#Safe. I have my own insecurities. Had way more back then but for me it was not... I couldn't trust her to be faithful?

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter ten, spoiling me)

‘If I ask you for space you write seven-page letters. I used to think that meant I couldn't do better, you blow up at me then you pay for my dinner. I used to think that meant I wound up the winner. But front after front I was taught to forgive, you bought me to rot on the shelves of your fridge and you keep me around 'til you're hungry enough but my face has gone grey, There is mold in my gut’

summary; reader isn’t sure how to feel or how to react when she finds out the truth behind spencer’s sudden absence.

warnings; mentions of death, insecurity, female reader, avoidant reader, angst, first part in italics is a flash back, talks about hotch losing haley, no real details about that case, arguing, no closure.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

“Tell me something true.”

Your head turned at the sound of Spencer’s voice, a small smile across your features. Your house was warm, cosy and decorated in a way that only could be described as you. You knew Spencer was just glad to me here, it had taken a while for you to let him in the presence of your home. You always deemed someones home the most personal thing about them.

You had been recently questioning where home was.

Sure, your house provided you with comfort after a long day, you craved the warmth of your bed when your feet ached, you could hide in the walls that weren’t alive, they let you bury yourself in emotion to difficult to articulate. You liked that. Your house, there was never any pressure to be anything other than you.

So what were you to do when Spencer made you feel the same way?

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought over his question. Pushing your back up against the cushions of the sofa, heels of your feet digging in beneath you as you turned your body to face him, the documentary playing on the tv now long forgotten as your gaze met his.

He was wrapped tightly in a cotton sweater, you were sure in a few days the same sweater would be lost in your wardrobe. He never minded when you borrowed his clothes, deeming they were softer, more comfortable than your own. It was becoming more difficult to ignore the feeling in your chest that bloomed everytime he was around.

“True?” You repeated, furrowing your eyebrows. It was an out of the blue statement, he nodded in response, as he nudged himself closer to you on the couch. You tilted your head a little, “What do you mean, i’ve never told you anything untrue.” You said.

He rolled his eyes, you didn’t have to question why. You both knew deep down what he meant by his question. He was asking you to let him in. You thought letting him into your house was doing just that. Maybe he cared more about knowing your mind.

“You don’t talk. Like- about yourself, about your childhood, or your work, or how high school was- So, tell me something true.” He explained, even though he knew you already understood what he meant. If you needed the verbal clarification, he would give it.

You smiled. He wasn’t wrong and you weren’t embarrassed nor ashamed about your privacy. He would argue you couldn’t call it privacy if you were avoiding talking about it, then it crossed over to secrets. You didn’t mind having secrets either. But you liked Spencer, more than you were willing to admit and the fact he was providing you with the same sort of safe feeling your house did, well it made it easier to be open. To talk about the difficult things.

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Why you won’t go out with me.”

You let out a breathy laugh and rolled your eyes. He didn’t seem phased by your reaction to his want, nor surprised. You should’ve expected that to be what he wanted to know, apparently the response you gave the first 23 times he asked wasn’t good enough, maybe because he knew it wasn’t true just as much as you did. “i already told you, I just don’t want a relationship.”

“But why?”

You shrugged, was there an answer to his question, of course. But there was a line you drew in confessing and dumping your past on people, and that conversation would fall over the line, the very thick, very defined line. Unfortunately Spencer’s presence in your life began to blur many lines, ones that seemed once so clear, now smudged. You had yet to decide whether that was a good or a bad thing. It wasn’t just the trauma dumping line blurring, it was every one. It was all of them.

Everything you thought you knew began to shift, your perspectives changed on things when he shared his opinion, your mind was opener, you were more comfortable. You were happier. Maybe not because of him, or because he provided you with more happiness than your life originally had. You were content with your life before meeting Spencer, but there was something nice about having a friend.

“Theres always.. I..” you faltered, shifting uncomfortably, your legs untucking from under you to instead pull to your chest as your arms tangled around your shins, chin resting on your knees. “I’ve always, kind of felt like i was just existing, never really living. I noticed that a while ago, so i decided that if i was going to have to exist, id at least do it peacefully.”

“Relationships aren’t peaceful for you?” He tilted his head, it wasn’t an accusation the way he said it, it was genuine curiosity.

“They haven’t been.” You answered with a shrug. Wishing not to recall your last relationship.

Spencer shuffled closer. His arm’s folding over his chest as he pushed his back further into the couch cushions. He was staring at you, eyes flicking over your features. You were smart enough to realise he was profiling you, trying to see if you were uncomfortable, trying to read you.

“You’re profiling me.” You hummed. He didn’t hesitate in nodding.

“You’re hard to read.” He said, turning his body slightly to better face you. If you knew anything about profiling, or psychology you’d assume he was more uncomfortable than you were talking about this, or maybe he was simply just nervous. “I’ve never really had much trouble in reading people. I can’t read you.”

You tilted your head, you half took it as a compliment. Dedicating so much of your time to making sure nobody really knew you, dedicating so much of your time to wondering if you even knew who you were, to hear that time pay off, well it made you feel a little better about the hole you had dug yourself into all those years ago, the one that seemed a little bit too deep to get out of.

“Does that bother you?” You asked simply. Wondering if much like many others, he would give up trying to figure you out, you’d be slightly disappointed if he did, but not entirely. You simply didn’t want to be figured out. You didn’t want to be read, or profiled, you wanted to stay as you were, even if the look in Spencer’s eyes was convinced of otherwise.

He shrugged, “Not really.” The goofy smile on his face appeared moments after, “I like puzzles.”

You didn’t know whether to be amused or unsettled by his dedication.

“Your turn, tell me something true.” You changed the topic, hoping that maybe the curious look in his gaze would disappear if he had a moment to forget why he was so set on learning every thing about you.

He grinned widely as he rested his head against the couch cushion, looking at you. “I really like you.” He said simply. You hated the way your cheeks rose of colour, you hated that his words made your skin feel a little tight around your bones. You hated that you couldn’t tell whether the feeling swirling in your stomach was a bad gut feeling, or butterflies.

You shook your head anyways, “You have told me that a million times. Pick a different true.”

“But thats the truest I have.” He sounded offended. Not by your lack of response, he knew what you’d say, yet he never failed to remind you that he did in-fact, really like you.

“Spence, pick a different one.”

He huffed, faux frustration over his features as he leant his head back to think for a moment, his eyes travelling the lengths of the ceiling in your home, memorising it. You watched the side of his face, eyes travelling over the curve of his nose and jawline, before he turned his head to look at you, a almost sweet smile on his face.

You didn’t like the way it made you feel.

“One of my biggest fears is losing someone because of my work, someone getting involved or being at harm because of me, thats why i don’t date- really.” He said, the smile on his face remained as he looked at you, but the words that left his lips made your heart frown. You shuffled a little closer, not even realising you were doing it.

“But you have asked me out a thousand times.” You countered, not because you didn’t believe the fear of his, but out of curiosity.

“Yeah well.. I guess we both have fears in relationships, right? I guess i just think its not worth worrying about those things until they might actually happen. Like- you’re worried you’ll get hurt again, I’m worried my job will hurt you, but they aren’t problems right now. You know?”

You smiled, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before leaning into his side. Choosing not to reply.

You slumped against the wooden headboard of his bed, you tried to keep your focus on the small worn out indents over the wood, the detailing, you tried to figure out what wood it was, not that you had enough knowledge on wood to make that decision, you tried your best anyways. You could assume it was red oak, expect it was too dark, maybe it was painted with a wood stain, or maybe it was a different type of wood. Walnut, it could be walnut, that was a darker sort of wood, you were pretty sure, but the marbling texture told you otherwise. Maybe rustic brown maple.

Maybe you were just going insane.

The silence in the room was deafening and the more time went on the more you were convinced that you were purely wasting your time. After Spencer had convinced you to stay for his explanation, you found yourself back on his bed, he sat on the edge of it, watching you as you studied the headboard, the one you had seen a hundred times, or more, yet never gave much thought to. You were waiting for him to say something, anything other than the same apology you had heard repeatedly.

“Do you remember when I left for the case?” Was the first thing he said. It came out timid, careful, his words caused you to stiffen slightly, your shoulders growing tense with the weight of the memory. Of course you remember, it was physically impossible for you to forget.

You didn’t look away from the headboard, now almost dedicated to figuring out what wood it was made out of. You let out a hum, letting him know you were listening, letting him know you did in fact remember the day he left for the case. You remembered driving around for twenty minutes extra while he was taking you home because he was dedicated to finding you basic frosted sugar cookies.

He shifted, you felt the bed dip further as he added more of his weight to it. The closer he got the heavier the air seemed, your body tense with not only all of the memories, the conversation, but also the fact that you were still half foggy from your previous orgasm, you were uncomfortable, despite the fact Spencer made you clean yourself up before having this conversation, because he cared about your health and hygiene even if you wouldn’t let him take care of you after.

He cleared his throat, maybe he was feeling the tension just as much as you were. “I spent every spare second I had texting or calling you for the first few days.” He clarified, expect you knew this, he did this on every case he went on. You didn’t question that he once cared, you believed that, but you questioned what changed.

“Then you stopped.” You mumbled, not breaking your gaze on the headboard, head tilted up so your eyes to travel the detailing of it.

Spencer nodded, “Then I stopped.” He confirmed quietly.

You werent completely sure where to go from there, what to say, what not to say. You didn’t want to plead for an answer why, again. The process seemed repetitive, exhausting. This time you didn’t have to ask.

“A little while ago, Hotch, you know Hotch. He lost his wife.” Spencer spoke, you watched as his fingers dwindled absentmindedly. Your gaze no longer focused on the wood texture or type, now taken by what he was saying, how it related. The same confusing feeling in your stomach that you still hadn’t learnt how to differentiate between a bad gut feeling and a bundle of butterflies.

“Oh.”

Bad response. You knew that. But you didn’t have a lot to say. You didn’t know how someone was supposed to react to something like that, you didn’t know how Spencer expected you to react.

Spencer shuffled so he was better facing you, “I- uh. I won’t go into detail, but it was because of our work.” He muttered, his voice strained and heavy with indication you failed to recognise, or better yet understand.

You were quiet for a while, he let you be. Your eyes never meeting his because this conversation seemed heavier than you expected it to. When you spoke your voice was heavy with emotion, unintentionally so, “Spencer.” A breathy reminder that you were here for a reason.

He knew, he shuffled. You realised how much he was moving around, now nervous he was. Almost as nervous as you. “The case- When I stopped- When i ghosted you, there was an empty threat made against the team by an unsub.” He didn’t want to admit it, you could tell by the strain in his voice and the way his eyes no longer begged yours to meet them.

“Oh.”

“I guess i realised how much danger I was putting you into.” He huffed out. Leaning back against the headboard. The headboard that moments ago you had been studying like it was the most interesting thing in the world, now you couldn’t imagine focusing on anything other than the weight of his confession.

The sweetest reason maybe, for your safety. He removed himself from your life for the sake of your life. Maybe it was an act of love, maybe it proved how much he cared for you. You weren’t sure how to understand what he was telling you, you had a million questions lodged in your throat. All that seemed impossible to get out.

Maybe it was the sweetest intention, but he was immature with the way he went about it. He left like you didn’t matter, like you weren’t worth an explanation.

“You didn’t think to just tell me that?” Was what you said in response, it came out harsh, full of offence. You were offended.

“You would’ve tried to convince me otherwise.”

“Thats a lousy excuse and you know it.” It came out rough, you were sitting up at facing him and every part of you screamed to get the hell out of there and never see him again, yet something kept you sitting. Maybe the hurt you felt, maybe the anger. You weren’t sure, and you didn’t think you cared.

He sighed, “I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yeah- Right. And how’d that work out for you?” You spat back.

He shuffled uncomfortably before meeting your eyes. “You are alive.”

“I was at no immediate risk.”

“But you could be! Thats what you aren’t understanding— That wasn’t the first time its crossed my mind. If something happened to you, it would be on me. If you got hurt, it was on me. If you got killed, it would be on me. Not only that — but I’d lose you, your friends would lose you, your family would lose you. I value your life more than I value how i feel about you. Im sorry thats not what you want to hear but its true.”

You shut up after that for a moment. How could you argue when his mind seemed so made up. Did you even want to convince him otherwise? It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered the possibility of being in danger before, but the fear always seemed so insignificant compared to the way he made you feel. How were you supposed to argue against him.

“You deserve better.” He said, moving off his bed.

How could you argue with what you knew was true?

You huffed, “Why would you not just talk to me about this Spencer? Why would you make this decision for me? Why are you telling me what risks i am and am not willing to take?” You weren’t sure you wanted an answer. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

He looked at you, and you swore there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something so gentle and familiar. “A relationship with me is not worth your life.” He stated.

You wanted to yell at tell him that wasn’t his decision to make, that he couldn’t decide this for you. That he was being a coward. A few months ago you would’ve. A few months ago you would’ve done anything for him, you would’ve sat there and reassured him, changed his mind.

Now you weren’t sure.

You moved off his bed like he had moments prior, the room was heavy with an uncomfortable amount of silence. Tension. Unspoken words on both ends. There was still a million things left to say, yet you no longer wanted to stick around to hear them.

“Yeah, Im beginning to see that.”

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Nosey Nancy's

Simon watched you from the table as you puttered around the kitchen. He had been asleep when you got home, you hadn’t woken him. Maybe that is why he felt the need to observe you today. He either felt extremely safe with you or you were nearly silent when shifting through the flat. You had just renewed the lease with him. How had it been a year of you sliding into the dynamic of the 141 without ever stepping foot on base?

 An off-handed comment from Roach on one of their last missions had him wondering about some things. You didn’t push. Why did you never push?

“She will never ask for what she needs, I’m almost positive she had convinced herself she has no needs.”

Roach had always been observant, more so around you it seems. Simon wonders why that is. You showed no interest in any of the guys, not even him. Simon is aware women find his size attractive, something about all the muscles a woman explained to him once, but you never look at him like that. When you look at him it is with warm smiles and often a funny one-liner to combat his own. Thinking it over had he ever seen you look at anyone with anything other than warmth?

You accept and give kisses but never ask for them. Your eyes don’t track men or women lustfully. Were you handling your needs only while he was away? Had you even had sex before?

“Are you a virgin?”

The question popped out before he could fully process the implications of asking.

Squinting over your shoulder you look at him.

“Are you drunk?”

Simon couldn’t prevent the heat from flushing over his cheeks.

“No.”

Turning fully, you rounded the counter to stand in front of him.

“Hmm. Simon, not Ghost, okay,” resting the back of your hand on his forehead you wait.

“What are you checking for?” He glares up at you.

“A fever. You’re asking questions that are none of your damn business so you must be sick.”

He guffawed as he pushed your hand from his head.

Rolling your eyes you move back into the kitchen, finishing your breakfast.

Simon watches you again.

“If you’re staring at my ass I will throw something at you,” you say to the cabinets in front of you.

“Still thinking, not staring.”

With a defeated sigh you turn. Staring at him you take a bite of your toast before speaking.

“Alright. Out with it. What’s the question?”

“Why don’t you try to sleep with any of us?”

Chewing as you stare you let the question settle between you. Simon feels like a boy again, asking a question that he should know the answer to and preparing for a slap when he didn’t.

“Do you want me to try and sleep with any of you?” You ask with one brow cocked as you prepare for another bite of toast.

This question caught Simon on the back foot. Did he want that? He thought of you in the same way he thought of his team, as his. That didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to sleep with you though. Did he want you to sleep with any of his guys? It did give his heart a twinge but not enough to throw a fit over.

When Simon looks back to you half of your toast is gone.

“No.”

“Then why does it matter?”

 “Because it doesn’t make sense.”

“Are you feeling insecure because I’m not trying to crawl into your bed except when I’m cold and even then, I actually fall asleep instead of pining over you?”

The needling is effective. Simon grinds his back teeth.

“I am asking, if you are not into men or not into myself and the guys, who are you into?”

“I’m not into anyone.” Dusting your hands over the sink you turn to leave.

Simon moves with speed honed from work, blocking the door with his frame.

“The hell does that mean?”

Heaving a sigh, you look at him with such a drab expression that he would have smiled if he hadn’t been so frustrated by this whole conversation.

“I’m asexual.”

“Which means what?” He glared down at you.

“That urge in your brain that says you need to stick your dick in someone? I don’t have that.”

“You don’t have a dick,” he quipped back.

“That you know of,” you deadpanned. “Do you have any other intrusive questions for me today?”

By way of answer, he steps back, letting you pass.

“Nosey Nancy's the lot of them,” drifts back to him as you shut your bedroom door behind you.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[mrfoox]

Bruh. Self... Analyzing and reflecting on past relationships is.... Rough

[bwabys-scenarios]

Sweet Sunday NSFW

Obanai x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: this is an AO3 request :3 gonna try to prioritize requests sent on AO3 since I plan on being more active there. This is short but sweet :) also I don’t know Obanai too well(it’s been forever since I read the manga) so sorry if he’s a little out of character… or if this just sucks. LMAO

warnings: pussy eating, very soft and sweet sex, Obanai worships your body, breeding, mostly nsfw, fluffy

You never did quite like waking up early in the morning, and thankfully your boyfriend didn’t either. Even when he was supposed to be off fighting demons, Obanai hated getting up before 10 am.

So that’s why on his day off, the two of you stayed curled up together the entire morning, sharing kisses and soft words of love. It had taken him so long to open up to you, and now that he had, it was almost like he was making up for lost time.

“You’re just radiant…” he purred, brushing back your hair from your sleepy face. “My love, my angel… my everything.”

It was enough to get your cheeks feeling hot to the touch, your heart beating out of your chest. “And you’re so handsome it makes me nervous…”

Although Obanai still struggled to accept compliments, he knew you would never lie to him. His own pale cheeks flushed pink as he looked away. The bandages that usually covered his mouth lay on the nightstand by your shared bed.

You traced the scars on the corners of his mouth, your eyes full of love and adoration. He could have never thought that anyone would look at his mmm in such a way, especially without his bandages to cover up his biggest insecurity.

“You’re too kind, my love. Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream, that I’ll wake up back in my childhood home.”

You paused, your heart twisting in pain. Obanai often suffered from nightmares, waking up screaming and clutching onto you for dear life. It left him trembling, tears pouring down his cheeks as he struggled to soothe himself.

But how he didn’t have to face it alone, he had you.

“You’re safe now, Obanai. You never have to hide away when you’re with me…”

His eyes softened, and he couldn’t help but pull you close. You smelled so sweet, like sunshine and vanilla, with hints of something sweet he couldn’t quite place. Whenever he inhaled your scent, he knew that he was right where he needed to be.

Home.

It didn’t help that your scent also stimulated other feelings… other desires… before he knew it his hands hand wondered along your hips and to your thighs, lightly pushing them open. “O-Obanai…”

You whined softly as his nimble fingers danced across your closed cunt, stopping right above your clit. He pressed down, causing you to squirm lightly as he began rubbing gentle circles into it. “Shh, princess. Let me make you feel good.”

If Obanai was anything, he was devoted to you body and soul. Every little sound and movement you made was enough to get his pants tight and his body ready to please you.

He slid off your soaked panties, giving your pussy a soft kiss. “Gorgeous, taste so sweet, princess…”

Eating you out was one of his favorite activities, and he enjoyed pinching your pretty nipples as he did. Obanai loved to overstimulate you until you were pushing his head away, begging for his cock instead.

But this morning, he decided to let you off with only three orgasms with his tongue. “Okay, okay…”

He lined up his hips with yours, peppering your neck in kisses. “Do you want me?”

“Y-yes please!”

No hesitation, just pure desire for him. It felt good to be wanted, to be so desperately desired by you.

And so Obanai complied, snapping his hips forward to plunge his cock into you, groaning at the feeling if your tight cunt. Despite him not being huge, you always needed a moment to adjust, and he was more than fine with your pretty pussy cockwarming him as you got used to his cock.

“There you go…” he said, moving his hips at a slow and steady pace as your arousal pooled on the bedsheets below. “That’s my girl… that’s my love.”

His fingertips dig into your plump hips as he fucked info you, his warm breath tickling your neck. Obanai wasn’t really the type to moan, but he started getting talkative when he was close.

“S-so good, my love. So fucking good for me…”

The two of you came together, and he didn’t bother to pull out. He planned on marrying you after all, and getting you pregnant was the goal. “G-gonna… gonna knock you up, okay? My love, my beautiful wife, so pretty for me…”

The two of you laid together, your naked bodies glistening with a sheen of sweat of you snuggled. Soon, you’d have to leave the comfort of your bed to bathe and eat something to replenish your strength…

But for now, you’d need to comfort your lover. He always got a bit shy after sex, embarrassed of the things he said while pussy drunk. You didn’t mind though… you wanted to be his wife after all.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 6

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 5 | Series Masterlist | Part 7

Chapter Summary: You're determined to have a quiet rest of the day without seeing or thinking about Bucky.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.5k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, stalking, inner conflict, insecurities, manipulation, possessiveness, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You sat in the tub, the cascading water from the shower head flowing over you as you stared at the opposite wall. Normally you welcomed the heat and billowing steam, but you shivered the longer you stayed there. The sound of the water droplets couldn't drown out Bucky’s moans or words from your mind.

“I’m so hard for you. And you’re wet for me, aren’t you? Fuck, I wish I was there to take care of you.”

“You’ll take it. You’ll take me. Like a good girl.”

“Wish I was there to help clean you up and get you dirty all over again.”

With a groan, you leaned your head against the wall. The man jerked off to the thought of you. No one ever desired you like that, at least not that you knew of. More than that he wanted you in his home. By his side. Why? You couldn't grasp why he wanted you so badly.

You also couldn't deny that his words got to you, if your wet your underwear was anything to judge by when you peeled them off. Were you so desperate for a semblance of affection that a few dirty words from a terrifying man turned you on? What did that say about you?

Just like the last couple of days, that was too much to unpack.

“I’m not special,” you whispered.

You could practically see Bucky across from you with sadness in his eyes, the way he looked at you when you argued last night that you weren't special. He didn't believe that for a second. Quite the opposite. He saw something in you that others didn't. Wasn't that what you wanted deep down? To be seen? Cherished?

Not like this.

“Get up,” you muttered, carefully getting to your feet. You weren't going to sit there and feel sorry for yourself. Things could always be worse. All things considered, Bucky hadn't hurt you. Hadn't lied to you either, as far as you knew. Which made your heart ache at that thought of leaving your place behind.

If Bucky kept his promise and forced you to move in, what would you tell your friends? Would they think you were crazy for moving so fast or would they not question it at all because Bucky was rich, handsome, and they would assume he made you happy? You’d say what you had to if it meant keeping them safe, but feared it could possibly put up a wall between you and the group since you couldn't tell them the full truth. Maybe his intention was to drive you away from them and bring you closer to him.

Your head began to ache from the overanalyzing. “I’m not going to think about Bucky Barnes.” Shutting the water off, you pushed the questions and scenarios as far from your mind as possible as you went about the rest of your morning. The rest of the day would be routine, normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

Naturally, Bucky messaged you once you finished getting dressed to prove you wrong. “Thinking of you. Are you thinking of me?”

You swallowed dryly as you typed back to him. It was like he knew you were trying to forget about everything. “I think you want me to think about you.”

It didn't take him long to respond. “Of course, I do. I hope you’re thinking about our chat from earlier and when we can finish it.” The man didn't want to just get in your head. He wanted to get under your skin. “Is it too much to ask for a photo? You have such a beautiful smile.”

You scoffed both from the audacity and boldness. It wasn't enough that he pleasured himself while talking to you, he wanted a photo of you, too? He specifically noted your smile. Was it really beautiful? “Just because you sent me photos of you in your jackets doesn't mean I have to send photos back.”

“Pretty please?”

It was almost cute. “Not today. Sorry, Bucky.”

“That’s okay. Was worth a shot. Maybe I can convince you to let me take a photo when I see you tonight.”

You froze. There it was. Not “if” he’d see you tonight, but “when”. There was no stopping him, was there? Maybe it was that thought that possessed you to goad him because you couldn't otherwise explain why you sent what you did. “You won’t see me because I have plans. But tell you what. If by any chance you do see me tonight, I’ll let you take a photo.”

You blinked and reread your message. Why did you do that? Sending that was as stupid as it was impulsive and would only encourage him.

“Is that a challenge or a promise?”

Your stomach twisted in knots, but you sent one last reply. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”

Bucky was so convinced he’d see you and there was a good chance he would, but you’d make him work for it a little. You wouldn't stick around your apartment. That would probably be the first place he’d look for you.

Catch me if you can.

Your shift went as normal as could be. Steady enough to keep you busy, but not feel overwhelmed. No difficult customers. No surprise visits from Bucky either, though you kept waiting for him to walk through the door.

There was no relief though once you clocked out since you had no idea where you'd hide out for the rest of the day. Everyone you reached out to was busy. Addison, of course, was going out to dinner with Brady and you didn't bother messaging her. Dana had a double date with another of your friends. The rest all had romantic evenings planned, too. They apologized like always.

Was it bad that you were kind of used to it?

A message from Bucky appeared the second you stepped out of the shop. “Any chance you’ll give me a clue where you’ll be?”

You sighed, a sense of weariness seeping in that you couldn't blame on work. “Not a chance.”

“Should I go find you now? I’m a little bored.”

Your gaze darted from left to right. Was he already nearby somewhere watching? “If you're bored, read a book.”

A smile crossed your face when you suddenly thought about where to go. You told yourself earlier you didn't want to think about Bucky for the rest of the day. What better way than to distract yourself with a book? And what better place than your favorite bookstore, Turn the Page?

Before you tucked your phone away, you turned the GPS off just in case Bucky had a way to get access to it. You wouldn't put it past him to try. You wouldn't take your normal route either. It was crazy to think things like a routine could be a bad thing, but Bucky made you question everything.

