borrowing from the house never ends well for anyone. He nods to Robin. They have to strike now. He waits for anything that could work as a distraction, he hopes to the Gods for anything but the Gods are silent. It’s you who takes charge again. “I think I see it, I just need to stretch more.” Two-Face moves his gun back as you flop onto your stomach and army crawl so you can reach that bit further. Maybe you could flip the coin, change your own fate. Would two-Face know? Your breathing wasn’t even anymore. Your thoughts didn’t make sense. You just want to go home. You shut your eyes tight and as you grasp the coin and cry “Got it!” Hood launches himself at Two-Face, who fumbles, not having seen the results of his coin and fires instead a warning shot next to your head. It doesn’t matter though because Robin has you and is dragging you towards the doors saying something that sounds like “You’re okay, you’re fine, everyone is safe.” and prying the coin away from your hands but you just don’t know anymore. He brings you to the paramedics but doesn’t head back inside. He doesn’t leave at all. Instead he stands silently next to you like a guard dog or loyal hawk. “Don’t you need to help Red Hood?”

“No.” He responds immediately.

The two of you sit in silence until Cathy comes stumbling over. “Oh my goodness we were all so worried. Are you okay? And before you ask if the kids are all fine, don't worry, everyone is accounted for.” She rambles.

“Even Damian?” You ask.

Robin tenses.

“No but I was assured by Bruce Wayne himself that he made it safely home when I called earlier.”

“Oh thank god. I’m so glad. How are you feeling?”

“Me? I think I might retire next week. I won’t be on any field trips for a while after this. I think it’s too much excitement for my heart.” Cathay laughs, “Do you have a ride home? I’m just getting everyone picked up or sent home and was going to head off myself. You are more than welcome to join me.” She offers, probably feeling somewhat guilty over your ordeal. For no reason of course. It was hardly her fault you were held at gunpoint.

“Don't worry Cathy, I’ll be fine getting back. When the last kid is gone, go home. I’ll do all the paperwork and incident report tomorrow.”

“Oh honey you are an angel, I’ll bring in a lovely cake for you and the class on Monday, we certainly deserve it.” She grins and heads off past the police tape and back to the stragglers of children who haven’t yet gone home.

It’s barely even a minute or perhaps it’s an hour before Red Hood drags Two-Face out of the museum, tied up. The police move in to gather the various unconscious thugs scattered around the building and the vigilantes walk toward you. 

“Are you alright?” Red Hood asks, modulated voice heavy.

“I’m fine, no injuries.” You say. You’re really just tired. It’s been too long a day. You want to go home. “I’m sorry for leaving you in the bathroom by myself. I figured Two-Face was busy with Robin.”

“He was busy. It was some goons who dragged me there. It was just dumb stupid bad luck, don’t blame yourself. Besides, if I hadn’t left the group none of this would’ve happened. I’m sorry for making the fight harder.” You curl inwards.

Robin speaks up.

“Do not apologise. You were noble and brave searching for your missing student. I’m sorry you were not informed of his safety.” 

“It’s okay Robin, you guys don’t have control over everything that happens in a situation like this.” You try to encourage the young hero.

“You have a good attitude. You would definitely be my favourite teacher.” Jason can’t help but bristle at Damian’s favouritism, wasn’t he the brother?

“Aww thank you. You’re my favourite hero, Robin. Superman’s got nothing on you.” You smile. God that smile would knock Jason out. He’s honestly quite glad you hate him at the school. He doesn’t think he could manage if you treated him so kindly. Unbeknownst to Jason of course, you suppose that, secretly, Red Hood was also your favourite. He had changed your fate. And after saving your life it didn’t seem that Wonder Woman could really compare to the Red Hood.

Dividers made by @/cafekitsune

Taglist: @theendofthematerialgworl @salvatt1 @insideoutjulie

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joel get revenge for your beloved pet cat.

Warnings: Violence, guns, death, non-described torture, mentions of scars, pet death, language.

Word Count: 2.1k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

May 2024 

The pistol that was tucked into Red Laces’ pocket comes free easily. Joel turns to his right and shoots the one with bad breath first. He stands up, straightening to his full height, ready to kill Oliver but Brett has gotten there first. 

His companion has straddled Louis’ killer and his currently beating him bloody. Joel leaves him to it and sets his sights on the other two remaining men. One of them is fumbling with his gun which appears to be jammed. The other has begun to flee the camp, he must know he’s fucked. Joel fires before the gun can be unjammed and then turns to shoot the running one down. It’s easy, pulling the trigger and watching a man fall into the dirt, covered in his own blood. 

Joel could hear the leader cursing from that tent he’d disappeared into, surely he knew that his men were dead. He approaches the tent, his boots sinking into the mud as he goes.

“Stay the fuck back!” The man snarls. 

If he were smart, he’d have a gun pointed at the tent flap, that's what Joel would do if he were him. Of course, Joel would never let his men die like dogs while he hid in a tent. What a fucking-

“Joel!” 

Joel barely gets the chance to turn around before you’re slamming into him nearly knocking him off his feet like you’re some professional linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys. Your Python is dropping to the ground with a thump as your arms wrap around his torso. 

“You alright?” You bury your face into his shirt and mumble into his chest. 

“Been better.” He motions to his still-bleeding shoulder, “Where the hell did you run off to this morning?” 

You untangle yourself from him and fix your focus on his gunshot. Ignoring his question, your hands push his jacket off his shoulder and stare at the wounded flesh. It’s not bleeding so bad anymore, hurts like a bitch but the blood has trickled off into a thin stream.  

“We should get you back to Jackson. Dr. Hill can fix you up.” 

You take a step towards the tent and Joel catches you by the arm. 

“Sweetheart, there’s somethin’ you need to know.” Joel starts, “That man you mentioned he’s…” 

“He’s in the tent, Joel.” You say looking at the halfway unzipped flap, “That missing teeth, cat-killing motherfucker is going to die. Let me go.” 

You must’ve been hiding somewhere, watching this camp, no wonder he’d conveniently been saved when Laces tried killing him. You rip your arm out of Joel’s hand and take another step to the tent. 

“Alright, Alright,” Joel says, looking at Brett who has dragged an unconscious Oliver over, “Let us bring him out here.” 

You watch as Joel and Brett disappear into the tent, the sound of a punch being delivered followed by a couple of grunts fills the air and before you know it, they’re back, dragging The Walrus out by his arms towards you. Joel tosses a hunting knife at your feet before he and Brett drop The Walrus face-first into the ground. 

“Didn’t even have a gun. Guess he thought his men would do all the killing for him.” 

It seems that The Walrus has gotten lazy, years ago when you were the one tied to a tree he always had a gun tucked into a holster on his side. He’s gotten complacent, this good-for-nothing sack of shit was seriously expecting his little group of 20-somethings would be able to protect him from you and your wrath. 

You watch as he pulls himself up, sitting back on his knees it dawns on you that you don’t know this man’s name. He was responsible for the many scars that crisscrossed your back and sides, he haunted you in your dreams and you didn’t even know his fucking name. 

“Listen. I can pay you. I got another man who will be back in a few days. There’s this settlement a few miles north, you three can have your pick of the supplies, food, women, whatever you want. Just let me live.” 

He can’t be serious, trying to weasel his way out of death like this. Did he not recognize you? You’d know his face anywhere, even now covered in mud and a shaggier beard, you knew it was him. 

You glance over at Brett whose eyes are fixed on that beaten bloody body he’d dragged over. You realize Louis is missing and come to the conclusion that Brett was staring at his friend’s now-deceased killer. Joel gives you a pointed look, his pistol is shoved into the back of The Walrus’ head, all it would take is one pull of the trigger and he’d be dead.

“You said you have another man?” You say, your voice devoid of any emotion 

“Yes. He’s out scouting a community. We’re going down to Kansas and getting the rest of my men, then we’re taking it. Come with me, I’ll pay you all well.” 

You scoff at this, a small laugh escapes your lips, what the fuck was wrong with this man. You knew he was a psychopath but seriously actually asking you to work with him? One of his men had killed Louis, another was about to shoot Joel, and for crying out loud he had four people tied up just 4 yards away. He must be delusional if he thought you, Joel, and Brett would want to work with him. 

“What’s so funny, bitch?” 

Joel smacks him in the back of the head with the butt on his gun, “Watch your fucking mouth.” 

“Or what? Is she gonna order you to shoot me? That how you live your life? Dickless, commanded by some whore with big tits?”  

You watch as Joel grabs The Walrus by a fistful of his greasy hair before slamming him into the ground so hard you’re pretty sure you heard the crunch of bone. Joel’s voice is deadly as he speaks directly into your captor's ear. 

“You’ll hold your tongue around my woman or when she tells me to shoot ya’, I’ll make sure you’ll go out real slow.” 

Joel hauls The Walrus back up into his previous position on his knees. 

“S’ that we did to Adam isn’t it, sweetheart?” 

The Walrus’ eyes flick to yours, trying to discern if Joel is lying. You nod suddenly feeling a bit small. Joel was good at this, intimidation. The man kneeling in front of you doesn’t give a shit what you do, it’s Joel he’s worried about.

“We got your second in command. See, in Jackson, we ain’t stupid the way you think we are. Caught him and that girl he was with right away.” 

“You’re full of shit.” The Walrus says in disbelief that he’s truly alone, his allies thousands of miles away in Kansas. 

Joel shakes his head, “You see, I wanted to draw it out some more, got some good hits in, even ran a knife across his skin. That sound familiar to you? Well, Adam, he cried a lot, pissed himself too, begging for his life in the dirt, “Joel raises his free hand, the one that's not holding his gun, and taps The Walrus on the forehead three times, “She put a bullet in his head with the same gun that's sitting there at her hip now.”

“Fuck you, man. You didn’t know him, he was a good guy.” The Walrus fires back 

“See that’s where you’re wrong. Good men don’t rape women.” Joel says, “Another thing a good man doesn’t do is feed em’ their pets for fun.” 

The Walrus’ eyes flick to yours, and a beat of recognition flashes. Now, he knows who you are. 

“That was years ago…I shouldn’t have…” 

You feel your voice returning, you want to speak to this man to listen to him grovel. 

“But you did.” You say softly, “You made my only friend in the whole world into bowls of soup and a bag of jerky.” 

The Walrus shakes his head like he doesn’t quite believe he did that. 

“And then, whenever we were alone you cut me up for fun, just like my cat.” Your hands shake a bit as you push your long-sleeved shirt up off your right arm to the elbow. You point to the long scars that are nestled into your skin forever, “Remember these?” 

“I-I’m sorry…” He says plainly, staring down at your arm

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it.” Joel snarls 

Joel motions for Brett to take his gun before he takes a step to his left, scooping up a big roll of duct tape that’d been sitting on top of an open bag of one of the men. He walks to you and turns your focus to him, 

“I’ll kill him for ya, sweetheart.” Joel, “Let me question him first though, Jackson needs to know about these men he's got down in Kansas.” 

You nod and feel hot tears fill your waterline. Why were you crying? You should be jumping for joy that Joel was going to put him down. Joel takes a step back and tells Brett to tape The Walrus up and drag him off to another tree where he’ll meet his end. A warm hand comes up and Joel brushes a stray tear off your face and presses a warm kiss to your forehead before moving towards where Brett is dragging your tormenter off to. 

“Joel?” 

“Hm?” 

“Make it hurt, okay?” 

The screams go on for what seems like hours. You’ve tucked yourself away under the shade of a tree that's bigger than the rest. The four captives, sit a few feet away from you. You’d cut them all loose and let them devour the bits of food the men had stashed away in their bags. Now, they sit and listen to The Walrus beg for his life as Joel works his magic. You still don’t know his name but you don’t want to know it anyway. 

Brett came back about twenty minutes ago and offered you a sandwich from his bag before plunking down beside you. You don’t know him well but you can tell he’s freaked out whether it was Joel or whatever had happened to Louis you knew Brett was scared. 

“How long do you think it’s going to go on?” He asks quietly 

Hopefully forever. 

“I dunno.” 

Another twenty minutes go by before Joel returns. He’s wiping at the blade of the knife he had initially tossed onto the ground for you to pick up.

“Let’s get goin’. We’ll send some people out to pick this stuff over later.” 

Joel reaches down and offers you his hand, you take it and he pulls you to his feet with a grunt. 

“I want to bury Louis,” Brett says as you leave the raider's camp behind 

Doubled up on the horses Joel leads you and the newcomers back to where Louis’ dead body lies, an arrow in his face. Brett rigs something up to drag the body back to Jackson and you’re on your way again. 

You press your cheek against Joel’s back and let your eyes flutter shut. Joel had insisted that you ride with him, giving Pepper’s reins to the mother and daughter you had freed. They’re a few feet behind you, the woman struggling a bit to keep Pepper walking straight. 

By the time you reach the gates of Jackson, it’s late at night. The gates groan as they open and you let a woman named Joan take the horses and charge of the newcomers. You lead Joel off to the clinic and sit by his side while Dr. Hill works her magic on Joel’s shoulder. 

You rest your head on Joel’s good shoulder, listening to the way his breath hitches a bit when the bullet finally comes out. It has to hurt yet he makes no move to cry out, always acting so tough. 

A few stitches and clean gauze later, Joel is pulling what's left of his t-shirt back on while you try to focus on anything but the skin he’s got exposed to your greedy eyes. Shame on you for thinking like that right now. He’d just been shot and you were thinking about how his chest hair had started to gray.

“Can I stay at yours?” 

Fuck, you hadn’t meant to blurt that out, god you were pathetic, not even wanting to sleep in your own home. You were 44 years old, not some toddler who needed coddling! 

Joel lets out a warm hum, slipping his old tan coat under his arm for safekeeping, 

“Course ya’ can sweetheart.” 

Next Part

...And now we can commence the romance. Joel can you and Sweetheart just kiss already, gosh!!?

How I felt last night when Tiktok wouldn't work:

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly  @orcasoul  @snowlycanroc  @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @yawnzzzzzzzz @am-3-thyst  @concrete-jungleeee

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[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger part 7

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother.

Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / next

☆☆☆

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes, but no smut, English is not my first language, sorry if it's too much exposition, it's my first fic.

Ónoma literally means name in Greek, at least according to google translate. View this as the y/n of this fic.

☆☆☆

The clattering of cutlery let her know that she’d said something wrong. She froze in her seat as the kings eyes narrowed in on her. “Where did you hear that?”

“What, I didn’t-”

“Answer me, girl. Where did you hear that?” He was standing now, his presence menacing. “Besides, there’s no way a regular girl like you would’ve been able to take out all of those men. So, tell me, how did you do it? Are you another test? Another monster? What are you? Why are you here? I will not let you get in the way of-”

“That’s enough, my love.” Penelope interrupted her husband’s tirade. “This is your son’s greatest friend, the daughter of your own greatest friend, she’s no test. You’re just on high alert from all the years away from home.”

“You don’t understand, she-”

But Penelope shushed him. “I think it’s time for bed. Ónoma, you’re welcome to stay the night, Telemachus will walk you to your room.” Then she walked away, leading a visibly shaken Odysseus out of the room.

“I don’t understand, what did I say wrong?” Peach, too, was pretty shaken from the king’s outburst. Understandably so, as the man had taken on 108 suitors without knowing she’d be there to help.

“It’s fine Ónoma, he’s been having these outbursts since he got back.” Telemachus soothed his friend.

“Yeah, something similar happened when I mentioned how much luck he must have had to be the only one of 600 to return home.” Ctimene added.

“I can’t imagine what he must have faced during all those years away.” Peach muttered.

☆☆☆

“I can stay the night, if you want me to? It’ll be like when we were kids.” Telemachus offered, as the two sat on her bed. Whenever she’d stay at the castle, she would be given the same guest room, over time she’d let some of her belongings accumulate there.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I wouldn’t want to get on your fathers bad side. At least, not more than I already am.”

“C’mon Peach, it’s really not like that. He’s just on edge.”

“And yet I understand his concern.” Ónoma countered.

“What are you talking about?”

“I killed those men, Tele. They’re dead because of me, I don’t even know how I was able tot do it, what if I am a monst-”

“Enough of that.” Her friend said sternly. “You did it to protect my mother, and let’s be honest, yourself too. I don’t want to think about what the suitor would’ve done had you not been able to fend them off, or did you forget that you, too, are a woman?”

Her heart dropped at her friend’s words. “Of course I didn’t forget! That’s why I did it!” She raged. “I can’t afford to show mercy, not to those beasts, anyways.” She continued, softer, realisation hitting her. “Thank you, Tele.” She murmured. “I needed that.”

“I know.”

