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ittybittyfanblog · 3 months ago

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Only You, Darling (Only You, Babe)

Summary: There were orders for your abduction. You were made to be the bait by a rival gang to get to the elusive head of Onychinus. Sylus doesn’t take it too well. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: mc x sylus, fem!reader x sylus (use of she/her pronouns), depictions of violence (it gets a little graphic), reader gets abducted and injured, strong language, protective!sylus, he’s a little unhinged here, self-indulgent! A/N: I can’t believe this game pulled me out of a three-year creative rut LMAO. I’ve been doing fanarts, now I’m writing again?? The power these pixelated men hold over me, man. Anyway, enjoy! This version of Sylus is probably a little OOC idk idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It was close to midnight, and you're being followed.

On your six, a stocky man in an unassuming dark suit has been tailing you since you left the dingy bodega a little over a mile away from your apartment for about, three? five minutes– no, maybe even longer.

Shit, you mouth silently. Sloppy. You should’ve noticed him sooner, and the two other lackeys now closing in from up ahead. They’re armed too, if the hands hidden inside their jackets were any indication.

As if things aren't looking bad enough, you’ve decided tonight would be the perfect night to go weaponless, deciding against bringing your handgun with you since it was supposed to just be a quick run to the store for supplies. Namely, the late-night cravings sort of supply.

You clutch the wrinkled paper bag containing your coveted jalapeño Cheetos tightly.

This is what greed does to you, a mocking voice echoes in your head. Since when did your inner voice of reason sound masculine and oh-so-familiar?

Exhaling quietly, you try to calm the rising beat of your heart and appear to be clueless of your surroundings. Walk at a normal pace. Look unaware of the men with the intention to… What even was this? An ambush? Good, old, regular robbery? No, it doesn’t seem like they were in it for something that insignificant. They wouldn’t even bother to be this cautious if it were.

But then, what were they here for? The dangers you were more familiar with are of the monstrous kind in the literal sense of the word; entities that you face on a daily basis as a Deepspace hunter. Not the regular threats posed by mankind – which in this particular situation, suddenly feels more foreboding.

While racking your brain for ideas on how to slip away from their sight without escalating the situation, you fail to notice a fourth person hidden behind the dumpster inside the narrow alleyway on your left until you feel the cold, hard edge of a pistol gun hit your temple.

With a shout, your hand shoots up in an attempt to yank the gun away from the hand holding it but the sudden burst of pain from the impact has left you feeling dizzy and off-kilter. The moment you throw your fists up to block your face, heavy fists strike you directly in a flurry of hits, colliding with your forearm and your unguarded ribs.

You let out a pained grunt as you stagger backwards, trying your hardest to keep yourself from falling back on your ass and ward off the next incoming attack.

A sinister laugh alerts you of the others, now surrounding you in a circle. Shit!

You hastily shift your legs into a crouching position, bracing yourself as you attempt to sidestep the one in front of you before making a run for it. You spring into action, but before you can even take another step, an arm shoots out and coils tightly around your neck like a noose. A cloth that reeks of something distinct is slapped over your mouth and nose, rendering you unable to do anything but struggle.

“Now, now– the boss wants her in one piece, John,” The stocky man, who’s apparently larger and more jacked up-close, pipes up. John tightens the limb circling your throat, preventing you from breathing, before slightly loosening his grip.

“I’d advise you from struggling too much, sweetheart. But if you insist on making this harder for yourself,” the man talking suddenly grins, revealing rows of crooked, silver teeth. “He ain’t said nothin’ about a couple of bruises.”

You give him your dirtiest glare, trying to pull away from the death grip the burly man called John had on you, but you feel your muscles slowly becoming heavier and your vision starting to blur.

Ch-chloroform?

You make a muffled shout, a scurry that earns you a heavy hit on the stomach, one last futile move to free yourself, but the inevitable effect of the potent substance starts to overpower you.

“After all, we need to make sure that the big bad boss of Onychinus actually comes for his bitch, don’t we?”

Rendered completely useless, the men start to make quick work to restrain your arms and legs in a hogtie before carrying you down the street, to a shaded corner where a large, gray van is parked.

The barn doors open, and you’re tossed in carelessly to the back, landing painfully on the cold, hard floor. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips, feeling like one big bruise; splotches of red and blue start to form like a violent watercolor on your skin.