Walking through the city, you occasionally glanced back over your shoulder to make sure no one was following you. No one looked your way, too occupied with their own agendas as they shuffled around you. Something still felt off, goosebumps forming on your arms and your heart sinking as you felt a pair of steel eyes on you.

You didn't realize you stopped walking until someone nearly collided with you. “I’m so sorry,” you said, giving you the push you needed to move again. Quickening your pace, you reminded yourself it was still light out. People were around. Even if Bucky was following you, what would he do?

You moved forward and didn't look back until you found yourself at the bookstore, taking a calming breath before you walked in. Turn the Page had a cozy and peaceful atmosphere with a range from classic to modern stories. You could spend hours there and feel perfectly at home.

“Hey, Marc,” you smiled at the man behind the counter.

“Hey. Good to see you,” Marc smiled back. He took over the bookstore over a year ago. Friendly for the most part and took pride in the shop. “Anything I can help you find? Just finished setting up some new releases.”

“No thanks,” you replied, selecting a thick romance novel that would pass the time. “I was just going to hang around and read for a bit if you don't mind.”

“Not at all. Can I get you anything to drink or eat? Coffee? Baked good?” He offered, nodding to the tiny cafe area in the corner.

“Just water for now, please,” you said. You probably needed to eat, but you’d wait for your nerves to fully settle. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?” He asked, going to grab you your drink as you followed.

“Have you heard of The 107th?” You asked. You weren't sure what possessed you to do so. Maybe it was because he seemed like a neutral person to talk to.

“The nightclub?” Mark eyed you curiously. “That doesn't seem like your scene.”

“I’ve only been once. A friend's bachelorette party over a month ago,” you explained, assuming he meant it wasn't your type of scene since you weren't a party girl. “But I may have met the owner recently.”

Marc kept a neutral expression, but noticeably paused before he handed the glass over. “You met Bucky Barnes?”

“Yeah,” you answered, shifting on your feet. “Do you know him?”

He busied himself by cleaning the counter. “Yeah, I know him,” he said, your chest tight. How? “Well, I wouldn't say I know him well. I’ve only met him a couple of times. A lot of the local owners have since he has a hand in quite a few endeavors. Donates to the local hospital and charities, too.”

“That’s nice,” you croaked, taking a sip. If he had a hand in local businesses, was it possible that he met your boss? “He seemed very driven when I spoke to him.”

“That he is,” he agreed, tossing the rag away. “Also dangerous,” he added under his breath.

“Dangerous?” You repeated. The man threatened your loved ones, but why would Marc call him that?

He paused to look at you, his eyes wider than before. “Yeah, but you’re too sweet to get mixed up in any of that, so forget I said anything. Please,” he urged. You wished you could. “He hasn't been poking around your shop, has he?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you said. You hoped not.

“Sorry, I just assumed since you said you met him. Wouldn't surprise me if he stops in soon though with the anniversary coming up and all.”

“Anniversary of what?” You asked.

“His family. They…” He trailed off when the phone rang at the counter. “Sorry. I need to get back to work.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just start my book,” you said, going to take a seat on the other side of the shop. You took your usual spot on the couch and wished you hadn't said anything. Marc knew Bucky enough to say he was dangerous. And why would he eventually poke around your shop? Anniversary… Flowers…

“I wish you could've met my mom. She would've loved you.”

“She’s gone and that’s a topic for another day.”

You settled further into the couch with a huff. Bucky’s family and endeavors were none of your business. You weren't going to question it any further. You were going to sit and enjoy your book.

That was exactly what you did.

A few customers went in and out of the shop as you lost yourself in the story. It was easy to imagine snuggling with the hero as he whispered how much he loved you and always would. The sweet sort of romance that brought a smile to your face and allowed you to relax against the cushions. You were surprised you didn't fall asleep.

What time was it anyway?

“How’s the book?”

A shiver rolled over you as you peered up from the page and saw Bucky standing in front of you. He wore the blue jacket and his eyes stood out just as you said they would. Where you expected to see triumph in his gaze, there was only curiosity and awe. Like he happened to bump into you by accident instead of intentionally.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper shouted, not wanting to draw attention. While it wasn't a complete shock that he managed to find you, it was a miracle your heart hadn't given out from how fast it pounded over the last couple of days. “How did you find me?”

Did he actually follow you?

He smiled a little. “You’re the one who told me to read a book since I was bored,” he said, taking a seat beside you and slipping his arm around you. You tensed as he pulled you close, but he merely rubbed your arm with his gloved hand until you relaxed. “And finding you was just a process of elimination. I know you didn't go back to your place after you left this morning and there aren't too many places you like to venture by yourself in the city.”

“And just how do you know I didn't go back to my apartment?” You asked.

“I may or may not have an eye on the building,” he said casually. It could've been a joke or serious answer, neither of which were a laughing matter. “Or maybe you knew that would be the first place I’d try to look for you, so you decided to avoid it.”

You bit your tongue. That was exactly what you did. “Or maybe I wouldn't be there since I was supposed to go out.”

He nodded. “You were supposed to go out, but your plans fell through, didn't they?” He asked sympathetically. You didn't want his pity. “If I had to guess, they fell through even before we talked this morning.”

“My original plans fell through, yes,” you confirmed.

He hummed. “Were you embarrassed to tell me?”

You wrung your fingers together. There was no reason for you to feel bad for not telling him. You didn't owe him anything because he wasn't your boyfriend. “No,” you whispered.

“Did it just slip your mind when we talked?” He teased. At least he didn't sound upset or disappointed. Why wasn't he upset? Was he testing you?

“No. I just wanted a night off from being…” you trailed off, not sure how he would react in public to something he didn't want to hear. And what was it a night off from exactly? Being his new girlfriend?

He scratched along his chin, drawing attention to the gray hairs. “You know what I think?” He asked.

“I have no idea,” you replied.

“I think you were testing me because you wanted me to find you. You want me more than you want to admit,” he said. Your mouth fell open, but you couldn't speak. “Otherwise, why push me to look for you? Why hang out in one of your favorite shops knowing I could easily track you down?”

“I didn't…” You took a breath. You didn't want him to chase after you. That wasn't it. “I didn't push.”

“Moyo Kotyonok, you dared me with that message and you know it,” he smirked.

Biting your lip, you didn't deny it any further since he was partially right. You egged him on by offering to let him take a photo if he found you, which wasn't smart. If you had real plans, you wouldn't have done that. But you didn't do it because you wanted him to find you or wanted him in general.

You didn't.

“But we can talk about that later,” he said, gentler than you expected. “I’m sorry about your plans. What happened?”

You finally closed the book in your lap and exhaled. “Addison and I were supposed to hang out, but she’s going out to dinner with her fiancé instead,” you explained.

He narrowed his eyes. “So, she ditched you,” he said, disappointment finally seeping into voice.

You shook your head. “No, she didn't ditch me. We rescheduled,” you argued, quick to defend her. She didn't maliciously blow you off. “Things come up. It happens.”

Bucky smiled softly. “You stuck up for her immediately. I admire that,” he said, shifting to face you more. He practically crowded you. “Why not hang out with another friend?”

You looked at your lap. What was he playing at? “Because my friends are busy,” you whispered. It hurt to say it and it shouldn't. It was just a downside of being the single one in a group of friends who had significant others. No one was obligated to keep their schedules open in case you wanted to hang out.

He tilted your head up. Why wouldn't he just let you hide? “Just so you know, I will never be too busy for you,” he whispered. It wasn't fair that he looked at you like you mattered. “You’re my top priority.”

You ignored the warm sensation that spread from your heart. So many people made you an option. “I shouldn't be,” you whispered.

“But you are and that isn't going to change,” he said, steadfast as always. “And since this shop is going to close soon, why not go to the club with me? It'll be fun.”

You gestured to your comfortable outfit. “I’m not dressed for your club. Besides, I was going to call it an early night after I left.”

His eyes roamed your body with interest before he shrugged and took the book from your lap. “I have that dress waiting for you, but you can wear whatever you want since you look beautiful in anything.”

“Are you listening to what I'm saying? I said I want to call it an early night.” You moved to stand, your limbs tired from sitting. “For someone who claims to care, you don't take my feelings into consideration.”

He reached to grab your hand and took it before you could walk away. “I care more than anyone else,” he whispered vehemently before he took a breath, his eyes burning with passion as he stood up, too. “I’m not ignoring your feelings. It’s a compromise. We won't stay long, so come with me.”

“Thank you for the offer,” you began, trying to put out the fire in his eyes. “But why would I want to go to your club when all I want to do is read and relax?”

“Do I need to remind you that some of my friends will be there and they still want to meet you?” He asked, gently guiding you toward the front of the store. “And I can take your right back to your place after so you can rest. You'll still have an early night.”

He considered that a compromise? “But I-”

“You’ll be in bed before 10. You have my word.” He walked you toward the exit, past the remaining customers, and gave the associate behind the counter a smile before you could protest. “And don't worry about the book. I paid for it.”

“Wait, where’s Marc?” You asked. You hadn't spoken to him since your earlier conversation.

The associate looked at Bucky before she smiled. “I think he went out back for a quick break.”

“Before closing?” You asked.

“Let’s go,” Bucky said, heading out the door with you.

He helped you into the car by the curb as you were still catching up to what was happening. He effortlessly coaxed you out of a store with people around and into a car, alone. The man had no fear.

“Where's Ray?” You asked since the partition was up. “Shocked you didn't send him in to get me.”

“He actually offered, but I wanted to go in myself,” Bucky replied, chuckling at your expression. “And don't worry. He's close by.”

You huffed and stared at the garment bag where your dress waited when he put an arm back around you. “I just wanted some peace and quiet tonight.” But he got you right where he wanted you.

“Like I said, you'll meet my friends and you’ll be in bed by 10.” Bucky dragged his nose along your throat and inhaled your scent. Your eyes closed, but your body didn't freeze up the way you expected it to. “We’ll both get what we want.”

What you wanted didn't matter. “Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You closed your eyes. “Just how dangerous are you?”

“I’m the most dangerous man in the city, but you're safe with me,” he replied against your skin.

“And what if your friends don't like me?” You asked.

“You have nothing to worry about. They’ll love you,” he promised, bringing his head up to kiss your temple. “But no one will ever love you more than I do.”

Love.

You shuddered. You weren't sure what you feared more. That his friends would love you enough to help keep you by his side or how much Bucky claimed to love you. Because there was nothing more dangerous than a powerful man in love.

Which friend do we think is the most excited to see you with Bucky? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[annwrites]

⸻ a call to arms. part three.

· pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader · type: part of a series · summary: jace takes you on your first flying lesson. · word count: 5,645

He'd already woken up in a sour mood at the prospect of having to waste his day at your side, yet again, while he teaches you how to ride something you've no business having in the first place.

He'd swallowed it down, however, with specific plans in mind for this afternoon.

He would show you first how it's done, soaring through the skies with ease atop Vermax. His dragon would breathe great plumes of fire, which he'd then swoop directly through without an ounce of fear.

Once he landed, you would look at him with awe and reverence, begging him to take you up next.

He'd intended for today to be less of a headache. The two of you would not spend it arguing.

It would, instead, be similar in nature to how you'd ended the night last: calmly, Jacaerys kindly teaching you Valyrian terms he assumes you may have interest in knowing, and with a gentle touch. Or mayhaps a few...

Instead, when he'd sent for you, you'd not been in your chambers.

You'd, apparently, gone out to walk along the beach with your guard, as if this is all some sort of holiday away from home.

His ire had been promptly stoked, and had turned to seething rage as he watched from the castle's walkway as the two of you conversed and touched one another.

You, placing a hand upon the man's chest, and he upon your arm, your lower back, your waist. You merely smiled like an empty-headed idiot all the while.

As if you are unfamiliar with the ways of wanton men.

He should have the knight's hands cut off for such an offense. For touching that which he is not meant to have.

Not that you are spoken for—Jace has had few words with his own betrothed the last few days, always claiming to be otherwise occupied—but your priorities lie elsewhere now. Not in taking long walks on beaches with...rough-handed men.

He shall begin the day by teaching both of you a lesson then.

Jacaerys clenches his jaw, tightening his grip around the pommel of his sword as he comes ever-closer, gritting his teeth at the sound of you laughing contentedly at what he's sure is an ignorant joke the knight has just told you to earn your approval.

And then he does it again: touches your back, sliding his palm along it, keeping you somewhat close to his side.

Too close.

Jacaerys plants his booted feet firmly in damp sand, settles his arms behind his back, and clears his throat.

You jump in surprise.

"Ser Myles," he says, glancing to the knight's arm, before meeting his eyes once more. "Is that any way to treat the young woman you've been tasked with the protection of?"

His hand suddenly falls away, and your brows furrow.

"Forgive me, My Prince, I meant no harm by the gesture."

Jacaerys takes a step forward. "No, I think you meant something entirely different."

Your eyes flit between the two men, while your heart begins to pound in your chest at the boy's insinuation.

Myles remains silent, so Jacaerys shrugs dramatically. "What? Nothing to say for yourself, then? You are given the duty of keeping her safe, and she's here not even a week, and already you are being untoward. How should I see such an action? Hm?"

You step in front of Myles, putting yourself between the two of them. "He was merely keeping me company while I collected shells. He's done nothing wrong."

Jacaerys stares you down. "You will address me properly, and you will hold your tongue. You speak only when spoken to, is that understood?"

You ball your hands into fists before crossing your arms.

Jacaerys settles his gaze upon Myles then, loathing him all the more for his handsome smattering of dark facial hair, his tanned face, his broad form.

As if he'd not already felt insecure enough, day-by-day he wishes more and more to crawl out of his own skin. This one is no different, and he'd so prayed it would be.

Myles speaks. "I assure you, My Prince, no disrespect was intended toward Y/N. We were only—"

Jace raises his brows incredulously.

"You seem on quite comfortable terms with my—" He pauses, but only for the briefest of moments. "One of my mother's dragonseeds."

"How else is he meant to address me?" You ask, interrupting once again.

Jacaerys steps closer to you, forcing you to lean your head back to meet his eyes. "You will be silent."

He looks to Ser Myles, jerking his head toward Dragonstone. "You are dismissed."

The man bows his head, glancing to you for but a moment while you give him a sympathetic look in return, before he steps away.

Your eyes are full of fire when they meet Jacaerys' once more. "That was entirely uncalled for."

He grabs you roughly by the arm, glaring at you.

"My Prince," he hisses.

You yank your arm from his grip, sneering at him—and, as you've finally had it with his insufferable ways; his condescending, haughty attitude, you tell him what you really think.

"Royal arsehole!" You shout, stomping away.

His jaw drops, his mind going blank at your display of sheer disrespect.

"W—What did you just call me?!" He yells shrilly.

He races to catch up to you, repeating himself.

"What did you just call me?!" He shouts, his voice echoing across the water.

You pay him no mind as you throw a lock of hair over your shoulder, holding your head high as you continue swiftly walking away in the other direction.

His patience now at its end, he grabs you by the wrist, and begins pulling you back toward the castle. "You insolent little harlot! You'll pay for that! I could have your tongue for such—"

You try to yank yourself away again, but he holds firm, turning back to you with flared nostrils and a set jaw.

"You want to know what I think?!"

"No! I don't think I particularly do! But what I know—" he says, stalking toward you while you shuffle your feet to get away, desperate for him to release you. "Is that this behavior ceases—today!"

He shoves you into a narrow alcove, putting the two of you out-of-sight.

He pushes you into the side of the cavern, and you dare to push him back—shoving against his chest, once, twice—before finally raising a hand to him, which he quickly catches in his strong grip.

He pins you against a damp stone wall, his face mere inches from your own as his warm breath fans over you—combating the cold of the sea while he holds your hands above your head.

"If you ever raise a hand to me again," he says lowly—quietly—his body now flush against your own. "I will take it. What you just did is treason."

He positions his lips next to your ear. "Go on, then. Try me. See how far I let you get after such a stunt. You think me weak? Easy to strong-arm?"

He squeezes your wrists painfully.

"I doubt it. You've no idea who you're testing. I am your future king," he spits. "And you will obey me, you little bitch."

He pulls back, his brown eyes boring into your own. "You think your comely looks make you special? Think they're all you need, so as to easily fool and take advantage of men? To get your way?"

He leans in closer. "I am not so easily corrupted."

Your lip twitches and he curls his own in response.

"What do you think are laughing at?" He barks.

You glance down, to where his erection is firmly pressed against your stomach, then back into his eyes. "I was going to tell you that I think you jealous."

You glower at him. "And merely a green boy who has no idea what in Seven Hells he's doing."

He looks down then as well, and his face goes starch-white.

He stutters, desperately grasping for words, for explanation, for any feeling that isn't utter mortification, before he looks at you again.

You raise a brow, a bored expression now having overtaken your features as you wait for him to decide what he wants to do with you.

You're sure you already know.

Finally, he growls. slamming your arms against stone one last time before releasing you, adjusting himself, then stalking away, leaving you alone...and trembling.

It's some time before you return to the castle.

You'd wished to cool down first, so you'd waded through the sea for awhile—only up to your ankles in the cool saltwater—as you gathered further shells for your sister. But no pearls, quite expectantly.

You're unsure that you regret what occurred with the prince this morn.

Regret for his sake? Never. For your own? Were you not a dragonrider...you would already be dead by now.

You need be far more careful in the future. Your pride is not worth more than your life. Not when you have others depending upon you to make it home to them. To look after them once you have.

Wish that you could remain out here all evening, but, before long, you catch a chill and begin heading inside so as to get warm again in front of the fire.

What had the royal pain in your arse even wanted in the first place, anyway? Had he really come all the way outside and across the beach just to chastise another man for touching you?

You throw yourself back on your bed, not much caring.

He is a child playing at being a man. Nothing more.

Even if those same...manly parts had stirred something inside of you.

As if he is your usual type.

No. He is insufferable.

Jacaerys rubs feverishly at his throbbing erection, his eyes closed—free hand firmly gripping the wall as he works desperately toward his release.

He imagines you bent over his lap as he wails against your backside until it is lovely shades of blood-red and purple, while you beg either for more, or for his mercy.

My Prince, Gods, My Prince...

His lip twitches, turning into a pleased grin as you beg for him.

I will obey, I swear it by the Seven, you whine.

None else shall touch me, you whisper.

Only you, you moan, making him a solemn vow.

He struggles to picture what the rest of you might look like. Your breasts are not much of a quandary for him—he has seen wet-nurses tending to his younger brothers—but rather between your legs.

He is still yet...unaware.

And you had read him like a book on that, hadn't you? More than once. It is humiliating: for you, a girl, to know more than he. About anything.

He imagines you pinned to that wall again, your dress—one of soft grey and pearlescent white he'd chosen for you—in tatters at your feet as you stroke and please him...with your mouth.

That is certainly one way to earn your silence, he muses.

And he much enjoys it.

"Gods, Y/N," he whispers heatedly, wanting you in here with him instead.

He—fuck—he needs you. Needs you on your back, on your knees, on your belly, in every which way. Wants...wants you to teach him. To pleasure him. To allow him to pleasure you. To—to...

"Oh, Gods, yeeees," he drawls, his hot, thick cum spurting out of the tip of his weeping, purple cock as he fills with relief.

His strokes eventually slow, before ceasing altogether, a long tendril of cum hanging from his erection, which he rubs his thumb over.

His body feels hot all over, his cheeks are flushed, and his heart is hammering away in his chest, but Gods, could he use yet another round.

Apparently three had not been nearly enough...

But he knows the day is still young, and you still need him to teach you how to ride Silverwing.

That is what he needs, he thinks, as he cleans himself up. To ride the skies. It will get him out of his head. Will cool him down. Will distract him.

He knows what he truly wants, however...

Something which he will never admit.

Even if the evidence lies plainly before him on an old rag...

There is a knock at your door, interrupting you from your current task of washing off your sister's shells.

You pad toward the door, then blank when you open it, to find Prince Jacaerys standing on the other side.

He tosses you a bundle of clothes, which you barely manage to catch within your arms.

"Put these on," he commands, shoving past you, shutting the door firmly behind himself.

You turn, watching as he pours himself a glass of water, which he drinks down greedily before pouring another, seating himself at your dining table.

"W—what?"

He looks at you with a bored expression. "Are you deaf?"

You look at the clothes—which are all leather and thick velvet, with light fur—then back to him. "What're these for?"

He shrugs a shoulder lightly. "You'll see."

He nods toward your changing screen. "Now, put them on. I won't ask again. We don't have all day."

You briefly consider telling him that, without his little outburst, perhaps whatever new lessons you're about to be given could've been started sooner, but refrain.

You'll need bite your tongue more often from now own, lest you lose it altogether. And then how will you command Silverwing in battle?

In truth, you'd rather not think on the issue too long.

Every day that passes where you are not forced back into the dragonpit to finally learn how to ride her is a great relief. Even if it leaves you on the edge of your seat, waiting with dread for when you're finally summoned to do so.

You shift on your feet, clutching the clothing to your chest. "I need privacy."

He rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his water. "There is a screen, and I hardly intend to look. Now, do as your prince commands."

Royal prick, you think, walking behind the sheer screen, setting your new garments down.

You know looking is precisely what he means to do. Elsewise, he would not still be in here.

Boys.

Jacaerys, to his credit, tries to look out the window instead, but staring at a pane of glass is not why he'd come. It's like he can't fucking help himself. And he feels shameful for it. Nevertheless, he does it anyway.

He watches.

Watches as a candle casts your form in a soft shadow against the screen.

Watches as you remove your gown, and then your smallclothes, leaving you bare—Jace only having his imagination to picture what is on the other side.

There is the soft swell of your breasts, a tuft of hair above your pelvis, your round backside that he'd pictured in his mind's eye but a few minutes earlier as he spanked it raw. Your supple thighs, the feminine curve of your waist.

He glances nervously to the doorway.

If he were to be caught with you like this... He does not want to imagine the fallout that would ensue between not just he and Baela, but between his mother and her father.

And he knows he's enough of a coward that he would place the blame entirely at your feet.

He wants to convince himself he would do otherwise, but doubt clouds such convictions.

He looks back, watching as you pull on your new riding pants, and he adjusts himself over his own, his cock filling with blood...again.

He shakes his head, standing, stepping across the room to stare outside.

He needs to throw himself into the sea for awhile. A long while.

Finally, you clear your throat, interrupting the silence.

Jacaerys turns back to you, pleased that it all seems to fit. It'd been a measure his mother had ordered from their servants: to have you fit for new garments once you'd claimed Silverwing.

He comes toward you. "How does it feel? Are the boots too snug?"

You walk in a few small circles and his lip twitches at the sight, before you come to a stop, looking at him.

You shake your head. "I think they're fine."

He gently tugs against the hem of your tunic before circling you, looking you over—every inch.

When he's standing before you once more, he gives you a small nod. "Follow me."

Your eyes widen in terror as Jacaerys leads you toward the dragonpit.

"W—where're we—what're we—going—doing?"

Jacaerys keeps on, growing nearer and nearer to that familiar set of large double-doors. "Today, you will learn how to fly your new mount. You needn't worry, I will be on Vermax and—"

You stop in your tracks, fighting back tears. "I—I don't want to."

He barely looks at you as he grabs you by the forearm, dragging you forward, closer to those doors.

Doors you thought you'd never walk out of. Doors that had trapped you and dozens of others inside a dark room while two blood-thirsty beasts feasted upon them.

You can still hear the screams.

Can smell the fire—the thick, black plumes of smoke which had threatened to choke the life from you.

You see their flesh falling from their bones.

Can hear one man crying for his mother.

Another girl crying for her baby.

When those same doors close behind you, you panic.

You wrench your arm away from him and run in the opposite direction. You're not thinking. Or you are, but only of survival.

He yells after you, but you hardly hear it. All you do is the screams. The roars of the dragons. Death rattles.

You hide yourself away in a dark corner, clamping your hands over your ears, rocking back and forth, willing it to be over.

It will all be over soon...

You squeeze your eyes shut, making yourself as small as possible.

You want your father.

Your mother.

Your little girl. You want to hold her one last time. Please, Gods, please.

"Look at me!"

It is only once he has pulled your hands away from your ears that you realize you're screaming.

Jacaerys takes your tear-stricken face between his palms, his eyes searching your own. "You're safe! She won't hurt you, you have my word!"

"Please!" You beg him as you choke on your tears. "P—Please, My Prince, I beg of you! Gods, I'm so sorry! Y—You're right: I'll be obedient! A good little girl—your whore—whatever you wish! I'll obey you, I swear it! Please, please, I have to leave!"

His heart breaks at the sight of your crumpled face—your violently shaking body—the words you offer him. You'd do anything he says in this moment, you're that frightened of what his mother had subjected you to.

And to think that he'd sniggered at the idea of feeding you to Vermax...

How could he have?

"My little girl! I want my little girl!" You cry, trying to push past him, your eyes set on those large doors, until he pulls you against his chest—the two of you collapsing in a tangle of limbs as he holds onto you with all his might.

He shooshes you, smooths your hair with his hand, rocks you gently.

"You're safe, you're safe," he repeats so many times that he quickly loses count of just how many.

"She is your dragon now," he tells you with wide eyes, "She will obey you. She means you no harm. She chose you. Wants you to be her rider, the sole body who commands her. You can trust her, I swear this to you."

You shake your head, not wishing to listen.

"I am here!" He shouts. "I won't allow any harm to befall you, you have my word, Y/N! As long as you are with me, you are safe!"

You break into a fit of sobs, clutching at his chest.

"So sorry, so sorry, so—"

He cradles the back of your head, tears stinging his own eyes.

His mother had stood there and watched. Had watched like it was some marvelous spectacle, instead of dozens of people fighting for their lives after coming to offer her their aid.

And he had been grateful for their deaths. All those people. They'd...they'd had families, too. They'd been unaware of what they were walking into.

He is a monster, he realizes, feeling ill.

After some time, you begin to quiet, your sobs turning into quiet hiccups, your body drained.

"I don't..." You trail off, unsure what you even want to say.

He tightens his arms around you.

"You...you did not say... That you have children."