Outside of her bedroom window, an owl was perched. It hooted, before flying off. Telemachus softly shook his head, Peach thought it to be at her behaviour, but in reality it had been at his mentor’s antics.

☆☆☆

The next morning, Peach had left before breakfast, before anyone else had woken up, even. Telemachus’ and Ctimene’s attempt to play off the king’s outburst had not calmed her one bit. Even if they were speaking the truth, she did not want to set the man off again. Perhaps once the king had settled more she’d speak to him again, or if he sought her out.

When she returned home, she wasn’t ready to face Perikles, so she kept walking, now with her beloved instrument in hand. She settled somewhere along the shore, feet in the water, the sun slowly rising. She played mindlessly, softly humming a matching melody. Music always calmed her.

But now it seemed calmness was not something she would get, as the familiar but unfamiliar voice rang in her head once more. “So, you’re devoted to my brother, then? Pity. Usually, his followers are more seasoned with a bow, axes are more Hephaestus’ thing, or Demeter’s maybe.”

What? At least the word brother clued her in that this was a God, or Goddess. Someone related to Apollo.

“You’re quick to catch on, if not Apollo then Athena, maybe? Who do you work with, or worship, I should say.”

Well, oh mighty God of gossip, I don’t really ‘work with’ anyone. Just whoever fits the occasion, really.

“You’re bold, anyone else might’ve taken offence with such a tone? Can it even be considered a tone if it’s just your thoughts? I’ll have to ask Athena next time I run into her.”

Can you please get to the point? Or leave me alone? Whoever you are anyway.

“Feisty, put the claws away, darling. I would have loved to tell you my name, but you never asked. You have to actually ask questions to get answers, you know.”

…

“Go on, darling. Ask.”

What’s your name?

“Well at least I got the message across, the name’s Hermes. I actually came here to deliver a message, but you were just too much fun to mess with.”

What is the message?

“Straight to the point, huh? Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I never said that the message was for you, I mean, it is, but still.”

…

“Did you know that the Lyre used to be mine? I gave it to my brother in exchange for his cows when I was just a babe, I’m still quite fond of it. You play beautifully, who taught you?”

Would you please tell me of the message you bring, oh great lord Hermes?

“No.”

Please?

“At least your manners have improved, but no. You tell me who taught you to play, and I tell you the message. An exchange of information, a trade, if you will.”

Right, God of merchants. I taught myself, my brother once broke my Lyre, because of how bad I was at playing at the time. I suppose I’ve improved since.

“Oh, that was your brother? Apollo smote him real good, bet he learned his lesson.”

Dead men don’t learn.

“Now, now, why so serious, oh right the message! Your brother has reunited with your father!”

My dead father?

“Exactly, now if you don’t mind, I’d like you to resume playing.”

next

☆☆☆

A/N: girly is going through it. Also, I don’t mean for Hermes to come off as rude, rather as mischievous. He is a God, one who often visits the underworld at that, so he would not really understand the grief of mortals. I also want to portray the duality of Ctimene’s grief and relief some more, and I definitely want to dive into Odysseus’ PTSD. Maybe show some of Penelope’s caution around men too, dealing with those suitors for so long would’ve definitely made a person a bit jumpy.

Taglist:

@suckerforblondies

@barrythestrawberry041

@trashcannotbealive

@apollos-dodgeball-target

@doodle-with-rhy

[grapejuicebrat]

champagne coast - r.c.

where rafe has to watch you moving on.

warnings: mentions of smut, kissing, swearing, heavy angst, might be a happy ending, rafe tries to be better.

notes: SHES BAAAACK. and a little reminder: english is not my first language so be nice! x

my masterlist

———

“i want you to be happy rafe, that’s all i ever wanted”

but what if he can’t be happy without you? what if just your presence made rafe smile? if you want him to be happy, why did you leave? those questions were never asked but god, rafe still do want to know all the answers.

watching you moving on is hard. the first time rafe saw you after the break up, your eyes were red from crying. you never smiled. never wanted to pretend that you’re ok. you still loved rafe after all. even if he was a drug addict, even if he was a mean grumpy man. you really wanted to see rafe as an old rafe who tried to not hate on pogues. who tried to catch up with his sister and be a good older brother.

he really tried to be better. for you. for your future family.

he even wanted to marry you. of course, part of him understands that all those thoughts were in his head because he wanted you to stay with him. maybe he could get you pregnant with his baby. having a little copy of you with those big doe eyes was everything he ever wanted. but looking back, it wasn’t possible. not anymore.

sitting in a country club and watching you working hard was difficult. in the beginning of your relationship rafe made that clear. he never ever wanted you to work there again. not because he wanted you to be in a golden cage, just because men in this club were disgusting. rafe would never forget how you cried in his shirt about another nasty comment about her body. that’s why you decided to quit your job and instead of being a waitress you waited at home for rafe, making a dinner for you two and being like a housewife.

you changed rafe in a lot of ways. so now he doesn’t even want to punch this motherfucker jj in the face, because he is clearly flirting with you. after all, he promised you to fight with his anger.

the last thing rafe wants to do is disappoint you again.

“bro, there many other bitches, just forget about her” kelce said to rafe, laughing.

rafe’s eyes shifted to kelce, anger bubbling up in his blood. nobody gets to talk about you like that. even if you were the one to break up with him, you did it for best.

“if you try to say stupid shit like that again, i won’t even hesitate to punch you in a fucking face. you don’t know anything, motherfucker”.

it was the first time rafe didn’t let his friends say something disrespectful towards a girl.

you would be proud of him, that’s for sure.

after two shitty weeks of your break up, rafe saw you smiling for the first time. and he could swear, his heart melted. of course he wanted you to be happy to, even if it does mean that he won’t be included in your life anymore. as much as it hurts to say, maybe in some time you will start a family with a guy that really deserves you. and rafe always said to you that he didn’t deserve you. well, that’s true. he never deserved your kindness, your patience and mostly, your love.

after a long month, rafe could proudly say that he didn’t do coke for a month and two weeks. he didn’t drink either, except one bottle of a beer at the party. he wanted to start a new life, to try to be someone who would deserve you even if you doesn’t want him anymore.

and of course, you knew about this changes. you promised yourself to keep an eye on him if anything happens. and you were really happy to see him like this. without his stupid friends, that you never liked. without being high and drunk. at some time you would think that it’s your old rafe. who you used to know. and your heart would skip a heartbeat. after all, you still loved him. you will always love him.

sometimes you wanted to kiss him like you used to. to hug him, whisper an “i love you” and kiss like there was no tomorrow. you wanted to feel his hands on your neck, on your waist, everywhere. you missed this feeling of being loved by him, you missed his big eyes and his perfect smile. you missed those rare times you two made love to each other. of course you were obsessed with his dominant side in sex but oh god, when he would lay on you and hug you, and his dick was buried deep in your pussy and only god knows how many times he said that he loved you.

you would look at him in a country club, scared that some chick would hug him and sit in his lap. but not in a month, or two. not after a year after your break up, he still didn’t bring anybody. and if topper told you the truth, he refused to even look at some girl. except you.

there were still some rare moments when you would just sit in your kitchen and there will be only one question.

“what if we were still together”

you tried to imagine your life with rafe, how would everything be okay. and you cried. every time.

after another long night in an empty bad you’ve had enough. even if it is the biggest mistake you’ve ever made, you didn’t want this to be the end. not like that. when everything could possibly be better. when rafe at least tries to be better. because you still love him and some part of you hopes he still does love you. so you made your choice right away, getting your phone from the table.

notes: end sucks, i know. but i am still proud of this one. waiting for your comments!

[sansaorgana]

— WELCOME HOME, DADDY

🚨 This fanfic is a repost from 22 Apr 2022 from my different blog. I kept the Author's Note and everything from the fic the same as it was back then.

PAIRING — Jack Nelson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Little Maggie Nelson can’t wait for her daddy to come back home from his business London trip.

AUTHOR’S NOTE [22 Apr 2022] — Maggie Nelson is absolutely made up by me and she absolutely lives in my head rent free, I have like 100 headcanons with her at this point and I’m going to make it everybody else’s problem! Here's a smutty one-shot that can be treated as Part Two!

WORD COUNT — 2,160

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

WELCOME HOME, DADDY

It was no secret that Jack wanted a boy. When you were pregnant, he was often patting your belly and smirking while commenting on the fact that it had been his son growing there. He seemed to be so fixated on the idea of having a male heir that you started to believe it would be a boy as well – you didn’t even want to imagine not having a son.

When you were giving birth, Jack was in another room, drinking whiskey nervously in an old-fashioned manner while your screams and groans filled the whole house. And then you pushed the baby out and one more voice joined your cries. You sighed with relief when…

“Go tell Mr. Nelson that he’s got a daughter,” the Doctor told the midwife. She nodded and left the room.

You were petrified. He handed you a crying baby still covered in blood and put her on your chest. You looked down with widened eyes and swallowed thickly. She was beautiful – she was your baby girl and you already knew you would die to protect her but… But the sound of Jack’s footsteps made you flinch.

He stormed inside the room rapidly as his eyes immediately found yours. It was difficult to read his facial expression but he was even paler than usual.

“I-I-I’m so sorry, Jack,” you sobbed, instinctively pressing the baby closer to your chest and staining your nightgown even further with blood.

But he looked like he wasn’t even listening to you. Instead, he approached the bed and leaned over your shoulder to take a look at his crying daughter.

“Aw, baby, don’t you cry, daddy’s gotcha,” he cooed to her and his big hands reached out for her. You let him do that, watching him carefully. His steel eyes were set on the newborn girl, though, and on her only. He was mesmerized, didn’t even care about getting his suit dirty.

And she stopped crying the moment she was set in his arms. The midwife approached him to show him how to hold her properly and he adjusted his hands without looking away even for a second.

“Jack, the next one will be a boy,” you whispered.

“Look at you, so beautiful,” he ignored you and cooed to the baby. “My little Princess. Daddy will give you a world, I promise, my little lady.”

You shut your mouth and sighed. That was the day when you lost your husband but you weren't even mad about it.

For now, there wasn’t any other yet, there was still only her – four years old Margaret but everyone called her Maggie. Little Maggie Nelson was a sensation all over Boston and anywhere she’d go, really.

Spoiled but sweet, in her neat dresses and pretty bows in her hair, she looked like a real-life doll. Jack was not the type who would spend all his days at home but whenever he was there, she would occupy his lap. She was so charming that all his business partners adored her and Jack was of course taking advantage of it.

But he hadn’t taken you two to London. He had gone there to buy import licenses but also to do a job for President Roosevelt himself. A job you had no idea of but you didn’t really want to know either. You stayed in Boston with Maggie and waited for your husband’s return, hoping he wouldn’t catch anything contagious while fucking all the whores in London.

That was the way Jack had been but you loved him nevertheless. And you knew that he had loved you, too. When you’re married to a man like Jack, there are some things you just have to accept.

“Mrs. Nelson,” the maid walked inside the living room where you had been laying on the sofa and reading a magazine.

“Yes?” you didn’t even look up.

“It’s about Miss Nelson… She’s throwing a tantrum over the color of the bow in her hair,” she sighed and you chuckled before putting the magazine down and standing up.

“She’s just excited. Jack comes back today,” you reminded the maid with a smile.

“She doesn’t know which color Mr. Nelson would like the most.”

“Oh, silly little Maggie,” you shook your head and went upstairs to her room.

Maggie was sitting on the edge of her bed, her little legs dangling above the floor cutely. Her arms were crossed and she was pouting.

“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie…” you started with a chuckle while leaning on the doorway and she huffed. “Don’t you know, my little dollie, that daddy would love every color on you?”

“And what are you wearing for daddy’s return, mommy?” she asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing special, to be honest…” you admitted and looked down at the dress you were wearing. “Just it, I think.”

“But daddy’s coming back home today!” Maggie gasped. “You have to dress up for him real nice!”

“Alright then, I will,” you smiled kindly and approached the wardrobe to take out the box with all her ribbons. “I’ll wear a blue one, okay?” you handed her a blue ribbon.

“No, not that one,” she shook her head.

“Pink?” you handed her another.

“You’ll wear a pink dress for daddy?”

“Well, if I have to,” you chuckled. “Pink is a pretty color and before you were born I used to wear it more often.”

“Why not anymore?” Maggie asked out of curiosity as the maid approached you to take the pink ribbon out of your hand.

“Because it’s your color now, Maggie.”

“Oh, mommy, I can share!” she gasped and you chuckled before leaning in to peck her cheek.

“Alright, dollie, we will share.”

You left her alone with the maid again and went to your own bedroom to change the dress as you had promised.

Jack was back right before dinner. You were waiting in the hall, squeezing your little girl’s hand. For her those two weeks were like two years and when she heard the sound of Jack’s car parking on the driveway, she ran out of the house.

“Maggie, be careful!” you rushed after her.

She was running and jumping at the same time to be faster, which had been a terrible idea to do while going down the stairs. Thankfully, her daddy’s arms saved her from a spectacular fall.

“Easy, Princess, daddy’s gotcha,” Jack chuckled and you sighed with relief.

“Daddy! Daddy! I missed you! I missed you so much!” she screamed and literally jumped into his arms. Jack laughed at that and put his arms around her.

“Welcome home, Jack,” you greeted him more nonchalantly than your daughter and you leaned in for a kiss. The corners of your mouths touched while giving each other a peck on the cheek.

“My girls all in pink today?” he teased with a grin.

“Oh, daddy, it’s for you!” Maggie cupped his face and started kissing it all over.

“Maggie, that’s enough, daddy’s tired,” you sighed and tried to take her from him but she protested.

“It’s fine,” he nodded and went inside the house. A butler nodded at him and took his car keys to park the car and take the bags out of the trunk. You followed your husband and a daughter.

“The dinner will be served soon,” you told Jack and put your hand on his arm after he had placed Maggie on the floor.

“Good, I’m starving,” he leaned in to kiss your cheek once again. “I bought you lots of pretty things in London,” he whispered into your ear and you chuckled. Then he looked down on Maggie. “Daddy bought you lots of things, too, Princess.”

“Oh, daddy, you didn’t have to!” her eyes widened.

“So… I can send them back to London then?” he teased.

“I didn’t say that!” she huffed and crossed her arms. Jack laughed.

“Of course I won’t, dollie. Now, what have I missed?” He put his hands into his pockets.

“I was writing you letters every day, daddy!” Maggie made puppy eyes. “Mommy said that sending them would be a waste because it’s been only two weeks and you wouldn’t get some of them. But I will give them to you now!” She decided and went upstairs.

“She can write now?” Jack scratched the back of his head.

“She’s slowly learning how to. I was the hand,” you chuckled and led him to the living room. “How was the business?”

“Good. I got licenses, “ he nodded and sat down on the sofa in a lazy manner.

“And… And the job for The President?” you lowered your voice nervously.

“It’s done, don’t you worry, doll. Told you not to worry about anything.”

“I’m sorry… I… I seem to worry even more now…” you sighed and sat down next to him.

“That’s bad. You don’t have to worry at all anymore, (Y/N),” he put his arm around you and kissed your temple. “You hear me? Worrying days are over for you, baby.”

“Yes, Jack, I understand,” you nodded. “Did Gina have fun?” you rolled your eyes. You didn’t like his niece much.

“Gina’s always having fun,” he chuckled. “She was all over the society. Upper class, you know.”

“Oh.”

“Next time I’ll take you with me,” he caressed your cheek and you hugged him tight. “You’ll show them bastards some class.”

“Me? Class?!” you laughed.

“Baby, once you’ll meet their ladies, you’ll understand that you’re a real class indeed.”

“Jack, you’re being too sweet! Makes me want to eat you up!” you teased.

“You gotta wait for the evening with that, doll.”

“Daddy!” Maggie ran inside the living room with a small box in her hand. You smiled at the sight and moved away to let her sit on her father’s lap.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

“My letters!” she reminded him.

“Ah, yes,” he nodded and opened the box. There were 14 pastel pink envelopes, all tied with a red thread.

“They’re all addressed to you! Mommy helped me with that,” Maggie added and grabbed Jack’s pinky finger to play with his ring.

“Should I read them all now?” Jack tried to sound enthusiastic.

“Mr. and Mrs. Nelson,” the maid walked in with a smile, “I’m about to serve dinner.”

“Excellent!” you stood up and moved the magazine away to put the box down on the table. “Maggie, we will read the letters to daddy after dinner. He’s hungry after the trip and he must eat.”

“Alright then,” she sighed and left Jack’s lap to hold your hand. “But after we read letters, we will also show daddy the new song I have learnt, okay?”