The engine revs. Before completely losing consciousness, you think you hear a faint caw.

The car drives off the beaten path, into the night, leaving not a trace of evidence of what transpired mere minutes ago aside from a discarded brown paper bag and a deflated bag of chips.

From a distance, flying towards the hazy skyline, a mechanical bird crows a bad omen.

_____

In the dead of the night, the head of Onychinus sits as a spectator; a towering presence at the head of a table inside a private room, obscured in plain sight, in an unremarkable establishment far east of Linkon City.

Unassuming as it may be, the room’s occupants are men of great renown, both in influence and notoriety. The CEO of a chain business in Azure Square, a regional manager of a well-known bank in Linkon, the head of a weapons trade representing a faction in the N109 zone… All held significant power, all held ulterior motives.

A meeting of minds; the type held only in the secrecy of the night, gone in the break of dawn.

Sylus has half the mind to listen in on the droning exchange of fake pleasantries and plastic smiles as the men deal trades in nature that of weapons and favors. A number of hungry, beady eyes cast him furtive glances, fearful yet devout. Some cautious in the hope of earning his approval.

“–the package will be en route to the agreed-upon address by the end of the week,” a stout man in spectacles finishes off, clearing his throat. Beads of sweat start to form at the back of his neck as red eyes bore into his, assessing. Deliberating. “O-or if Richard’s able to give me the go-ahead in advance, I’ll make sure it arrives by Friday,” a gulp–then, “sir.”

All in reverence.

He hums, his switchblade dancing idly in his hand, deliberately stretching the tension that hangs heavy in the air. He delights in this power to unsettle, savoring the authority that his mere presence commands—a demand for absolute deference.

“Make it half that time, will you, Raymond?” Sylus responds amicably, not as a question. The man, Raymond, sputters.

“That won’t be pos–” Sylus tilts his head, eyes shifting into something more dangerous. “Please, I’ll try to cut the time shorter but there won’t be any assurances.”

The pale-haired man sighs in acquiescence. “I guess that will have to do.” Raymond lets out an exhale of relief, but catches his breath as Sylus continues, “Any later than Wednesday, and I’ll come to claim it personally.”

Raymond, more nerves than man, starts to blabber something in response–but stops when something black suddenly appears in a blaze of dark energy, near the shoulder of the intimidating man he’s trying to appeal to.

Sylus raises a hand, and a large crow lands on his pointer finger.

He caws, once. Twice. And shows a projection.

The inhospitably cold room suddenly went glacial.

All conversation halts to a stop as an overwhelmingly suffocating aura starts to emanate from the man–no, the being at the head of the table, making all that are in the vicinity freeze in fear.

The devil posing as the leader of Onychinus abruptly stands up, and Raymond thinks, Oh I’m going to die here.

Without a word, the man disappears in a Stygian haze.

Five minutes later, only after they felt like death was no longer looming over their heads, did anyone dare to move a muscle.

_____

Your head hurts, and your mouth tastes of rust.

Having been awake for longer than your captors were aware of – two (?) of which bickering near a barred slate of metal that you assume is the door after taking a quick peek from beneath the mess of hair concealing your face – you try to get your bearings together without arousing the suspicion of your present audience.

“–bet it’s gonna take a while ‘fore that guy arrives. You think she’s enough to get him to show his face?”

“Damned if I know. In any case, we got a pretty, li’l plaything on our hands,” a snort. “Make her worth the effort.”

Where were you? From what it looks like, you’ve been transported into a nondescript underground bunker of sorts, dank with a hint of mildew and rot in the air; a rumbling air vent on your left masking any noise that escaped your mouth when you woke up. The area is poorly lit, save for the flickering bulb hanging precariously above your head as your main source of light – good for casting shadows to hide your bruised face, bad for the pounding headache you’re pretty sure is a concussion. And with your back seemingly close to a wall, you arrive at the conclusion that there are no other entryways, no way to leave, but the guarded door in front of you.

In short, you have no idea where you are.

Fuck–this is bad, you swear to yourself internally, trying to control the rising panic swelling up your chest. You never thought your nightcap would lead to this mess. Nobody knows about your current predicament, and it’ll take more than a day before your absence raises any alarms, so right now, you’re on your own.

Think, think! What can you do?