He is not pleased by it, but also not entirely surprised. So, you've a bastard child with a man who chose to leave you both behind. He is not sure if that says more about you, or he.

Your brows furrow.

"What?" You ask quietly.

"You kept begging...for your little girl."

You slump against him.

"My little sister," you explain.

"My father died when I was young. And after...my mother became a ghost of herself. It became my responsibly to look after us all. No matter that I was still a child myself. There was this night..."

You grow quiet for a moment before continuing.

"I was reading to my sister in bed. She...she called me 'mama'. I didn't...know what to do with that. So, I let it go. Until she did it again. My mother didn't even care. I tried, gently, to explain to her not to refer to me by that term, but she didn't seem to grasp the things I was telling her. Why she shouldn't."

Jace rests his cheek against the crown of your head.

"Somewhere along the way, I began to think of her as my daughter. Maybe she is now. I don't know. I just... I miss her more than I can bear. I feel like a piece of my chest is missing now. I want to be back with her."

Jace swallows down the lump in his throat. "My younger brother, Luke... Aemond killed him. I did not...act as a father to him, necessarily, but I looked after him. Tried to teach him. I miss him every day."

You gingerly take one of his hands in your own.

"I heard about that... Storm's End?"

He nods.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

He presses a kiss to your hair. "Me as well."

A beat of silence.

"I know you do not wish to, but you have to learn."

You stir in his arms, so he holds you close yet still.

"I will ride with you. On Silverwing. I promise you—I swear to you—that she will bring you no harm. Dragons bond with their riders. You'll feel it before long. It's...difficult to explain. But if the day came when she needed give her life for yours," he says, pulling away, cupping your cheek. "She will. That is what you mean to her now."

Your chin wobbles. "I don't want her."

"She wants you. Has chosen you."

"How...how do we let someone else claim her instead?"

He shakes his head. "That isn't how it works. A dragon may only take a new rider once its previous one has passed. That is the only way the bond is broken."

Your heart sinks. "Oh."

A tear slips from your eye, sliding down your cheek. "I don't want to die."

He frowns.

"I know. None do. But..." What is he supposed to tell you? A dragon was never what you'd come here for. He has no words of comfort for you, and it makes him feel all the worse for it.

"I wonder if Maisily would like her."

You smile slightly.

"I'd like to think she'd be braver than I."

He presses a kiss to your forehead. "After what you endured...you're not a coward. I'm...sorry. That you must live with it now. Truly."

Your eyes meet his again. "Do we truly have to?"

He nods slowly. "I'm afraid so. But, as I said, I will be with you the entire time."

You clutch at the material of his soft tunic. "Were you scared...the first time?"

He tips your chin up with his index finger, grinning. "Terrified."

That makes you feel somewhat better.

Finally, he stands, taking your hand within his own, lacing your fingers together. "Come, I think it is time for a proper introduction."

You practically cling to Jace's side as the two of you stand at the edge of the platform which overlooks the dragonpit.

Your body shakes violently, while tears well in your eyes. You fear you may vomit all over him.

"Call her," he tells you gently.

You stare up at him, your nose red and eyes bloodshot, and shake your head.

He slides his hand down your arm, lacing his fingers between your own for comfort. He squeezes your hand securely.

"Call to her. I'm right here. No harm will come to you, I promise."

Reluctantly, you tear your gaze away from him, looking out at that black, bottomless pit, afraid of what is to be found in the looming darkness.

You hide yourself half-behind his arm.

"Silverwing," you call quietly.

He frowns. "Tell her 'Māzīs, Silverwing'."

You grip his sleeve tightly.

"It means come," he explains.

"M—" You shut your mouth, humming with fear.

"Try again," he encourages.

In truth, he doesn't entirely mind you taking so long to accomplish this one simple task. The more time it takes you, the longer you'll cling to him for safety.

He much likes that you do in the first place.

That you see him as a protector in this way.

"Māzīs, Silverwing," you call, a few octaves louder, to no response.

"With conviction," he explains.

You squeeze his hand so tightly it hurts, but he says nothing of it.

"Māzīs, Silverwing!" You shout.

And then there is a deep rumbling, and something shifting in the dark.

You squeak, stepping behind Jace entirely, fisting the material of his tunic in your hands as you hold yourself against him.

You shut your eyes, burying your face in the middle of his back.

His lip twitches, eventually turning into a full-blown contented smirk at the feel of you so very close to him.

"Tell her to sit."

"You do it," you mumble.

He rolls his eyes. "She is your mount, not mine. She needs answer to you alone. Elsewise, she will grow confused. It would not do well to have her responding to other riders while in battle."

"Then we won't go to battle. We'll stay here. Where it's safe."

He nearly snorts.

"Demās," he whispers. "Sit."

You peak out from behind him, then blanch when you see your dragon already staring at you.

Her blue and silver scales shimmer against the light of the lit braziers which surround you. At least she's pretty to look at... If not also terrifying.

"She's waiting for you," he presses.

"Demās, Silverwing."

There is a resounding thump, and then a soft clicking coming from her.

"Good, now you may mount her."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

He turns, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "I will show you how it's done."

You watch nervously as Jacaerys climbs onto your dragon with ease, seating himself comfortably before looking down to you, beckoning you up with his hand.

You shift on your feet, glancing to the doorway, then back to him.

"I will be with you the entire time. Just come. Please."

You take a small step forward, and then another and another, shoving down the urge to run screaming in the other direction all the while as you plant your feet against her side, your hands gripping her slippery scales while you stare up at him.

Jacaerys gives you an encouraging smile. "Good, just like that. Now climb."

You frown, but obey nonetheless, knowing you've no other choice.

You struggle—losing your footing every few steps, but you hold firm, eventually taking Jacaery's outstretched hand, and he pulls you up, and you fall into his chest.

You flush. "Sorry."

He shakes his head, smoothing hair away from your face.

"No harm done. Now," he nods toward the saddle. "Sit, so I can adjust your restraints."

"What...what about you?"

He grins. "I've been at this for some time. I'll be perfectly well."

"You're not...you're not afraid of falling off?"

"Not at all."

You wait patiently—silently—as Jacaerys pulls tight a large leather strap across your waist.

"How does that feel?"

You tug against it, and are pleased to find it doesn't budge. "Good. It feels secure. I think..."

He nods, sliding closer until his chest is flush against your back. He wraps an arm around your waist while his other hand comes to rest atop your thigh.

"Tell her to stand."

You stare ahead dumbly, your mind blank. You don't want her to stand. Don't want her to fly. You want to go back to your room.

"Maybe...maybe tomorrow we could—"

"No, today."

You swallow thickly.

He pulls a lock of hair away from your shoulder, bringing his lips close to your ear. "I won't allow any harm to come to you. Neither will she. She is your protector now."

He pauses. "As am I. For...for today, that is."

Tears fills your eyes.

You want to get down.

You want your little girl.

"Can you hold my hand again?" You whisper.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your hair, twining his fingers between yours once more.

"Now, stand."

You chew your lip. "That's the one you were mean to me over, right? You said..."

You trail off. You can't remember the word now. Only that he called you a simpleton when he told you to say it, and you'd not known what word to supply him with in return.

"Iōrātās."

You nod. "Silverwing, iōrātās!"

She begins to rise and your eyes go wide, your heart jumping into your throat.

"Oh—oh Gods. I don't—"

The two of you rock from side to side before leveling again.

"Tell her to go forward."

A beat of silence.

"Naejot, Silverwing!"

 She begins heading toward a doorway, which begins to slowly open.

Jacaerys had arranged for the dragonkeepers to at least do that much.

He was irritable enough when he went to them to make arrangements for this afternoon. If they'd refused his orders...

It is once Jacaerys can see clearly outside that he speaks again. "Tell her to fly."

"I—I can't do that. We need to get down now, I think."

He cups your cheek, leaning in close to your ear. "All is well, I promise. Trust me. Just this once."

You keep your mouth shut, refusing to give her the order.

"Sōvēs," he tells you.

You remain silent.

He sighs. "Do you think she enjoys being trapped in here all hours of the day? Do you know how long it's been since someone has ridden her? Let her show you the skies. Allow her that privilege."

You fill with guilt then.

You drag your fingertips lightly along her scales.

You've a dragon... What a ridiculous thing for someone like you to possess.

It will not last.

It does not matter if Jacaerys believes otherwise. She chose wrong. And you will prove it to him.

"Silverwing, sōvēs!" You shout with confidence.

And immediately fill with regret, your dragon instead proving you wrong.

She takes off, practically running toward the open doors, flapping her wings, and you shriek in terror, doubling over and hiding your face in your hands.

Jace holds you tightly, encouraging you to look, but you refuse, instead waiting for it to all be over.

You know you are airborne when everything becomes weightless and she steadies beneath you.

"Look, Y/N. Open your eyes!"

You shake your head. "No! We—You should tell her to land. I got her to fly like you said!"

He reaches forward, prying your hands away from your eyes—finding you to be stronger than you look, but you are, nevertheless, no match for him.

You keep your eyelids closed tight, refusing to give him what he wants.

"Open! That is an order from your prince!"

He says it with a grin, and with a playful tone, so as not to frighten you further, but you still whimper in fear.

He gives you another soft kiss upon your silver hair—loose strands of which lash against his face, tickling him.

"I want us to experience this together," he tells you lowly, his hand sliding along your stomach, fingers curling inward.

"You are a dragonrider now, you should see...what sorts of pleasure it may bring you."

Just then, you feel something long and hard pressing into your lower back and your eyes pop open in surprise. You turn back to him, only to find him smirking in contentment. "I see you've finally chosen to properly join me."

You give him a look of disbelief before turning back round.

And then you gasp in amazement—at the large, endless expanse of clear blue sky that surrounds you. It, and a handful of fluffy white clouds are all which remain in all the world from up here.

"I'm—"

He wraps his arms around your upper body, pulling you back against him.

"I'm flying!"

His eyes flutter closed, a smile settling upon his lips to hear you so pleased.

"I'm flying, Jace!"

He beams at you addressing him by a shortened, more familiar version of his name; that you did not so much as hesitate to do so.

"We're flying," he replies as you soar through the skies together.

[midastouch013]

Scars and All

Based on this request

Summary: You and Natasha have been dating for almost a year, and so what happens when you finally find out why things never get steamy

Warnings: Insecurity, Scars, Flashbacks of Redroom. Super soft Nat.

---

You and Natasha had been dating for close to a year now, having moved in a month ago to the floor Tony had given the both of you happy to see his, and you quote ' favourite spider' so in love, and though your relationship was incredible in so many ways, there was one aspect that sometimes caused a bit of frustration. Every time things got a little bit steamy, Natasha would freeze up. And every time it left you confused, more than before with every occurrence.

It happened again tonight. You were tangled up in each other, lips locked in a passionate kiss, hands exploring, when Natasha suddenly pulled back, her breath uneven.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You froze, your heart pounding. You were frustrated, sure, but you respected Natasha enough to honor her wishes. With a heavy sigh, you pulled away, trying to hide your disappointment.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly, concern evident in your voice.

She nodded, avoiding your gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… not feeling it right now."

You couldn't help but feel disappointed, but you didn't want to show it. Instead, you forced a small smile and said, "Okay. I'm just gonna… take a cold shower then."

Without waiting for a response, you got up and made your way to the bathroom, leaving Natasha alone on the bed.

The cold water did little to wash away your disappointment. You couldn't shake the feeling of frustration, unable to understand why Natasha kept pulling away.

After what felt like an eternity under the icy spray, you finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As you dried off and got dressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

When you emerged from the bathroom, you found Natasha lost in her own world, her eyes unfocused as she begged someone she had only told you about once, Madame B, not to hit her.

Your heart broke at the sight. You knew Natasha was reliving a moment from her past, a nightmare from her time in the Red Room. Without a second thought, you crossed the room and enveloped her in a tight hug, hoping to ground her in the present, having it done many times previously.

"Nat, it's me," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "You're safe now. You're with me."

Slowly, Natasha's breathing began to steady, and the tension in her body started to ease. She clung to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck as she struggled to break free from the memories that haunted her.

You held her close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance until she finally began to relax in your arms.

After Natasha falls asleep in your arms, you gently tuck her under the covers, making sure she's comfortable. With a lingering glance, you quietly slip out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You make your way downstairs and pull out your phone, dialing Yelena's number. She picks up after a couple of rings.

"Hey," she says, her voice filled with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitate for a moment, not sure how to explain what just happened with Natasha.

"Not really," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Nat had a flashback… to the Red Room, I think."

There's a pause on the other end of the line before Yelena speaks again. "Is she okay now?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping," you reply. "But… I don't know what to do, Yelena. Every time things start to get… intimate, she freezes up. I can't shake the feeling that it's connected somehow."

There's a thoughtful silence before Yelena speaks again. "Does my sestra shower with the door closed?"

You frown, confused by the seemingly random question. "Uh, yeah, she does. Why?"

Yelena hums thoughtfully. "And does she ever… mention anything about about her post-missions "

Your heart skips a beat as the pieces start to click into place. "No, she doesn't even let me see her till she's in pajamas. Why?"

Yelena lets out a heavy sigh. "Look, I think… Y/n, you're pretty smart, so I'm surprised I have to be telling you this, but my sister is insecure about something. And maybe, just maybe, that's why she keeps pulling away."

"But what insecurity?" you question," She-"

Before you can say anything else, Yelena interrupts you. "Sorry, I have to go. Kate's calling me. Just… be there for her, okay? She needs you."

After Yelena hangs up, more incidents with Natasha flash through your mind. Little moments that, when looked at together, begin to form a pattern. And suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. Natasha's insecurity is about her scars.

Just as you're connecting the dots, Natasha comes downstairs to grab something to eat. Wordlessly, you grab her by the hips and lift her up.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she squeals, trying to wriggle out of your grasp.

Ignoring her protests, you carry her back upstairs to your room. Once there, you gently set her down on the edge of the bed, ignoring her playful protests.

"Okay, seriously, what's going on?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

You don't answer right away. Instead, you kneel down on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in yours.

"Tasha, I love you," you begin, your voice steady. "And I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I know… I know that something happened tonight, something that triggered a flashback. And I think… I think I know what it is."

Natasha's eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, she looks like she might bolt. But then she takes a deep breath and meets your gaze.

"You do?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, squeezing her hands gently while taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. "Natasha, do you not like your scars?" you ask gently.

Natasha's defenses go up immediately, and she tries to deflect the situation with humor. "What, these old things?" she says, gesturing to her scars with a forced smirk. "Just battle wounds, nothing to worry about."

But you're firm in your resolve. You don't let her deflect this time. "Nat, please," you say, your voice pleading. "I need you to be honest with me."

She sighs, the forced smile slipping from her face. "Fine," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fine, you want the truth? I hate them, okay? I hate the way they look. I hate what they remind me of."

Your heart breaks at her words, but you keep your voice steady. "Why, Nat? Why do you hate them so much?"

And then she confesses, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Because I'm afraid, okay? I'm afraid that when you see them, you'll finally realize that you're dating a monster. A cold-blooded murderer. I'm afraid that you'll look at me and see nothing but a killer. And I love you so much, and I don't want to lose you. But I'm afraid that these scars will scare you away. That I don't look… sexy with my scars and all."

Tears fill her eyes as she speaks, and you feel your heart breaking all over again.

You feel a surge of anger and hurt at Natasha's admission. How could she think of herself like that? And how could she think that you would ever see her that way?

"You really think that?" you say, your voice coming out a bit harsher than you intended. "That I would see you like that? That I would ever think of you as a monster? God, Natasha, how could you even think that?"

Natasha flinches at your words, and for a moment, you regret the harshness of your tone. But then you take a deep breath and soften your voice.

"I'm sorry, It wasn't supposed to sound so rude, but… I get it, Nat," you continue, your voice gentle now. "I get that you're scared. And I understand why you feel that way. Even if I've not been through what you've been through, I'd like to think that I get it. But you need to know that I love you, scars and all. And I would never, ever think of you as anything less than amazing."

You feel Natasha's arms tighten around you, and you know that she's listening, really listening, to what you're saying.

"And another thing," you add, your voice firm now. "You need to stop calling yourself those hateful things. You are not a monster, Natasha. You are not a cold-blooded murderer. You are a hero, you are the role model to millions of kids out there, and you're my girlfriend. There's no way in hell could you be what you claim to be. Don't you ever forget that."

Natasha doesn't say anything in response, and for a moment, you worry that you've pushed her too far. But then she pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting yours.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for… for loving me, scars and all."

You shush her with a gentle finger to her lips. " What have I told you about that?" you ask in a tutting tone.

She chuckled breathily, a faint smile on her face " Never thank you unless I don't want dinner that night"

You look into Natasha's eyes, your heart overflowing with love and reassurance. Without saying a word, you lift her (Well yours, but anything that was yours was hers) t-shirt and leant in to press a gentle kiss to one of her scars, then another, and another, until you'd kissed each one.

Each kiss is an act of reassurance, a silent declaration of how beautiful and attractive you find her scars. And with each kiss, you feel Natasha's tension slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance.

When you finally pull back, Natasha is looking at you with tear-filled eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I love you" she whispers, her voice filled with emotion.

" I love you more"

"Willing to bet on it?"

--

[assriels]

take me to church

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel was not a religious male, but you were his goddess incarnate and he would willingly worship at your feet until his dying breath

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (18+!! mdni pls), canon typical religious imagery, allusions to azriel’s work but nothing explicit

a/n: my hozier era has returned i fear

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune !

Azriel was not a particularly religious male, offering his acknowledgement to the Mother oftentimes in the heat of battle, on the brink of death as a curse on his lips, hoping someone somewhere would heed his plea to live another day. Whatever religious underpinnings existed within him were but remnants from ancient tradition, built into his body as steadily as his bones. But, aside from the rare moments he’d faced Death and lived, Azriel was not one to offer daily prayers of thanks.

Since meeting you decades ago however, Azriel had considered more and more changing his relative indifference to the celestial beings that reigned. He was sure he hadn’t done anything in his lifetime to deserve you as a lover — let alone a mate — but still the Mother blessed him, and for that he was more grateful than words or prayers could ever express. 

Every brush of your lips against his skin, every tender gaze and soft smile was enough to bring Azriel to his knees every night before the altar between your legs. He sang praises and hymns until his jaw was sore, desperate to pull those seraphic moans from the depths of your throat as he worshiped you ceaselessly. He pledged his life to you the moment the bond snapped for him, never having been able to imagine an existence without you by his side.

Azriel had assumed that he was condemned to a life of desolation and loneliness, rotting with guilt and insecurity for all the things he had done and all the things he could never be. But despite the blood that perpetually stained his scarred hands and the weight of his past burdening his shoulders, you never shied away. Never so much as frowned when he confessed to you the serpentine nature of his hidden work for the Night Court or the calamity he’d endured as a young, lost child. 

You had sat and listened all those years ago, delicate fingers tracing the calluses on his palm as if the lines on his hands whispered all of the things he left unsaid. You’d understood the complexities of his character, loved them as much as you loved every other part of him. 

You made your unwavering affection for him known at every possible opportunity, often massaging away the crease between his brows when you knew he was losing himself to the spiral of his unwanted thoughts. You’d kiss his forehead and run your fingers through his hair, silent but understanding as you allowed him time to open himself up to you in whatever manner he pleased.

Azriel’s adoration of you was no different. He cherished the way you confided in him, revealing to him the depths of your own darkness and fears. He would safeguard your trust with his dying breath, always and forever striving to be your safe space, a lockbox where you could store your darkest thoughts and insecurities without fear of judgment. 

Just as you had always done for him. Just as you were doing now.

In the comfort of your shared bedroom in your private residence, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, rolling on to your toes to kiss the back of his neck while he undid the intricate laces and buckles of his leathers. Your deft fingers soon joined his in the process as you both worked in comfortable silence to unfasten the tediously complex web of clasps. 

The tension in his shoulders and the microscopic ruffle in his brow was all you needed to conclude that his latest task was a gruesome one. One of those missions that tended to stick around, following him and taunting him until his guilt festered and spread. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, voice steady as you removed the last of his Siphons secured tightly around his bicep. It was an effort not to gawk at his exquisite physique that lay hidden beneath the constricting leathers; no matter how many times you’d seen Azriel shirtless, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to the sight. 

He hummed in response, taking a moment to survey his torso in the mirror for any cuts or bruises that needed tending to. When he didn’t spot any — most of them had quickly stitched themselves together on the flight back home — he met your gaze in the mirror and shook his head gently, “Not really.” 

Azriel was somewhat avoidant by nature, too used to minimizing his feelings in lieu of the success of a mission, but the gentle definitiveness in his tone told you all you needed to know. He’d open up about this latest operation when he was ready, but he needed time to process and think, formulate coherent thoughts about what had transpired. And as much as you wanted to soothe the emotional aches and pains you knew plagued him after every mission, you would give him that time. 

You sighed and came to stand in front of him, taking both his cheeks in your hands as you forced his gaze to yours. It took everything in him not to lose himself in those pretty eyes of yours.

Azriel could sense the worry you habitually hid in the moments after he returned home, and so he leaned into your touch, turning to kiss the heart of your palm before offering you reassurances, “I’m okay. Promise.” 

Azriel held his pinky out cutely and you chuckled, shaking your head fondly before wrapping your own around his. You used your joined hands as leverage to pull him down to slot your lips over his. Azriel sighed contentedly at the pressure of your kiss, his long lashes fluttering shut as his hands repositioned themselves around your body. 

One hand splayed steadily on the cage of your ribs as the other made the devious trek down, grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze playfully. 

You yelped and pulled away as he smirked at you fondly. His gaze traveled over your shoulder to look in the mirror, never tiring of how the curves of your body looked pressed against his. 

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, Azriel’s chin hooked over your head as your arms wound themselves comfortably around his waist. The cadence of his heartbeat was one you were well acquainted with, like a steady metronome that measured itself to the beat of your own heart. 

When he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, you murmured, “Want to take a bath?”

You felt the near imperceptible quickening of his pulse against your ear and you pressed yourself further into his chest, reveling in the way he so instinctively reacted to every little thing you did.

“Only if you join me,” he responded cheekily, corners of his lips twitching in affectionate jest.

You hummed and pretended to think about it, shifting to rest your chin against his heart, pretty lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. 

“I could be convinced.”

Gods, how beautiful you looked. How beautiful you always looked. Your charming allure caught Azriel off guard every single time you merely breathed in his direction, and he briefly wondered if he’d ever get used to the ease in which you enchanted him without even meaning to. 

Unable to resist, his hands came up to cradle your jaw, supporting your neck as he bent down to kiss you, his nose brushing affectionately against yours as he pulled away. 

“I’ll carry you,” he offered, lips brushing your skin, hazel eyes never once leaving yours.

“Deal,” you said, laughing delightedly when he lifted you, throwing you playfully over his shoulder to make a beeline to the bathroom.

Running a bath — a normally automatic part of Azriel’s routine — was made infinitely harder when he was so busy pressing his lips to your jaw, your cheeks, your mouth. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him tonight — maybe it was the adrenaline from a hard task completed, the warmth of home coaxing him to let go and savor you — but he wasn’t complaining. And neither were you, if the way you matched his fervor was anything to go by. 

When both of you finally settled into the warm water, he sighed in contentment, lazily, adoringly watching as the tension eased out of your shoulders. 

Before you came into his life, Azriel had never really understood the desire to worship. He knew logically that it was an act of devotion, but never did he really feel the inclination to pray to a god in thanks.

But it was moments like these — the wonderfully mundane moments of bliss with you — that finally made him understand. If the Mother was anything like you, it wasn’t difficult for Azriel to fathom a devotee’s need to pray.

He thought this as he ran his soapy hands gingerly over your body, as he buried his fingers in your hair to massage your scalp. If you were his goddess, then these were his acts of reverence and he would practice until his physical body no longer could.

And when you did the same for him, when you gently scrubbed his back and wings and arms and chest with the deliberation and gentility of an artist with a craft, he thought that maybe this gratification was what the gods felt when their followers prayed. 

After a while, once the soap had run down the drain and the water was warm and clear again, you settled against him with your back pressed to his chest. 

It was in that moment he realized the arousal that had slowly eked its way into his bloodstream; he had been too busy basking in the feel of your fingertips on his aching muscles to realize that your lovingly innocent touch had made him hard. Embarrassingly so.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, his attention now on the way his cock pressed so tightly against your lower back.

Your laugh — melodic and lovely — curled around his ears in a lover’s embrace, “Don’t be sorry. I’m irresistible, I know.”

He knew you’d meant to tease, but he couldn’t help but agree; if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that you’d casted a spell on him to ensnare his unyielding devotion to you. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and you captured his chin in your fingers to tilt his lips towards yours. 

This kiss, unlike the ones you two had shared earlier in the night, was much more insistent, revving your desire with each stroke of his tongue. 

His hands remained frustratingly chaste on the curve of your waist, and you squirmed in his embrace, willing him to touch you. The pressure of him against your back and the feel of his mouth — now leaving a scathing trail of little bites down your neck — pressed to your skin left the space between your legs slick with a wetness unattributable to the warm bath water. 

Your hand settled over his and for a brief moment your mind flickered to appreciation of the ridges raised by the scars that wound themselves like vines up his fingers to his wrists. Azriel had always been somewhat self conscious of the puckered skin of his hands, but you stood firm in the belief that they only served to make him that much more wonderful. 

(And you couldn’t deny the pleasurable sensation they added when his fingers were buried inside you. But that was neither here nor there.) 

You guided his touch as he reared back up to kiss you again. You led one of his hands down between your legs and the other to your chest, where he eagerly played with the peak of your nipples. 

“Oh?” he intoned, amusement coloring his inquiry at the feel of how wet he now realized you were. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, mimicking his earlier apology with much less sheepishness.

“Don’t be sorry,” he mimed back to you. His hands fell into a practiced rhythm, circling your clit with delicious pressure. 