“Of course,” you nodded and caressed her head. She ran out of the living room to follow the maid.

You smiled to yourself and turned around but then you froze at the sight of Jack. He suddenly had a very serious expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“What is this?” he handed you a familiar card and you swallowed thickly. “It was laying on the carpet. Fell out of your magazine.”

“It’s a card… With a doctor’s name,” you approached him to take the card from him.

“I don’t know this doctor,” he pointed out and squinted his eyes at the printed name once again. “What’s going on?”

“Jack, I just wanted a new doctor, that’s it.”

“What did you need one for?” He kept being suspicious.

“I needed a checkup,” you sighed and then you hung your head. “Fuck, you ruined it.”

“Ruined what?”

“A surprise. I wanted to tell you when we’d be alone in the evening… I’m pregnant,” you muttered and put the card back into the magazine. It was your bookmark.

“Wait, you’re… You really are?” Jack’s eyes sparkled and you looked up to meet his gaze. You nodded.

“Got my blood test’s results over the phone two days ago. I am,” you nodded.

“Does Maggie know?”

“For God’s sake, of course she doesn’t! She’d tell you straight away!” you chuckled. “But… I’m also scared.”

“Scared of what, doll?” Jack furrowed his brow and approached you to put his hands around your waist.

“That she’s gonna be jealous. You know what she’s like.”

“Yeah, I know what she’s like. She’s just like her mommy,” Jack teased. “Adorable, beautiful, smart and very fucking jealous,” he leaned in to kiss you but once again you got interrupted by the irritated voice of your daughter.

“Are you two coming or not?!”

“We’re coming,” you chuckled and turned around to face her. “The faster we eat, the faster we get our presents, am I right, Maggie?”

“Oh, mommy, unbelievable!” she exclaimed. “You’re sooooo spoiled! Daddy, you should do something about it!”

MASTERLIST

[gingermintpepper]

Hi!! I don't know if you remember me, but I'm the person you explained the Castalia thing to a few days ago. I've been following you for a while now, but I just managed to go through your blog well and proper, and I'm here to express both my gratitude for the amount of info and links you've shared (I did NOT know about the hepatoscopy and haruspicy, and I'm about to go down a lengthy rabbit hole) and my horror at once again being given a new hyperfixation (I didn't imagine wanting to read about liver-divination help).

Also, also, are you the author of Exeunt Phoebus Apollo on AO3 because that was the fic that sent me on this greek mythology spree, and it's so good I got obsessed with Apollo, and he's everywhere around me now. Thank you for writing it!

AAAAAA THIS IS SO SWEET?? THANK YOU!! I do remember you and hey man, I'm always happy to help <33

I'm so glad to recruit someone else to my hepatoscopy group because it is a long and storied tradition with many many different types of study and schools of thought dating all the way back to the Sumerians! It's an extremely underrated bit of study when it comes to sketching portraits of divination and prophecy when it comes to adaptations of imaginings of greek myth works - similar to bird augury (which was such a widespread skill that most people had some level of understanding of the basics of what the omens of common birds meant the way people now can look at the clouds over head and know if it'll rain and when approximately that rain'll happen).

It's a great and common misunderstanding that things like prophecy and magic were these fantastic elements that had no tangible features to their practices and while there's nothing wrong with interpreting things as more fantastical for the sake of coolness or aesthetic, I personally think these elements are interesting enough to be worth looking into and portraying!

Also yes, I did write Exeunt 😳I'm very very honoured that you enjoyed my work so much and I'm even more grateful that it could let you see the Apollo in everything 💖 Thank you for reading it!!

[skarkkk]

Will: You want to eat me.

Hannibal, not knowing if Will knows or if he talks about sex, but having the same answer for both: yes.

[mysicklove]

Summary: four-year-old Yuuji didnt mean to bring up Mr. Gojos crush on you, which of course, leads to Sukuna's harsh teasing.

cw: fem! reader (reader gets referred to as girl, pretty, and mommy), curse words, suggestive language, lion king spoilers (lol)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: i love making sukuna an absolute menace. poor yuuji tho. i think i am going to introduce gojo as a character, because I think it would be entertaining to piss Sukuna off lol.

big brother au masterlist

“Su-kuna!”

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Language,” You scold, not peering up from your book. Yuuji lays sprawled out on top of the both of you – his head in your lap, and practically purring in content when you gently pet the top of his head, while his little legs are on Sukuna’s thighs. 

Yuuji giggles into your shirt, shaking his head mischeviously. “Bad word Su-kuna!”

In an instant, you feel the toddler being ripped away from your lap with a tiny screech. The noise startles you, and you perk up from your book to look to where the boy has gone to. But, you aren't surprised to see him dangling in the air by his ankle – Sukuna’s long fingers skillfully hold onto Yuujis chubby little leg tight enough to not drop him, but gently enough to not cause physical harm. 

The boy doesn't seem to mind this position, being in it so frequently. Giggles and squeals leave the toddler's mouth as he stares at his now upside down brother. “You learning how to speak correctly?”

Yuuji nods his head, and his hands try to reach for Sukunas shirt. You rest your head on the man's shoulder, chuckling at the boy who was squirming in the air. “Uh-huh! F-Fush-i-guro taught me!” The dark haired toddlers last name was hard to pronounce, and it was amusing watching how Yuuji sounded it out.

Sukuna makes a loud groaning noise and you cover your mouth to hold back another laugh. “Of course you made friends with Gojo’s new brat. First he hits on my girl, and now his new kid is gonna manipulate this idiot.” He shakes Yuuji in the air to demonstrate his point, ignoring the squeals. 

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Just because Megumi taught Yuuji how to say your name correctly, doesn't mean the kid is manipulating him. Y’know Yuuji struggles with words sometimes.” You watch as the child in turn shakes his head in defiance, letting out a “Nu-uh!” that only makes you smile. You turn back over to your lover, kissing his cheek. “Aw, does it make you sad that our little Yuuji is growing up?”

“No,” he quickly rebuttals, “Brat isnt growing up fast enough. I am mad that you're not denying the fact that the white haired idiot is flirting with you.” You know that wasn't the full truth, but alas, Sukuna was extremely stubborn and would never admit that he didn't want his brother to grow up. 

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo thinks you are pretty!” Yuuji announces, beaming at you from the air. You hold back a wince, smiling awkwardly back at the innocent words of the toddler. You watch as the boys cheeks begin to flush from all the blood rushing to his head, and immediately as if sensing it, Sukuna flips over the boy and instead places him on his lap, holding onto the back of his neck.

The action makes you smile, noticing the thumb that rubs gently at the pale skin. But when you glance at Sukuna, you notice quickly that he was anything but happy. Sukunas dark eyes twitches, flickering to you, and he speaks between his teeth. “Did he now? I may need to have a talk with Mr. Gojo next time I pick the little pest up. Does Fushiguro say anything else?”  

“Sukuna,” you whine, realising that the hold on the boys neck was not out of affection – instead was used to trap the boy while he was questioned. “Y’know Gojo is alot. He just wants to–”

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo has a crush on Y/N!”

“Yuuji!” 

“B-But, Y/N has a crush on brother,” the boy concludes, furrowing his eyebrows with a small nod. “Right, Ku–um–Su-kuna?” He turns up to his brother, doe eyed with his head slightly cocked to the side in question. 

In response, Sukuna ruffles his hair, nearly sending the boy landing on his back. But, instead he giggles at the rough treatment, shutting his eyes and trying his best to stay upward. “The biggest crush. You make sure to tell the little brat that. Or else Mr. Gojo is going to try take her away.”

Your eyes widen and you push at his broad shoulders. “Sukuna! You're going to get him all worked up!” You exclaim, knowing the very sensitive (regarding you or Sukuna) child very well by now. You turn to the boy, whose own eyes widen as he trying to process the words. “Gojo is not trying to take me away.”

“He is going to take her away if you don't do anything, and little Megumi is going to have a new mommy.” Sukuna was grinning at the boy, as if his brother's fearful expression pleased him. You knew that he was being purposely dramatic – Gojo wasn't even technically Megumi's father, if there was a chance that you guys would ever get together (near zero) you would definitely not be the boy's new mom. But alas, Sukuna continues on with his words. “Thats why whenever you see the two of them talking you have to make sure you to scream as loud as possible.”

You cover the mans mouth before you he can spewl any more nonsense, but it was too late. Yuuji was already tearing himself from the man's lap and into yours – his lips begin to wobble and his eyes flood with tears. “Is-um-is that what you two talk about when I am with Mr. Nanami,” he warbles, thinking back to the multitude of times he has held onto his preschool teachers hand and watched you smile at the white haired man. 

“No, love,” you reassure, turning your attention instead from scolding your lover to consoling the child. “Sukuna is being mean again. Don't listen to him. Mr. Gojo and I are friends.” You ignore the look that Sukuna shoots you, showing how displeased he is at the idea of you being friends with his least favorite person. 

The boy sniffles, wiping his little fists on his face. “I-I dont want you to be Fush-i-guro’s mommy. You have to stay with me and Kuna! P-Please?” He doesn't even attempt to say his brother's name correctly, forgetting how he started the conversation all together. He was focused on trying not to cry, because his brother was sure to tease him, but it wasn't working out very well.

You kiss at his chubby cheeks, shaking your head with an exasperated look on your face, wondering how the hell you got to this conversation. “I am not, promise. I'm not going anywhere. Even if your brother is the worst, brattiest, malicious person alive, I have kinda grown attached to him. Besides, if I left who would I have movie nights with?”

“I am not a–” You shoot Sukuna a nasty glare, and he in return lets out an astonished laugh, but shrugs without care.

Your words make Yuuji perk up from your lap, and his eyes widen with glee. “You like movie nights too?” He was always begging for the three of you to watch movies together, but Sukuna always denies him considering it would end up being a cheesy Disney movie that Yuuji would fall asleep not even twenty minutes into.

“I love movie nights. Do you want to have one tonight?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sukuna butts in, and you spare him a glance. “Babe, we have plans tonight, remember?” He tilts his head to the side suggestively and you roll your eyes at him.

“Not anymore. Me and Yuuji are going to watch…”

“Human Earthworm 2!” The boy interjects, completely forgetting about his previous experiences with the movie, not good ones.

You poke at his cheeks, shaking your head. “I was thinking The Lion King.” 

“Yes!”

“No,” Sukuna groans, covering his eyes with his palm.

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No? Why are you putting your input in? You're not watching it with us.”

Sukuna, never have been told this before, looks appalled. “The fuck you mean?”

“Bad word!” Yuuji points to him in accusation, but Sukuna just ignores him.

You cock your head to the side, a sly grin pulling at your face. “You're not invited.”

“Why not?”

The two of you make eye contact for a long second, and after a moment or two, Sukuna sighs. “You're really mad about that?” You don't say anything, just continuing to stare at him. “Okay fuck–Yes that is a curse word, astute observation you brat. I am sorry for making the kid cry again.”

“And?”

Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, but you hold your ground. Then, he turns to the boy with a sigh. “Dont scream when you see Gojo and Y/N talk, alright?” He jabs his finger into the boys chest and Yuuji nods his head rapidly in understanding. But, a foxish grin pulls at the mans face and he says, “Instead…The moment you hear him talk to her, you bite his leg.”

He barks a laugh at the confused face of his brother, but when he looks up to you, the smile falters. “Okay, c’mon it was a jo–”

You point your finger to the door. “Couch.”

“You can't kick me out of my own room!”

You don't move your finger. Yuuji glances at you, cocks his head to the side, and then mimicks your action. “Couch!”

The three of you go silent for a long minute, and at this point the boy's hand begins to tremble from holding his hand out for too long. Eventually when Sukuna realizes that there was no point of reasoning, he lets out a dramatic sigh, before crawling out of bed. 

When he notices your smug smile, he flips you off and you can't help but laugh at that. “I am coming back after the movie is done, ya hear?”

“If Yuuji does not fall asleep,” You tease in return, knowing the boy well, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. 

His eyes flicker to the boy who was snuggling up to your chest, trying to find a comfortable position to watch the movie in. Sukuna chuckles to himself, opening up the door, before turning back to the kid one last time. “Hey brat,” he calls.

“Hm?” 

“The father lion–Mufasa. He is my favorite character, so you'll bound to like him a lot. In fact, I sure do wonder if you'll get attached,” he muses, and your eyes widen when you realize what he is saying. Anything that is linked with Sukuna, Yuuji immediately falls in love with. This was bound to cause hysteria. “Enjoy the movie guys! Y/N have fun!” He calls, before shutting the door.

You pause for a moment, sighing into your hand. “Kuna likes the father lion? I want to see!”

You tried everything to avoid turning on the movie after that. But Yuuji, like his brother, was stubborn, and he desperately wanted to see the lion. He grew attached very quickly in that short period of time.

Deep laughs rumble through the house when Yuuji begins to sob over the animated lion's death. You lock the door, and Sukuna stays the night on the couch. 

[kabuki-writes]

A Reflection Of Venus

chapter: 1 chapter 2 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: For years Acacius was able to keep his precious and only daughter away from the Emperor's eyes. But after his latest victory, he couldn't evade the already inevitable.

warning(s): mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: Reader is the daughter of General Acacius and his wife, which is not Lucilla in this fanfiction.

word count: 3.1k

General Acacius was a hero for the Roman Empire, a sun that was burning brighter with every new victory he won in a new war campaign ordered by Emperor Geta and his twin brother Emperor Caracalla. The reign of the twins was nothing compared to one of their deceased father Emperor Septimius Severus, who was once one of the closest friends and brother-in-arms of Acatius. While Severus fought wars mainly to protect the borders of the already massive Empire, his sons' hunger for expansion became clear from the very first day they inherited the title "Emperor". And general Acacius became their tool in this project. Nothing was too expensive, they backed him with legions, war-ships, the best equipment and supply, and the capable general became an unstoppable force, a soldier of the God Mars himself. But at what cost?

As the years went on, he'd rarely been home, always travelling with his marching soldiers and being on the front line of every battle he fought. And when he came back, he felt sick from all the pomp and gold the Emperor's threw at him, the victory processions through Rome, while the smell of blood still lingered in his nose and the cries of the women and children echoed in his mind. It was one of those days. The sun stood high over the wide street that lead to the Palatin, the sides filled with the cheering crowd - common people, soldiers, slaves, senators, merchants, they all celebrated his victory in a triumphant procession. His marching soldiers were led by Acacius chariot, clothed in the white armor of a victor. His face could've been one to be carved in marble, stoic and upright, facing the great Palatin, where the Emperors would await him.

Geta and Caracalla - the twin-sons of Septimius Severus, Emperors of Rome. They stoof there in golden Armor like sun gods with their golden crowns on top of their short gingerblonde hair. Their unusual pale skin was a testament to their wealth as they could afford to stay out of the sun, which burns especially hot on summer days like this one, and of course on the battlefields in Africa, where Acatius' men had to fight against the rebellious Nubians. They awaited their victor with proud smiles on their lips, while Acacius' procession ended at the footsteps of the Emperor's palace. He walked the marble steps towards them, his long cloak moved in tact with his walk. He didn't look forward to see the faces of Rome's tyrants again, but they hadno idea.

Instead, he greeted them as he was used to. His hand on his chest, speaking the words.

"I greet you, my Emperors. Nubia is no more. I present a new victory to you, to the realm and to the Roman people."

With a proud look on their faces and a wide smile, the twins stepped forward. Emperor Geta hold the laurel wreath of victory in his hands and places it on top of Acacius' greying hair.

"And Rome rewards it's heroes with gratitude and admiration. We bow to your victories, General Acacius."

With those words, he offered him to turn around and face the celebrating crowd. Geta and Caracalla took their places at his side, giving him a moment of spotlight, applauded by the people, while they did benefit from it as well. Acatius was their general, their armored knight. Every victory he presented was another triumph for their own reign and power. After the earned celebration in front of the common folk, the Emperors and Acacius retreated inside, where servants quickly served them wine for a toast.

"Another great victory, you never disappoint us, dear Acatius," Geta expressed and hold his glass up for a toast, his brother Caracalla following the gesture. "To the glory of the Roman Empire".

"To the glory of your reign", Acacius lied and took a sip from his glass, trying to numb himself a bit with the taste of the alcohol. How he hated conversations with both of them.

" But don't get too comfy here, my brother and i were already discussing another campaign soon. You'll get everything you need, just tell us how many soldiers and ships and it will be granted," Geta explained, which left a bitter taste in Acacius mouth. His jaw clenched for a moment, while he tried everything not to show his distaste about another war campaign.