What can you do? You have nothing on you, nothing you can use as a makeshift weapon to defend yourself with, and your hands are tightly bound behind your back by a thick, heavily twined rope with no give. The situation is slowly turning bleaker by the second, and it isn’t even your fault that you’re here in the first place! You were made a pawn, a mere bait in this messed-up dick-measuring contest between a crazy, sadistic, self-proclaimed head honcho and Onychinus’s own crazy, sadistic–

Wait a minute. Sylus.

You send a strong prayer to anyone above that’s listening, and an angry telepathic shout for good measure to the one who’s unaware of his involvement – but nonetheless the source of your ruined night – in this attempt at kidnapping a perfectly law-abiding citizen of Linkon.

Sylus, as much as I hate your unfortunate tendency to stalk me through means that, honestly? Eludes the hell out of me, I really, REALLY hope that you’ve been keeping tabs toni–

“Hey, boss! I think this one’s awake!”

Fuck. No use pretending anymore.

You hear heavy footsteps from outside the room before the corroded metal door swings open to reveal a large man, easily standing above six feet, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and an unsettling smile. His arms are covered in tattoos– overlapping, almost undecipherable. A gnarly scar runs from the side of his mouth to just above his brow bone; his right eye a cloudy gray, most likely a morbid souvenir from the sustained injury.

His functional eye zeroes in on your pitiful form, and his smile widens into a hostile grin.

“Well, well. It seems like our esteemed guest is finally ready to join in the fun,” His voice sounds like gravel, with a mocking intonation. “I hope my men weren't too rough with you on the way here.”

You let out a breath through your teeth, blinking a few times to try and rid the blurring in your vision. You have to bide your time– “Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

The man cocks his head to the side, smile still in place. “I assume you already know. But I’ll indulge you your little questions, why not?”

He crosses the space separating the two of you with just a few, languid steps before he’s in front of you. He leans forward, brushing the messy locks of hair – dried with blood – away from your face in a deceptively calm manner. “The devil needs to pay his dues, but it’s been rather difficult to get a hold of him, you see,” he sighs in exaggerated disappointment. ”I intend to collect, so I waited patiently for the right moment, for an opening. For an opportunity.

And here, the opportunity presents herself.”

You sneer, moving your head back to let your hair fall from his creepy hold. “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, mister, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”

He barks out a laugh before gripping your chin tightly between his fingers. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you. Maybe we can find a better use for it.”

You feel it before you hear it.

“Perhaps not.”

Something vicious saturates the air, something intense and terrifying and wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and some sort of primordial response deep within your brain is telling you to get away from it.

But then, the paralyzing fear melts away to something akin to hope when you realize the source of this new disturbance.

Relief washes over you when familiar ink-and-red tendrils materialize behind the man in front of you. The dark wisps dissipate like smoke as soon as it comes and in place, your savior – sporting an expression that could only be described as downright murderous – stands before you, all six feet of unadulterated rage.

Several things happened so fast, it was almost simultaneous.

A cacophony of shouts came loudest from the two men who had been on guard duty but screams also echoed from outside the room. You saw flashes of red, twin laughter, and blood spurting from the necks of the now headless guards, and then a symphony of bullets and a lot of things breaking rang across the room.

Suddenly–

Deafening silence. As if something has put an abrupt stop to the noise.

Amidst all the chaos, the scarred man in front of you had no time to make a move before savage whips of crackling energy engulfed him, leaving only his head free from the smothering darkness.

His expression betrays something wild and manic as he tries twisting around to look at the figure behind him. “You–”

Sylus pays no mind to the breathing, dead fool – lower than dirt on his feet, with the nerve to harm what is most precious to him – as he keeps his gaze solely on you; his eyes darting up and down as if taking inventory of all the bruises and scrapes you sustained from the abduction.

You meet his eyes. “You came.”

An indecipherable look passes his face, gone as quickly as it came. “A little too late. I apologize.”

You weakly huff out a chuckle, wanting to shake your head but decide against it lest it aggravates your concussion. A prickling sensation, then the rope around your wrists falls off with a quiet thud.

“Luke. Kieran.”

“Everything’s all accounted for, boss,” Kieran announces, suddenly appearing beside your right, along with Luke who’s on your left. Both look no worse for wear.

The latter gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh, man. They got you good, little crow.”

“Caught me off-guard, s’all,” you insist half-heartedly.