You arched into his touch, moans falling from your lips as he teased your entrance before he mercifully sank a single digit into you. The stretch was a welcome feeling, but it quickly dissolved into the need for more. But it seemed that Azriel was in no hurry, languidly alternating between lazy strokes and nonchalant circles.

You arched again, silently pleading with him to give you more as you gripped his knee beneath the now tepid water. Though the heat of your body alone was probably enough to re-warm the bath. 

Azriel indulged you, unable to resist your alluring pull. He added another finger to his ministrations, blissfully dizzy with the sounds falling from your lips. His other hand snaked from your nipples down between your legs, timing his well placed caresses of your clit to the unrelenting plunge of his fingers. 

He knew you were close — so quick, he thought with a lethal satisfaction — by the octave of your moans and the desperate way your hands fought for purchase on his legs, your breasts. 

He bit down on that wonderfully tender spot at the junction between your shoulder and neck, and shivered when he felt you clench around his fingers, walls pulsing temptingly around his fingers as you came. 

Azriel captured your lips with his own once more, prolonging the pleasure from your release for as long as possible. You shifted to straddle him, never once breaking the kiss as the water sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the tub. 

The way you ground your hips down onto his had him groaning, eyebrows furrowing with the effort to restrain himself. He could take you now, could give in to your attempts to guide him inside you, but you were shivering, goosebumps raising the skin on your back and shoulders as the chilled water and even chillier night air caressed your form. 

Besides, his mind was working in overdrive, crafting plan after plan to have you keening and arching for him, all of which required a more comfortable setting than the marble bathtub in your bathroom. 

He stood with ease, looping your legs around his midsection to carry you back to the bed.

He tossed you softly — though quite unceremoniously — onto the bed, and you would have complained about getting the sheets wet, but 1) you knew Azriel would make an obscene joke about how they’d get wet anyway and 2) the feel of his cock grinding against your clit was enough to rob your consciousness of any coherent thought. 

Azriel was murmuring sweet endearments into your damp skin as he made the excruciatingly slow trek down your body, his lips mapping a tedious trail of kisses down your torso as if he were committing each ridge and valley to memory in fear that he’d lose his way on the journey back. 

Finally, finally his mouth found that wonderfully sweet spot between your legs and he licked a broad stripe up the length of you. You shivered as he lingered, tongue lazily alternating between teasingly shallow strokes inside you to wide circles around your clit. 

It was torture of the purest kind that he wasn’t giving you exactly what he knew you wanted, and by the wicked glint in his darkened hazel eyes, you could tell he was being intentional. Your fingers found their home in the impossibly silky and slightly damp strands of his hair as you attempted to pull his mouth tighter against you, petulant pout curving your lips downward.

His responding chuckle was enough to make you groan, the reverberation vibrating against your cunt before settling tantalizingly in your bones. Azriel’s arms came up to encircle your legs, effectively keeping you from grinding your hips up. You tossed your head back and keened, giving in to the languidness of his affections. 

Your eyes met his at the sound of a purposely lewd smack of his lips against you, and you felt him smirk against you before you were swiftly flipped over. 

“Azriel!”

What was meant to be a gasp of surprise quickly devolved into a moan of pleasure by the time the last syllable of his name left your lips. You were acutely aware of the sudden switch in positions as you were now straddling your mate’s head. 

He coaxed your gaze down to his with a featherlight touch down your spine, and you were met with a swirling mix of love, lust, and adoration swimming in pools of hazel. Your chest swelled momentarily and you probably would’ve said something sweet and much more coherent than what left your mouth as he pulled you down onto him and feasted. 

Azriel was addicted to the way he could make you fall apart, even from beneath you with your knees straddling his head. It was borderline sinful – an angel brought to the precipice of obscenity and seduction.

His hips shifted on the bed, body desperate to find friction. But this moment was yours, and so Azriel refrained from giving in to his baser physical desires. His tongue sang praises against your cunt, his hymns translated to the exquisite moans that fell from your lips. 

It wasn’t long before you were toppling over that wonderful edge into what felt like a never ending orgasm. You could barely register the change in your positions again, head spinning and dizzy with insurmountable pleasure; before you knew it, your back was pressed against the cool sheets of the bed, eyes glassy with a post-orgasm haze.

Azriel leaned down to kiss you then, a sweet contrast to the near indecent way you could taste yourself lingering on his lips. He took his time kissing you, sending you wave after wave of undying love and loyalty down that invisible golden tether wound tight around your heart. 

You briefly thought of returning the favor, of flipping him onto his back and putting your mouth on him in just the way you knew would coax those wonderfully rare sounds of unbridled, wanton pleasure from him. But his body was heavy against yours – a more than welcome comfort – and you couldn’t find the strength in you to pull away from the warmth of his skin. 

You arched into him as you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer while you encircled your legs around his waist. Relishing in the way he shuddered against you, you urged your hips up to grind against his, aching for the feel of him despite having just orgasmed. Twice. 

Thankfully he obliged you, shifting to ease himself inside you, slowly – gods, so slowly – pushing into you with the deliberation and practiced self-discipline of a male centuries trained in espionage. 

Azriel let out a half-restrained groan when his hips were flush against yours, always marveling at how close you could make him without even lifting a finger. He had meant to take a few moments to collect himself, not wanting to ruin the moment with a quick release (though admittedly he was struggling), but you shifted beneath him impatiently as you whispered salacious pleas into the shell of his ear. 

The drag of his cock in and out of you was a pleasure you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to, and you couldn’t help the prurient sounds that tumbled from your lips. Though, this just seemed to urge Azriel faster, more insistent in the most delicious way. 

You knew he was close by the way his breath hitched in his throat and his fingers tightened around the flesh of your thigh. The feel of his abs flexing as he pushed his hips into yours and the perfectly timed grind of his hips against your clit filled your head with a heady, hazy bliss and you nearly forgot where you were for a moment. 

You wound your fingers into his hair to steady him as you bit kisses into his jaw, nails raking a gentle path of encouragement down his back.

“Come for me, Az,” you half-pleaded, half-commanded.

And he did. With a gasp and moan so beautiful it sent you into another spiral of pleasure, arching into him as he whispered incoherent praises into your neck. 

As you basked in the aftermath, chest heaving and legs tangled beneath your fluffy duvet, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a lightening in his chest. He once again thought of how he had been shown so much mercy, so much kindness by the Mother, the gods – who or whatever governed the celestial plane of existence – to be bound so graciously to you. He never ceased to be amazed that he had met his goddess incarnate and had the overwhelming honor of loving her. 

With your cheek resting above his heart, he didn’t doubt that you could hear the quickening of his pulse when he pressed his lips to your hair. “I love you.”

Those three words were his prayer, his penance, his praise, and he would never stop offering them to you so long as you allowed him the privilege of saying them. He could feel you smile as you kissed his collarbone, sleepily offering your benediction in return, “Love you.”

As you fell asleep, encased in the warmth and safety of his arms, he idly traced the lines of your mating tattoo, swirling tendrils of ink dancing up your hip to your waist. He always loved how they were so reminiscent of his shadows. The shadows that were now winding through your hair and tickling your cheeks in adoration. 

As he too began slipping into the sweet relief of slumber, he briefly thought of his mission – it had felt so far away, so long ago now that he was guarded within the shield of your presence – and the guilt and sorrow he’d feel in the coming days. He used to dread the aftermath of his work, never allowing himself to rest comfortably for fear that sleep would be too much of an undeserved reprieve for the atrocities he’d committed. 

But ever since he selfishly allowed himself to love and be loved by you, he had found solace in your embrace. You couldn’t offer absolution of his sins – if such a thing even existed – but he was certain you were his salvation. An offering from the Cauldron – that he was convinced he was wholly unworthy of – as a chance to right his wrongs. You listened and loved him and saw him for all of the parts he was ashamed of, and for that he would willingly spend the rest of his life striving to deserve.

(Though he was sure you’d frown at him and adamantly insist that he need not do anything but exist to deserve the love you gave him.)

As he let himself descend into the comforting darkness of sleep, Azriel thought that if he would be punished in his next life for the sins he committed in this one, as long as he’d be able to love you through it all it would be worth it. 

[wholoveseggs]

Hey, I was wondering if you could write like a fic about the reader having never had an orgasm before, and she has like a really intense one and likes lots of praise kink. Please🥺

Hold

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You are having drinks with Elijah and you want to tell him about your little problem, in hopes that he will help you with it.

♡♡ Thanks for the request(s) anons! I love his hands and I thought these requests would be perfect together ♡♡

4.9k words - Warnings: smut, hand!kink, slight daddy!kink, finger sucking, squirting, lots of praise, Elijah being sweet...

You sat in Elijah's lounge room, surrounded by plush chairs and soft carpet, watching him pour out a couple of glasses of whiskey. You watched the way his hands worked, the way they flexed as he gripped the bottle, pouring the golden liquid into the two crystal tumblers.

Elijah had invited you over for drinks, it was technically your third date, although he probably wouldn't consider it a date, it was more of a casual hang out, but you liked to count every time you saw him.

He was so very charming, he made you blush when you least expected it. He would whisper in your ear, and compliment you, but what really turned you on was the way his hands would touch you. It was always light and subtle, just a graze of his fingertips against your thigh, or the small of your back. Your favorite thing was when he would cup your face when he kissed you. His palms were so big and warm, and his fingers would graze the hairline behind your ears.

Something about him made you feel safe, he was the kind of man who took care of things. You wondered if he could be the one who could satisfy you, to give you what you always wanted.

Elijah walked towards you with the drinks in hand, handing you the crystal tumbler filled with whiskey. The contents sparkling in the dim light, the fireplace roaring nearby.

"Thank you," you smiled, taking the drink and bringing it to your lips, letting the alcohol calm your nerves.

He unbuttoned his jacket and sat next to you, causally crossing his legs and turning to face you, his arm draped across the back of the couch.

Your cheeks were flushed as you sipped at the amber liquid. You were so nervous, you had decided to come clean and tell him what was on your mind, and you had no idea how he would react.

"I have a confession," you admitted, your eyes falling to your lap. "But I'm afraid that it might change things between us, and I really like you, I don't want anything to ruin this."

Elijah's hand went to your thigh, gently massaging your skin, sending heat straight to your core.

"I can promise you that there is nothing you could tell me that would change the way I feel about you," he reassured.

Your heart raced, your chest felt tight. You had to tell him, or else it would eat away at you until there was nothing left.

"I've never... I've never had an orgasm before." Your cheeks burned and your heart pounded in your chest, you hated being embarrassed, especially around people you liked.

"Never?" He questioned, his eyebrows raised and his lips slightly parted.

"No, I've tried on my own and with other people, and I've just... never had one." You couldn't even look him in the eye.

"Come here, sweetheart," he whispered, pulling you into his arms, your back against his chest.

He kissed the side of your head, and his hands moved to your hips. You were glad he couldn't see your face, your breath hitching when you felt him nuzzle against your neck.

"Why would you think this would change anything? I would never think less of you because of something like this."

You felt relief wash over you, enjoying the comfort of his embrace. He was a sweet man, of course he wouldn't shame you. You looked up at him, his dark eyes gazing into your own, he gave you a gentle smile and squeezed your arm.

"What if it means something is wrong with me?" You said softly, still feeling insecure, worrying that maybe you would never find a man who would be able to please you.

Elijah ran his hands down your arms, and intertwined his fingers with yours.

"Maybe you just haven't figured out what you like," he suggested, kissing the side of your head.

You blushed again, his words sparking a few dirty ideas, some you were embarrassed to admit, but perhaps a little discomfort is what you needed.

"Well, there is something I know I like," you bit your lip. “But I haven't tried…”

"And what's that?" Elijah pressed.

"Your hands," you breathed, looking at them, intertwined with your own, thinking about what they could do.

"My hands?" He smirked.

"Mhm," you nodded, bringing his hands to your lips and placing a delicate kiss on his knuckles.

"What do you like about my hands?" He asked, his breath warm against your ear, a smirk still evident in his voice.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if it would ever slow down. He was so hot, it was overwhelming, he was a man who was hard to resist. He was teasing you, waiting for an answer, his warm breath tickling your skin.

You felt very shy, you had never asked for sex from anyone, and the last person you'd slept with was terrible in bed. He never once satisfied you, he probably didn't even know how. Now here you were, cuddled up to a man with literal centuries of experience. The hands you were holding had done unimaginable things, his lips had tasted women from all over the world, and you were sure his cock had brought more than a few to their knees.

"I like the way they feel against my skin," you admitted, his hand was resting on your hip, and you reached for it, bringing it to the front of your shirt, and pressing it against your stomach, sliding it up to your chest. "They're so warm and strong, they make me feel safe,"

Elijah hummed, his hand kneading your breast through the fabric, and his lips pressing to the back of your neck.

"What would you like me to do with them?" He teased, his fingers flicking over your nipple, causing a wave of heat to flood between your legs.

"I want them all over me," you breathed, your hips slowly moving against him.

"You will have to be more specific than that, sweetheart," he purred.

His lips were soft, the hand that was on your breast had now slid up your chest, wrapping around your throat, pulling you closer, his lips on your ear. You closed your eyes, picturing his hands running down your body, gripping your thighs, spreading them apart, his long fingers dipping inside of you.

"Between my legs," you gasped, his hand on your throat made your mind race.

He pulled you up and on to his lap, wrapping his arms around you. He brushed your hair to the side and he began to kiss your neck. His stubble tickled, and you giggled softly, squirming in his arms.

"You're so sweet," he said against your skin.

He continued to kiss your neck, and his hands roamed your body, gently caressing your sides, your stomach, your arms. It was nice, you felt so cared for, but you wanted more, his kisses and gentle touches were turning you on, and your pussy was aching, begging for attention.

You turned your head and pressed your lips to his, his mouth opening, his tongue sliding against yours. You moaned, grinding down on his lap, feeling his hardness under you.

He smiled against your lips and his hands went to your thighs, lifting them up and draping them on the outside of his legs. He spread his knees, and your legs fell open, the cold air hitting your damp panties and making you blush.

One of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you against him, while the other rested on your inner thigh. He slowly moved his hand up, his fingers trailing higher, his fingertips brushing against the wet fabric between your legs.

"Show me how you touch yourself, guide my hand," he whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You let out a soft moan, reaching between your legs and taking his wrist. You pressed his palm against the outside of your panties, grinding your hips into his hand, desperate for contact. You moaned, his hands were so big, so warm, and so much better than your own.

He hummed, and you could feel him smirking, and you could hear the pleasure in his voice, and it sent a thrill through your entire body.

"Good girl," he praised, his hand moving over your panties, gently rubbing, his thumb finding the swollen bundle of nerves hidden beneath the fabric.

You whimpered, throwing your head back, grinding harder against his palm. Your hand left his, and went to his forearms, your nails digging into his suit sleeves.

"You are so sensitive," he said against your neck, his lips pressing against your pulse. "Can I take these off?" He asked, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear.

"Yes," you moaned, lifting your hips.

He slid your panties down, leaving them halfway down your thighs.

"Put my hand back, sweetheart," he demanded, his fingers dancing on the bare skin of your leg.

You placed his hand back where it was, grinding harder against his palm, moaning softly as he rubbed slow circles against your clit.

"Mmm, look at you," he cooed, his eyes fixed on your face, your eyes closed, lips parted, hips rocking, desperately grinding against his hand. "All you needed was the right touch."

You whined, the pleasure building in the pit of your stomach. You felt the muscles in your thighs tighten, and heat pool between your legs. You were so close, his hands were so much better than yours.

"Give me your hand, sweetheart," he said, removing his hand from between your legs.

"No, don't stop," you whined, grabbing his wrist, trying to put his hand back, but he refused, his fingers wrapping around your wrist.

"Let me show you something," he said, guiding your hand back between your legs, your fingers touching your clit.

You gasped, a shockwave of pleasure rushing through you.

"There you go, rub in small circles," he instructed, his lips on your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin.

Your hips bucked, and you moaned, your head spinning. His hand guided yours, guiding you to rub small, slow circles. "You're so beautiful, baby," he said, his lips pressed against your jaw. "Just like that, sweetheart, you're doing so good."

Your breathing hitched, the pressure in the pit of your stomach tightening, his hand squeezing yours, his palm on top of yours, showing you the pace and rhythm.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, his arm wrapping tighter around you, his hand going up your shirt and caressing your bare skin.

"You're such a good girl," he praised, kissing your neck. "Keep showing me."

His words sent heat straight to your core and your hand stopped moving, too distracted by the feeling of his lips. The way his other hand was running up and down your torso, his fingertips gently caressing your breast.

You felt yourself melting, you loved the way he was touching you and his lips were driving you crazy. 

"It's okay, I’ll take it from here," He purred, his lips grazing your neck, his hand resuming his movements on your clit.

"What do you think about when you do this alone?" He whispered, his free hand squeezing your waist.

"I think about you touching me," you panted, his lips and his hands were too much, it was all you could focus on.

"Is that all you think about?" He asked, his hand on your clit rubbing a little faster, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

"Your fingers... in me," you gasped, his fingers felt so good against you, he knew exactly where to touch, and he did it with such care and precision, you could hardly stand it.

"Like this?" He asked, his fingers tracing along your slit, gently pressing a single finger inside.

You looked down, watching him sink his finger into your slick heat, moaning as he began to pump in and out, his palm rubbing against your clit.

He widened his legs, spreading yours wider with them, and his pace quickened, pumping a little harder, a little faster, his other hand cupping your breast, his fingers circling and pinching your nipple.

"Why haven't you cum before beautiful? You are so responsive, so sweet," he praised, his teeth nibbling at your ear, sending a thrill through your body, straight to your core.

"I-I don't know," you panted, your chest heaving, your breath coming in short bursts. "I just overthink and I can't focus and-"

He chuckled and his finger curled, stroking that sensitive spot inside, causing your words to catch in your throat, your head falling back and your eyes rolling.

"You're not thinking now, are you?" He asked, his free hand sliding up and wrapping around your throat, applying a light pressure.

His words made you moan, he was right, you weren't thinking, he was fucking the thoughts right out of you.

"Look at you, so perfect," he purred, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "I love having you in my lap, you make such pretty sounds," he praised.

His pace quickened, his hand between your legs moving faster, his palm rubbing hard against your clit, his teeth on your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

You writhed and moaned, unable to hold yourself up, his arms were holding you steady, the muscles in your thighs tensed, your toes curling.

You felt something building inside of you, something warm, and intense. It was happening so fast, you couldn't believe it. Was this the thing everyone was talking about? It was overwhelming, your skin was tingling and every muscle in your body tightened, heat spreading through you, your heart pounding, and the pressure was getting tighter and tighter.

"It's okay, just let it happen, relax," he kissed your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin. His knees spread wider, holding your legs open, his hand wrapping around your throat.

You felt it getting stronger, the tension deep within your core. You felt like your body was being possessed by an unknown force, the power of it was indescribable. Elijah held you still, keeping you from writhing in his arms, his finger moving faster.

"Please, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, please, oh god," you begged, the warmth building inside of you, your legs shaking uncontrollably, every muscle in your body was tensed, your toes curling, your head thrown back, mouth agape.

"That's it, you are doing so good," Elijah whispered.

Your back arched and your hips lifted off of his lap, your thighs clenched together, his hand still working between them. You couldn't speak, couldn't form the words, couldn't make a sound, the feeling inside of you was so powerful. Your legs trembled and a wave of pleasure crashed through your body, starting at your core, and spreading outward, every inch of you tingling. Your vision blurred and your mind was cloudy, and a long, guttural moan fell from your lips.

"Just like that," he purred, his fingers slowing, rubbing slow circles against your clit, easing you down.

You collapsed back onto him, panting, unable to catch your breath, his hands still working between your legs, making the sensation last longer. Your muscles twitched and spasmed, and it felt like a thousand sparks were running under your skin.

Elijah gently rubbed his hand on your thigh, his lips kissing the side of your head, and the other slowly slid out from between your legs, and wrapped around your waist.

"Are you alright?" He asked, a sweet concern in his voice.

You tried to nod, but couldn't, you couldn't move, you were a trembling, quivering mess. You could feel his erection pressed against your back, and you wanted to please him, to return the favor, but you couldn't even sit up straight.

Elijah hummed softly, his hands moving to your stomach, and he wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the side of your head.

He helped you off his lap and set you down on the sofa, kneeling before you, his hands lifting your thighs and pressing them to your chest, practically folding you in half. He was eye level with your pussy, and you blushed, suddenly feeling very exposed.

You could see how wet and swollen you were, your arousal sticking to your skin, glistening in the dim light. His warm breath was fanning against you and it caused a fresh wave of heat in your core.

"So pink and pretty," he said, his lips ghosting over your mound, placing a soft kiss just above your clit. "So sensitive," he purred, his mouth closing over your clit, his tongue swirling.

You moaned, squirming, but he held your thighs firmly, his grip strong, his hands so warm. His eyes met yours as he licked a slow stripe along your slit, the flat of his tongue teasing your clit. You were still very sensitive, and it was overwhelming, your hands went to his head and tried to push him away, but he didn't budge.

He chuckled, his hands coming up and grabbing yours, and he pinned them to your sides. He held you down and he buried his face between your legs, his tongue swirling and lapping at your clit.

You watched the way he devoured you, the sounds coming from his mouth were so filthy. He was humming and groaning, his dark eyes locked with yours. You couldn't look away, it was hypnotizing, the way his tongue moved, the way his lips sucked at your clit.

Elijah released one of your hands and slipped two fingers inside of you, pumping slowly, curling them, humming at the way you squeezed them.

"Elijah," you breathed, your voice raspy, your hand clutching at his hair.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He purred, his thumb finding your clit, and rubbing in slow circles.

You moaned, and you struggled against his grasp, desperate for friction, but he had you pinned.

"You're teasing," you whined.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, his tongue darting out and flicking your clit, causing your body to jolt.

"No!" You cried, the pleasure was building, and your hips were trying to roll, but he was holding them down, his fingers moving faster.

He smirked, his mouth closing over your clit again, sucking gently, his fingers pumping faster. His hair was a mess and his lips were shining, coated with your juices. His fingers were thrusting deeper, and his thumb pressed against your asshole, not quite slipping in, but enough pressure to make you squirm.

"Eli, Eli, Eli," you chanted his name, unable to form full sentences, and he seemed to like it, his eyes closed, savoring the sound.

The familiar warmth returned, and the tension was building, the muscles in your stomach tightening, and your legs trembling. Elijah could feel you tighten around his fingers, and his eyes opened, watching you, his mouth never leaving your clit.

He sucked a little harder, his tongue swirling, and you could feel yourself getting close. Your nails were digging into his scalp, your other hand was gripping his arm, and you could barely move.

A long, drawn out moan came from the back of your throat, and you felt it, the wave, the warmth, the intense pressure, building, building, building.

"I'm-I'm-" you tried to speak, but your words caught, and then, just like before, the wave crashed.

Your back arched and your pussy throbbed around his fingers, a gush of wetness flowing out, soaking his face and hand.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," you moaned, your hands going to his head, your fingers twisting in his hair.

You could feel him smiling against your pussy, his fingers still moving, the sound was wetter, and sloppier, his face covered in your cum.

His lips sucked at your clit, his tongue swirling, the stimulation too much. Your thighs closed around his head and your legs locked him in place.

"Eli, don't, it's too much, it's too much," you pleaded, and his hands went to your thighs, pushing them open, gently kissing your clit before moving back.

You could hear his fingers squelching inside of you, and a soft blush dusted your cheeks, your hand went to his, and you held it still.

He smirked, moved up and captured your lips in a kiss, the taste of yourself making you moan. You ran your fingers through his hair, his mouth hungry against yours. His erection pressed into your thigh, the feeling making you desperate for more.

You pulled back, his eyes were wild and dark, filled with lust, and his lips were swollen and slick. You reached down and undid his belt, slowly pulling it off, keeping your eyes locked with his.

You unzipped his pants and reached into his boxers and took his length in your hand, a deep groan rumbling in his chest, his eyes closing as you stroked him.

The feeling of him was nice, it was warm, and his skin was soft. You liked the way he responded to you, the way he bit his lip, and the way his eyes fluttered.

He took his cock from your hand and rubbed the tip along your slit, up and down, coating himself with your arousal.

He was big and you wondered if he could make you cum with his cock alone. The way he had you angled, you could see everything, and his dick was sliding up and down, teasing you, hitting your clit with every stroke.

Your hands went to his shirt, and you started unbuttoning, the fabric sliding off, exposing his toned torso, his skin so warm and smooth, and his arms looked so good. You could stare at his forearms all day, you wanted him to pin you down, hold you still while he fucked you.

His lips claimed yours again, swallowing your moans, his hands pushing your legs further into the couch. Slowly sinking his cock inside of you, bottoming out.

You whimpered against his lips, his dick felt amazing, you were so full, his pubic bone pressed against you.

"Look at that," he cooed, taking a quick glance down, then meeting your eyes, "we fit together perfectly."

You loved the way he overwhelmed you, the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, the way he spoke, so low and gentle.

He slowly pulled out, leaving only the tip inside, and then thrusting forward, his pelvis grinding against yours. He kept a steady pace, his strokes slow, deep and hard.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands clinging to his shoulders, his arms, anywhere you could touch.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his words spoken against your lips, his nose nuzzling yours.

"Mhm," you hummed, your eyes shut tight, enjoying the feeling of him stretching you, his length reaching places that had never been touched before.

His finger gently traced over your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth, sucking his finger inside, swirling your tongue around it, biting the pad gently.

"Such a good girl," he purred, his eyes darkening.

You moaned around his finger, his pace quickening, his cock hitting a new spot, and it sent a rush through your core.

He removed his finger and pressed his lips against yours, his tongue parting your lips, slipping into your mouth, his hand holding the back of your neck.

"Daddy," the word slipped from your mouth and you froze. You didn't mean to say it, you were just so distracted, and in the moment, it slipped out.

Elijah chuckled, a wicked grin spreading across his lips, "Really?" He asked, his voice low and seductive.