"Please forgive me, my Emperor, but isn't the realm big enough already? Rome has already difficulties to feed the people. Further expansion would-"

"They can eat war", Emperor Caracalla threw in with an almost diabotical grin, while Acacius got a warning eye from Geta. It was clear that his words weren't the ones both wanted to hear right now.

"Don't worry about things like that, Acacius. You're a military general, your job is to win battles - nothing more. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he answered, even though he hated to hear that he was reduced to this. He'd experienced war and peace alike and therefore he knew about the dangers of continuing this madness. Moments like this really let him question if those maniacs were of the same blood as Septimius Severus.

"But you're right, you've earned yourself at least a bit of rest - one or two weeks. Don't worry, we've taken care about the wellbeing of your family. They got everything they needed and more in our attempt to show our gratitude for your service to the throne. Speaking of which.... we expect you to join us for a great feast tonight - here in the palace. A party to celebrate your victory, it is accompanied by a couple of fights in the arena tomorrow," Geta explained joyfully, while Acatius tried to keep his mask up.

"I am incredibly honored, but would prefer to spend time with family after being away for such a long time."

"The Emperors show you their gratitude and you're insulting us. We expect you to come and you will come", Caracalla hissed with a sudden shift of tone, his eyes staring at Acacius in clear anger, while his brother placed his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. But his staring eyes were warning Acatius once again.

"Of course, we don't just invite you, but your whole family. Bring your wife and... you have a daughter, if i'm not mistaken? We haven't had the pleasure of getting to know her yet, since you never brought her to any festivities. I am sure she will be delighted, if you don't plan on hiding her again."

Acacius stood there in silence, a reaction that made Caracalla burst out into laughter as if he'd just heard the funniest joke from his brother. The respected general didn't even look at him, why should he. Standing here in front of them should've been an honor, yet it felt like a disgrace. They were nothing but spoiled kids with the power of an empire in their hands. And now they even forced him to reveal his dear daughter to them. Something he tried to avoid for too long, knowing fully well about the debauchery and excessiveness of Geta and Caracalla.

"We're waiting for an answer, Acacius?", Caracalla purred with a wide grin on his pale face, revealing his gold tooth.

"It will be an honor to be your guest... together with my daughter."

_____________________________________________

You watched the face of your father sunken away in his thoughts, as you made made your way to the palace in a palanquin carried by a couple of slaves and protected by soldiers. The city was painted in darkness which made the palace seem like a temple with all the lights that welcomed you. It was an exciting moment for an upper-class lady to be a guest at the palace, especially for you, a woman that usually stayed away from the most parties. Not because you wanted to, but because it was an order from your father. You obeyed, yet it bothered you, even more when you'd reached the age of a young woman - the age in which it was expected from you to find a proper husband.

"Why are you so worried, father?", you finally managed to get off your lips, pulling Acacius out of the battle he fought in his head. He couldn't just tell you that he despised all of this and especially the Emperors himself as he couldn't be sure if someone outside this palanquin could hear him. So he simply took your hand and placed a soft and caring kiss on the ring that had been a present for your last name day.

"I guess I'm rather tired than worried. The parties in the palace are always quite excessive, music, dances, feasts... i just came back from the desert and now i have to enjoy all those things", he sighed and looked at you. "And i don't want to stay too long, especially not till the orgy starts. The servants will come and bring us home before that." And even you knew he would rather go and murder Dyonisos himself than allowing his daughter to stay and witness this.

All those words and yet you knew it wasn't everything.

"I'm glad that you take me with you this time. I've only known the imperial palace from afar," you confessed, while you straightened the long, blue dress you wore. It was decorated with all sorts of silver embroidery and jewelry, encapturing the stars and moon. Your long hair was styled by your servant Yanna into a high braid and finalized with a silver diadem. For the first time you really got the chance to make yourself so presentable that you almost felt like a princess. In the end, you were about to meet the Emperors which made it important to look like the woman you were - the daughter of a general. And you also presented his household tonight, because your mother felt sick tonight. She often suffered from migraine, which kept her a prisoner for days sometimes.

"You really look beautiful", your father said to you, it was honest, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes, which you still couldn't grasp. But there was no chance to take this conversation further as the palanquin stopped. Acacius got out first to help you out. He knew the way as it wasn't the first time for him to attent an official ceremony or party here. Through a long corridor you reached a large room with with an open access to the garden terrace facing the beautiful gardens. It was packed with people from the Roman upper-class, wealthy merchants, politicians and military officers, who were accompanied by their wives, sons and daughters. While they chatted and feasted on the large selection of delicious looking food, a group of musicians played their melodies to which professional dancers moved their bodies.

All those private parties at the homes of your friends seemed to vanish straight from your mind, nothing could be compared to what you were seeing now. It nearly took your breath away, while two royals were watching you from the other side of the room.

_____________________________________________

Geta and Caracalla were sitting on a higher ground, which was highly decorated with two golden chaise longues, cushions and velvet drapes. They were accompanied by a selected group of slaves, women and men, who were assigned to bring them anything they wanted, to do anything they wanted.

While Geta was in in a conversation with one of the senators, which clearly bored him according to his facial expressions, it was Caracalla, who noticed the new guest first, while he fed his little monkey Dondus a grape.

"Such a shame that he hid his daughter for so long. She is a gorgeous looking bird, don't you think? ", he whispered to his brother with a mischievous grin, patting his arm so that he would turn his attention to Acacius and you. Geta's eyes quickly went to you, admiring the way your dress hugged the shape of your curves.

"The gods must've sent us Venus herself to honor us with her presence," Geta answered, while an unreadable smile played on his lips. „No wonder our dear General is so protective of her. Is she already promised to someone?“

„Why do you ask me!?“ Caracalla snapped back, as if his brother didn’t know that he had a lot of spies around the city, who delivered him the newest gossip from the streets of Rome. With an annoyed eye roll, he leaned forward, adjusting the golden laurel wreath on his head. „No, she is a blank parchment. Probably untouched too.“

Geta still watched you with an intense interest as if you were a rare diamond, he needed to claim. But he was not the only one in this room, because Caracalla stared at his brother, noticing the way he looked at you. There it was again, the old melody. Whenever he wanted something, Geta wanted it too. They already shared the title of Emperors, their wealth, their whores… It was already something that cooked in him for a long time. But now he had an eye on you and wasn't happy about the fact that Geta might try to get you too.

Before he could even bring this thought to an end, his twin brother Geta already stood up from his chaise lounge and made his way through the crowd, the direction was clear. Caracalla's nose twitched in a mixture of nervousness and anger, and he got up quickly as well, not as gracefully as he wanted to, but he didn’t care. He had to tame the inner urge to backstab his brother before he could even reach you.

_____________________________________________

You still stood at the side of your father sipping on your first goblet of fine wine, while your eyes went over all the different guests and the excessive decor. Your father was sunken in a conversation with another general, Marcus Galbanus, an old friend and brother-in-arms of Acacius. But their conversation quickly stopped as soon as the Emperors approached them. Both your father and Marcus Galbanus lowered their heads and greeted them according to the etiquette, while you curtsied deep. This was the very first time you got the chance to meet the Emperor's of Rome Caracalla and Geta. And given the importance of those two figures, you even felt a little nervous.

"We almost feared you wouldn't show up to your own party, Acacius. But we're happy you made your way here... we already heard that your dear wife lays sick. Please, send her our best wishes. Nonetheless we would be delighted if you could introduce us to your company tonight", Geta demanded in a playful tone, knowing how much Acacius had tried to delay this. Caracalla stood at his side, his staring blue eyes drilled themselves into your appearence. Even though he was a man that had tasted a lot of men and women, one even more sensual than the other, your whole appearence, your face, your lips, your smile, everything - you reached a sentience in his mind that could only be gifted by the gods. The mere thought of having you infected his brain like a curse.

You could sense the tension that raised in your father as if everything in him resisted the situation. Yet he placed his hand softly on your shoulder and did as they wished. "This is my daughter, y/n..."

"I'm honoured to meet the Emperors of Rome", you said in a soft voice, earning you an appreciating smile by Geta and an unreadable grin of Caracalla.

"Oh the pleasure is on our side, my dearest. How do you like this Ceremony in honor of your father's victories?", Geta asked. But before you could even answer, his brother added, while he took another sip of his wine "Your father is a Roman hero through and through, isn't it right Acacius?" His tone had something else in it, almost as if it was some kind of mistrust. But you needed to ignore the irritation you felt and simply nodded.

"It is breathtaking. I've never witnessed something like this and it makes me incredible proud to see the gratitute he earned himself through the love he has for Rome and its people," you answered, trying to remind the Emperor's of Acacius loyality, which was undoubtful.

"Then you'll enjoy the ceremony in the arena tomorrow as well, i'm sure. Please, we invite your father and you to be our guests."

"I don't think that such entertainment is suited for a young woman of her status," your father suddenly interfered in a calm yet set tone, only earning the laugh of Caracalla. "Let your daughter decide for herself, General."

The atmosphere shifted to an unspoken intensity. You could sense your father's worries and given all what you've heard from the colosseum, you didn't really think of it as something worth to witness. Seeing people die in such a terrible way only for the pleasures of the masses seemed like a farce. Acacius always called it the most needless form of brutality amongst humans, he despised this himself and therefore avoided going into the arena whenever he could. But you also read the eyes of Geta and his brother, who waited for your answer and would not accept a simple 'No'.

"It would be an honour," you answered, and Geta leaned forward a bit, which made your father's jaw clench in anger. Not because of your answer, he was aware that a choice was not existing, when facing an Emperor, but because the way the twins looked at you as if you were a price they could simply claim. But you were a smart girl and definitely not naive, so he fully relied on that.

"So this is a 'Yes'?", Geta asked again and you looked him straight in the eyes, not backing off. "Yes."

"Excellent!", Caracalla shouted and clapped into his hands. "We'll have a lot of fun tomorrow."

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched to a smile and he nodded in response to his twin. Yet he hid his displeasure of having him as a rival in this little game. It was clear that Caracalla had layed his eyes on you too, but he won't allow him to simply take and fuck you like you were a common whore. Maybe you could've potential for something more and strenghten his position as well as his popularity. Because both Emperors were still unmarried - and it was expected from them that this would change sooner or later.

[haoetoile]

two of me are cuter - choi seungcheol

word count: 3,467

genre: smut with hints of fluff by the start!

pairing: newly-married!seungcheol x fem!reader

a/n: i went ia bc of the holidays but now i'm back and finally ready to write this account's first smut (honestly idk if this will turn out great but i hope so). this smut is totally dedicated to @euteamomuitocheol (ily <3) and was kinda based in juno by sabrina carpenter. ps: this was not revised before posting!!

contains: you go to his mother's house with your newly-married husband seungcheol for a family reunion and both of you spend some time with your nephews, which leads both of you wanting a baby. reader is described to be much shorter than cheol! smut contains: names (bunny, princess, slut, darling), fingering, oral (m. receiving), nipple play, multiple positions, squirting, mating press, creampie, and filthy language, slight dumbification if you squint (?) , basically, a breeding smut. if i missed any warnings, please let me know!

sat at your vanity, you finished to loosen the last curls you had just done with the babyliss. after that, you inspected carefully all traces of your makeup to see if there was anything unblended or smudged before getting up, there was no need to clean up the vanity now as you could do it once you got back home

to be honest, you always loved to go to seungcheol's family reunions, as his family was very welcoming and supportive to your relationship since the very beginning of it, and his parents treated you like their own child. you also really loved to spend some time with mom, who would often teach you new recipes to cook and find cute and amusing how eager you were to learn seungcheol's likings, she would also show you his baby pictures, and tell stories about him and about how she and her husband fell in love, and not to mention his whole family was very supportive of you, like the time when you graduated law school and when your own family didn't even showed up, they celebrated as if it was one of their own blood who graduated

you were looking now at the full-body mirror in your shared room, fixing your black dress so it was correctly in place and smoothed out, when you felt hands gripping your waist lightly

"you look gorgeous, honey" seungcheol's voice was a bit raspy, making you shiver as his soft lips met your cheek for a peck "i am the luckiest man alive for being able to marry you, my princess"

"such a flatterer" you smiled, laughing softly as you heard him chuckle "i love you so much, cheol" you felt him lean a bit more, trying to kiss you "not now, babe, you'll smudge my lipstick"

...

during the car ride, you felt both nervous and excited to get there. you two haven't been able to see his family for 5 months now, as the honeymoon and the newly-wed life was busying you two much more you'd like. his brother's wife had given birth to a beautiful baby girl two months after your honeymoon started, and a month after, it was their eldest twins' birthday, so you were nervous if they'd be angry about you two missing the festivities or not, and excited to meet the new babies

actually, his family was really glad you two were finally back and were really excited to hear about the italy trip you guys made as a honeymoon and was equally excited to receive the gifts you bought while touring around the country and, of course, try all the different wines you bought

...

after giving away the gifts and telling stories about the trip, you found yourself sitting with his brother's wife, talking a little more about the honeymoon and motherhood, as she held little younghwa, the newest addition to the family

"she grew up a lot already" you nearly jumped as seungcheol back hugged you "i remember when you were pregnant" his voice was soft and gentle as he spoke to his sister-in-law, not wanting to wake up the newborn baby

"she truly did. younghwa's being a blessing, she's actually very calm for a newborn and it's not being hard at all to take care of" the older woman said with a smile on her face as she caressed the top of the baby's head

"i feel like it'd be quite hard to take care of a newborn for what i've heard of" your husband replied

"it's not as hard as it seems, you kind of get the hang of it once you have your own, but i swear it's not hard. here, hold her a bit, you'll see how easy it is" his sister-in-law put the sleeping baby in his arms

fuck, you thought, he looked so hot with a baby in his arms. this shouldn't be having the effect it was on you, the idea of getting pregnant with his child suddenly becoming attractive

"see? it's easy to hold a newborn, you just have to support their head well and make sure they don't fall. so, when are you two having a kid too?" the question made you bite your lip, scared of seungcheol's answer

"it seems a bit earlier to have babies as we're still newlyweds, but y/n and i are currently having some fun trying... right, babe?" you blushed at the question "we had really nice tries in italy"

"seungcheol!" you scolded him in a screamed-whisper, stomping on his feet to not startle the sleeping baby on his arms "you don't say those things in public, specially not in front of your family!" you were pretty sure your face was not pink anymore but bright red, and he laughed softly before apologizing

"but it's funny to see you blushing, love~" he laughed again, handling younghwa back to her mother "come here, let's play with the kids"

he guided you to the yard, where the 4-year-olds were playing with a huge variety of toys that seungcheol's parents set up for when their grandchildren would go there

...

you two played for a couple hours with the kids. seeing seungcheol lift them, play with them, hug them, and be a gentle and loving uncle was not helping at all the baby fever you had just given yourself from seeing him earlier, and as if on cue, your little niece looked at him with big, sparkly eyes

"uncle cheol, when are we having a cousing to play with us?" she was sat on his thigh, and her brother, who was on yours, was quick to nod in agreement – god, it had to be a divine sign, no way everyone would be asking you two about kids if not to finally stop your baby fever with what you wanted the most: getting pregnant

"as soon as possible, bubs. me and auntie y/n are having a long conversation with the stork to deliver a baby as soon as possible to our home~" he used a gentle tone, fixing the little girl's bang before releasing her from his grasp, seeing both her and her brother return him the cutest smiles ever

he was just so gentle with them... the soft-spoken way he'd talk to the kids, the bubbly, cheerful way he'd always have around them, the way he was ever so gentle. fuck, you needed to have his baby so bad you could feel your mind fogging up any other thoughts

...

the way back home was quieter than usual, you two would often make some small talk, but you were just so absorbed and distracted by the thoughts of starting a family of your own with him, you'd barely talk if not to answer him

"baby... is there something wrong?" seungcheol asked in concern, using one of his hands to slowly caress your thigh in a soothing way "you seem awfully quiet now"

"i'm okay, cheol, don't worry" you flashed him a quick smile

"really, bunny?" he used that nickname since you two started dating, and yet it never failed to make you blush "you usually are not that quiet around me" he cocked a brow "is there anything you want to tell me?"

as you opened your mouth to talk, he continued "are you like this because everyone seemed to ask us for a child today?"