A sigh. “Transport her directly back to base. Attend to her critical injuries once you arrive, and keep her awake. I’ll handle the rest once I get back,” Sylus instructs the twins in a tone that brooks no argument.

They nod in sync and start making a move to carry you out, but you protest.

“Wait, you’re staying behind?” For some reason, the thought of being separated from him, even for a short amount of time, makes you feel ill. Well, worse than your current state at least.

Sanguine eyes soften when he hears the tremble in your voice. The offending man in front of you, reduced into something less threatening than a cowering dog in comparison to your rescuer, is forcibly pushed aside to make room for Sylus as he steps closer.

He crouches low so that you’re looking down on him instead of up. One large hand covers both of yours, mindfully avoiding the fresh rope burns on your wrists, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the unmarred part of your skin.

“This will be quick, sweetie. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “I swear to you.”

You swallow, but nodded reluctantly. “Come home soon.”

“I will.”

With that, you let yourself be carried out of the claustrophobic space you were confined to, into a larger room littered with unmoving bodies that you're frankly too tired to care about at the moment, up three (rickety) flights of stairs where you exit into what looks like the inside of an empty shipping container, before finally, finally getting out.

A gust of salty wind hits you and you ask, “Are we near the docks?”

“Yeah,” Kieran answers, carefully putting you down on the backseat of Sylus’ car. “Mephisto trailed after the van they stuffed you in before reporting back to the boss. We followed soon after.”

Luke frowns as he inserts the key in the ignition. “We weren’t aware that they had eyes on you for a while now. An oversight on our part, won’t happen again,” he assures you. “Gotta give them props for that, at least.”

Kieran, now getting in the passenger side of the vehicle, shoots him a look.

“Anyway, we’re glad we got to you before they did anything… worse,” Kieran continues, then winces in a show of mock sympathy. “Can’t say the same to that fucker back inside. Haven’t felt Sylus’ bloodlust this strong in a long while.”

You try to focus on their words, but you feel yourself nodding off as the remaining adrenaline slowly leaves your body. You know you should feel more worried about what the two were insinuating, but your mouth still tastes like you swallowed a bunch of coins and you just want a soft bed to sleep in for an entire day. Or three.

“Oi, no sleeping. Doctor’s orders,” A snapping finger in front of your face forces you awake.

You blink your tired eyes open in an attempt to stay lucid, the pulsing pain in your head becoming more prominent as soon as the threat of danger has passed.

“This is gonna be a long night,” you sigh, wishing that Sylus will keep his word and be quick about… whatever he’s planning to do with your abductor.

–––––

There hasn’t been much left of the man who proclaims to be the new head of an arms syndicate Sylus had dealt with in the past. He recalls the history of his relationship with the cartel being less than cordial, but nothing that would warrant his ire. Except for tonight.

He usually doesn’t leave a trace when doling out punishments; no, not anymore. Not in recent years. He prefers to be efficient about his killings, dissipating any evidence in thin air after reducing them into fine paste, rather than make a big show out of it. Quick and precise.

Except today… Someone had the arrogance, the absolute audacity to steal directly from the dragon’s nest.

The contents of which have always been kept in strict confidentiality. What is known, only chosen individuals bound to secrecy are privy to, and a lot of people would kill for.

But unbeknownst to anyone else but its owner, only one thing in this hoard of secrets truly matters to the dragon. One solitary treasure alone he would burn planets for – and someone has tried to steal it.

Harm. the treasure. To get to him.

It seems as if the new bloods needed a reminder of who, exactly, they’re stealing from.

One who dwells deep within the underbelly of the cities both monster and men inhabit, that even the most heinous of sinners seeking solace in the dark, are afraid of.

And what retribution tastes like to those who are foolish enough to bite more than what they can chew.

The poor soul unfortunate enough to be the first one to discover the carnage will witness that what was left of the man that had wronged the Onychinus kingpin is stuck on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling of a basement where the treasure was held captive. They will find that the man’s innards are deliberately hung in a haphazard fashion, in all corners of the room like bloody, sinewy tinsel.

And the centerpiece of this bloodbath is none other than the man’s decapitated head, forcibly attached to the hanging light in the middle of the room. A bulb crudely drilled past his cranium, while blood dripped down the floor in slow, ominous rivulets.

They will understand in dawning horror that the one responsible for this... gross butchery, has left the head swinging. That the man’s mouth will forever remain agape in an eternal scream to immortalize the exact moment he realizes the gravity of his sin.