Your heart was pounding, you didn't mean to say that, why did you say that? You opened your mouth to apologize, but he silenced you with a kiss

The kisses were deep, passionate, and it made you weak. He knew exactly what he was doing, his pace and rhythm was perfect, and he was driving you crazy.

The sounds of him thrusting into you, the smell of sex, his mouth on yours, the way he was touching you, it was so intoxicating, you never wanted him to stop.

He groaned, his pace quickening, and his cock hit that sweet spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You clung to him, your arms around his neck, and you moaned, the feeling so intense.

"That's it," he purred, his hands moving to the underside of your thighs, holding you open, his pace fast and hard, his pelvis slapping against yours.

"Oh, god, yes, daddy, fuck," you whined, unable to control the words coming from your mouth.

"Yes, sweetheart, cum for me," he growled, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You were so close, the warmth was returning, the now familiar heat pooling in your belly, and the tension building. Your hands gripped his biceps, the muscles flexing under your fingertips, his pace quickening.

"So sweet, so innocent, never cumming on a cock. What a shame," he mumbled, his teeth scraping over your skin, his tongue licking and soothing. "All those boys, touching themselves, wishing they were the ones to make you cum, but you chose me," his voice was low, his words making you flush, the way he was praising you was intoxicating.

"Only you," you gasped, the feeling in your core getting stronger, the waves of pleasure becoming more frequent.

He smiled, his hands moving to the back of your knees, pushing them towards you, your thighs pressed against the sides of your chest. He was folding you in half, his hips snapping forward, his cock hitting a new spot. "That's right, baby," he cooed. "No one else," his thrusts were faster and harder, the sound of his hips slapping against yours filled the room.

Your hands moved to the back of the sofa, trying to hold yourself steady, your back arching, the pleasure almost unbearable. "I'm gonna, I'm gonna, Eli-" you cried, the wave of warmth, the tension in your belly, the sparks under your skin, all coming to a peak.

The feeling exploded within you, your muscles spasming, Your back arched as the waves of pleasure washed over you, crashing through every cell of your body. You couldn't speak, couldn't moan, your mouth open in a silent cry, the euphoria indescribable.

Your head fell back and your legs trembled, and you felt a rush of warmth coat his cock, squeezing him so hard he was pushed out, but he quickly slid back in, the sensation making you squeal.

"That's it, cum on my cock, good girl," he said, his hands gripping your hips, his thrusts deep and hard.

You could see it in his face, the way his eyebrows drew together, his jaw slack, the veins in his neck were prominent, his hair disheveled. He was close, and it was turning you on, the sight of him losing control, knowing that you were the cause of it, was exhilarating.

His thrusts became faster and sloppy, his grip on your hips tightening, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Your hands went to his hair, tugging at the strands, pulling him closer.

He moaned, his hips bucking, his cock pulsing inside of you. You could feel it, the rush of warmth, his cock twitching, the sound of him panting in your ear, his hot breath fanning over your neck.

You were both covered in sweat, his breathing heavy. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close, holding him against you.

His head rose, and his eyes met yours, and he gave you a sleepy smile, his lips capturing yours in a lazy kiss. You hummed, your hand gripping his chest, sliding up to hold on to his shoulders.

Elijah groaned, his hands moving to your thighs, pulling them down, and wrapping your legs around his waist. Picking you up, and carrying you to his bathroom.

Soon, you were pressed against the cool tile of the shower, his strong hands massaging the soap into your skin, the water trickling down his muscular back. His fingers trailed over your hips, tracing the curves of your waist.

"So.. daddy?" He asked, his eyes sparkling.

"I'm so sorry," you apologized, blushing, covering your face with your hands.

He removed your hands and gave you a sly grin.

"I think I like it," he whispered, his voice low and husky, scooping you up and pinning you against the wall, his lips claiming yours in a heated kiss.

The water was still running, but it wasn't important, because the only thing on your mind was him. His hands, his lips, his body, his voice, the way he held you, the way he loved you, the way he made you cum.

After, the two of you were lying on his bed, naked and spent, his arms wrapped around you, his lips brushing over your forehead.

"You know you aren't leaving my bed for a few days, right?" He asked, his voice deep and sleepy.

"Is that so?" You teased, nuzzling your face against his chest, inhaling his scent.

"Yes," he answered, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin.

"How many times do you think you can make me cum in the next 72 hours?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you challenging me?" He asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"Maybe," you purred, kissing his jaw, your fingers moving to his chest.

"Well," he began, his hand cupping your ass, his face breaking out into a wide grin, "let's find out.”

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡

♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡ @itsjulzandmydiamonds ♡ @spideysbabe

[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

Safe With Me

Masterlist

Summary: Reader gets anxious when Eddie drives fast but is afraid to tell him in case he thinks she's boring.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: insecurity, descriptions of anxiety, reference to a parent driving dangerously when mad

Please don't steal my work

Eddie always drives like a maniac.

His rickety old van was infamous around town, careening down quiet roads and scaring the life out of their residents. Hopper had issued more tickets than he could count but nothing seemed to deter him. Maybe it was the rush it gave him? The thrill of breaking the rules or maybe he was just reckless?

Whatever it was, it just wasn’t the same for you.

Driving always made you anxious. You could count on one hand the number of times you’d driven since getting your licence. Every time you tried your mind was flooded with all the things that could go horribly wrong. Panic set in your chest. Thoughts rushing so loud you couldn’t focus on the road in front of you. You didn’t even own your own car.

But it ran deeper than that.

When you were younger, you could always tell if your dad was mad by the way he drove. Always pushing the speed limit after an argument, getting just a little too close to the car in front and yelling out the window when someone got in his way. Your heart would race, breath hitch when he broke sharply, and your foot tap on an imaginary break when he didn’t slow ‘til the last minute. Thankfully, nothing bad had ever happened to you, but it frightened you all the same.

When you and Eddie got together a few months back, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You’d had a crush on him forever! All it took was a push from Nancy and a shove from Dustin to find out he felt the same way.

Eddie was wonderful! The perfect boyfriend really. You couldn’t be happier.

But then he’d offered to drive you home.

You’d happily climbed into the passenger seat, smiling as he shut the door behind you. He kissed your cheek, flicked on the radio, and turned the key in the ignition.

It was all you could do not to gasp when he pulled out of the parking lot.

From the first lurch, your heart began fluttering like a bird straining against your ribs, desperate to be free of its cage. Eddie kept talking like nothing was wrong. You could barely make out his words over the noise of the radio and the rushing panic in your ears. You tried to smile and nod at what you hoped were appropriate times but adrenaline was coursing through your body, breath coming in sharp, shallow gulps.

He skidded to a halt outside your house and immediately hopped out to get the door for you.

‘Your palace, my lady!’ he grinned, helping you down by the hand with his usual theatrical flair. You smiled weakly.

‘Thanks Eddie.’

He kissed you goodbye and you did your best to smile and wave as he went tearing down the street and around the corner before letting a shaky breath out. Residual nausea beginning to dissipate as you stepped inside.

In hindsight, maybe you should have just talked to him. Told him how you felt, been honest. You know, the sort of thing you’re supposed to do in relationships but it was all still so new! You rehearsed the conversation in your mind a thousand times but it just sounded pathetic. Like you were making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe you were? ‘Just leave it!’ you thought, ‘He’ll think you’re so boring!’

So instead, you made excuses.

‘Sorry Eds, I can’t. My mum’s picking me up today!’

‘I want to bike home today. It’s so sunny!’

‘I’m going to Nancy’s, she said she’d take me.’

It was all going so well until the universe turned against you. Or rather, the weather did.

You stood under the bike shelter, staring up at the charcoal sky as fat raindrops fell hard against the roof. They spattered over the school parking lot, sloshing in puddles and trickling along the gutters while a bitter wind waxed and waned. Icy drips hit your knuckles, white as they gripped your bike’s handlebars. You sighed. Ten minutes since school ended and the sky had only gotten darker. The rain wasn’t stopping any time soon.

Tugging the yellow hood of your raincoat over your head, you ventured out into the deluge. You were busy dreading every second of the freezing ride home when your attention was caught by a familiar voice hollering your name. You couldn’t help but smile when you turned. Eddie was sprinting toward you, his own dark raincoat held over his head rather than around his shoulders while his scuffed-up trainers splashed along the ground.

‘No way am I letting you bike home in this!’ he scolded good-naturedly when he reached you, ‘Let me give you a ride home!’

Your smile faltered.

‘It’s okay Eddie…’ you searched frantically for a reason to refuse him, ‘I was just gonna call my mum!’

Sure, you were! Halfway across the parking lot, clearly heading away from school. The lie was so obvious, Eddie nearly laughed. ‘Don’t you remember? You said she was at work today!’

‘Oh yeah,’ Idiot! You cursed yourself, ‘Nancy then! We’ve actually been meaning to meet up and study.’

Eddie frowned a little, ‘She’s got that thing after school, doesn’t she? I saw her unlocking the darkroom on the way out.’

Strike two!

‘Yeah, I uh…’ your confidence crumbled, ‘I can just wait for her or something…’ The ruse was becoming thinner by the second. Eddie folded his arms.

‘What’s this actually about?’ he asked, ‘Why won’t you just let me take you home?’ His words weren’t angry or accusing, just confused, but a flicker of panic began to rise in your chest. ‘You haven’t let me drive you anywhere for weeks,’ he went on, ‘Have I done something to upset you?’

‘No!’

‘Then what is it?’ his dark brown eyes filled with worry as thunder rolled in the distance. Eddie’s arms ached from holding his coat, his fingers bitterly cold. The rain had seeped into his shoes and through his socks but he didn’t care. All that mattered was figuring out what he’d done wrong!

It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t remember anything he’d said or done that could make you pull away. You were just as content and affectionate most of the time but at the end of the school day, you couldn’t seem to lose him fast enough.

You wouldn’t look him in the eye now, your hands gripping your bike so tight he was afraid you might hurt yourself. How had he managed to screw up the best thing that had happened to him so soon?

‘Please?’ he was begging, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his fear as you bit your lip nervously, ‘Just tell me!’

‘I don’t like it when you drive fast!’

You just sort of blurted it out. No ceremony, no elegance. The words fell clumsily from your mouth, tugged almost involuntarily. Eddie didn’t say anything.

Now the words wouldn’t stop, tumbling out too fast, trying to justify. ‘I know, it’s stupid! Childish, I know!’ Despite the cold, you felt your cheeks turn warm. ‘But it just makes me really anxious and I-!’

‘Is that all?’

You stopped abruptly, looking up as an elated smile began to pull at the corner of his mouth. This wasn’t what you’d expected. His eyes held a mixture of gratitude, guilt, and hope.

‘Yeah?’ your voice came out uncertain but the smile only spread wider.

It was as though a weight had been lifted. Of course, Eddie felt awful that he’d scared you, even more so that he hadn’t even noticed. But this, this was something he could fix! He laughed a little, almost giddy with relief. ‘So then, I just won’t drive fast baby!’

You blinked in surprise, rendered speechless. Eddie shrugged his coat on at lightning speed, his hair already sodden by the time he was easing your bike from your grip. ‘Really?’ You hadn’t expected it to be that simple. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as though it was obvious.

‘Really! Now come on, you’re getting soaked!’ and without waiting for an answer, he turned and started wheeling your bike across the parking lot. You hurried after him, puddles splashing under your feet and wetting your socks.

‘You mean it?’ you asked when you reached the van. Eddie was pulling open the doors and stowing your bike safely in the back. He just nodded, opening the passenger side door next and helping you in.

He climbed in the other side, wriggling his coat off and tossing it behind him before turning the key in the ignition. You fiddled anxiously with your fingers. ‘You don’t think I’m being annoying?’ insecurity gnawed away at your stomach, ‘Or boring? Or silly? Or-? ‘

‘Sweetheart,’ Eddie interrupted, taking your hand and pressing a reassuring kiss to your fingertips. He looked up at you with those kind, warm eyes and melted your concern with his soft, tender voice, ‘I want you to feel safe with me.’

You sighed out. There was no deception, no hidden irritation or passive aggression. Eddie really meant it. He wanted you to be happy. Your peace was his priority.

‘Okay?’ he asked, still watching your face for confirmation.

You smiled shyly and nodded, ‘Okay.’

Eddie grinned back, pressing another kiss to your hand before dropping it and returning his own to the steering wheel.

True to his word, the ride home was as gentle as you could have wished for. You doubted Eddie had even driven this responsibly on his test… if he’d ever taken one. After five or ten minutes, you found the usual anxious knot that twisted in your chest had unwound. The tension in your muscles evaporated and soon you were laughing and joking with Eddie and singing along to the radio.

Before you knew it, he was pulling up outside your house. Funny, you thought, he’d been so cautious and yet the journey seemed to take half the time. You kissed his cheek and hopped down from the van.

The rain had stopped. Tarmac still dark and damp and small puddles were left here and there but blue sky and sunshine were breaking through the clouds, warming the sidewalk and glittering gold in the dew drops.

‘Can I pick you up tomorrow?’ Eddie asked, opening up the back to lift your bike out. He was tentative, worried he was pushing too far but you smiled and nodded.

‘Yes, thanks Eddie!’

You took the bike from him and turned to wheel it toward the porch when an indignant ‘Hey!’ sounded behind you. Eddie clutched at his heart, collapsing onto the side of the van gasping dramatically, ‘No goodbye kiss? Oh, cruel temptress! Is there no compassion? No mercy?’

With peals of laughter, you ran back to oblige him. He squeezed his arms around you, smiling so hard it was hardly a real kiss. This time, there was no barrier between you. No shadow, no secrets. Only the sweetness that honesty in love brings.

You walked your bike back down the garden path, waving to Eddie as the van pulled away. You watched him draw further and further down the street until he disappeared around the corner.

You smiled and rummaged for your keys. The weight on your shoulders had dissolved to nothing and somehow, you were even lighter than before.

Eddie Munson always drove like a maniac.

Until he didn’t.

Until you.

***

Thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this. If you liked it, please reblog and comment! I love hearing what people thought of my writing! Check out my masterlist for more!

Taglist: @sadbitchfangirl, @neewtmas, @ladymunson

[sunnycanvas]

Hello, I love how you write and the most beautiful narrative way. Could you do one of balwin taking care of his pregnant wife?

"Careful" Baldwin IV warned as he helped me get out of bed. My feet had swollen due to pregnancy. I felt embarassed by my own body. Baldwin IV noticing my discomfort kissed my forehead and said "Don't worry, you are beautiful". I couldn't help but doubt his words. "Does he even understand not only I have physical changes but emotional one as well". Ever since Baldwin IV learnt about my pregnancy he has treated me like piece of glass. He refused me to do any physical labour, even going as far as refusing me to leave bed. We had a huge fight about it. Baldwin IV kept on insisting that it's our first child. He was finally blessed by God to be father and Kingdom too will have heir. There was no way he is risking this opportunity. After lots of fight and request from my part Baldwin IV finally agreed however he insisted that I shift to his room and stay with him all time. In case I wish to leave the bed, I need to inform him so that he could escort me.

Baldwin IV carefully guided me to bathroom. As soon as we step in he closed the door and started striping me. I was staring myself in front of giant mirror. I was ashamed when I looked at my body again. I could see strech marks in my torso. My body had become fuller than before. I was in such a deep thought that I missed looked of adoration from my husband. It wasn't until he started started caressing my stomach that I finally noticed. Once I noticed and started staring back at him he smiled and kissed both of my cheeks. "You have made me happiest man alive" "Mon amour, never doubt my love for you" . "Come it's time to give you a bath". Baldwin IV ensured that I sat down for bath safely. He soon began filling my bath tub with warm water. Knowing how much I prefer it. I was still sad about everything. Could it be because of pregnancy? I couldn't help but feel anxious about future. Thoughts like "Will I be good mother?". "Will my husband still love me after my breast has become saggy and my hips and stomach covered in strech marks?"

"Mon amour, look at me" my husband called me in his commanding voice. Once I noticed him. Baldwin IV started stripping. I became shy and attempted to look elsewhere

"No, see it all before you look elsewhere" this time he was gentler while speaking to me. Hesitantly I looked back at him. I saw scars and disfigurement of his body. He soon took his pants off and now I couldn't help but lust after his body. Baldwin IV slowly walked where I was standing and said "See this is how I feel when I look at you" Baldwin IV laughed and said "No matter what, at least you will be better than leper". I was hurt knowing how insecure my husband is when it comes to his own body. Even though he is comfortable now he refuses to show his face preferring to hide it behind the veil instead

"Now you know how I feel" he replied and I grew quite. Baldwin IV went inside the bath tub with me and carefully hugged me from behind making me sit on his lap, squishing my boobs with his arms saying "Your pregnancy has made me want to have sex with you more"

" You look so beautiful while pregnant with my child but unfortunately we can't do that". "It hurts to see you looking at your self with disgust and being anxious about yourself". I couldn't help but cry a bit at his response. Baldwin IV wiped my tears and kissed my cheeks and pecked my lips. Once I was okay he took a mug filled with warm water and poured it over my head. I moaned in bliss and Baldwin IV started kissing my neck. He also washed my hair gently massaging my scalp and washed my body thoroughly with soap. Once we were done he helped me get dressed and took me to bed.

"Where are is all the food which I asked to be brought here" he shouted he angry. "Mon amour, please wait for a moment" he left the room angry. Soon bunch of maids came apologetic with food. I could here my husband mumbling angrily. He soon placed the food on the table and said "Now leave us come back after 30 minutes". Once they are gone Baldwin IV attempted to feed me with his hand. "We talked about this" I said in in anger. Baldwin IV replied back "I can't help it" "Fine feed yourself if you want"

"No, actually never mind". Baldwin IV gave me 'are you serious' look before continuing once we were done. He said "The maids will come back again to take care of you in my absence " "Make sure to-"

"Yes, I remember don't go far away and no physical labour" "Now leave"

"Not before my good luck kiss" he leaned and kissed me before leaving for work. Once I was left alone the maids came it with jeweller. "My, lady" he bowed before continuing "His majesty the king has insisted to choose whatever you like and he will pay" I couldn't help but smile at his pampering . I felt immense joy to have such a caring husband and felt ridiculous to doubt his feelings towards me

[luvhughes43]

instagram follows | jamie drysdale

[luvhughes43 masterlist🌷]

request: reader and jamie have been in a relationship for maybe 5 or 6 months and reader hasn’t said anything but the girls Jamie follows on instagram really bother her. she doesn’t want to seem controlling because of her past relationships but she is trying to find a way to bring it up to him. so one day she is feeling a little more insecure and Jamie is trying to figure out what’s wrong and she finally snaps and tells him. like she would say “you haven’t unfollowed any girls on the gram since we started dating and it makes me feel horrible about myself”

word count: 1.1k

you knew it was an awful idea even before you decided to scroll through your boyfriends instagram following. it was a bad idea for multiple reasons actually - mainly your own body image issues. however, you had seen what seemed like all the tiktoks in existence about men and their instagram usage pre and post relationship. also, it didn’t help that you kept getting recommended videos of girls' devastating reactions to scrolling through their favourite hockey players following. 

when you first clicked on jamies following list, you thought it wouldn't have been so bad. 

Blondes. 

Boobs. 

Brunettes. 

Canadian University Girls? 

you went into a completely unwarranted deep dive because really, jamie had never given you any reasons to doubt his faithfulness and yet… you were a half-tub deep into your litre of mint chocolate ice cream with grey’s anatomy playing distractedly in the background. 

with jamie gone on a roadie, you had time to push all of your feelings of distrust and discomfort to the back of your mind. you had been in this position before, and with yours and jamies relationship so fresh you didn’t want to say anything. last time you had brought your insecurities up with your ex boyfriend, you had been yelled at and called controlling - which you would rather not relive. even though jamie was much nicer than your ex, you were still having trouble trying to find a way to safely bring the topic up, so you dropped it. 

a week later and jamie had gotten back from his trip, completely exhausted but wanting to spend time with you nonetheless, you had tried your best to forget all about his following list. 

“how’s my girl been?” jamie smiles at you sweetly before wrapping you into a hug. the two of you rock back and forth for a moment. 

“oh you know… the usual,” you shrug, silently loving the glint in jamie’s eyes. he was so pretty. 

jamie brings you back into another hug and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “oh i forgot, trevor wants to know if we’ll go out with him tonight,”

“go out where?”

“some new restaurant downtown,” jamie shrugs carelessly as all men do. “do you wanna go?”

you think about it for a moment, did you really want to go out with trevor? ultimately though, you decide that going out would be the perfect distraction you needed. plus, the extra time with your boyfriend might help reassure yourself about your relationship. 

wrong. three hours later you were dressed, ready, and sat uncomfortably between your boyfriend and his best friend. their friends sat across from you, all of whom were single and making comments on all the girls that walked past your table. their comments weren’t out of the ordinary, but you couldn’t help but wonder if jamie felt the same way as his friends. if like his following suggested - he liked appreciating other girls more than he let on. 

“now she’s hot” 

“you should go ask her for her number! look at her ass,”

“i think i just saw a goddess…” 

“i’d let her dog walk me,”

with each comment you shrunk into yourself, suddenly feeling very self-conscious of your body and your outfit choice. jamie was quick to notice of course, leaning into you and whispering, “are you okay?”

when you nodded your head in response, jamie only frowned.

when everyone’s food arrives and you were still acting off, jamie questions you again, “no seriously… what’s wrong?”

you smooth the sleeves of your top, “i don’t want to get into it here,” 

“what?” 

“jamie, please just drop it” 

things were tense between the two of you for the rest of the night and instead of trying to work through things, you simply order another drink at the restaurant. by the time jamie drops you off at your apartment you were tipsy. 

“can you tell me what’s wrong now?” were the first words out of jamie’s mouth when you locked the door behind him. 

“no,” you respond quickly. 

jamie was rightfully confused. “yn…” 

you pretend you don’t hear him. “do you want something to drink?”

“no! I want you to tell me what's wrong with you!” jamie was clearly frustrated and tired of your refusal to talk. 

you whip around towards him - still tipsy and upset. “you want to know what's bothering me?” you start, to which jamie nods enthusiastically. “you’re bothering me!”

“what did i do…?”

he was so oblivious sometimes. “i know i shouldn't have looked through your instagram followings but i can't unsee what i saw! all the girls…. i feel sick about myself,” 

jamie tries to speak but you interrupt him, “and i don’t want to be controlling and force you to unfollow them but… i just feel so awful and ugly and like… you have so many options out there that you’re probably interested in and-”

“okay wait,” jamie finally interjects. he inches closer to you, his mind still reeling from how fast you were speaking. “first of all, i don’t look at other girls,” you scoff but jamie keeps talking. “and if my following was upsetting you, you could've just told me instead of bottling up your feelings and getting upset with me” 

“i use instagram like, once a year and i honestly don't look at my following list it’s from so long ago. so, if you want me to unfollow the people that make you uncomfortable than i one hundred percent will” jamie continues, stepping closer to you and grabbing ahold of your hands. 

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, sad and confused all at once. you hadn’t meant to blow up all at once, but your past relationships would have never been this kind to you and so you were unsure of how to react. you were almost positive that you were being controlling and you suddenly felt sick. “i didn’t mean it-”

“yes you did,” jamie’s voice is soft now, his hands comfortingly trailing patterns up and down your arms. “and by the way, i think you're the most beautiful girl that i’ve ever laid eyes on. i’m sorry for making you feel bad. i don’t want anybody else,”

“i don’t want anybody else either,” you breathe a sigh of relief and wrap your arms around your boyfriend. 

the next time you check instagram is when you get a notification that your boyfriend had posted a picture “for the first time in awhile”. the pictures are sweet shots of the two of you, taken by trevor whose presence you can never evade. you get curious again though, clicking on your boyfriends profile only to see that his following had significantly decreased. 

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘐 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘛𝘰 𝘚𝘢𝘺 (𝘖𝘳 𝘋𝘰.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’d never understood why Bucky never seemed interested in physical intimacy. When you find out, you realize it goes deeper than you ever thought.

Note: For my ‘Don’t Touch Me’ square on my @marvel-smash-bingo card!

Warnings: rape/non-con, sexual abuse, nightmares, ptsd, Hydra Themes, implied Hydra Trash Party, insecure!reader(?), crying, angst.

[Series Masterlist]

Your sex life was not bad in these last few months you’ve been dating Bucky. That wasn’t to say it was particularly good, either.

You hadn’t had sex with him at all. You hadn’t even got past a little bit of making out. And there was nothing wrong with that, either. Maybe he was just shy. And he was a real quiet guy when he was around anybody but you, so you knew that that was a possibility.

He was also born in 1917, so there could be just more of an awkwardness around the topic for him. You obviously had no idea what Sex Ed was like in the 1930s, but you knew that it definitely wasn’t great.

Maybe he just wasn’t interested in sex at all. And that was perfectly fine, too. He could be asexual. Or gray-asexual. Or demisexual. And you were by no means a homophobe. If he wasn’t into it, he wasn’t into it and that was that. You would certainly not be upset or—God forbid—angry over something like that.

But the thing that plagued your mind after he ran off somewhere after kissing you for a little too long was the why. He’d never said a word about sexual attraction—you’d never had that conversation before. You didn’t really know how to bring it up.

Part of you wondered if you were the problem. Was he just not attracted to you? Was there just one tiny detail on you that completely made him not want you in that way? Fuck, did you smell bad?

You pushed the thought away. But you did know that you needed to have this discussion with him. Mainly in case that last reason was it.

As if right on cue, he walked into the kitchen of your apartment.

“Hey, doll.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around you and swaying you from side to side.

“Howdy howdy. I didn’t hear you come in.” You grinned. “You’ll give me a heart attack one day.”

“Sorry,” he replied sheepishly.

The rest of the night went on as usual. At least, until halfway through the night—perhaps early morning—when you were awoken by the sound of muttering.

Now, to be very honest, you thought about muttering ‘shut up’ back, before you remembered that you were a real person and not a dinosaur like you’d been dreaming about.

You sat up, looking over at your boyfriend. Another bad dream.