"actually... yes" you inhaled deeply "but, like, not in a bad way... i mean... you were just so hot with younghwa in your arms, and the way you treated the twins... god, it's giving me such baby fever" you stuttered a bit and could feel your cheeks turning a light shade of pink, but you were also relieved you could finally share your thoughts with your husband

"is that so, bunny?" he chuckled "well, i suppose it's more than fair i knock you up as soon as possible, then" he smirked, squeezing your thigh gently as he reverse-parked into your assigned parking spot

"c`mon, let's take this to the bedroom, then" seungcheol started leaving open-mouthed kisses to your neck as you were pinned against the elevator wall, not caring if he'd leave bruises or not

you tried your best not to moan, biting your lip as he licked and sucked at your sensitive spot, leaving you helplessly wet by any second with just that

"c-cheol" you panted "not here... someone can see us and there are cameras"

"you're right, bunny... but don't think i won't have my way with you once we're inside" he left a last mark on your neck before pulling away, waiting so the elevator would stop at your floor

once inside, you both stepped out of your shoes, and as soon as possible, you were already in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist as you two were in an intense make out session, tongues fighting each other over dominance, sucking the air out of both lungs. you couldn't help but moan, feeling clouded just from the feeling of his mouth on yours, making you get even wetter, as seungcheol was always a good kisser

before you could even say anything, you were already in the room and sat by the end of the bed, with big, veiny hands undoing the zipper of your dress, exposing the black lacy set you wore just for him

"fuck, you look so pretty..." he groaned in your ear, peppering kisses all the way from your jaw, to your neck, to your collarbone, while his hands lowered the thin straps of the balconette bra, making his way to your breasts

your nipples pert up at his advances, your whole body already on fire from the light touches "how come are you even sexier than usual today, bunny? are you trying to kill me?" the raspy voice made your nipples pert up even more, and you just whined in answer

seungcheol laughed at your reaction, and was quick enough to attach his lips to one of your nipples, while his hands undid the clasp of the bra. once he got them away, one of his hands went up to play with the neglected nipple, pinching and rubbing in the same pace his mouth would lick, suck and gently bite on the other nub

you felt wetter by any second, not being able to hold the moans anymore, and as much as you'd like to ask him to stop teasing you, you knew better than anyone seungcheol wasn't going to stop, so you decided to take off your drenched panties by yourself

as your hands slid down to pull the underwear piece south, his hands were quick to stop yours, and your eyes met his face, which carried on a smirk "that desperate already, are we?" he chuckled again "no need to, princess, i'll take care of you" he assured you

seungcheol's hands caressed your curves slowly, as if they were memorizing your body and registering how it felt to touch it, before he finally pulled down your panties "you look so, so sexy, princess... you look so sexy i'm afraid i'll have to mark you as mine, to make sure no one else looks at my princess" he growled softly, earning a mewl from you

his hands pried your legs open gently, as a contrast to his words, exposing your soaking wet folds to him "are you that wet from thinking about how i'll breed this pussy tonight, bunny?" one of his fingers teased the folds, gathering the moisture and spreading it all over the nether lips

you couldn't even answer him, as when you opened your mouth to, his fingers plunged inside your cunt, with sharp but slow strokes. you couldn't help but moan even louder when his fingers started moving faster, while his thumb circled your clit, he needed to prep you for his cock, but god, he had such skilled fingers, he was able to get you dumb just by fingering you

he added another finger, slowly scissoring them inside you, making your thighs quiver and your moans get more erratic. his pace was relentless, and you could feel the coil on your stomach ready to snap, your hips jerking forward with each thrust

"already that desperate to cum, princess? do i have that much effect on you?" he sucked on your neck, slowing down his pace painfully to tease you

"a-ah... cheol, please...." you whined "please, i'll do whatever you want me to if you let me cum.... please" you were practically fucking yourself on his hand by now, moaning and trying to pull the best doe eyes you could to make him give you what you wanted, and who was seuncheol to deny it? specially when you were begging so cutely and offering to be completely at his mercy

suddenly, his thrusts regain the same pace and strength of before, your mind fogging up completely as you could only moan his name, and it was not long enough before you finally let go to the delicious sensation of the orgasm, his fingers still inside you, helping you ride out the sensation 'till the very last wave

"you said you'd do whatever i wanted if i let you cum, right, bunny?" you nodded, still catching your breath, but his lust-filled tone was already enough to make you as horny as you were before cumming "then come here and suck me off like the good little slut you are"

he was quick to strip off his clothes, and you looked attentively as he took each piece of clothing, his hard cock bobbing up against his stomach as he sat down with his back pressed against the headboard

you got on all fours, quickly taking his thick length on your hands, stroking lightly before finally wrapping your lips around him, earning a half moan half groan from the man

"f-fuck, princess... such a good fucking mouth" one of his hands gripped a handful of your hair

you bobbed your head against his length, feeling wetter and wetter as you tried your best to give him a good head, using your hands to stroke him whenever you had problems to fit him entirely inside your mouth. seungcheol was a moaning mess under you, his hips jerking against your face and the grip on your hair like iron

but suddenly, he removed his dick from your mouth, using your hair to do so, and flipped you over, pressing you against the mattress in a not-so-gentle motion. he was being rough but gentle at the same time, and you couldn't deny you were loving it

"such a good little slut, getting my cock all nice and wet... fuck, i'm so lucky you are mine, only mine" he growled, rubbing his tip all over your fold teasingly "i'm going to breed you, to fill you up with my cum and make sure you carry my babies, i am going to fuck you tonight until we're sure i've knocked you up" his words sent a wave of heat through your entire body, making you shiver in expectation, the thought of carrying his child becoming more and more tempting, driving you wild with desire

"p-please... breed me, cheol.... leave me all stuffed with your cum, please" you could only whine, pushing your hips backwards, trying to earn a bit more contact with his shaft, but seungcheol only growled in response, one of his hands moving from your hips to your hair, pressing you against the mattress even more as he buried himself inside your warm walls, the contact making you both moan loudly

he was just so big, you could feel his tip tease and caress your g-spot relentlessly, as he slammed into you with a nearly animalistic ferocity, groaning and dirty-talking to you all the time, but honestly, you were already too lost in pleasure to assimilate his words, being able to moan his name only

even though you were pressed against the mattress, you were still loud, so seungcheol flipped you over, turning you both to a missionary position, where he could swallow each one of your moans, not wanting to get expelled from the apartment you two had just bought

his hips slammed against yours even faster, as he kissed you and his hands roamed against your body, holding your hips, squeezing your thighs, squeezing your breasts, and teasing your nipples. the coil on your stomach was ready to snap again as he deliciously fucked you senseless

"f-fuck... breed me, cheol, please" you whined in a needy way, making him groan audibly

"you're so perfect like this, bunny, begging for me to breed you like the good wife you are, begging to be full of my cum" his lips found your neck, suckling more marks

"cheol... i-i can't hold it anymore, fuck....." you whined "i-i'm gonna cum!" you moaned

"then come for me, darling" he sped up the pace, moaning against your ear as he continued to fuck you senseless

you couldn't hold for long, but you knew he still needed to cum, so even after an intense orgasm, you let him continue to fuck you, his self-control long forgotten, specially as the new tightness of your pussy squeezing him was driving him even crazier

"you're going to take my cum very well, right? you'll need it a lot to grow our child, darling" fuck. the raspy, teasing tone was enough to make you wetter again, and you nodded, digging your nails on his broad shoulders as his thrusts started to get sloppier, signaling he was closer and closer to the edge

not long after, he shot his load inside you in a large quantity, slowly pulling out once he rode out the aftershocks of his also intense orgasm. he looked down at your swollen, fucked pussy, oozing out his load, and before he could even think, he felt the blood rush down to his cock once again, making him groan

seungcheol sat down again with his back pressed against the headboard, smirking knowingly as he saw how wet you were becoming to see his hard-on again

"princess, you're starting to leak out my cum.... how do you expect to have my babies if you keep doing this?" he chuckled "come here...." he beckoned you "i think it's about time i breed you again, just to make sure you'll get out of here throughly knocked up"

you understood his signal, and quickly straddled his lap, aligning his shaft with your wetness. he slid even better than the first time, his own sperm functioning as lube, you started to ride him slowly, picking up the pace gradually as you rolled your hips against his deliciously

the new position made it seem like he was even bigger, caressing your cervix in a way he had your eyes rolling, making you bounce on his cock like you never would do it again, while his mouth latched at one of your breasts again

suddenly, it all became too much again, and you were already crying out his name loudly, your hips losing pace as seungcheol's hands were the ones making the motion of bouncing you on his cock now, and before you could even warn him, your pussy became as tight as possible, gripping him like a vice

"fuck, bunny.... you'll kill me like this, that slutty pussy's suffocating my cock" he groaned, bouncing you even harder as he knew you were about to cum

you were so lost in pleasure and ecstasy, you gave all of you to continue bouncing on his cock until the coil finally snapped again, making you gush out the warm, transparent liquid of your cum

"f-fuck... did you just squirted, baby?" he groaned, shooting his load inside you once again "fucking hell, that was the sexiest thing i've ever seen" he moaned

...

after cleaning up (which he basically did all by himself, as you could barely walk, legs like jelly after such an intense session), you both laid on the bed, cuddling and thinking about the future

"i really hope you get pregnant, y/n. i can't wait to see a baby who look just like you or me running around this apartment" he was over the moon with just the thought alone, and that was the cutest, and also most attractive thing you've ever seen him do

"you're so cute, cheol" you laughed

"yeah, but two of me would definitely be even cuter, don't you agree, honey?" he booped your nose

"i agree, i agree 100%" you smooshed him, making you both giggle "i love you so much, my husband"

"i love you too, princess" he kissed you passionately "but i need to make sure you really are throughly bred" he flashed you a smirk, and that's where you were sure you still had a long night ahead

[strawbeerossi]

Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Spencer is awake late at night while you're peacefully asleep. That's when he's reminded about a few little agreements you've had.

Content/Warnings: Course language, brief masturbation (m), consensual somnophilia, fingering (f rec), unprotected sex, creampie.

Word Count: 1.3K

Kinktober Day Seventeen: Somnophilia

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Spencer spent his time at work more often than not, which you understood how important his job was to him. You’d known the inside and out of the job and all the darkness hidden within it, so you always gave an overwhelming amount of love and support. There was a lot of patience and trust placed within one another, your husband knowing that you were always going to be there for him and that he should show he would always be there for you as well. You never expected anything big out of him after cases, just willing to hold him and let him cry into your shoulder if the cases were overwhelming for him. 

It had been three days since Spencer was home from one of his cases, the both of you laying in bed alongside one another as the both of you were looking forward to a good night's sleep. Spencer wasn’t getting much of it though, his head against his pillow while your soft breaths from peaceful sleep filled the room. With an arm behind his head, the male sighed in frustration. Insomnia hit him hard on nights like this one, when you fell asleep first and couldn’t exactly hold him due to you being dead to the world. 

He had contemplated reading, however he knew the light would wake you up and irritate you. He definitely didn’t need a cranky version of you being angry at him for the remainder of the night and even the next day. So, he reverted back to his usual ways of making himself tired. His hands were slowly pulling his half-hard cock out of his boxers as he let his eyes flutter shut. Thankfully for eidetic memory, he could practically watch any past sexual encounter with you in his head like a dirty movie. Right now, he had a specific night in mind. 

You’d been desperate and he was asleep, due to a previous talk of boundaries and consent for certain actions, you decided to try something new. He could remember his eyes slowly blinking open and being met with your face twisted with ecstasy, hands resting against his chest as your desperate and leaking cunt was embracing his cock while your hips were feverishly rutting against his. It showed how much you needed him, even getting to the point where you fucked him as he slept just to not disturb his sleep.

Just the mere thought of your tits in clear view of his gaze had Spencer letting out a low groan. He was fully erect now, his hand fisting at his cock as he let his mind continue replaying the same moments that so graciously flooded his brain. He’d continued with his movements before glancing over at you, the moonlight seeping in from the drapes shining against your sleeping silhouette. It gave him an idea, one that sent another rush of blood to his cock as he was slowing his movements with his hand. Gently tugging the duvet and sheets back, he was looking over your body.

You were wearing a silk lilac nightgown, one of his favorites. It was like you did this on purpose, as if you knew your husband would have an insomnia spell. With his hand coming up to his mouth, he was popping two of his fingers into his mouth as he was scooting towards you more. His free hand was sliding under the tempting nightgown, his hand slowly tugging down your panties as he kept his gaze on you. He wanted to see how long he could drag this out without waking you. After getting the cloth barrier out of his way, Spencer was using one of the slick fingers to slowly push into your cunt. The touch had your sleeping form let out a breath, the long digit being welcomed as your walls were squeezing around it. 

He slowly thrusted his finger, a soft groan leaving his lips as you were responding well, probably having your dream taking a sharp turn as he was fucking you with his pointer finger. Your arousal was starting to coat his finger, the male smirking as he gently pushed in a second finger, a moan now falling out of your lips as you were shifting in place. The way your sleeping face twisted in ecstasy had your husband grinning as he pressed a few kisses along your shoulder. As his fingertips were brushing against the spongy button deep inside of you,your body was reacting accordingly as your thighs clenched around his hand, still assuming this was a dream as you were rocking your hips against his fingers. 

“Poor desperate girl..” Spencer whispered while continuing to prod your needy cunt with the two long digits. Whenever he’d had enough waiting though, he’d carefully pulled his fingers out of your hole before bringing them up to his lips to clean your essence off of them.

There were desperate whines escaping your lips at the feeling of emptiness, your hips attempting to rock back. “Shh, I know.” Spencer murmured in your ear, one hand gently lifting one of your legs, his free hand helping adjust his cock at your leaking hole that was clenching around nothing. As the thick tip of his throbbing cock was slowly pushing into your warmth, you were letting out a breathy moan in your sleeping state, hand instinctively reaching back to grip at the back of your husband’s head as you were both still in the spooning position. 

As your pussy swallowed his cock whole, he was letting his lips press a few kisses against your neck as he was slowly letting his hips rut into yours. Now it only took a few good strokes before you were blinking awake, hand lightly pulling at the curls that you had a handful of. “Good morning to you too.” You whispered, drowsiness in your voice as you were moving to rock your hips back against his.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He murmured against your skin, hand moving to squeeze your hip. “Was jerking off and then i remembered that your sweet pussy would be waiting for me.” He lightly bit down on the flesh of your neck that made a moan fall from your parted lips. “Mm, I’m not complaining. I love being stuffed with your cock.” The filthy words leaving your lips had your husband groaning, head lifting. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” He spoke through pants and whines, his thrusts speeding up as his hand was wrapping around your body, large hand taking one of your tits into his hand before giving a rough squeeze. 

As the rhythmic sound of your skin smacking against one another filled the room along with your combined sounds of pleasure, it hadn’t been long until you could feel Spencer’s hand trail between your legs, finger finding your clit with ease as he massaged the desperate bud. He was close and you were too.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You spoke through moans, his hips thrusting snapping harder into yours as he nodded. “M-me too.” He’d stated the obvious, working to bring you to orgasm first. The feeling of your walls tightly clenching around him was enough to make his cock twitch inside of you before painting your inner walls with ribbons of his cum, hips slowly coming to a stop. 

After he was pulling out of you, he couldn’t help but lift the sheets to look at your cunt, which had been stuffed with his cum to the point where it was leaking down your thighs. “We should get you cleaned up. Plus you have to pee.” He panted, moving to rub your hip while tugging back the sheets for you to get up. “I’m going to take a shower, care to join me?” You’d asked, legs wobbling slightly as you stood from your shared bed. 

You didn’t have to ask him twice, the male sliding out of bed before he was heading over to pick you up with a smile. “Not too long though,” He began, a yawn now falling from his lips.

“I’m ready to pass out.”

[haveihitanerve]

The comments were usual. Frequent even. Bruce bore them all with a smile, either acting like a bored teenager forced to attend the events he had planned, or blushing, sculpting the Brucie persona before he had even reached his twenties. 

“Oh Brucie!!!” They would twitter at him, women and men alike, pawing at his arms, his shoulders, chest, some even boldly reaching for his ass, snaking an arm around him, pulling him closer. “You look delicious baby.” They’d murmur, pur, coo over him. 

Alfred would get rightfully angry over the comments, when Bruce told him, but after the anger led to nothing, Bruce stopped coming home with the stories. He just went to bed, showering off all the handprints and touches. 

And then Dick came along.

“Bruuuuuuuuuce!” The nine year old whined, hissing the ending syllable like a snake. “I wanna gooooo!!!” Bruce chuckled lightly, fixing his cuffs in the mirror. 

“I highly doubt it chum.” He murmured, glancing over at his ward, seated on the foot of his bed. Dick pouted, the full package; lip out and arms crossed, and Bruce laughed, walking over to grab his tie and ruffle the boys hair. 

“Its a boring Gala, bud. Not too exciting.” Dick huffed, watching as Bruce expertly wound the tie around his neck, swinging the sides over and through. 