Yes, Sylus is more than glad to remind them.

_____

You arrive a quarter past four AM.

Barely taking a step past the foyer, the twins immediately whisk you inside to perform an ‘emergency patch-up.’ Luke’s words, not yours.

“We’re your personal CNA while waiting for the head nurse to take over,” he explains cheerfully, wrapping another layer of gauze around your wrist. You hiss when Kieran dabs a cotton ball on the gash on your temple, peroxide fizzing as it comes in contact with the dried-up blood. Muttering out a “sorry!” Kieran does quick work in cleaning the injury and covering the affected area.

In no time at all, all visible wounds are bandaged and disinfected. The worst of your head wound had to be stitched up, but other than that, nothing seems to require immediate medical attention. There’s nothing left for you to do but to bear the aches that came along with the bruises – especially on your tender midriff – and to pop a tylenol for your throbbing headache.

You offer them a sincere, “Thanks. No, really.” before they leave you in Sylus’ room, after multiple reminders to “not sleep before the attending nurse arrives for the final diagnosis.”

(You think they might have enjoyed playing caretaker a little too much.)

With a lot more effort than you care to admit, you painstakingly remove your bloodstained clothes until you're down to your underwear, before draping yourself in a large, red, silk robe. A hot shower sounds heavenly to your sore muscles, but the soft mattress is calling to you more so you head straight to bed.

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you prop your head on a mountain of pillows – to keep yourself relatively upright – and let out a sigh.

Tonight had been a shitshow. All you wanted was something to snack on while you binge through the last season of the show you were watching back at your apartment; you never thought a late-night run to the store just a few blocks away would result in… this. If not for Sylus’ intervention, you’re sure you'd be leaving with a lot more than a couple of scrapes. If not worse.

You're lost in your own thoughts when short, successive raps on the door catch your attention. It swings open before you have the chance to pipe out a, “come in!”

Speak of the devil.

Sylus enters the room, not a hair out of place. You notice that he’s changed into a casual, brown sweater and a pair of dark-washed jeans. His eyes meet yours, tightly-controlled expression relaxing as he crosses the room towards the side of your bed, wasting no time.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still pretty sore, but Luke and Kieran already handled the worst of my injuries,” you answer, making a move to sit up. Sylus tuts disapprovingly, gentle as he puts a hand on your chest to prevent you from moving any further. He sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle you. Once fully settled, he let out a deep sigh.

“You had me worried for a moment there, kitten.” He admits, a slightly rough edge to his voice as emotion seeps into it. He regards you intently, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re here, safe.

Your hand reaches out towards his face. Without missing a beat, he leans in to nuzzle your palm, eyes closing shut. He reminds you of a big wolf, unbridled fire simmering beneath the surface, yet tame in the presence of his handler.

“I’m fine now, thanks to you,” you assure him with a lopsided smile. “Give my thanks to Mephisto, as well. Tell him he gets a pass on the stalking this time.”

Sylus opens his eyes, a hint of amusement and something else you can’t identify flickering through. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll be lucky if that bird gives you the privacy to bathe alone after tonight,” he jokes.

He’s joking. Right?

You eye him for a moment before deciding to let it go. You're too tired to argue.

Instead, you cautiously ask a question you aren’t sure you even want the answer to. “What happened after we left?”

Sylus expression doesn’t change except for the upward tick on the corner of his mouth; the same peculiar glint in his eyes coming across a little stronger. “They won’t be bothering you anymore. You don’t need to worry about anyone coming for you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He hums. “Do you really want to know?”

You stare at him, and he stares back at you placidly.

You purse your lips and look away. “Maybe not.”

Sylus breathes out a laugh. He gently grasps your chin between his forefinger and thumb, guiding your head to meet his gaze once more. A softer look on his face, inching closer to yours.

Your heartbeat slightly picks up. In your vulnerable state, you feel a welling desire to bare your feelings to the man in front of you. You want to tell him how relieved you felt when you saw him in that cursed basement, how he was able to quell your fears with just his presence alone the moment he appeared in a familiar haze of black and red. Like your own, personal, vindictive guardian.

Instead, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his.

Sylus groans quietly, a hand cupping your face as he leans closer to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of contentment from being this close to him. You feel, more than you see, how his taut body loses the remaining tension from the events that transpired just mere hours ago, how he finally relaxes as he loses himself in you.