You kneeled above him, opening your mouth to say something to wake him up. And once again, as if on cue, he woke up. He sat up quickly, bonking you in the head with his own skull.

“Fuck—“ You hissed as your eyes watered slightly. “Bucky, you’re okay, you’re okay, it was a dream, it’s over.” You attempted to reassure him as you reached out.

“Don’t touch me,” he pleaded. “Don’t touch me. Please.” The way he said it made your stomach flip.

“I’m not.” You promised. “I won’t. I won’t. You’re okay, you’re safe. It’s me. Jus’ me and you.”

He seemed to relax at that as he laid back down. And then—very surprisingly—fell right back asleep.

Normally his nightmares were more of a major thing, so this was certainly a surprise. You frowned, before you yourself eventually fell back asleep.

The next morning, you woke up alone, with the faint smell of breakfast coming in through the room. You walked out of your bedroom and to the kitchen, greeting your boyfriend.

“Mornin’,” you hummed.

“Good morning, doll. Did you sleep good?” He asked innocently, as if he didn’t remember the night’s…revelations.

“Yeah.” You murmured back. And then you decided to finally grow some balls and ask.

“Bucky? Can I talk to you about something serious?”

“Sure.” His brows furrowed slightly. “Always, hon. What’s goin’ on?”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to have sex with me?”

He practically turned to stone.

“What?” He croaked out.

“There’s nothing wrong about it! I’m just—it’s stupid. I’m sorry, I’m being an asshole. Never mind—“ You wanted to simultaneously beat the absolute shit out of yourself and bury yourself.

“No, you’re not.” He cut you off. “I—should’ve told you earlier. About this. It’s—it’s not you, I promise. I..I want to have..sex with you and all of that stuff. I do, really. It’s just—there’s..some stuff.”

Your brows furrowed as you took on a concerned and empathetic expression. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s—it’s okay. I do. It’s important to me that I tell you.” He explained. “But—it gets kinda heavy. Are you okay with..hearing all of that?”

You nodded. “Yes, babe. I am.”

“When I was—when I was the Winter Soldier, HYDRA would torture me. You know that. They’d…’punish’ and ‘train’ me in ways that..fucked me up. Clearly. One of those ways was through sex.” He admitted, fiddling with his hands.

Your mouth went dry. You didn’t really know what to say. Or to do, even. Did you comfort him? Say anything at all?

“I know you would never do that to me. I promise—I’m positive and comfortable in the fact that you wouldn’t ever do anything to me without my permission.” He assured you, making eye contact. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that I can say ‘no’ and can make my own decisions without any form of punishment.”

You nodded slowly.

“But it’s just—it’s hard, y’know? Like, how I get all..jumpy and ‘PTSD-y’ on the Fourth of July because of the fireworks. It’s like that, but with..sex, and being naked and stuff like that. It doesn’t have anything to do with the Fourth of July, just like it doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s just..a thing that happens in those circumstances.” He explained. “I don’t—I’m sorry. I don’t want to be like this, I promise.”

You could see his nose was getting red and his eyes were beginning to water.

“I don’t want to be broken.” He blinked away some tears, wiping the ones that escaped his eyes with the side of his hand.

“Baby, no. Oh, baby. No, you’re not broken. Honey, you’re not. I promise.” You comforted. You opened your arms for a hug and he wrapped his arms around you.

When he was ready, he continued. “It was mostly men. There weren’t any women in HYDRA up until like..2010. But sometimes they’d sell me—and I mean literally sell me—off to certain powerful women for a variety of purposes. And I didn’t have a choice.” He murmured.

“I know, baby. It wasn’t your fault. None of that was ever your fault.” You said softly.

He nodded slowly. “I do..want that. I want to do that with you, it’s just—it’s hard.”

“I know. Thank you for telling me. And we can take it slow. And if you realize you’re not into it at all—no shame. No judgement. Not from me.” You promised.

He nodded. “Dr. Raynor—when she was my therapist she..she uh, pushed on the subject.” He confessed. Your brows furrowed.

“She what?”

“I was mad about it then. And I still think she could’ve gone about it in better ways, but she gave me something useful, so..at least there’s that.” He hummed. “She suggested showering and taking baths together. For..non-sexual intimacy.”

“You wanna try that?” You met his eyes, the beautiful blue eyes that captivated you.

He nodded slowly. “If you're comfortable with it, yeah.”

“Okay. We can try that, babe.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you.” He murmured. You’d heard him say it before, you’d worked your way up to it, but neither one of you really wanted to hold back that feeling from each other.

“I love you too. No matter what.” You swore.

A/n: two Oneshots on the same day? Shocking, I know. Really wanted to bring hydra trash party and reader insert fics together. This was low key inspired by me and an ex (we’re on good terms dw), and it feels very important to me.

Please reblog if you enjoyed!

Sequel here!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You tell them that they are perfect just the way they are (Part.1)

Your partner opens up about their insecurities, whether it's feeling distant due to their powers or perceived coldness. Through loving reassurance, you help them realize that their unique qualities make them perfect as they are, deepening your bond with each of them.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Warren Worthington III, Bobby Drake, Alex Summers, Jean Grey & Wade Wilson

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

The night was still and quiet, the only sound in the cabin being the crackling of the fire. You leaned against Logan, your head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. He was warm, comforting, the scent of whiskey and cedar lingering on his flannel shirt. For someone so rugged and battle-worn, he always had a way of making you feel safe.

His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your skin as you watched the fire, its glow casting shadows across the room. Logan had always been a man of few words, especially when it came to how he felt about himself. You knew how much he struggled with his past—the wars, the loss, the things he couldn’t forgive himself for.

"Logan," you said softly, lifting your head to look up at him.

He grunted in response, eyes still fixed on the fire, but you could see the tension in his jaw. His past haunted him every day, no matter how many times you tried to remind him that he was more than the sum of his mistakes.

You reached up, cupping his rugged face with both hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "You're perfect the way you are."

He stiffened slightly, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "You don’t know half of it, darlin’," he muttered, trying to look away, but you held his gaze.

"I know enough. I know the man who’s held me when I couldn’t stand on my own. The man who’s risked everything to protect me, even when he thought he didn’t deserve to live. You’re more than your past, Logan. You’re more than the things you’ve done."

Logan’s eyes softened, the hard edge in them dimming as he stared at you. There was a vulnerability there, one he rarely let anyone see. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“I ain’t perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Not even close.”

"You’re perfect to me," you replied firmly, your thumb brushing along the edge of his jawline. "And that’s all that matters."

His grip on you tightened slightly, as if he was afraid to let go. Logan’s lips met yours in a slow, deep kiss, one that spoke of gratitude, of acceptance. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours again, his breath steady but heavy.

"You keep me grounded," he said quietly. "Don't know what I'd do without ya."

You smiled softly, resting back against his chest. "You won’t have to find out."

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

The gentle hum of the city surrounded you as you stood on the balcony, the night breeze warm against your skin. Remy was leaning against the railing beside you, the twinkle of the streetlights below reflecting in his red-on-black eyes. He had one arm casually draped around your shoulders, his fingers playing with the strands of your hair as the two of you enjoyed the quiet moment together.

You could feel him tense slightly beside you, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. Remy had always been a charmer, full of jokes and flirtations, but there were times when his insecurities crept through. It didn’t matter how much he masked them with his smooth talk; you could always tell when something was bothering him.

He exhaled a deep breath, his voice quieter than usual. "Sometimes I wonder what you see in me, chère."

You glanced at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Remy gave a small, self-deprecating smile, looking down at the city below. "A man like me… I’ve done things. Lied, stolen, hurt people. Ain’t exactly a saint, you know? You deserve someone better."

You turned toward him, reaching out to take his hand. His fingers instinctively laced with yours, but he didn’t meet your eyes. He had never really opened up about the guilt he carried, but you knew it was there, weighing him down more than he liked to admit.

"Remy," you said softly, squeezing his hand. "You’re perfect the way you are."

His eyes finally flicked up to meet yours, confusion and disbelief written all over his face. "Perfect? Me?"

"Yes, you," you said firmly. "You’re kind, you’re protective, you make me laugh every day. You make me feel like the luckiest person in the world. You’ve made mistakes, sure, but that doesn’t change who you are now."

He blinked, the usual cocky smirk nowhere to be found. For once, Remy LeBeau didn’t have a quick-witted reply. Instead, he stared at you as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"You really mean dat, don’t you?"

"I do," you said, stepping closer to him, your hand resting on his chest. "I love you, Remy. All of you. The good, the bad, the in-between. You don’t need to change a thing."

He let out a soft chuckle, though it was filled with something more raw, more real. His free hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"Mon amour, you always know jus’ what to say," he murmured, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back, that familiar playful glint had returned to his eyes, though there was something softer behind it. "Maybe I am pretty lucky after all."

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

The soft glow of the moon filtered through the window as you lay beside Kurt, your fingers tracing the delicate blue fur along his arm. His tail curled lazily around your leg, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you as you enjoyed the quiet together. Being with Kurt always felt like this—peaceful, warm, and full of love.

But tonight, something felt different. He hadn’t said much, his golden eyes distant as he stared out into the night sky. You knew that look. It was the look he got when he started to doubt himself, to wonder if he truly belonged in this world.

You scooted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as you let your fingers run along his arm. "You’re thinking again," you said gently.

He let out a soft, almost sad chuckle. "I cannot help it, mein Schatz. Sometimes I look at myself and… I wonder if I could ever be truly worthy of you."

You frowned, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His golden eyes were filled with uncertainty, a look that tugged at your heart. Kurt had always struggled with his appearance, with feeling like he didn’t belong because of his mutation, no matter how kind or loving he was.

"Kurt, don’t say that," you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. "You’re perfect the way you are."

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your words. "Perfect? But I am not… I mean, look at me."

"I am looking at you," you replied softly. "And I see the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. Not because of how you look, but because of who you are. You have the kindest heart, Kurt. You’re brave, compassionate, and you’ve made me feel more loved than I ever thought possible."

Kurt’s breath hitched, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find some sign that you were just saying these things to make him feel better. But you meant every word.

"You’re not just worthy of me," you continued. "I’m the lucky one, because I get to be with someone who sees the world with such kindness. Who’s strong enough to love despite everything they’ve been through."

A slow smile spread across his face, his tail tightening around your leg in a comforting embrace. "Ach, mein Liebe," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. His lips were gentle against yours, tender and full of love, just like he was.

When you pulled away, Kurt rested his forehead against yours, his golden eyes filled with gratitude. "I do not deserve you."

You shook your head, smiling softly. "You’re perfect just as you are, Kurt. Don’t ever doubt that."

And with those words, you knew that you had reassured him, just as he had always reassured you.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

The sun had barely set, casting a warm golden glow over the grounds of Xavier’s mansion. You stood by the large window in your shared room, gazing out at the gardens as the last light of the day disappeared. Scott was behind you, sitting on the edge of the bed, his head resting in his hands. His visor sat on the nightstand, and without it, his closed eyes shielded the world from his powerful optic blasts.

He had been unusually quiet all evening. You knew why. Leadership weighed on him in ways that most people would never understand. No matter how often you reassured him, Scott always carried the burden of responsibility, constantly second-guessing his decisions, questioning if he was doing enough, if he was strong enough.

"I’m failing them," he muttered, barely audible, but you caught every word.

You turned from the window, watching the way his broad shoulders tensed under the weight of self-imposed guilt. The soft evening light cast shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the tension in his brow.

"Scott," you said softly, stepping closer to him. He didn’t look up, but you could tell he was listening. "You’re not failing anyone."

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Every day, it feels like I’m making the wrong choices. What kind of leader am I if I can’t protect the people I love? What if I’m just… not enough?"

You knelt in front of him, resting your hands on his knees. His eyes were still closed, his expression one of conflict and frustration, but you could see the vulnerability beneath it all.

"You’re perfect the way you are, Scott."

His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to protest, but you quickly continued. "I mean it. You’re always putting everyone else before yourself. You’re always thinking of the team, of what’s best for them. That’s what makes you such a good leader."

He shook his head again, his hands clenching into fists. "I don’t know if it’s enough. I’m not enough."

You moved your hands to his face, cupping his jaw gently, forcing him to feel your presence. "You are more than enough. You always are. I know you think you have to carry the weight of the world alone, but you don’t. We’re a team. I’m with you. Always."

His eyes squeezed shut even tighter, as if holding back the intensity of everything he felt. But after a moment, his hands came up to cover yours, holding them in place against his face. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and for the first time that evening, his body seemed to relax, if only slightly.

"You believe that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I do," you replied firmly. "I believe in you. I always have, and I always will."

Slowly, he opened his eyes—though you couldn’t see them, you could feel the shift in his mood. His grip on your hands tightened, and he let out a shaky breath, as if finally allowing himself to accept your words.

"I don’t deserve you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips softly. "You’re wrong. You’re perfect to me, Scott. Just the way you are."

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

The sound of waves crashing against the shore was a soothing melody in the distance as you walked barefoot through the sand. Erik was beside you, his hand intertwined with yours, his expression as unreadable as ever. The two of you often escaped to this secluded beach, far from the chaos of the world, far from the conflicts that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

But even here, under the vast sky and in the presence of peace, you could feel the storm inside him. Erik was never truly free of his past. No matter how much he tried to distance himself from the pain, from the horrors of what he’d lived through, the weight of it never left him. And sometimes, you could see the way it chipped away at his sense of worth.

He stopped walking, his eyes on the horizon. The wind played with his silver hair, and for a moment, he looked every bit the powerful, unyielding force the world knew him as. But you knew better. You knew the man behind the power, the man who had suffered more than anyone should ever have to.

"I’ve caused so much destruction," he said quietly, his voice almost lost to the wind. "I’ve hurt so many. How can you look at me and see anything but the monster I’ve become?"

You turned to face him, stepping closer so that your hands were pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your fingers, but the tension in his body told you how deeply this was affecting him.

"You’re not a monster, Erik."

His jaw clenched, and he looked away, as if refusing to let himself believe your words. "I’ve done terrible things. Things that can never be undone. You can’t change what I am."

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. His blue eyes were filled with conflict, with pain, and you felt your heart ache for him. "You are perfect the way you are."

He scoffed, shaking his head slightly. "Perfect? You think I’m perfect after everything I’ve done?"

"I do," you replied without hesitation. "Because I know why you’ve done what you’ve done. I know the pain that drives you. I know the love you carry for those you care about, even if you don’t always show it. You’ve fought for what you believe in, Erik, and that’s something most people can’t say. You’ve fought for people like us. For our future."

His gaze softened, though the doubt was still there, lingering beneath the surface. "And yet, I’ve hurt the ones I love in the process."

You shook your head, your thumb brushing gently over his cheek. "You’ve made mistakes, yes. But that doesn’t make you any less of a man. You’ve fought for what you believe in, and I love you for that. You are more than your past, more than your pain. You are exactly who you need to be."

Erik’s expression faltered, and for the first time in a long time, you saw the vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. Slowly, he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath.

"You’re too good to me," he murmured, his voice soft.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "No. I just see you for who you really are. And that man is perfect to me."

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

Warren’s wings unfurled with a gentle rustle as he landed on the balcony, the moonlight casting a silver glow over the soft feathers. You watched him approach from where you sat on the edge of the bed, admiring the way he moved with effortless grace. He always seemed to carry himself like an angel in both name and appearance—majestic, otherworldly, yet burdened by something heavier than he let on.

He smiled when he saw you, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Hey, you," he greeted softly, sitting beside you. His wings folded neatly behind him, but you knew he was carrying the weight of something more tonight.

"Long day?" you asked, sensing the tension that radiated from him despite his best efforts to hide it.

He ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair, his expression faltering as he glanced away. "It’s nothing."

You tilted your head, giving him a knowing look. "Warren, it’s me. Talk to me."

He sighed, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the sky. "Sometimes I wonder… if these wings are more of a curse than a gift."

His words caught you off guard. Warren rarely spoke about his mutation in such a vulnerable way. You could see the way he looked at himself, as if the wings that made him so beautiful and unique were something he resented, something that made him feel less human.

"They’re not," you said softly, sliding closer to him. "You’re not cursed, Warren."

He glanced at you, his blue eyes clouded with doubt. "It’s hard to believe that sometimes. When people look at me, all they see is… this. The wings, the mutation. They don’t see me. Not really."

You reached out, gently placing a hand on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "I see you."

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you. "You’ve always seen me differently, but… sometimes I don’t even know who I am anymore."

You shook your head, moving closer until your foreheads nearly touched. "You’re Warren Worthington III. You’re kind, strong, compassionate, and beautiful inside and out. These wings—they don’t define you. They’re part of you, but they don’t change who you are."

He closed his eyes, letting out a soft breath. "I don’t feel perfect. Not even close."

You smiled, brushing your thumb gently over his cheek. "You’re perfect to me. Exactly the way you are."

Warren let out a shaky laugh, his wings twitching slightly as he opened his eyes and gazed at you with a mix of gratitude and awe. "You’re too good to me, you know that?"

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I just love you for who you are. And that’s never going to change."

Bobby Drake (Iceman)

The snowstorm outside the cabin raged on, thick flakes of ice pelting the windows as you curled up by the fire. Despite the cold outside, the warmth of the flames and Bobby’s presence beside you made everything feel cozy and safe.

Bobby sat beside you on the couch, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders, his ice-blue eyes reflecting the dancing firelight. He had been unusually quiet tonight, and you could tell something was on his mind. Normally, Bobby was the life of the party—always cracking jokes and making everyone laugh—but when he was quiet, it meant something deeper was going on.

"You okay?" you asked, leaning into his side, your head resting on his shoulder.

He sighed, his fingers absently playing with the edge of your sweater. "Yeah, I guess. Just thinking."

"About what?" you pressed gently, tilting your head to look up at him.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "About how… people see me. How they always expect me to be the funny guy, the one who never takes anything seriously. It’s like… I’m just the comic relief."

You frowned, sitting up so you could face him more fully. "You know that’s not true, right? People don’t just see you as a joke."

Bobby shrugged, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It’s just… I’ve been trying to figure out who I am, you know? I’m an Omega-level mutant, but sometimes I feel like I’m just… not enough. Like I don’t measure up to the others."

Your heart ached at his words. Bobby was so much more than he gave himself credit for. Sure, he loved to make people laugh, but that wasn’t all there was to him. He had depth, kindness, and strength that often went unnoticed.

"You’re more than enough," you said firmly, taking his hand in yours. "Bobby, you’re one of the most powerful mutants out there, but that’s not even what makes you incredible. You’re kind, you’re thoughtful, and you’re always there for the people you care about. You’re not just the funny guy. You’re so much more than that."

He looked at you, his eyes softening. "You really think so?"

You smiled, squeezing his hand. "I know so. You’re perfect the way you are, Bobby. You don’t have to be anyone else."

Bobby stared at you for a moment before his lips curved into a more genuine smile. "You’re amazing, you know that?"

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Only because I’ve got you by my side."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. "Guess we make a pretty good team, huh?"

"The best," you replied, snuggling into his embrace as the warmth of the fire and Bobby’s presence surrounded you.

Alex Summers (Havok)

The garage was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the occasional clink of metal as Alex tinkered with his motorcycle. You leaned against the doorframe, watching him work. His back was turned to you, his strong shoulders flexing as he tightened a bolt, his expression one of deep concentration.

Alex had always been the quieter of the Summers brothers, less about grand speeches and more about action. But even though he didn’t always say much, you could always tell when something was bothering him.

"You’ve been quiet today," you said softly, stepping into the garage and approaching him.

Alex glanced over his shoulder at you, giving you a small, tired smile. "Just thinking."

You sat down on the workbench beside him, watching as he wiped his hands on a rag, his brow still furrowed. "Want to talk about it?"

He sighed, tossing the rag onto the bench and leaning against the bike. "It’s nothing. Just… sometimes I feel like I’m always living in Scott’s shadow, you know? Like no matter what I do, I’m never going to be as good as him."

You frowned, reaching out to touch his arm. "Alex, you’re amazing in your own right. You don’t have to compare yourself to Scott."

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "It’s hard not to. He’s the perfect leader, the golden boy, and I’m… I’m just the screw-up who can’t control his powers half the time."

You stood up, moving closer to him until you were right in front of him, your hand resting on his chest. "That’s not true, and you know it. You’ve saved more lives than you give yourself credit for. You’re strong, you’re brave, and you’ve faced things that would break most people. You’re perfect the way you are, Alex."

He looked down at you, his blue eyes softening as he listened to your words. "Perfect? I don’t know about that."

"I do," you insisted, stepping even closer until your body was pressed against his. "You’re perfect to me. And you don’t need to be like Scott. You’re you, and that’s more than enough."

Alex’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. "How do you always know what to say?"

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "It’s because I know you. I know who you really are, Alex, and that’s why I love you. Not because of who you think you need to be, but because of who you are."

His lips curved into a small smile, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "I love you too."

You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his chest as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed your own. "You’re everything to me, Alex. Don’t ever doubt that."

For the first time that night, you felt the tension leave his body as he held you tighter. "I won’t," he promised, his voice soft and full of emotion. "As long as I’ve got you, I won’t."

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

Jean sat by the lake, her eyes fixed on the still water as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon. You approached her quietly, knowing she had been seeking solitude for a while now. She had been different lately—quieter, more distant—and you knew it had everything to do with the growing power inside her.

You sat down beside her, not saying anything at first, just letting her feel your presence. The silence stretched between you for a moment before Jean finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever just be… me again," she said, her green eyes reflecting the fading light. "I feel like I’m losing myself to this power, like the Phoenix is consuming me more every day."

You glanced at her, seeing the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. Jean Grey had always been one of the strongest people you knew, but this power—the Phoenix—was something even she struggled to control.

"You’re still you, Jean," you said softly, reaching out to take her hand. "No matter what the Phoenix brings, you’re still Jean Grey. You’re still the person I love."

She shook her head, her expression pained. "But what if I’m not? What if the Phoenix takes over completely? What if I can’t come back from it?"

You squeezed her hand, your voice firm and steady. "You will come back. Because you’re stronger than the Phoenix. I know it feels like you’re losing control, but you’re not alone in this. You have me, and I’m not going anywhere."

Jean’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at you, her vulnerability laid bare in a way that few ever got to see. "I don’t feel perfect. I feel like I’m falling apart."

You moved closer to her, gently cupping her face in your hands. "You’re perfect to me, Jean. Not because of your powers or what you can do, but because of who you are. You’re kind, you’re strong, and you care so deeply for everyone around you. You’re more than the Phoenix, and you’re more than this power."

Jean closed her eyes, leaning into your touch as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’ll never have to find out," you whispered, brushing the tear away with your thumb. "I’m always going to be here, no matter what happens. We’ll get through this together."

Jean let out a shaky breath, her hands coming up to rest over yours as she opened her eyes, filled with gratitude and love. "I don’t deserve you."

"You deserve everything," you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "And I’m going to be right here, reminding you every day how perfect you are."

Jean smiled softly, leaning into your embrace as you held her close, the two of you sitting by the lake as the night settled in, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, your love would always be the constant that anchored her.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

You knew what to expect with Wade Wilson. His jokes, his antics, his erratic behavior—it was all a part of who he was. But tonight, as he lay next to you, staring at the ceiling in an uncharacteristic silence, you knew something was bothering him.

The two of you were tangled in the sheets of your shared bed, his body warm against yours. He was quiet, which was a rarity for the merc with a mouth. Normally, Wade couldn’t go more than a few seconds without making some kind of quip, but now, his silence spoke louder than his jokes ever could.

"Hey," you whispered, turning onto your side to face him. "What’s going on in that chaotic head of yours?"

Wade didn’t look at you, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. He let out a deep breath, one that felt like it had been trapped inside him for far too long. "Do you ever… I don’t know, wonder why you’re with me?"

The question caught you off guard, and you frowned, reaching out to rest a hand on his scarred chest. "What do you mean?"

He shifted uncomfortably, as if the words were too heavy for even him to carry. "I mean, look at me. I’m not exactly Mr. Perfect. I’m loud, obnoxious, and, well…" He gestured to his body with a grimace. "I’m a walking burn victim with a face only a mother could love."

You sat up slightly, your gaze soft as you took in his scarred skin, his face hidden beneath his ever-present mask of humor. Wade’s insecurities had always been there, buried beneath the jokes and the laughter, but tonight they were closer to the surface.

"That’s not true," you said firmly, your voice filled with conviction. "You’re more than your appearance, Wade. You’re more than your scars."

He scoffed, finally turning his head to look at you. "Yeah, right. I mean, come on. I look like a melted candle."

You sighed softly, leaning over to press a kiss to his chest. "Wade, I don’t care about that. I love you for who you are, not what you look like. You make me laugh, you care about the people you love, and you’d do anything for them. You’re not just some messed-up guy with a messed-up body. You’re Wade Wilson, and that’s more than enough for me."

Wade’s usual bravado seemed to falter as he listened to you, his eyes softening beneath the weight of your words. "You really mean that?"

"Of course, I mean it," you said, sitting up fully now, your hand cupping his face gently. "You’re perfect just the way you are. Every scar, every joke, every bit of you. You’re the only one I want."

Wade stared at you for a long moment, his usual snarky comebacks nowhere to be found. Instead, he reached up to touch your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin. "You know, I don’t deserve you."

You smiled softly, leaning down to kiss him. "Maybe not, but you’ve got me anyway."

For the first time that night, Wade smiled—really smiled—and pulled you into his arms. "Okay, okay. But if you ever change your mind, just know I’m keeping the dog."

You laughed, resting your head against his chest as the two of you settled back into the bed, the weight of his insecurities lifting, even if only for tonight.

[navybrat817]

Indulgence

Pairing: Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!Female Reader Summary: When Bucky calls, you go to him. Word Count: Over 5.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, D/s elements, bondage, aftercare, established arrangement, insecurities, pet names, longing, possessive behavior, world building, mix of canon and non-canon, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm very excited for this new AU, lovelies! There's a deep bond between these two, but we know the road to love isn't always easy. ❤️Beta read by the amazing @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. And thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me ramble about this part. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had only been asleep for an hour when your phone went off, your eyes barely open as you reached for the device and saw the familiar name appear. “Bucky?” You answered drowsily.