“Its a pARty!” He pointed out. “And I wanna go.” Bruce hummed to show he was listening, buttoning up the bottom two buttons of his suit, before letting his hands drop to his side. 

He sighed. “Do you want to wear a suit?” Dick’s eyes sparked up with excitement before he wrinkled his nose. 

“Do I hafta?” He complained. Bruce laughed, turning to face him. 

“Yes. Its a formal event. Suit, or you’re not coming.” The threat of a suit made the words take a moment to sink in, but once they did Dick rocketeded across the room, flying into Bruce’s arms. 

“For real???” He squealed, all excitement and little kid energy. “Hell yeah!” He bolted out the door to his own room before Bruce could so much as open his mouth to chide “language.” 

The car ride over was a new level of annoyance Bruce didn't know existed, as Dick bounced around in his seat, eagerly looking out the window for the first glimpse of his first “real adult party”. Still, he couldn't help but smile at Dick's unbridled joy.  

Hank, Bruce’s chauffeur, bore all of it with a smile, regaling Dick with stories of picking up Bruce when he was a teenager, and all the college hell, while Dick cackled and Bruce rolled his eyes. But, then again, Hank had his own three kids at home, and was marginally more used to the watts of energy than Bruce was. 

“Here ya are Mr. Wayne.” Hank finally cut off all of Dick’s peppering questions about Bruce’s college stories, a relief, as Hank was really getting into the bad stuff, or in Dicks mind, the good stuff, and Bruce hopped out, opening the door for his son. “Thank you!” Dick twittered as he leapt out, waving. 

Hank chuckled, dipping his hat. “Of course Mr. Wayne, hope you have a fun night.” Dick grinned back, and it surprised Bruce that he was so okay with hank calling him “Wayne.” But, then again, his boy and the driver seemed to have an easier relationship. Bruce certainly wasn't going to call him out. 

It did something to him, flooded his body with something heavy and warm, to hear Dick be called “Wayne”. Maybe a primal thing, an old animal instinct, the need to claim and own and have Dick. Dick was his son, maybe not by blood, but by… everything and anything Dick allowed him to have. 

“B!” Dick chirped, already a few feet up the steps, a frown on his face as he looked back. Bruce realized he’d been lost in thought at the side of the road. 

“Coming chum.” He agreed quickly, hurrying to his wards side before the entered. 

“Woah.” Dick breathed, the second they breached the door, and Bruce silently agreed. Gala’s weren’t fun for a plethora of reasons, but they were always beautiful. 

Almost immediately though, camera’s swarmed him, not only flashes of light but also of sickeningly white teeth, too wide mouths, pale skin pawing for his attention. 

“Brucie, darling!!!” One man twittered, and they successfully separated them, dragging Bruce over to one gaggle of rich twats while a few others circled Dick. Dick seemed to be taking it remarkably well, nodding politely and smiling, shaking hands, but his eyes darted to Bruce every few seconds, questions in his eyes. 

“Excuse me-” Bruce brushed past his virus of people and forced his way beside Dick, kneeling so he was at eye level.

“Everything alright?” he murmured quietly, tucking Dick into his space, warding off others. He almost wanted to say “i told you so” but figured it’d only do more harm than good. Pointing it out when Dick was clearly overwhelmed would not be helpful, or nice in any capacity. 

Dick nodded, shoulders imperceptibly dropping in relief as he allowed himself to be caged by Bruce’s body. “Y-yeah. Fine. Better now.” Bruce let the unspoken words hang between them, “-that you’re here”, and nodded instead, standing. 

“Stay close.” he flicked his fingers and Dick obediently stepped closer, pushing into Bruce’s space with hardly a thought.

And, Bruce realized quietly, he didn't mind either. Having people in his space… touch had never been his thing, after his parents death. Especially not when that touch came from unsympathetic elites after his parents money. But with Dick… it was, easier. Nice. 

The rest of the night went by a little better, and Dick even stepped away a few feet, always close by, but straying enough that he wasn't hiding behind Bruce’s legs. In his shadow. It was then that it happened. 

“Oh aren’t you just beautiful.” The words came from Mrs. Braught, a well known widow with enough wealth to compete with the Drakes, if not Waynes. She was… known for her affinity to younger men, boys, really, and Bruce had only managed to not make the cut because he had known, as a boy, and avoided her, and wasn’t as “appealing” to her, due to his depression. 

Dick stiffened slightly at the words, but still offered her a smile, polite, as always. The reaction made Bruce relax marginally. He was okay, he was handling it, just like Bruce had. 

But… but Dick’s smile was strained, his shoulders inching near his ears, and there was a definite tilt to him, a lean away from Braught that was easy to miss. But not to Bruce. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Bruce was at his wards side- no, in front of him, shoving Dick behind his legs. Dick stumbled, lightly, at the sudden push, but quickly straightened, grabbing the back of Bruce’s coat. The trembling Bruce could feel through the fabric was enough to make him see red. 

The Brucie persona was gone, slipping off without a singe thought, fast enough that Bruce wondered for a fraction of a second if it had even been on when he had entered the Gala, and Bruce realized it wasn't just Dick’s hand trembling, but Bruce’s whole body. 

His fists curled, hard enough that his knuckles turned white, jaw clenched to the point where his teeth squeaked, entire body quivering with rage. 

Mrs. Braught glanced up, surprised, almost caught off guard even, as she realized Brucie Wayne wasn't there for a pleasant hello, but Bruce was there, a man- no, a father, furious at what was being said about his son. 

Bruce could hear, faintly, as though through water, people beginning to whisper, eyes wide as the elites gathered around, no one bold enough to step in, and no one truly believing Brucie would do anything. 

Bruce didn't care. Dick was his, and he would not allow the traumas of the past to repeat, though he had failed to stop him from being orphaned. No more. He vowed, hands fisting at his sides. He had failed Dick in the one, true way that mattered, keeping his family, but he would not fail him any other way. Not in the ways Bruce was failed. 

His hand began to move back on its own accord, when a tiny, stubborn hand caught it, grabbed his wrist. Bruce looked down in surprise to find Dick staring up him solemnly, shaking his head.

Before Bruce could say something, another woman, another widow Bruce recognized as Mrs. Kershaw, stepped forward, fire bright in her weathered eyes. 

“You go on and git out of here Gertrude, before I tar your hide.” She hissed, and Bruce recalled how her own daughter had been raped and murdered when she had been barely thirteen. Gertrude knew it too, and backed away, scurrying for the exit. Mrs. Kershaw made sure she left, eyes kind when she glanced at Bruce, a subtle nod of solidarity her only acknowledgement. 

Dick tugged on his hand, but Bruce ignored him, sending a viscous glare at anyone who dared step too close. 

“Dad.” Dicks voice was soft, so soft, but proud too, grateful. That finally dragged Bruce from his never ending anger, and he looked down. Down at those wide blue eyes, that head of messy black curls.

“Come on Dad.” Dick whispered quietly, eyes darting around nervously at all the people, the cameras, but always going back to Bruce. Meeting his eyes. 

Bruce bent down and scooped his son into his arms, uncaring of who saw, who cared. He blocked his son off from the world, heading for the exit, one of the waitstaff, Aisha, nodding at him to inform him Hank had been called. 

“Thanks Dad.” Dick murmured, face buried against Bruce’s neck, and Bruce’s arms tightened around him, heading out into the streets of Gotham with his son cradled to his chest. 

“I’ll always protect you chum.” He swore, and something in his heart lightened at the Justice he was doing for his son, but also for his younger self. “I will always protect you.” 

thanks to @frownyalfred and @astorianyxkings for the idea!

[venusbyline]

Sleep ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 26, oct.

(late post) Prequel to Nine Moons

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x twin sister!reader

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: creampie

— summary: Jacaerys was determined to make you his wife, forcing his mother to marry him to you, even against her will. Or against your will too.

— word count: 1.3k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 26th day, female!reader, dark!Jacaerys, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, creampie, Targcest (twin brother/twin sister), dubcon somnophilia, rape/non-con, vaginal sex, breast worship, butt worship, breeding kink, degradation, praise kink, corruption kink, loss of virginity, blood licking, squirting, cum eating, cum swallowing, dacryphilia, crying, watersports, doggy style position, minor Jacaerys Velaryon/Baela Targaryen, Referenced Targaryen/Velaryon Incest (cousins), implied/referenced cheating, underage sex, ambiguous/open ending, non-consensual drug use (herbal tea), drugged sex, forced orgasm, forced pregnancy, marriage of convenience mentioned, butt slapping, biting, hair-pulling, manipulation, sexism, possessive behavior, implied breastfeeding kink, implied lactation kink, implied pregnancy kink, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, dark content, sadism, dom!Jacaerys, sub!reader, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @dearjardim

— crossposting: AO3

— high valyrian words used: Idaña (twin), Hāedar (younger sister), Lēkia (older brother), Muña (mother).

Jacaerys was fed up with his mother's stubborn and boring behavior. Rhaenyra's refusal to break off his betrothal with Baela and refusing to let him marry you, his twin sister, was only making the fucking war even more stressful. As if the death of his little brother Lucerys was not enough, Jace still had to deal with Baela's constant interference against his angry thoughts and the fact that she did not understand why he hated these stupid Dragonseeds so much. It was easy for someone who was children of a Targaryen King Consort and a Velaryon princess to say he was being too arrogant or spoiled.

Either way, Jacaerys did not want a damn betrothed who was barely fit to support him during the outbursts. Even though she was extremely delightful and an excellent warrior, Jacaerys needed more. He needed a caring wife. And he knew you could play the role very well.

His anger towards Rhaenyra and Daemon was growing, to the point where he sometimes wished that his mother would actually recover her rightfully Iron Throne, but only because then he could rule the Seven Kingdoms soon.

He asked and even begged his mother to change the betrothal, explaining that the bond between the two of you had grown since Luke's murder and he needed you. Unfortunately, Rhaenyra remained a woman of her word, refusing to change the agreement.

Perhaps it was really a spoiled and cruel attitude on Jace's part, but he was determined to make you his wife, forcing his mother to marry him to you, even against her will. Or against your will too.

"Idaña, please..." Your whimper sounded too loud for both of your own good and Jacaerys whispered for you to moan lower, his large hand went straight to your mouth, sticking his index, middle and ring finger there to muffle the sounds that followed as he continued to slowly move his hips back and forth.

Each time he took himself out and put it back in, Jacaerys enjoyed the sight of his cock wet with your juices and also the blood of your innocence, as well as the sight of your voluptuous ass shaking when he fucked you a little rougher than before. He was trying his best to be careful with you, taking advantage of your drowsy dubious consent. Of course he did not want to hurt or scare his little twin sister in any way. He just wanted to left you filled with his seed, making your future heir growing in that soft womb.

"Shhh, Hāedar... You do not want to wake up our mommy, do you?" Jace murmured, pressing his bare sweaty chest against your white satin nightgown-covered back. He really wanted to rip that stupid fabric off and fuck his sister until you barely remember your own name. Until you beg for his cock. Until you were practically brainless. "Mother does not want me to marry you. But you want to marry me, do not you want to, my dear?"

Jace's question made you moan incoherent words around his hand, impossible for him to understand anything, so he took his three fingers out of your lips, wet with your spit and stuck them in your head, pulling your dark wavy hair just like his, despite the difference from length. You were like a reflection of him. The hair, the eyes, the nose... You were like a pure and innocent version of Jacaerys, the version he could never be. You were a true pure soul. You were everything he should have been and he was everything you could become.

He fucked you deeper, slapping your buttocks hard and making you scream softly, while he took the opportunity to pull your hair back, leaving your neck exposed to nibble and kiss. "Answer me, little sister. Do you want to marry me? Do you want to carry the future King or Queen of the Iron Throne inside your belly? Do you want me to turn you into a Muña?"

Perhaps it was your still slightly asleep state, perhaps it was how his cock was fucking you too fast and brutally for your virgin cunt to handle, or perhaps it was the special herbs that Jacaerys had put in your drink during dinner... But you just could not say no to him. You did not even want to say no. All that was going through yourself mind was that Jacaerys needed to keep doing what he was doing, even if it hurt so bad.

"Do you want me to breed you, sister? Beautiful little dark-haired babies sucking milk from your breasts while I sit on the Throne?" His question did not get a verbal response, however, Jace understand it as agreement due to the way your walls tightened around his member. "That is, that is my fucking good little girl... So innocent and obedient." Jace growled between moans, taking his hand out of your head and moving it to the softness of your clothed breast, squeezing roughly over the fabric. "You are taking me so well, Idaña. You are going to look so beautiful pregnant with our children. I am going to fuck my seed into you every year, I will never get tired of that warm and tight little cunt..."

You cried out and felt a sequence of slaps on your ass again, noises so loud that the entire castle was probably already hearing you two. "Lēkia... S-stop... I need to pee!" You suddenly screamed groggily when you felt your lower belly start to ache. You hoped Jacaerys would stop what he was doing and release you, but all he did was chuckle mockingly and grip your hips tighter. "PLEASE, JACE! Brother, please... I really need to pee right now!"

Even though you could not see Jacaerys' face because he was fucking you from behind, but you felt his breath in your ear, his teeth nibbling on your earlobe before he purred. "Then do it." He teased hornily. "I am your twin and some minutes older than you. Also, I am the one who will be the future King, so I am ordering you to do it."

Your eyes widened, coming out a little of your sudden trance and drowsy state when Jace continued holding your hip with one arm, but brought the other to your belly, pressing hard on the place where your bladder was. Tears began to fall desperately from your face and you struggled under your twin brother body, the hot liquid wetting the sheets and both of your legs and the Jace's too. "Well... I thought princesses and big girls did not piss on themselves. Now I guess I was wrong, you are a cute bedwetter, my dear. That was so horny."

The mockery turn everything more shameful and you sobbed, just crying when your cunt began to spasm intensely until you came, a clearer liquid splashing out before you fell face down on the pillow completely, your consciousness fading for a while after the orgasm and something else.

You did not know how long you were unconscious. Probably just for five or ten minutes. When your eyes opened with difficulty, you were still breathing heavily, your face pressed into your soft pillow, hearing Jacaerys growl and feeling him pull his cock out of you after his release, spreading your buttocks to enjoy the view of your bruised ass and reddish and sore cunt, full of cum and drops of your blood and wet with your own pee and your sudden squirt.

"Both of us will hope my seed catches as soon as possible. Right, Hāedar?"

You sniffled and nodded, not protesting when Jace pushed his finger into your sensitive hole and brought it to your lips, forcing you to lick up the disgusting mixture as he smirked, stroking your dark hair too. "My dear little sister. My true future betrothed and wife. You will be such a good mother." He placed a kiss on your shoulder, caressing your sore ass and laying down next to you, ignoring your confused and sleepy cries. "Seven Hells, do not be pathetically dramatic. Just go back to sleep, dear sister. Go back to sleep and then we can rule Westeros together very soon, I promise this to you. Nothing will separate us, not even Mother, Daemon or Baela. Not even you."

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 10: Treat Me Gently

Summary: You and Price take your relationship to the next level. It might be the best decision you've ever made.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral, first time sex, unprotected(ish) sex, reader has an implant, creampie, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, the author is a bit rusty writing smut.

A/N: It's finally here. It's finally arrived, the moment we've all been waiting for! Uh, yeah, it's mostly badly written smut with just a little plot thrown in there. So...I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

Your attention is pulled from your book as the couch sinks on either side of you, two bodies joining you. You glance up from your book as an arm drapes itself across the back of the couch behind you. Your eyes flicker between Gaz and Johnny, mischievous grins on their faces. 

“We heard you have a date this weekend.” Gaz says, leaning in closer. 

Your face warms at his words. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call it a date...” 

“What are you wearing?” Gaz asks. 

“Do ye have anythin’ to wear?” Johnny asks. 

Their questions give you pause. The most formal thing you have are jeans and, though you doubt Price would care if you showed up in sweatpants, you would like to have something nice to wear. 

“Come on.” Gaz says, slapping your thigh before standing. “We’re going shopping.” 

“What?” You glance between him and Johnny as they stand over you. 

“Already got permission from Price.” Johnny says. “So come on.” He grabs your hands, lifting you to your feet easily. “Let’s get goin’, kitten.” 

Your cheeks warm at the pet name, Johnny’s hand settling on your lower back to steer you from the rec room. You don’t have much of a choice but to follow, grabbing a couple things from your room before you leave the barracks with them to a car parked outside. It’s different from the car you and Price had taken to town last weekend. Of course, they probably all have their own vehicles, or at least a few at their disposal. 