“Hey, angel,” he said roughly, the pet name bringing a sleepy smile to your face. It sounded like he hadn't gotten much sleep either. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I have tomorrow off,” you said, a bit more alert as you sat up. “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I got back a bit ago,” he replied, swearing under his breath. “It’s really late. I just…”

“Need me,” you finished for him, stretching your back as you stood up. If he wanted to tell you he made it home safely from his latest assignment, he would've sent you a text. You knew by now that a call meant he had to see you in person. “Give me a few minutes?”

“You sure? I understand if you’d rather go back to bed.”

“I’m not going to get any sleep until I know you will, too,” you said. It would drive you crazy. “I want to come over. Okay?”

You wondered if the call dropped since you didn't hear anything on the other end. “Okay. I’ll send a car,” he said. He never let you pay for a ride yourself. “Thank you,” he added so softly you almost missed it.

“You don't need to thank me,” you assured him, though you appreciated hearing it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, your heart skipping a beat before he hung up.

You brushed your teeth again before you changed out of your pajamas. The outfit didn't exactly matter. If it had, he would’ve told you what you wear. It wouldn't stay on long anyway. You sensed that this was a night for him to simply blow off some steam or release anything still pent up from his assignment.

You were more than happy to help.

“On my way.” You messaged him a few minutes later as you went out to the car.

You politely greeted the driver before gazing out the window. If anyone had told you months ago that you’d be sleeping with the former Winter Soldier, you would’ve laughed at them for saying something so crazy. You never expected to meet the man, let alone connect with him. That was your life now though. You were sleeping with Bucky Barnes.

But it wasn't that cut and dry.

“I’ll be outside.” He sent back.

You smiled to yourself as you thought about Bucky, the man searching for himself again. After years of enduring horrific pain and having no control over his actions, he felt lost once he was free. In his eyes, he would never be able to right all the wrongs of the atrocities he was forced to commit, but making amends for his past was a start. It wasn't enough though to heal the cracks from within. It couldn't stop him from plunging into the deep abyss of his mind where it once felt whole.

He had to find a way to feel semi-normal again. He needed to do something good for someone else outside of his heroic duties. And he had to do so in an environment where he could express himself openly, honestly, and authentically with a person he could trust.

That was where you came into the picture.

If Bucky called, no matter what time of day and you were available, you went to his place in a car he paid for. You stayed until you were both satisfied. A more crude way to think of it was that you helped him fuck out his frustrations and gave him a means to inflict pleasure on someone instead of hurt. It was a routine you were used to by now.

“You wanna be my angel?”

You may be his angel, but you weren't his girlfriend. He wasn't in a place to have a typical relationship. You weren't just a fuck buddy either. You were his submissive of sorts, along with his confidant and a way for him to find release and some sense of normalcy.

While he sometimes fucked you like a whore, he never once treated you like one. He cared for your well-being and checked in on you the way a boyfriend would. He kept his place stocked with your favorite snacks. You didn't sleep with anyone else and neither did he. You looked out for each other.

Unlike your last boyfriend.

As far as arrangements went, you could do much worse. There were rules set in place. Bucky was honest about his needs and helped you heal your wounds from the failure of your previous relationship. But the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to be with him.

Was it a recipe for disaster?

The drive seemed faster than usual because before you knew it the car stopped in front of Bucky’s apartment building. Your pulse quickened when you saw the brunette standing by the door, donned in his usual leather jacket. Even from a short distance, he looked massive and heat bloomed in your core as you knew what was to come. He moved to the curb with more grace than a man his size should have, his hard blue eyes set on you through the glass before he opened the door.

His gaze practically set your heart on fire and it went full ablaze when he tenderly smiled. He was stunningly beautiful even in the dark of night. It almost hurt to look back at him.

You had it bad.

“Hey,” he said, offering you his gloved hand to help you out. You hardly ever saw him out without his vibranium hand covered. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” you smiled softly, giving the driver a quick thanks before you got out. “You, too.”

Bucky's large hand moved to the small of your back as he gently led you toward the building and opened the door. He didn't like to linger outside for too long. Neither of you spoke as he guided you to his apartment on the first floor and you didn't push him to make small talk. It was a delicate arrangement and some nights didn't call for filler.

Still, you tried to get a read on his emotions. There was a stiffness to his stance, but he didn't appear upset or angry. You also didn’t spot any obvious injuries.

“Were you hurt?” You asked as he took his keys out. He was only gone for a couple of days, but you knew how dangerous the missions were.

He turned and stared at you, not at all surprised by your question since you always asked. “No, I didn’t get hurt,” he assured you, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. “But I can't exactly talk about it either. I’m sorry.”

You nodded in understanding. It was information you weren't privy to and you doubted he called tonight to talk about it anyway. He peeled back layers of himself, yet there was so much underneath that you didn't know about. You cared for him regardless.

“Bucky, you don't have to apologize for that,” you reminded him.

“I just feel bad. You can tell me about your work, but I can't always talk about mine,” he said, looking both ways before he poked his head into his apartment.

“My job isn’t as ‘exciting’ as yours,” you teased before he let you in.

Bucky had a nice place. The partially exposed brick walls paired well with the hardwood floors. Tasteful, but not extravagant. The thick curtains in the living room matched the drapes in his bedroom. Since he occasionally slept on the floor by the oversized chair, it helped to block out the sun. He didn't have much as far as decor, but he did have a piece of art that his best friend, Steve, drew hung up in the hall.

He also had a bowl that you made on the console to hold his keys, which he promptly set them in.

It meant something that he even let you into his apartment when others close to him had never been invited.

“Need anything to drink?” He asked, slipping his jacket and glove off.

He had an empty glass waiting on the kitchen island in case you did. While you indulged in a drink now and then, he wouldn't allow you to have too many. He refused to have sex with you if you were inebriated. Said it took consent away and you wouldn't be alert enough to use a safeword if necessary.

He wouldn't budge on that rule.

“No, thanks,” you answered, gazing at him.

His T-shirt strained against his biceps, one flesh and one vibranium. You could still smell his cologne from the small distance across the room, amber and cedarwood. Warm, comforting, dominating. All the things he was to you.

Not the monster he sometimes believed himself to be.

You eyed him as he poured himself a shot of whiskey, the need to soothe him coming forward when you caught a distant look in his eyes. He didn't even make a move to down his drink as he set his hands on the counter and stared off. Maybe he couldn't give you the details about what happened, but you could take care of him.

Because as much as he sometimes had to have control over you, both of you had power in your relationship.

“Bucky?” You gently called out, pulling him from his trance. “You can talk to me, even if you have to keep some things to yourself.”

His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Three months.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Three months since we started this,” he answered.

You realized he was right when you remembered the date. It felt longer yet still brand new. “Yeah. Three great months,” you smiled.

A knot formed in your stomach when he didn't smile back. “And you still feel safe with me?” He asked, gripping the counter so hard you thought it might crumble in his hands. “You really trust that I won’t hurt you?”

Your smile slipped, the questions like a punch to the gut as you walked toward him. You stopped a foot in front of him to give him some breathing room as he made eye contact. Where had that come from? What happened to make him question that?

“Of course, I feel safe. Not only do I feel safe with you and trust you, I know that you won't hurt me. You will always take care of me,” you said with fierce determination, yet with a vulnerability you couldn't hide. “If I didn't believe that, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t submit to you.”

You told him the same thing the day you two agreed on this arrangement. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he wasn't like your ex. He wouldn't just throw you away without a second thought or ignore your needs. You also had faith in him that he wouldn't harm you.

And as much as you trusted him, he trusted you that much more. If he didn't, he wouldn't have called you in the first place. That meant he still trusted himself around you.

He looked away and asked above a whisper, “Do you still think I'm a good man?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, your heart aching when his jaw clenched. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

He slowly made eye contact with you, a storm swirling in his stare.

“You are a good man,” you stated, needing to reach the part of him that believed it. “And it doesn't matter how many times you ask me that, my answer isn't going to change. Ever.”

Bucky was silent, his breathing the only sound in the space. You were worried that you said the wrong thing before he pushed himself away from the counter. Instead of moving back when he approached, you stood firm, ready to brace the storm. You sometimes felt like a mouse confronted by a lion when he got close, but it sent a thrill through you. Because you meant what you said.

You trusted him and he made you feel safe.

“I just had to hear you say it,” he whispered as he cupped your face.

A fire lit within you as Bucky captured your mouth with his. There was care and tenderness beneath the hunger and you found yourself clinging to his arms as you kissed him back. No one before him had ever kissed you with such desire, such passion. It had you chasing his lips when he pulled away too soon.

“Now go to my room, get undressed, and kneel on the bed facing the headboard,” he ordered, his voice low and allowing the words to sink in just in case you had any objections. Because he was done talking and ready to play.

So were you.

It took you a moment to answer since you had to bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered, feeling his eyes on you as you walked to his bedroom.

You focused on keeping your breathing even as you shed your clothes, taking a moment to fold them before you set them on the chair in the corner. The only time you left your garments on the floor was if Bucky put them there or had you put on a show for him. It was his space and you respected it.

He hadn't told you how long to wait for him, but your heart thumped as you knelt on the queen sized bed. You didn’t see any toys as you glanced around, but there was water, snacks, wipes, and the soft blanket you loved waiting on the nightstand. It took a moment for you to spot that there was a blindfold and scarf on top of the blanket. Your womb clenched in anticipation, an exquisite feeling knowing your patience and obedience would reward you.

Bucky walked through the door a minute later and shut it behind him. The energy shifted completely, both of you ready for each other. As much as you wanted to lift your gaze and look behind you, you kept your eyes downcast as he approached the bed. He cupped your cheek once he was close enough and forced your eyes to meet his.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your skin as you glowed from the praise. He reached for the scarf and ran his fingers across the silk as he glanced at you. “As much as I hate to cover those beautiful eyes of yours and restrain you, I want you to concentrate on my touch tonight. Just let me have you.”

A shiver rolled down your spine as you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hands behind your back,” he said, moving to secure them once you did so. The silk was soft against your skin, almost as soft as the kiss to your shoulder. After years of being restrained, you knew he felt guilty at times taking your control away. The difference was you gave yourself to him willingly. “Tell me your safewords.”

“Green is good. Yellow to pause,” you stated, testing the scarf. He never bound you too tight, but it was enough that you couldn’t slip your wrists free. “Red to stop."

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You turned your head a fraction so he could slot his lips properly over yours. Gentle, yet hot enough to melt your insides. “My good girl.”

He maneuvered you so you were in the middle of the bed and spread your knees a bit further apart. He joined you on his knees, still fully clothed. Casting your gaze down again, you bit your lip when you saw the prominent bulge in his pants. A hand came up to grasp your chin before you could stare for too long and lifted your head. If you were still wearing your panties, they would’ve dampened from his darkened gaze.

“So beautiful and all mine tonight,” he said.

“I’m yours, Sir,” you whispered, the word “always” unspoken.

“And I know you were staring,” he smirked, his fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans. His impressive cock sprang free once he pushed his underwear and pants down far enough and you wished you could lean down and swirl your tongue around the large head. “Greedy angel. Just desperate to have my cock in you.”

“Yes, Sir. Please,” you begged.

He made a show of lifting the blindfold before he slipped it over your head, your body tensing up when your world went dark. Sight was one of the senses you relied on the most. It helped you absorb most of the world around you. And now it was temporarily gone. It felt like your heart would burst from your chest as you breathed a bit heavier. But Bucky was there, softly touching your face until you relaxed.

“Breathe, angel. I’ve got you,” he whispered, drawing a gasp from you when his lips touched yours. His hands mapped your body, brushing along your breasts down to your thighs. You felt him everywhere. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered as a hand moved around your back and forced you to arch. He was careful not to hurt your arms. “Please.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips closed around your nipple. You could practically feel that he looked up at you as he gently suckled. A wave of arousal crashed through you as he pinched the other. No one had ever lavished your body with such attention the way Bucky did.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured against the swell of your breast. “Helpless. Trembling. Needy.”

You didn't mean to let such a wanton moan escape, but he made you feel needed. He made you feel wanted. It was a beautiful thing to surrender to him.

“And I love that I'm the one you trust to take care of you.”

“I trust you with my life, Sir,” you moaned.

And your heart, even though he had the power to break it.

Your chest suddenly felt colder when Bucky pulled his mouth and hand away and you shook from the loss of his heat. His vibranium hand touched your torso to remind you he was close when he shifted closer to you on the bed. You gasped when he dragged his hand down and you were helpless to do anything but feel when it slid between your legs.

“You're doing so well for me,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers spread your sopping folds. He teased you, letting you soak his metal fingers as you mewled. He lightly bit you again when he replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding along your slit, but not pushing inside you just yet. “You want me inside you? You need me to fuck you, don't you? Tell me.”

Your cheeks flamed as you whined. “I need you to fuck me, Sir,” you said, trying to widen your thighs to take him in more.

“I will. I'm going to give you everything you need,” he rumbled, gripping your hips with strong and capable hands to keep you still. “And you’re going to let me ruin your pretty little pussy with my cock.”

You panted with want at his possessiveness. Filthy words were something you never thought you’d hear from someone associated with The Avengers and they kicked your body into overdrive. You ached to have him split you open. “Ruin me, Sir.”

In one swift move he lifted you, pulled you into his lap, and buried himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open as you let out a cry, every inch of his cock stretching and making itself at home in your welcoming cunt. You couldn't brace yourself on his shoulders with your hands behind your back. You couldn't see the ecstasy in his eyes as he let you adjust to his size, but you didn't have to. Not with the way he dug his fingers in and groaned against your shoulder.

He took you to heaven when he was inside you.

“Color,” he said against your skin, thrusting his hips up once.

“Green,” you moaned, reminding yourself to stay still when you wanted him to move. “So green.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, gently kissing up to your ear. “Keep being good while I bounce you up and down on my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered behind the blindfold as he pulled you up and slammed you back down on his cock. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your heart beat frantically in your chest. It was difficult to string thoughts together, but they all went back to him and how good he made you feel. How he made you feel beautiful.

Flaws and all.

“It’s like your cunt was made for me, angel. Practically crying all over my cock,” his voice was smoky as sounds of pleasure tumbling from your lips. The next moan was softer when he slid a hand up to your neck, resting it there as the other kept your hips flush against his. “You deserve to feel good because you are good. So fucking good.”

Your lower lip trembled as a sob worked its way to your throat, “Thank you, Sir,” you whimpered before he squeezed.

“And I. Deserve. You.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust. You didn’t have to see his face to know the fury that surfaced. “My angel. Mine.”

It overwhelmed you as he bounced you in his lap, sinking you down onto him again and again. His thrusts were almost unforgiving, but the hand on your throat didn’t tighten anymore. He couldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m your angel, Sir,” you moaned as he reduced you to a needy wet mess.

“I wanna tear you apart,” he growled against your lips. “And put you back together so you still feel me when you fucking breathe.”

“Tear me apart, Sir,” you gasped, a plea for him to use you more. Your thighs hit his as he thrust up and all you could do was take it. He touched places inside you no one else could reach, physically and emotionally, and you never wanted it to stop. “Please!”

“Tell me you need me to come inside you and I’ll let you come,” he ordered, the hand on your neck squeezing a fraction. “Say it.”

“Come inside me, Sir,” you begged.

“Bucky,” he breathed against your lips. “Say. My. Name.”

Your next breath was shaky. He always had you call him “Sir” on nights like this. Why was this different?

Your orgasm began to crest, but you couldn’t let go until you gave him what he wanted. And he’d give you what you needed. “Come inside me, Bucky,” you exhaled. “Please.”

He swiped his thumb along your pulse with a deep groan, his cock still driving up into you. “I will after you come,” he promised, his tongue sliding past your parted lips and pulling away all too quickly. “C’mon, angel. Come for me. Show me you’re mine.”

The sob you tampered down earlier resuraced, wrenched from your throat as you came. Your release continued, practically leaking around his cock as tears slid out beneath the blindfold. You were beyond rational thought as pleasure spiraled through you, vaguely aware that he thrust through it to chase his own end.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunted, pulsing hotly inside you as he filled you up.

Both of you panted as you continued to drift from euphoria, your heart still beating wildly. You were warm, but your body shivered as he lifted you up. Your combined release slid from your aching cunt once he slipped free. You floated and wanted him to catch you, but you couldn’t put your arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when you let out a whimper. He made quick work of untying your wrists so he could lay you down properly and wipe away the tears still on your cheeks. “I’m going to take the blindfold off.”

Your eyes stayed shut for a moment when Bucky removed it, but you cracked them open when you wanted to see him. Your vision slowly cleared as you blinked a few times, your mind still floating as he came into view. He called you an angel, but he was the one who had a halo around his head at the moment. A gorgeous angel who had unrightfully had his wings taken away. He smiled like he wanted to eat you alive, but his touch was nothing short of tender when he brought his hand to your face.

“So fucking beautiful. You did so well for me. Fuck, I just wanna clean you with my tongue and fill you up all over again,” he praised as you clenched around nothing and whined. As hot as it sounded, you needed a bit of rest after that. “Not tonight,” he smiled, keeping a hand on you as he grabbed a wipe.

A reason he had everything close by was because you craved his touch after sex. If he ever got too far away, you whimpered and reached for him. It made you feel needy, but he assured you that he needed to keep touching you just as badly.

It just wasn’t fair that he looked so composed.

Bucky continued to shower you with soft praise as he cleaned you up. It didn’t take him long before he wrapped the soft blanket around you, trembles moved through your entire body as he put his arms around you, too. He took aftercare very seriously. It was a way for you to feel cared for and nurtured while allowing your body and brain to return back to normal. He never wanted you to experience negativity or sadness after any sort of session, especially an intense one.

You were aware that he moved you closer in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of your head, but you weren't ready to speak yet. It always took you a minute to come back to yourself and he was never one to rush or push you. If relaxing in his embrace was what it took to return to the world, he was more than content to keep you in his arms.

At least, that was what he told you.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes. Your heartbeat was back to a steady rhythm, but you still weren't ready to move yet. You were warm and safe. Bucky was there to take care of you. But what about him?

Had you taken care of him?

Bucky had a faint smile on his face when you lifted your head, his shoulders relaxed and eyes soft. Like he was at ease with everything around him. “Welcome back, angel,” he whispered, peppering your face with light kisses.

“Hey,” you smiled tiredly, your voice a little hoarse as you brought a hand to his hair, happy that you could touch him again. Judging by the way his eyes slipped shut for a moment before he opened them, he missed your touch, too.

“You okay?”

“I am and so are you. You're okay.” It wasn't a question. Whatever haunted him earlier was gone.

For now.

He didn't tear his gaze away as he reached for the water behind him, which you gratefully accepted as he put it to your lips. “You amaze me, you know? You just came back to yourself, but you're talking about me being okay.”

“Isn’t that why you call me?” You asked with a small frown, taking another large sip. “To help you?”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not just about me. This is about you, too.”

You took one more drink before you could say something stupid. Yes, this was about you, too. How he didn't push too far. How he’d hold you after sex and talk with you because those things were important to you. How he made you feel cherished and wanted for a short while.

You just didn't want to admit that he was a constant in your mind. But would it be so wrong if you did? Even if he’d never date you, didn't he have a right to know how you felt?

Communication was key and you would have to eventually tell him if those feelings persisted.

“It’s about both of us and I just want you to be okay,” is what you said because it was the truth.

He set the water aside and cupped your cheek, his calloused hand a little cool, but nice. You almost wished you could hide from his knowing eyes, but he didn’t press you for more. “I am now,” he said, swallowing a little. “I just couldn't let you see me tonight.”

Worry filled his eyes like he may have upset you, but you shook your head. You had seen his scars, but he was never obligated to show you his body. “You're letting me see you now,” you said, scooting closer as he brought your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

You thought about how the evening played out. How he asked if you thought he was a good man. How he demanded that you speak his name. And how he said he deserved you. Either something happened while he was gone or someone said or did something to get to him. You wished you knew what it was since he didn’t expand on what had been eating away at him before.

“And before you ask, you didn't hurt me,” you told him, knowing the question was coming. You appreciated that he cared enough to check.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Good because I’d never stop hating myself if I did,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “You don't deserve that kind of pain.”

Your heart swelled, not letting any past hurt enter your mind. He made you believe that you deserved better than what you had. It was a good feeling.

“Neither do you. And that's a reason why safewords exist. Both of us can use them,” you reminded him. Like aftercare, he took the words seriously. He listened to you. And if he ever got overwhelmed, he had every right to stop it the same way you did. “So no self-hate tonight.”

He huffed in mock annoyance. “Yes, ma’am. And speaking of self-hate,” he teased, tilting his head to look your way. “I really don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow.”

There was a forced calmness in his blue eyes as you assessed him. “You still don’t like your therapist,” you stated.

One of the conditions of his pardon was that he had to go to therapy. It was meant to help him process his thoughts and past experiences in order to work through them. Though he didn’t tell you what went on in his sessions as it was none of your business, he didn’t keep it a secret from you that the doctor was far from his favorite person.

You wondered if Bucky told her about you.

“What’s there to like?” He asked.

You smiled a little, knowing better than to poke the bear and say she probably wasn't that bad. “Well, being able to speak to someone who provides non-judgemental and empathetic support is one thing.”

“That’s why I like talking to you,” he said, the affection in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say.

Moments like that made you think he cared. No, that wasn’t right. You knew he cared about you. But hearing things like that made you feel like there was hope for more and he wasn’t ready for that.

Hope was both a wonderful and dangerous thing.

“Have you met anyone else?” He asked suddenly, moving his hand to your back.

It was a question Bucky asked every time he had you over. He said from the start if there was another man in your life that you’d rather be with, someone who could offer you more, he’d step aside. There wasn't anyone else. You didn't want anyone else.

And while it was admirable that he would walk away if that ever changed, your heart ached at the thought that he’d easily let you go. Because at the end of the day he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not yet.

Even if he was, who said he wanted one with you?

“No, I haven't met anyone,” you said, feeling the warm breath of his exhale against your skin as his hand moved up and down your back. It relaxed you more and you found yourself fighting a yawn. “Have you?”

“No,” he chuckled. The crinkles by his eyes made him look carefree. “Not since you saved me.”

You shut your eyes, afraid that tears would well up if you looked at him. “I didn't save you. All I did was buy you a coffee one afternoon,” you whispered dismissively.

That day changed your life.

“I’m going to let that slide since you're sleepy, but I’m going to remind you when you're wide awake that you did a lot more than that,” he spoke. He held you a little tighter when you stayed quiet. You were more tired than you thought. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You let your eyes shut at his command. “Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

There was something else unspoken in the air, but a tender kiss to your forehead stopped you from reading too deeply into it.

In the morning, he’d send you back to your place after he made you breakfast. He’d text you later to make sure you were okay. He would continue to check in and you would do your best not to fall for him more. Because one day he wouldn't need you anymore. You didn't know when that day would come, but tonight you could indulge in the fantasy that Bucky wanted you to be his girl.

Permanently.

I just want these two happy and together. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[moonydustx]

Hey!

I loved your story about the one piece boys and pregnant reader so much! Could you pretty pretty please write something to Law and Kid with the same plot? If you want, of course, and when you have time <3

Loved your writting, really!

hey hey! It took a while, but I arrived with your request :) In fact, as we already have Law's version, I brought the second part of that story. I really rlly hope you like it and thank you very much for all your support and requests <3

one piece masterlist

Warnings are place individually in each story.

*in both we have a brief smut (there are no descriptions or explicit content). Please stay alert and of course, minors do not interact.

Eustass Kid

warnings: Kid alone is a big warning. Brief mention of smut at the beginning, use of safe words, violence. But as always in this series, fluff with a happy ending. Killer is mentioned a lot in this one because, for me, there is no Kid without Killer and also the opposite (they are so good, I love this duo)

Your legs hung on his shoulders, the sweat between the two of you mixing each time he thrust deeper into you. Kid's grunts filled the entire void in the room, however, your mind wasn't there. It was more precisely under your bed, in a small box of things that you didn't use that often and therefore, it was the perfect hiding place.

"My fucking good girl, taking me so good." his teeth found the side of your leg, biting not so gently.

"Kid." you tried to stop him, it wasn't so good to have him there when your own mind couldn't even be there.

"You fucking needy, huh? I'm going to fill you up, make you stuffed with…"

"Red… Kid, please red." the safe word reached Kid's ears and immediately your legs found the bed back, his head almost hanging trying to understand what had happened.

For a brief second, the only thing the two of you were able to do was stare at each other. Him, waiting for you to explain what had happened while you - or at least a scared part within you - waited for an angry version of him.

"Did I hurt you? What happened?" he tried to reach you, but you were already sitting up and shrinking between the sheets. "Do you need me to ask for help? Do you want me to get out of here?" You had never reached the point of needing to stop the act like this, still, such kindness and concern were the last things you expected to receive from your boyfriend. You expected maybe a little silence, or him asking something like why you stopped. In fact, it was a somewhat different situation for both of them.

"Can you get my clothes, please?" you asked and watched him do it immediately.

As you got dressed, you watched Kid do the same, but he always took a few seconds to look at you, making sure you were okay. As soon as the last piece of clothing found your body, you reached under the bed and pulled out the tests hidden there. It didn't take long for the bed next to you to sink.

"I'm sorry I stopped you like that." you asked, staring at the tests and avoiding your boyfriend's eyes. "But we have to talk. I can barely look you in the face and hide this from you."

"What is that?"

"Pregnancy tests." you passed it to him, your eyes still locked on the ground below you. "All positive, Tass, I'm pregnant."

The silence in the room seemed to last forever. Enough eternity for you to think that maybe Kid was plotting a way to get you out of there. It wasn't until his laugh reached you that you could look at him. One hand holding the tests steady and the other covering his own face, while he laughed.