“I’m driving.” Gaz says, plucking the keys from Johnny’s hand. 

“Aww, ye never let me drive!” Johnny pouts. 

“Yeah, because with our luck you’ll traumatize her so badly, she’ll never want to leave again.” Gaz says, opening the driver’s side door. 

You can’t help but giggle at the dejected look on Johnny’s face as you get into the back, Johnny muttering the entire way to the passenger side. 

“I’m no’ that bad of a driver.” Johnny says, buckling his seatbelt. 

“Yeah, but both you and Simon seem to be in agreement that the speed limit is a suggestion, not a law.” Gaz says as he turns on the car. “I’d like to make it there and back in one piece, thank you. Besides, Price would have both our heads if anything happened to our girl on our watch.”

Your cheeks warm as you meet Gaz's gaze through the rear view mirror. Your heart flutters at the look in his eyes, the dedication and protectiveness shining in them. 

“I wouldnae let anything happen to ye.” Johnny says, reaching back to squeeze your knee for a moment. 

You stare out the window of the car as Gaz drives towards town, half listening to the conversation in the front seat. You're beginning to recognize landmarks, buildings, areas between the base and town despite it only being your second trip. They'd be proud of you, you think. At least if something happened, you'd be able to give a landmark. 

The farmlands fade into the city and soon Gaz is parking on the street in front of a shop. You take Gaz's hand as he helps you out of the car, lacing your fingers together. Soap holds the door to the shop open, letting you and Gaz walk through first. 

It's a nice boutique filled with all sorts of formal wear. You wonder how they even knew about this place, or if they had done some research beforehand. Both make you feel honored that they would even go to those lengths just for you. 

They are going to be your pack soon. 

Packs do this sort of thing for each other. They take care of each other, spoil each other, make each other happy. It’s hard to be a good pack if one member is unhappy. 

“Good afternoon.” One of the workers approaches you. “My name is Emily. Is there something I can help you find today?” 

“Our omega has a date with our alpha this weekend.” Gaz says, smiling down at you. “She needs something to wear.” 

The worker, Emily, smiles at you. “How exciting! Did you have anything in mind? Style, color, anything like that?”

“Probably nothing too fancy,” You say, eyeing the racks. “And, probably a dress.”

“Alright, we've got lots of options for that. Let's take a look and you can try some on.” Emily says. 

Gaz keeps hold of your hand as you follow Emily through the racks, looking at some of the options. Johnny goes off on his own, perusing the racks himself. 

“Is there a certain color you have in mind?” Emily asks you.

You hum in contemplation, looking at the many racks. You're not sure what color Price would like, or if he even has a favorite. 

“His favorite color is blue, like a dark navy blue.” Johnny answers for you. “Though, I think he'd like you in any color.” 

You can't help the way your cheeks warm a bit at Johnny's words. You realize you don't even know their favorite colors. There's still so much about them that's a mystery to you. 

“What's your favorite color?” You ask, looking up at Gaz. 

“I don't think I have just one.” He says, running his hand over a sequin covered dress on the rack in front of you “I like warm colors. Reds, oranges, purples.”

“Like a sunset.” You say, looking at a tag on one of the dresses, nearly choking at the price. 

Gaz gently removes the tag from your hand, giving you a look as you meet his gaze. “Don't even worry about it, love.” He says quietly, leaning down to kiss your cheek. 

“My favorite color is green.” Johnny says, appearing next to you suddenly. 

“Let me guess, Ghost’s is black.” You say. 

Johnny's mouth twitches. “Now how'd you come to guess that?” 

You shrug, unable to hide your grin. “Call it intuition.” 

Emily takes you to the changing rooms, the boys taking seats outside to wait for you to try on the dresses you've chosen so far. You pick a sleeveless, blue, knee-length dress first with a ruched skirt. You already don't like it, but you know the guys will want to see it regardless. 

You feel nervous, strangely exposed as you step out of the dressing room and make your way to where the guys are sitting. They both straighten up as you approach, Johnny’s eyes immediately on your legs. Gaz let's out a low whistle as his eyes scan your figure, ending on your legs as well. 

“What?” You ask concerned as you stare down at your own legs thinking the worst, like how you might have missed a spot shaving or something. 

“Nothin’ love,” Gaz says, unable to lift his gaze from your legs. “Just never seen you in anything but long pants before.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. It's true, the climate had yet to allow for anything but long pants. Even to sleep, you found yourself too cold without long sleep pants. 

“Christ, you've got gorgeous legs, kitten.” Soap says, letting his eyes trail your form. “Keepin’ those hidden from us?” 

Your face feels like it's on fire as they stare at you, and quickly turn to face the large mirror across from them in an attempt to steady the butterflies in your stomach. 

“What do you think?” Emily asks, stepping up next to you. 

“It's a little too...churchy for a date.” You say smoothing your hands over the skirt. “Definitely need something fancier than this.”

You try on a few of the others, but none of them are right. Too short, too long, too formal, not formal enough. Johnny brings you more to try, a couple sticking out, but you're not sold on any of them. 

The last dress you have yet to try on catches your eye as you pull it off the hook. It's a deep blue color, almost black. It's long sleeved and covers your front entirely, but the back is open. It's short, the skirt hem long enough to cover your ass, but you wouldn't dare bend over. It hugs your figure, accentuating the curves and lines of your body. 

Your cheeks are warm as you step out of the changing room, both Gaz and Johnny going slack-jawed as they stare at you. Even Emily looks in awe as you stand in front of them. 

“I think you've found the one, love.” Gaz says, his eyes trailing your form. “Give us a spin.”

You do a slow turn, not missing the way their eyes widen in the mirror when they see the back, Johnny still frozen as you turn back to face them. 

“How do you feel?” Emily asks, stepping up to you. 

“Good.” You say, your face still warm. “Really good.”

“Yeah,” She says, looking you over. “I think you've hit the mark with this one. Let me grab shoes and we'll put the whole look together.”

You turn to face the mirror as she steps away, your eyes meeting Gaz's as he steps up to you. 

“You look fantastic, love.” He says, leaning in close over your shoulder, his breath fanning your ear. Goosebumps form on your skin as his fingers slowly trail up the line of your spine. “Price is going to want to devour you instantly as soon as he sees you in this one.”

You shiver at his words, biting your lip as his fingers splay out across your upper back. “You think so?”

There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “He won't be able to keep his hands off you. Gonna drive him insane, making him sit through dinner looking like a delicious dessert.” 

You fear you might start smoking from how warm you feel, glad for Emily's reappearance. You try on the shoes she brings, opting for the shorter heels for the sake of your own dignity. 

Johnny distracts you as Gaz pays for the items, spending far too much on you but neither will let you complain. It's what they're supposed to do. 

They are your pack after all. 

“What about lingerie?” Johnny asks, turning to look at you as you sit in the car. 

Your face burns at his question. You hadn't thought about that bit. 

“Gotta dress up the whole fit.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“Lay off her, perv.” Gaz says, smacking Johnny's chest. “He's right though, gotta make sure the whole outfit matches.”

You feel like you might implode in the backseat. You might not make it to Saturday at this rate. 

You wake early on Saturday. You don't have to be up early. There's nothing going on until tonight, no need for you to rise earlier than the sun. Yet, you can't help the anticipation burning in your stomach, the nervous fluttering in your chest. Tonight you're going to sleep with Price for the first time. Tonight you'll allow him closer than you've ever allowed anyone. 

You have an outfit, you have fancy underwear, even new shoes. You're not sure how you want to wear your hair. You're not sure on makeup either, though Price has seen you plenty without it and has yet to offer any complaints. 

You grab your phone, laying in bed and scrolling hair tutorials until the sun comes up and you start hearing movement in the hallway. You don’t bother changing, pulling on shoes before stepping out. You are hungry, even after spending half the day in town and eating dinner out with Gaz and Johnny yesterday. You slip out the door, coming face to face with Ghost. You tilt your head back, staring up at him. 

“Didn’t expect to see you.” He grumbles. “Figured you’d be busy getting ready.” 

“I’ve got like ten hours until I have to be ready.” You say, blinking up at him. “It doesn’t take that long.” 

He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes. “Come on.” 

You follow him out of the barracks, but you find yourself not having to speed walk quite as fast to keep up with him today. 

“Are you upset?” You ask, kicking up your pace a bit so you can walk side by side with him. 

“About what?” He asks. 

“Price and I.” You say. 

“Why would I be?” He sounds genuinely baffled that you’re asking him. 

You shrug. “You’re an alpha in the pack too, and I didn’t really ask anyone but Price.” 

“Price is your alpha.” He says, as if it’s the most straightforward thing in the world. He’s not wrong, Price is the only one that really matters when it comes to you, since he’s the pack alpha, and he’ll be the one claiming you. 

“Would you ever want to be?” You ask, looking up at him. 

He meets your gaze as he opens the door to the mess, not answering as you slip into the hall. He stands closer to you than he normally does as you get in line for food, tailing you like a shadow as you find Johnny among the drowsy and hungover soldiers in the mess. 

You take a seat across from him, Ghost taking his spot next to Johnny. You can feel the nerves beginning to take hold as you eat, thinking about your date tonight. It’s not like you really have to impress Price much, though you suppose you could make him dislike you rather easily. You’d rather avoid that situation, as there’s no getting out of mating and being claimed by him. You’re going to be part of his pack whether he likes you or not. 

What if he finds you boring? You’re not even sure what you could talk about. It’s not like you do much, and he already knows most everything he can about you. The only thing you have to talk about are things you’d rather not discuss during your first date. You’d prefer not to discuss them at all. 

“You’ll be fine.” Johnny says as you walk back to the barracks. “Just get ‘im talking, and ye won’t need tae worry about gettin’ a word in yourself.” 

Johnny’s words do make you giggle. You’re sure Price has so much more to talk about than you do. You barely know anything about him in general. 

It’s ironic that you’re more nervous about dinner than you are about the fact Price is going to take your virginity tonight. 

You did ask for this. It’ll be good, getting to know him before your heat starts. The idea of going through your heat with a virtual stranger is terrifying to you, and Price had so willingly offered to do this so that doesn’t happen, so you feel more comfortable with being mated and claimed by someone you at least somewhat know. This is your chance to get to know your pack alpha, your alpha before you’re forced to. This is your chance to make your own decision, to have some control over a life that’s been dictated for you this far. 

You spend the morning in a nervous panic, looking up tips online, tutorials, possible questions he might ask and thinking up answers that will make you sound interesting at least. Answers that won’t just be parroting things that he already knows. Gaz brings you lunch, letting you continue to prepare for your date, knowing the chances of you having a breakdown if you’re forced around people are high right now. 

You give yourself ample time to get ready, showering and moisturizing, making sure you smell clean and look nice. You do your hair, taking your time to make yourself look decent. You opt for minimal make up, wanting to make yourself seem like you at least put a little effort into your looks. 

You're strapping on your shoes when the knock comes at the door. Six o'clock sharp, just as you expected. You take a deep breath, adjusting your dress before you open the door.

John is standing on the other side, dressed in a button up shirt and slacks. You look him over, the fresh scent of cologne reaching your nose. His eyes rake your form, his scent slipping through the cologne as his gaze darkens a bit. Gaz was right. He does look like he wants to devour you. 

“You clean up nicely.” You say, looking him over again. His shirt hugs his muscles nicely, his pants obviously tailored to fit him. You haven't seen him in anything but fatigues and civilian clothes so far. 

“Was going to say the same to you.” He says, lips pulling up into a smile. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” 

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“Hungry?” He asks, offering you an arm. 

“Always.” You say, taking his arm, letting him lead you towards the rec room. 

The lights inside are dimmed, the table usually reserved for games set up with a tablecloth and candles, along with two plates covered with cloches, and a bottle of wine. You're not sure when he managed to procure the wine, or maybe he had it saved and decided this was as good a time as any. 

“Wow.” You say, impressed by the effort he obviously put into everything. 

“I bribed the boys out of here for a few hours.” He says, leading you to the table. “Wasn't easy.”

“I bet.” You say, sitting down in one of the chairs, letting him push it in for you. 

He pours you both glasses of wine before taking the cloches off the plates. You blink in surprise at the meal on the plate. Spaghetti, a salad, and bread. It's so simple, yet it takes you right back to weeknight dinners at home. 

“You made this?” You ask as he takes the seat across from you. 

He nods. “I've amassed many skills over the years. I'm no five star chef, but I can throw things together in a pinch.”

“Well it looks good.” You say, picking up your fork. 

It tastes good too. It's so simple, yet it's one of the best things you've eaten in the last month. You miss a lot of things about America, and the food is starting to be one of those. 

You and John make small talk as you eat, the wine warming your body and easing your nerves. 

“How long has it been,” You ask him as you clear your plate. “Since you were with an omega last?”

“Two years.” He says, taking a sip of wine. 

Your eyes widen in surprise. You know they've been with omegas in the past, taking advantage of barrack bunnies and the swaths of willing omegas you know populate near military bases. You just hadn't thought it would be that far back in the past.

“Right around the time the task force was created.” He continues. “We were too busy bonding and working on the task force, by the time we had a moment long enough for anything like that, we didn't need them anymore.”

“That must have been torture.” You say, staring at him wide eyed. 

“We're trained for that sort of thing.” He says with a smile. “How to fight off those urges, those needs. When you're in the field, something like that could get you killed. You don't pass selection into the SAS until you can show mastery over those skills.”

“Damn.” You say, taking a sip of your wine. “Still, it couldn't have been easy.”

“It can be hard, once you've been with an omega, to go without. But that's just part of the job.” 

“Well, I suppose that's partly why I'm here.” You say, huffing out a laugh. 

“Perhaps.” He says. “I'm certain we're not getting the full story.”

The double meaning isn't lost on you. There's a lot they don't know about you, things that are safer buried deep where they can't hurt anyone. Things you'd like to keep buried for the rest of time. 

“It’s nothing...bad is it?” You ask, searching his gaze. 

“I’d like to think not,” He says. 

But... 

You don’t need to hear him say it. You know it’s there, lingering at the end of that statement. You wonder how many times he’s been in these situations, forced to place blind trust in someone and hope they have the best intentions in mind. You’re all too familiar with those sorts of situations. Putting blind trust in strangers was your life purpose as soon as you presented as an omega. 

“We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” He says, staring at you with such conviction you can’t help but believe him. “You’re part of our pack, which makes you part of this team, even if bureaucracy says otherwise. We take care of each other, and that includes you. You’re our omega, regardless of whatever the endgame is for this initiative.” 

You feel almost breathless at his words, at his declaration of loyalty to you. You know how much loyalty means to someone like him, the kind of promise words like that uphold. They’d give their lives to defend you. You’d fight to defend them too, if it came down to it. Not that you could do much, but you’d try. 

“You’re my omega.” John says, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. “I take care of what's mine.”

You nod, trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes. “I know. You've...you've been a better alpha than I could have ever hoped for. Despite everything you've been kind and caring and understanding. I know some things we learned at the institute weren’t right, but...I was expecting a lot worse.”

His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, his fingers gently squeezing yours. “I'm glad I could prove that wrong. I know this situation is weird and less than ideal, but I fear I'll have to tell Kate she was right. She did pick a good omega.”

You smile, preening a bit under his praise. “That’s all I can try to be.” 

“You can be so much more than that.” He says, lifting your hand to his lips. His beard tickles your skin as he presses a line of kisses across the back of your hand before turning it, kissing across your palm to your wrist. He presses his nose against the skin there, inhaling deeply. “You’re sure, about tonight?” 

Your fingers brush his cheek as he holds your hand against his face. Your heart is thudding your throat at the proximity, those nervous flutters starting in your stomach again. He’s giving you an out, a chance to take back what you had asked for. You know he wouldn’t blame you. He was more than willing to wait for your heat to start, for when you had no choice, when it would mean less because you would be desperate and needy for him. 

You don’t want that, though. You want him to want you before his instincts tell him he does. You want to know he’s not just fulfilling a duty, scratching an itch that’s been tickling him for two years now. You want him to want you as you are now. You want him to choose you. 

“Yes.” You say, pressing your palm flat against his cheek. “Just...be gentle with me?” 

“Of course.” He says, kissing your palm again. “You change your mind at any time, you tell me, yeah?” 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” He takes your hand in his again, standing from his seat. 

Nerves mix with excitement as he pulls you to your feet with him, stepping up close to you. His hand lifts, tilting your chin up. Your stomach flutters as you meet his gaze, his eyes warm and soft as he stares at you. Affection shines in them as his thumb brushes your lip before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is short and sweet, like the ones you’ve shared with him before. Yet, at the same time it feels different. There’s warmth beginning to blossom under your skin, the kiss not just a simple sign of affection this time. It’s the overture, the appetizer, just a teasing taste of what’s to come. 