"I do not believe that." he said through laughter, standing up. "I'm going to be a dad, can you believe that? I need to tell the guys."

"Kid?" You stood up and watched him leave the room euphorically.

Before you could get caught up in fear and insecurity or before Kid had even had time to cross the hallway, you saw him coming back through the door. The arms - the arm and the metal prosthesis in this case - lifted you from the ground, covering your lips with his red ones.

"I love you so much." he stole a few more kisses, while you were still trying to process what was happening. "I love you! You're going to be a mom and I'm going to be a dad. Isn't that great? A little brat of ours?"

"Serious?" your excited voice was already joining his, a huge weight lifted from your shoulders.

"Come on, we need to celebrate."

If you didn't expect Kid to accept the pregnancy so easily, you expected even less to become a little puppet to reassure him. It didn't take long for the others to realize how much the captain was even more attached to you. Taking you out of activities, always leaving someone on your trail - which most of the time was himself. Killer was the first to realize he could use this to the entire crew's advantage.

You watched Kid shout something almost intelligible to other companions, the only thing you could point out was that his mood wasn't the best at the moment.

"Excuse me." Killer's voice startled you, appearing behind you. "Can you lend me your and the baby's presence?"

"What do you mean lend?" Instead of answering you, he guided you by his shoulders until he stopped you next to Kid. Sneaking up behind the two of you, Killer managed to leave you almost glued to the captain and it was only seconds before he threw one of his arms around you.

"I didn't see you arrive darling, how are you?" different from the shouts you heard, Kid said in a much calmer voice.

"I am great, what about you?"

"Just sorting some things out." he answered you and then turned to the others. "That's it, we need to catch that idiot and solve this problem once and for all." it was like watching another Kid talk, without shouting or rudeness.

The next time, all it took was an indication from Kid's first mate for you to end up next to the captain, or on his lap, or making some minimal physical contact. It was as if Kid's hard shell melted with your every touch. When the baby started to appear more in your womb, it became even worse. It was like your belly was his little stress ball, but seeing him calm was something you wouldn't complain about.

You wish you could go back to the past and understand what Kid's arrival into the world was like. After all, the arrival of your baby was being turbulent. A huge storm was shaking the ship, practically no doctors on board or supplies and a baby who decided to arrive a few days ahead of schedule. You could only think if when your boyfriend arrived into the world, it was the same way. With one last scream and almost tearing off Kid's remaining hand, little Vicky came into the world. Reddish hair and a cry as imposing as the screams and orders that the girl's own father always gave.

"A little girl, Kid." you spoke in a low tone, placing her in your arms. Next to you, you watched your boyfriend, still perplexed by everything he had seen. "Our little girl."

“I-I…” Uncharacteristically, you saw the words trail out of his mouth, lost in some ecstasy you had never seen. "She's so tiny, so fragile… so beautiful." the last part was nothing more than a small whisper.

"Do you want to hold her?" your question seemed to pull him back to reality, fear appeared on Kid's face, making it easier for you to understand what was stopping him. "I will help you."

"Are you sure, I mean…" he began, eyes going straight to the metal arm. "Won't it hurt?"

"Let me help you."

Holding the baby in one of your arms, you took the sheet next to you and folded it in parts, forming a small padded rectangle. When you handed it to Kid he immediately placed it against the metal arm and sat on the edge of the bed, next to you. Carefully, you placed the girl in his arm and watched him.

For a while, you saw Kid just analyzing, attentive eyes roaming over the newborn baby. Soon, a smile adorned his red lips and the hand - the one that originally belonged to him - touched the girl's cheek and soon allowed her little fingers to attach themselves to just one of his fingers.

"You look like a doll. A perfect little doll." he said without even taking his eyes off the child.

You didn't need much to know that the minutes he spent in silence, just contemplating the girl were actually filled with promises, in an almost mental transmission between the two. Something that maybe one day, you would discover what it was.

"I promise to take care of you forever, buddy. And I promise to be your friend too, well, they say parents should be friends with their children and I want to be your friend. Your mother will also be a great friend and you will love everyone and of course, they'll be drooling over you… Wow! You're beautiful. It's the most beautiful thing your mother and I could have done."

With each passing day, Vicky became even more like her father. You thought the similarities would only be in the reddish hair. When you least expected it, she was already walking up and down with him, spending hours in the workshop and bringing back some crazy inventions that she and Kid had wasted hours making. As a result, she became a shadow of Killer too - according to Vicky, she was his best friend, just like he and his father were. It was when she said she was going to make a metal arm that you and Kid - begrudgingly - had to stop her. Maybe she shouldn't look so much like her own father.

The clock already indicated that lunch time had passed hours ago and you hadn't seen any sign of the two red hairs that completed your existence. After gutting the ship, you found the two of them piled up in your room. Next to them, some of your and Kid's makeup. The typical red color of his lips had been replaced by pink, along with some glitter-filled blue eyeliner.

"What's going on here?" you closed the bedroom door, trying to avoid laughing when Vicky turned to you and you saw her wearing a much more chaotic version of the makeup on Kid's face.

"Daddy said I could get him some makeup. He'll look really nice."

"See, love? I'm going to be the handsome one in this relationship." this time it was almost inevitable not to laugh. "I think your mommy wants to put on some makeup too."

"Can we save this for later? It's lunch time." you warned and saw that they both remained standing still, a pretentious smile on each of their faces.

"Just today, mommy, pleeeease." Vicky asked, with bright eyes in your direction.

"Yeah, just today mommy." Kid repeated in a much more cynical tone, patting the ground next to him. "Sit here."

Without complaining - not that you had much room for it when those two asked you for something - you sat down next to Kid and Vicky immediately jumped into your lap. Her colorful fingers were responsible for part of the makeup, while Kid took advantage of the opportunity to paint you awkwardly too, exchanging ideas with his daughter.

As with all other things, Vicky had also inherited Kid's sense of fighting. A small part of him had become more cautious after the girl became part of the cew, a small part. This did not prevent him from retaliating against any threat of attack on his group.

When you heard the sound of gunfire in the distance, you knew something was wrong. The screams coming from the direction of the ship caught your and Killer's attention, who had disembarked in search of useful information for your journey. Almost connectedly, the two of you started running back to the ship, one thing on your mind.

Upon reaching Victoria Punk, you saw that most of the fight had been resolved - and thank whatever kind of god you could thank, almost all of it was enemies arranged on the ground. Your eyes, however, couldn't find the person you were looking for most.

"Where's Vicky?" Your scream attracted the attentive looks of your companions. Your eyes immediately searched for Kid's, who understood your concern.

"I want everyone hunting my daughter on this boat now!" Kid shouted and everyone immediately started circling Victoria Punk.

"Kid, what if…"

"They wouldn't leave here with her." he reassured you before you could even bring up your concerns. "They didn't leave here with her." he repeated, but this time it just sounded like he wanted to believe the words he had said.

"I found her!" you barely had time to recognize the voice that called you when you took off running in the direction of what you had heard.

If you looked to the side, you would find Kid and a few other companions running to the same place, almost as worried as you were.

"This was already here when I arrived." Heat warned as you were the first to enter the small room.

Vicky was standing next to him, one hand holding her wrist. Behind her, two bodies piled up, grunting in pain.

"What happened, my dear?" you leaned down to look her in the eyes. Relief hit you when you saw that in her expression, there was nothing but tranquility.

"My redhead" Kid bent down next to you, unlike the gentleness you had used, he already bent down checking every inch of the girl. The air in the room almost dissolved when he located the slightly marked fist. "What happened?"

"They said I would be a good bargain." She spoke with a smile, intriguing you both. "And then I did what Uncle Killer taught."

"What did he teach you?" You looked between her and the man who had just arrived.

"Knees, private parts, eyes and private parts again." she simulated the blows. "Oh, that one held me." she pointed to one of the fallen men. "And then I remembered private parts again." she simulated another kick.

The silence that followed was soon infected by Killer's loud - and genuine - laughter, soon followed by Vicky and Kid. Surely the two were already teaching the girl how to defend herself and this time, you were relieved that you hadn't won the argument with Kid when they brought up the subject the first time.

"You're awesome, baby." Kid squeezed her in a crushing hug, watching his daughter groan and try to free herself. As soon as he released the girl, Vicky lay on his shoulder. "What is wrong?"

"I'm just a little tired." she explained and he nodded, before making the decision.

"What do you think, you and your mommy go ahead and I'll find you two soon. We can rest for the rest of the day." he proposed and felt her nod.

"Actually… Killer, can you take her?" you stood up and saw Kid do the same, the girl tied to him "I have a few things to take care of, but I'll catch up with you soon."

"Leave it to me!" Killer promptly bent down and turned his back, giving the girl space and height to jump on his shoulders. "Ready?"

"Uncle Kill, instead of resting, can we make hot chocolate?" "Yes" "With marshmallows?" "For sure." "And chocolate balls?" "Your mother is going to kill me… but yes!"

Their voices began to become increasingly distant, as did the small murmur of the other companions. Once you and Kid were alone, a simple exchange of glances was enough for him to understand what you meant. Passing through the space he gave you, you bent down and picked up the man who Vicky had directly pointed out as the main cause of trouble for her.

"Hello dear bastard." with fake care, you patted his shoulder a few times. "Ready to say what you want to my daughter?"

"That stupid brat" your fist found his face, sinking him into the ground again.

"Wrong answer. Shall we go again?"

Kid watched the scene with a sadistic smile on his lips and one foot on top of the other man, preventing him from interfering in his activities. If they messed with him, that was fine, but it was better if they didn't mess with his girls.

Law - Part 2

you can see part 01 here

warnings: a little bit angst, a looot of fluff. mentions of common pregnancy problems (such as nausea, dizziness). At first, a jealous and insecure Rosi with the appearance of a brother or sister, but spoiler alert, they become best friends. And again, Law is such a great dad. Mention of the Straw Hats (mentions of Robin x Franky), brief discussions, but as always, a happy ending, very brief smut at the end (again, nothing explicit) (I should have taken a little more time to write this second part more carefully).

When the news reached Rosi about her being promoted to big sister, you and Law could see the girl filled with doubts. What do you mean big sister? When would this sibiling arrive? Why would arrive? Her critical and curious sense were directly derived from Law and you couldn't find it more adorable. It was like watching two versions of him - at different ages and heights - arguing. Law trying to explain how a sibiling would reach you and Rosi with questions and more questions that left him in a tight spot to explain how babies were made.

For the first week, everything seemed to go well. Despite the barrage of questions, you could both see the girl being genuinely curious and excited for the arrival of another member of the family. You saw the happy questions turn into a more serious doubt the first time she saw you feeling sick, being helped by Bepo. The second time, she followed you and Law into the bathroom, opening the door and seeing him holding you while you were leaning over the toilet.

"Mommy?" the thin voice, no louder than a whisper reached you both, immediately, you tried to demonstrate the best expression possible. "Are you okay?"

"Yes I am my sweetie." with Law's help, you stood up and leaned against the sink, washing your face. "I'm just a little sick."

"Daddy, aren't you going to give mommy any medicine?"

"That's normal, princess. Remember we said that some things would change while your brother or sister didn't arrive? Because of that, mom will get a little sick sometimes."

The girl just nodded and remained there at the door, both you and Law knew it was impossible to get her out of there. It didn't take long for the two of you to realize that your explanation wasn't enough for the girl to understand. This hit you both when you noticed her asking less and less about the baby that would arrive in months, or her becoming more and more attached to you, practically claiming that you were her mother and exclusively hers.

"Take it mom." she pushed her plate of fruit towards you, while the three of you drank coffee at the table.

"No need honey, I don't want to eat right now, but thank you very much." You smiled in her direction and saw her insist, with a discouraged face.

"Mommy?"

"What is it, my little one?"

"Can't we send this baby away?" she spoke naturally, you watched Law place the coffee mug against the table and analyze his daughter from afar, waiting for an answer. "I don't want to have a sibiling anymore."

"Why do you say that, Rosi?" Law's tone was more serious, while you just looked at what the girl had to say to you.

"Because I want him to go away, just get away from Mommy." the girl's voice became louder and even angry. "I already hate him."

"Rosi!" this time it was Law's voice that had raised a tone, much more serious than the girl had ever seen in the few years of her life. "Apologize to your mother now."

"No."

"Everything is fine." you interrupted the two and saw her eyes full of tears towards Law, who looked stunned.

You didn't need much to know that even he didn't expect such a reaction from himself. Rosi pushed the plate away and left the table, her feet stamping firmly against the floor. You and Law tried to call her, he was much calmer this time, but it seemed to be in vain.

"What the fuck did I do?" Law murmured to you, seeking affection as he nuzzled against your neck. "Why did I scream?"

"Babe, I've seen you yelling and swearing so many times, that was barely saying it out loud. I just think you're weirded out because we never have to do that." You took his hand, placing a quick kiss. "I think there are a lot of changes in her head, it's normal for her to feel lost."

You watched him take his face away from you and give a light laugh, followed by a wave that seemed to want to get the thoughts out of his head. Your look indicated that he wasn't going to leave without telling you what was interesting that had crossed his mind.

"Now that you say that, I clearly remembered a day when my mother was still waiting for my little sister." This explained why he was reluctant to voice such a thought. "I remember I asked if we could exchange it for Sora's new collection." he laughed weakly, once again tormented by the longing and distant memory of what it was like to have a sister, even if for a short time. "I should go talk to her, shouldn't I?"

"It would be amazing if you did."

He tried. He tried to talk to her, get to her, but Rosi made it clear with her little genius that at that moment, she didn't want to talk to her own father. The day practically passed with him hunting for her and without any answers. It was only when night fell that he could hear three light knocks on the door of his small office.

"Dad?"

"Hi, my princess." Law took his attention away from the book and turned to Rosi, standing at the door. Her eyes were redder than the last time he had seen the girl. "Are you sleepless?"

"I wanted to talk to you… Can you stay with me for a little while?"

Instead of responding in words, Law just closed the book and headed towards the door, ignoring Rosi's giggles and grumbles as he threw her over his shoulder.

"Um, where are we going?" he turned her around on purpose, he didn't really care that his daughter's laughter might wake someone up. The girl had already been too stressed that day.

"Daddy! To my room." he turned her around again and placed her on the floor, the girl was still panting from both the gyrations and his laughter. "Come with me."

She pulled him by the hand and the two crossed the hallway in silence, only their footsteps echoing off the metal walls. Law was surprised to enter the room and find you already sitting on the bed.

"I called mom too." Rosi guided Law to sit next to her.

Automatically, he placed a kiss on the top of your head and sat down, watching Rosi step in front of the two of you. You watched the girl take a few deep breaths, her hands clasping together in anxiety.

"Rosi, what's going on?" you called her and saw her stop, collecting the concentration she was missing.

"I know I was rude to you, mom, I'm sorry. But I'm worried." She began to speak, approaching the two of you.

You could see a certain insecurity in the way Rosi looked at you and then at Law, as if the words were too difficult to bring awareness to both of you.

"I don't want to have a little brother anymore, I know I said it would be cool, but I don't want it anymore" she said emphatically, waiting for a reaction from the two of you. Unlike earlier, her voice this time had no anger, just choked and low. The only thing you and Law could do was look at each other and turn your attention to Rosi.

"Why don't you want more?" Law started and you opened your arms, giving Rosi space and freedom to come and snuggle into you.

"The baby is hurting you, mommy. Today daddy had to help you and the other day it was Bepo." Her eyes shone with a few tears. Damn, your own eyes were already burning knowing that she was worried about that. "I don't want another little brother or sister if they're going to hurt you."

The idea that had crossed your mind, of how difficult it would be for her to understand the appearance of someone who would share the little world of the three of you with her, became even clearer after the girl's concern. Without thinking much, you squeezed her tightly, showering the little girl with kisses.

Little promises that everything was okay came out of you as you squeezed her while Law watched. At the same time that he found a certain grace and cuteness in his daughter's behavior, he remembered a smaller version of himself, the small fragment of memory he had given you that day. Rosi was nowhere near the little drama he had at the time.

"Rosi, look here." Law asked and the girl, still glued to you, just turned her face towards him. "What you saw today and what you saw before is normal."

"Exactly and it will soon stop happening." you completed.

"But it will take a while?"

"Maybe a little." Law resumed in a welcoming tone, you had realized that after Rosi had entered your lives, the little girl had unlocked a patience and calmness that you didn't know about in him. "All babies do this when they're in their mommy's tummy."

"Even me when I was inside?" she completely freed herself from you, sitting in the small space between you and Law.

"Even you." you and Law responded almost in unison, laughing together at the girl's euphoria.

"What else did I do?"

"You loved kicking when your dad was around, it was like you heard his voice and started making a mess." you explained and saw her smile, her eyes were now shining with pure curiosity, which you hadn't seen in a few days. "And to help, he kept tickling you."

"Like this." Law squeezed the girl's side, eliciting a surprised scream from her and then loud laughter. "And like that, then some more like that." Every time he moved, scratching the girl, she seemed to laugh more.

Her little face was already red and the tears that were once worried seemed to have been replaced by the overload of laughter and euphoria that settled in Rosi. Law finished tickling her as soon as he saw her lack of air and pulled Rosi into his arms, filling her with kisses on top of her dark hair like his.

"You know you'll forever be our little princess, right?" the girl nodded, earning a few more kisses from him. "And that we will always love you."

"A lot?"

"A lot." you replied as Law opened the girl's arms as wide as she could.

"A million times like this here." he reiterated, seeing you nod. "Now it's time for bed, don't you think?"

"But I still don't want to sleep." She mumbled and you stood up, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm dying for some sleep." You gave her one more kiss and then moved up your body a little, giving Law a quick kiss on the lips. "What do you think about dad staying with you for a while?" you blinked at him, so only he could see.

A thank you was muttered silently to you as a good night was exchanged. When you left the room, Law adjusted himself so that the girl was looking at him.

"I wanted to apologize to you about earlier today." he began, seeing her paying attention to what he was saying. "I shouldn't have spoken like that."

"And I was mean to Mom. She always taught us that we can't say mean things like that, right?" the girl replied, taking him by surprise by her little confession.

"Yeah, we shouldn't be mean." he lay down and patted his arm next to him, so she could do the same. "Did you know I already had a sister?"

"Same as what I'm going to have?"

"Well, we still don't know if you're going to have a brother or a sister." he pointed out, feeling her nod and snuggle into him even more. He knew her well enough to know that she must be falling asleep, but she wouldn't give in. "She was younger than me, her name was Lammy."

"And where is she?"

"Today she is a little star, just like your grandparents." As much as he didn't believe in this cute fantasy about life after death, it was the way you and he had found to explain the lack of some other blood ties in Rosi's life without traumatizing her. "But when she was still here, she was my best friend."

"And what did you do?"

"She loved playing tea time and between you and me, I hated it." he laughed at the memory, tormented by the idea that the old Lammy would get along great with Rosi. "But she played ninja fights with me afterwards, so it was worth it."

"Did your grandparents still love you after she was born?" the question made Law turn to her, trying to understand where that was coming from.

"Of course, our parents loved us very much, just like your mother and I will love you when the baby arrives." he explained and she seemed to be deep in thought. "You know, don't you? That regardless of anything, your mother and I will always love you."

"Promise?" she asked

"Promise."

"You pinky promise?" she raised her pinky and then Law crossed his with hers.

"That was the easiest promise I've ever made, you know?" he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, seeing the girl smile. "Now are we going to sleep?"

"I want to hear a story, the story of the ninja bear who stole honey."

Law started the story with a probably different beginning than the other thousand times he told it - the story was clearly made up about Bepo stealing food, but Rosi and you had agreed not to tell Law that you had noticed. It took a few minutes for sleep to take them both away.

In the following months, Rosi seemed to be much safer and more integrated into waiting for the baby. She helped decorate part of the room, participated in your consultations since Law knew that the girl liked practical explanations, it was an easy way for her to understand that her mom was fine. The name was her choice too, Linn, in her justification, remembered the name of the story that her father had told some time ago, about a nice girl called Lammy. The resemblance was very little, but her intention was enough to warm both of your hearts.

When Linn was born, Rosi was almost on duty at the bathroom door - again, the hot tub had been her best friend during the birth process. You and Law wish you could have recorded the first time she held her brother. Bright eyes, firm hands, there you two knew it was a partnership for life.

Apart from the small dispute over who would be the assistant every day when Law would deal with something more practical in the medical wing, the two complemented each other. All of Linn's fear was supplied by Rosi's courage, all the hard shell that she had inherited from Law were supplied by Linn, who had pulled your side of the molten feelings. And when the two of them got together, talking wasn't an impossible task for anyone. Whether it was when they asked to dye Bepo black and make him look like a panda or when they found the straw hats - which Rosi had already met - and all she had to do was say that she wanted a party like last time and immediately the banquet was organized. .

How long has it been since you wore this type of piece on your body? Looking in the mirror was like seeing a new version of yourself. A few more stretch marks and marks, but all with a good meaning: having brought two of your loves into the world. It was the voice of one of them entering the room that brought you out of your reverie, small hands clinging to your leg.

"Mommy, let's go!" Linn hung onto the dress you were finishing putting on. The four year old seemed to have more energy than you had ever had in your entire life.

"Where are your father and sister?"

"They've already gone to the party, mommy." you picked him up, feeling the boy celebrate as you started to leave Polar Tang.

The deck of the Sunny, where you were anchored, was full of people, crew members from the Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates gathered, talking, drinking and partying. It was already something common every time the two crews met on the way, of course, with a lot of influence from your eldest daughter who loved the lightness of your friends.

"Linn!" Nami came towards the two of you, picking the boy up and squeezing his cheeks. "How big you are!"

His cheeks flushed at the compliment, earning a laugh from you. Nami warned you that she was going to steal the boy for a few minutes to take him to show the other companions and you trusted her too much to oppose that.

In the distance, you saw Law sitting talking to Robin while Rosi was between his legs, practically being slathered in sunscreen.

"Mommy!" she called you, trying to get away from your husband. "Daddy's making me all dirty."

"It's just what's necessary dear." you replied, giving Robin a quick hug. "And how are you?"

"Great! I was even discussing with Law how you guys have been, how the kids are doing." she made room for you to sit next to her.

"It's been challenging, but amazing at the same time. Are you thinking about having one?"

"I don't know, Franky and I talked a lot about this subject, but if one day I have them and they look like yours, it would be lovely."

"Lovely?" Law inserted himself into the conversation, a cynical smile on his lips made even Rosi turn around. The girl's dark hair was being braided by Law, he certainly had more skill than you in that task. "Lovely until they get rebellious and against sunscreen."

"You put a lot of it on me, I'm sticky!" the girl grumbled and he lightly tugged on the finished braid in her hair, laughing when he saw her get even angrier. "Mommy, daddy pulled my hair!"

You and Robin just laughed at the implications the other two had towards each other, watching the girl run off to play. The three of you stayed there for a while, making small talk.

"Now it's your turn." Law warned you as soon as Robin left to get the three of you some drinks. "Come on, sunscreen for you too."

Without hesitation, you pulled off the dress you were wearing and let it pool on one of the chairs. A malicious laugh crossed your lips when you saw Law's inability to form any cohesive thought until you turned your back to him, arranging your hair to stay out of the way.

"You make things so much more difficult that way." he whispered, applying the lotion to you and sliding it down your body. "You look so hot in these."

"You say that because you're in love with me."

"That too, but other than that part, you should wear this bikini more often." He placed a light kiss on your shoulder, along with a small bite, almost as if testing if your skin - and you - were real at that moment.

"I found you!" Ikkaku interrupted the two of you, running until he stopped in front of you. "Shall we play? We find a ball and we can improvise a net."

"Let's go!" you answered her and looked at Law over your shoulder. "Want to come, baby?"

"Not this time." he almost completed it, saying that he would choose to just enjoy the view, but decided to keep the information to himself.

Well, at least he thought it was just for him. Anyone who looked at Law could without much effort tell which direction he was looking in and by the type of gaze, what his main intention was.

"Captain…" Shachi leaned next to him and Law didn't bother to look to know that he was accompanied by the two other parties - Penguin and Bepo.

"We have a proposal for you." Penguin started, not getting much of his attention. "Of course, when you can stop drooling over your wife's body."

"What do you want?" Upon realizing that he had been noticed, Law with great difficulty looked away from you and back to them.

"We want to make an exchange: two days of no service for an hour of safety for both of you."

"What does that mean?"

"For an hour we take care of the children, but not only that." Shachi bent down, creating some suspense until he got close to the captain's face. "For one hour, no one, I repeat, no one will come near Polar Tang."

"Three hours." Law responded immediately, taking the boys by surprise. When did it become so easy to make deals with the captain?

"Do we have a deal?" Bepo stretched out his paw and Law quickly shook it and walked towards you.

The excuse he gave was that he needed your help with something about Linn, he knew that for any other reason, he would make you suspicious. It was only when he took you to an emptier corner of the Sunny that you realized his real intentions - and you couldn't be more interested.

With no time to waste, as you were transported with his powers, your body barely found your room and Law's hands immediately claimed possession under your skin. His mouth covered yours and as he explored every inch of paradise inside your lips, his hands slid across your bare skin.

"No, love, please no." He held your hand that was about to undo the knot of the bikini you were wearing. "You look too hot in this for me to miss the opportunity to have you like this."

"I didn't know you liked it so much, you thought I was so…"

"Don't you dare continue this." He placed you on the small table, fitting himself between your legs and taking your lips again. "It was fucking torture, seeing you walking around, anyone being able to look at what's only mine."

"Fuck, you're mean." his hand slid down the front of your bikini, getting closer to where you needed him most. "Law?"

A grunt from him, as his face buried itself in your still covered breasts was the only thing you heard. Before he could sink too far into pleasure enough to not be able to think, you gently pulled him by his dark hair until his face reached yours.

"Condoms, Law."

"But babe…" he mumbled, almost like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Do you remember the last time we didn't use it?" You pointed to the height of your belly and saw him nod, sobriety returning to his features.

"Yeah, condoms are a good choice."