You hold his hand as he leads you down the hallway, heels clacking on the tile floor. It makes your face warm, the thought that they all know what it means, they can hear it and they know what’s about to happen. They know where you’re going, what you’re about to do. 

John opens his door, motioning for you to enter. You haven’t been in any of their rooms yet, you haven’t invaded their own sacred spaces. Your steps are slow and cautious as you breach that barrier, John’s scent washing over you as you step into his room. 

It’s neat and tidy, just as you expected it would be. It’s not laid out all that differently from your own, though perhaps a bit more organized and clinical than yours. There’s a shelf next to his nightstand, stuffed with books and what you can assume are souvenirs from places he’s been. There’s stacks of papers on the desk, his clothes and shoes tucked away neatly in their places. His bed is slightly bigger than yours, and you wonder if that’s a perk of his status, or if he pulled some strings once he learned he was getting an omega. 

The door clicking shut draws your attention back to John, the click of the handle a finality. You’re doing this. There’s no going back now. 

Not that you want to. 

John steps up to you, staring down at you. You stare up into his eyes as his hand comes to rest on your waist, his touch hot through the thin fabric of your dress. “You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks, voice rumbling in his chest. 

You nod, your hands slowly sliding up his arms, feeling the muscle hidden beneath his dress shirt. “Yes.” 

His lips meet yours, beard tickling your skin as he kisses you. You let him lead, leaning into him as he pulls you closer against his chest. He’s so warm, so firm under your hands as you grip his shoulders. His hand slides from your hip to your back, a gasp parting your lips as his calloused fingers touch the bare skin of your back. Goosebumps raise on your skin, a shiver running down your spine at his touch. He tilts his head, taking advantage of your parted lips to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He tastes like wine, a quiet sound leaving your throat as he pulls you tighter against him, pressing your body into his. You can feel all of him, the hard ridges, the strength in his body as he cages you in his arms. Your head is spinning, intoxicated purely by the smell and taste of him. 

Something rumbles deep in his chest, your entire body shivering in response. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your hips pressed flush against his. You can feel him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. You’ve been able to smell the musky tinge of arousal in his scent all evening, and you wonder how long he’s been hard. Has it been since he saw you? Or has he been thinking about this all day? 

The thought thrills you, makes your omega preen in the back of your mind. You did this. Your alpha is all worked up because of you. 

A whimper leaves your lips as his hand slips lower, smoothing over the curve of your ass. He mumbles a curse against your lips before they blaze a path down the line of your jaw to your neck. You tilt your head, bearing your throat for him. A low rumble of approval vibrates through his chest, his hand squeezing your ass. The sound has your omega practically belly up, the dampness between your thighs intensifying as your scent gets heavier in the air. 

John groans against your throat, teeth nipping at your neck just over your scent gland. “Such a good girl for me.” He groans, his hand on your ass guiding your hips to grind against his. “Such a good omega.” 

You whine at the praise, hands blindly sliding down his chest to pull at the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers are trembling slightly from excitement, fumbling as you attempt to get his shirt off. You need to feel him, his skin against yours, the warmth of him pressed against you. 

“Easy pup.” His voice rumbles against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin before he pulls back, hands taking over to strip him of his button up and undershirt. 

You lick your lips as his skin is revealed to you, your hand automatically lifting to touch him. You hesitate for a half a second but he makes no move to stop you. Your eyes trail over his form, over the many, many scars that decorate his skin like some kind of macabre painting. Lines and jagged slices, the telltale star shaped marks of bullet wounds. Cuts and nicks from knives or bullets, you can’t tell the difference. 

Your fingers settle on a rather large scar on his side, starting at the base of his ribs and curling around his side. It’s an old scar, but the skin is still rough and uneven. Whatever had caused it, it took a chunk out of him. You don’t want to think about it, about how every scar could have been a close call. How many times he’s been on the brink of death. 

“I’ll tell you about them later.” He says, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips. He kisses your fingertips, his beard tickling your skin. “Tonight is about you.” 

He pulls you close again, leaning down to press his lips to yours. His hands are warm against your back as he wraps himself around you again, trapping your hands against his bare chest. Your nails dig into his skin as his hands sink lower, grabbing handfuls of your ass. He groans, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip. He presses you backwards, and you trust him to guide you until your legs hit the side of his bed. 

“Gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?” He growls, his voice rough around the edges as his alpha slips through. 

“Yes, alpha!” You gasp against his lips, your head tilting back in submission. 

“Always such a good omega for me.” He praises you, teeth nipping at your throat. “Good omegas kneel for their alphas.” He says, pushing you backwards so you plop down on his bed. “But a good alpha,” He slowly lowers himself before you, dropping to one knee, then the other as his hands wrap around your ankles. “Kneels for his omega.”

Your face warms as you stare down at him, unable to do anything but watch as his hands make quick work of your shoes, setting them neatly beside the bed. His skin is rough against yours as his hands drag up your legs, slowly parting them. He moves himself closer, kneeling between your parted thighs. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he reaches up, pushing on your stomach until you're laying flat on his bed. He can see up your skirt now, and you're silently glad for the lacy panties Johnny had insisted on. 

“Do you trust me?” His lips brush your inner thigh as his hands pause just at the hem of your skirt where it's ridden up almost to your hips. 

“Yes, alpha.” You say, lifting your head to stare down at him. 

He meets your gaze as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his hands continuing to press upwards until your dress is hiked around your waist. Your heart is fluttering rapidly in your chest as you stare down at him, his gaze leaving your eyes to stare at the soaked lace barely covering your most private parts. 

His hands leave your hips to curl around the lace, giving it a sharp tug. The fabric snaps easily, the shreds falling to the floor. Your lip part as you stare at him in shock.  

“I'll buy you a new pair.” He says, his hands gripping your thighs to pull them further apart. 

The cool air in the room hits your slicked folds, making you shudder. He's barely touched you and already you can feel how slick you are. His lips press against your inner thigh again, blazing a path upwards. His gaze meets yours again as his hands shift to grip your hips, adjusting your position on the bed before he leans in, dragging his tongue through your folds. 

You gasp at the foreign sensation, your thighs pressing against his broad shoulders. His mouth is warm as it closes over your pussy, his tongue licking another slow stripe up your folds until he reaches the spot that has your inhale turning into a gasp. 

He focuses his attention there, dragging slow lines across your clit with his tongue. You let your arms give out, laying flat on the bed again. Little whimpers leave your lips as he teases your clit, your thighs already trembling. It’s been so long since you’ve touched yourself. Not since before you left the institute four months ago. 

You don’t last very long. 

Your thighs squeeze around his shoulders as your orgasm is ripped from you suddenly. You let out a cry that’s probably too loud, but you don’t care who could have heard you as your back arches off the bed, pressing your hips closer to John’s face. His hands hold your thighs, keeping you still as his tongue continues to tease your clit, working you through your orgasm. 

It’s not until you’re writhing in his grasp, letting out little whimpers that he relents, lifting his face from between your thighs. His beard is shiny with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. It’s obscene and yet, it has heat pulsing straight between your legs again. He lets out a chuckle, the scent of your arousal washing over him. 

“Fuckin sweet as sugar, love.” He says as he pushes himself up from between your legs, his body folding over yours on the bed. 

His face presses into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your pussy flutters at the thought of him claiming you now, sinking his teeth into your skin to mark you as his forever. He could. It would be so easy for him to do it. His tongue laves over the skin covering your scent gland, a shiver running through you. Your arms wrap around him, holding him against you as your scents mingle, musky with arousal. 

“Alpha...” You whine, your hips pressing up against the bulge in his pants. He’s fully hard now, the fabric of his pants providing delicious friction against your folds. 

He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your throat before he pushes himself up over you. “Soon, love.” He says, moving until he’s standing in front of you. “Think you’re a bit overdressed still.” 

Your eyes dart down to his pants. “So are you.” 

He smirks, his hands dropping to your waist, slowly pushing your dress up higher. You let him slip it over your head, lifting your arms to help him. You’re bare before him, warmth spreading through your veins as he stares down at you. Your hands lift, coming to rest on his thighs. You can feel the muscle through the fabric, the strength of him beneath your hands. How easily he could take control, pin you down and take what he wants with little regard for you or your pleasure. How easily he could hurt you, snap your bones like they’re toothpicks, bruise and batter your body without even straining a muscle. 

Yet he stands here, patiently watching as your hands move closer and closer to the prominent bulge in his fitted pants. He doesn’t even twitch as your hand cups his hard length, your breath stuttering at the sheer size of him. He’s big like most alphas are, or so you’ve heard. 

His eyes stare into you as you undo his belt, popping the button on his pants open. He finally moves as you pull down the zipper, helping you tug his pants and briefs down. His cock stands at attention, almost as stiff as he is. You stare at his veiny cock with wide eyes, the tip flushed almost red with how hard he is. 

“Christ.” You breathe, staring at him in awe. 

You did that. 

“Easy, love.” He says, leaning down to wrap an arm around your waist. “I said tonight was about you.” 

He moves you so you’re laid out on the bed, your head hitting his pillow. The scent of him floods your nose as he joins you on the bed, the frame creaking as he kneels between your legs. Nerves twist in your stomach as you continue to stare at his cock bobbing between his thighs as he runs his hands along your legs. It’s going to hurt, you know that. It suddenly seems daunting, this request. At least during your heat you’d be so out of it with need you wouldn’t really feel anything. And you’d have plenty of slick to help. 

“None of that.” He says, squeezing your thighs gently. “I told you I’d take care of you.” 

You nod, swallowing thickly. 

“We’ve got more work to do before we reach that point. I’m not just going to stuff my cock into you like some needy pup.” He stares at you. “You tell me and I’ll stop, alright?” 

You nod again. “Yes, alpha.” 

Your breath hitches as his hands reach the junction of your thighs, one moving to your stomach, the other dragging through your folds, gathering your wetness on his fingers. They’re so much thicker than your own, your pussy clenching as he presses against the entrance. 

“Relax for me, love.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your stomach with his thumb. 

His finger presses into you and your lips part at the intrusion. You clamp tight around his finger, making him groan. 

“Easy.” He says, his thumb moving to circle your clit. 

A breathy whine leaves your lips as his finger presses deeper into you, reaching further than you ever could. Your hand reaches up to thread through his hair, letting the short cropped strands slide through your fingers. It’s softer than you imagined, though you expect he too had spent the afternoon preparing for tonight as well. The mental image of him lathering himself in moisturizer would have made you laugh if his finger hadn’t brushed against a spot inside you that has your hips lifting off the bed. 

He leans down, lips blazing a path up your stomach, between your breasts to your throat. He swallows your moans as he works you open with his fingers, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into your wet pussy only adding to the pleasure coursing through you. You can feel it building within you, heat burning through your veins. Price groans against your lips as your nails scratch his scalp, his cock leaking against your thigh. You want him, need him inside of you. You need to feel him, you need to be close to him. 

“Alpha, please.” You whimper, tugging at his hair. 

He stares down at you, eyes blown with lust. “Please, what?” 

“Need you.” You whimper, grinding against his hand. “Please, sir.” 

Price closes his eyes, letting out a groan. His cock twitches against your thigh, his fingers slipping from you. He breathes out a curse, shifting to open his nightstand. He pulls out a bottle of lube, sitting back on his knees to squirt some into his hand. You’re plenty slick, but you watch as he rubs the lube on his cock, tossing the bottle back into the open drawer. 

He kneels between your thighs again, staring down at you as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. You feel intoxicated, your head spinning from the intensity of his scent around you and the knowledge of what’s about to happen. 

Price folds his body over yours again, the head of his cock brushing your folds. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you, parting your thighs further for him as his tip catches on your opening. Your hands grip his shoulders as he presses into you, the stretch stinging a bit as he works you open. This is it. There’s no going back now. 

You don’t want to. 

You whimper quietly as he pushes into you, nails biting into his skin. It’s too much, yet you can’t get enough of it as he sinks further in. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls away from your lips staring down at your face. 

“Alright?” He asks, stilling where he is. 

You nod. “Just need a moment. You’re really big.” 

His lips twitch up into a smile, a pleased growl rumbling through his chest. “Don’t start talking like that, love.” He says, leaning down to press kisses to your face. 

“Or what?” You ask, your nails digging harder into his skin. 

“I might not be able to control myself.” He growls, his alpha slipping out around the edges of his voice. 

Your pussy clenches at his words, walls clamping down around him. He lets out another growl, hiking your leg up over his hip. It forces him deeper into you, your breath catching at the feeling of him spreading you open. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, rocking your hips to take him even deeper into you. 

John’s arms frame your head as he presses his body against yours. Your arms slip around his back, legs locking around his waist as he begins to move slowly, working himself deeper and deeper into you until he’s pressed flush against you. He stills for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as you both breathe. You’re trembling just slightly, overwhelmed with being so close to him, to your alpha. The pain and discomfort is gone, replaced by burning heat as desire pulses through your veins. 

“Please, alpha.” You whimper. 

He shushes you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you, omega.” 

Your skin is slick with sweat already as he begins to rock his hips into you. Your hands press into his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex as he moves. It feels good, the friction of your bodies, the way he stretches you open with every thrust. Your head is spinning with pleasure at the thought of being so close to another person, being so connected with someone else. 

Not just someone else, with your alpha. 

The wet squelch of your pussy as he thrusts into you is loud, the mattress creaking as he picks up speed. You’re trembling, your thighs squeezing around his hips as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You’re not sure how he’s lasted this long, especially without any sort of release for himself yet tonight. 

Perhaps it was the training he spoke about earlier.

You’re not sure how he manages it. You couldn’t have that kind of control. Not after this. Not after knowing how good it can feel, how good he can make you feel. 

“Fucking feel so good.” He grunts, his breath fanning her ear. His own skin is slicked with sweat, muscles twitching under her hands. “So fucking tight and warm.” 

“John!” You gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades as he picks up the pace even more, his hips snapping against yours. 

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum like a good omega? Need you to cum for me.” He grunts, staring down at you. 

You let out a whine, arching against him as you seek your second high of the night. His cock brushes that spot inside of you, stars nearly erupting behind your eyes. 

“Right there.” You gasp, thighs shaking around his hips. “Fuck, right there!” 

You’re being loud but you don’t care, nails dragging down his back as he focuses his thrusts right at that spot inside you. You cum with a cry, pussy squeezing around him. He lets out a loud groan, his hips stilling as he twitches inside you. His muscles go lax, his body falling on top of yours. He manages to keep himself from squishing you beneath him, his face pressing against your neck. 

The smell of sex, arousal, sweat, and your own combined scents are heavy in the air. You’re shaking, still wrapped tightly around John as he lays on top of you. He’s breathing heavily, warm breaths fanning against your neck. You don’t want to move, your mind buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm still. 

“Alright?” He murmurs, lips pressing a gentle kiss against your throat. 

You nod, slowly unwinding yourself from around him. “Yeah. ‘M good.” 

“Fucking Christ, a man could get addicted to that.” He says, lifting his face from your neck. “Sweet little omega.” 

Your face warms more than it already feels, and you lean into his touch as his fingers brush your cheek. 

“Let me go get something to clean this mess up with.” He says, pushing himself up so he’s kneeling. 

You can’t help but giggle as his joints pop and he lets out a groan at the effort. “Need a break, old man.” 

His eyes flash playfully, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Going with the old man insults again, huh?” 

You give him a look. “You’re the one grunting while getting up.” 

You let out a surprised yelp as he brings his hand down on your thigh, the skin tingling as he gets up. “I’ll show you old man.” He murmurs as he heads for his en suite. 

You bite your lip as you begin to feel his release slipping out of you, the feeling causing desire to stir in your stomach once more. 

John tsks as he comes back, wiping the mess between your thighs. “Needy little thing.” He practically purrs, stepping away to toss the rag into the bathroom sink before he returns, climbing back onto the bed.

You press as close to him as you can, nuzzling into his neck. Your limbs are still twitching a bit, your mind buzzing from the aftermath of what had just transpired. John wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. You press a gentle kiss to his neck, earning a rumble in response. Your own rumble starts up as you purr contently, tossing a leg over his hip to allow you to get as close to him as possible. 

He huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Comfortable?” 

You purr louder in response, sleep beginning to fog the corners of your mind. 

“Good girl.” He says, pressing another kiss to your head. “Sleep. Alpha’s got you.”

NEXT ->

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[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper!reader x undercover bodyguard!bucky)

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

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