Very carefully, he eases you further down, cradling your head with one hand until it rests on a pillow. His lips drift to the corner of your mouth, trailing soft kisses up to the apples of your cheeks, your forehead, then to your nose.

He pulls back slightly, chuckling when you make a sound of discontent. When you open your eyes, you see him looking at you– half-lidded and tender.

In a low voice, he instructs, “Rest. You need it.”

The feeling of exhaustion pulls you in, but before you surrender to it, you remind Sylus, “I’m not that fragile, you know. You don’t have to worry too much.” You poke his cheek and he catches the offending digit to bite it affectionately. “I’ll be up and running in no time.”

He doesn't speak for a minute, considering your words. His mouth sets into a thin line before letting out a sigh.

“And if you get hurt again? What then?" He whispers so quietly, seeming as if he's talking to himself.

"I'll get hurt again, that's for sure," You tell him, matter-of-factly. "But really, that’s just an occupational hazard. I’m sure you realize."

“Love — what a terrible, little thing,” he muses, half-forlornly, half in jest. "I’d rip this cold heart out and throw it in flames if I could.”

While speaking, his hand finds its way into the tangles of your hair, gently running his fingers through the strands in a lulling manner. His lips landing on the crown of your head softly. Reverently.

You hum sleepily.

“Of course you would, Sy.”

_____

“You’ll be glad to know that the artifact you had your eye on back at the auction will be arriving this Wednesday.”

“Huh? But I thought it was already sold to someone else?”

Sylus shrugs. “I made a counteroffer.”

“You didn’t have to. I told you it was fine.”

“I know. But I also recall a certain someone telling me how much they wished they had placed a bid on it on our way back,” he pinches your cheek fondly. “Don’t worry about it, kitten. It’s yours.”

“Oh. Well– thank you,” you yawn in response, leaning your head to rest against his palm.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “Anything for you.”

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #sylus #love and deepspace fic

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cloudzoro · 10 months ago

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Getting Caught | One Piece ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Getting caught having sex with your man by one of his friends.

reaction/headcanon requests for jjk, one piece, haikyuu, fmab & death note (male & female characters) are OPEN!

masterlist | request rules

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

genre: smut (minors dni)

characters included: ace, crocodile, zoro

cw: dirty talk, pet names, threesome, size kink, public sex, voyeurism, big dick!zoro, possessive behaviour, Zoros one kinda made me 💦🤭🥵💫 while I was writing it

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Ace

Ace has been visiting your home a lot recently. Since the two of you started dating, he promised not to be gone too long. When you do finally get him back, you're all over him.

He's sitting on your couch while you're on his lap. You grind down against his cock, which he had pulled out of his shorts. The brim of his hat presses against the back of the sofa and prevents him from getting comfortable, so he takes it off of himself and places it on your head. The sight of you stripped naked in just his hat has him bucking his hips up into you.

“sit on my cock, pretty girl,” he says. “Let me fuck you, baby.”

You reach down and guide his cock into your hole. He helps you sink all the way down onto him, and when he finally bottoms out, you moan in his ear. He holds you still as you clench around him. He knows if you start moving now, he'll cum almost immediately.

“Please fuck me, Ace”, you whine before kissing him. He hums into your mouth and slowly ruts upwards. As soon as he moves, the door swings open. Ace is quick enough to grab a nearby blanket and wrap it around you while pulling you to his chest, blocking any possibility of whoever just walked in seeing you naked.

You look to the doorway to see Marco standing there. He seems embarrassed and as if he's trying not to laugh.

“I was just coming by to see how your reunion is going”, he says, a smug grin plastered on his face.

“It's doing fine; now beat it!” yells Ace, throwing a pillow in his direction. Marco runs, but not before yelling through the now-closed door.

“Nice hat, y/n!”

Crocodile

He has you on your back, legs pushed up to your chest as he fucks you. He's so deep inside you and so big that he attacks all your senses. You couldn't focus on anything else if you tried. You can feel his palm pressing against the tiny bulge in your stomach.

“Can you feel that baby? Feel me deep in your pussy?” his voice has you clenching around him. The room smells of smoke and sex, and it makes you so dizzy that you can barely respond to him. You let out a long whine and nod. Crocodile laughs from above you. “Can I flip you over?” he asks. You whine a yes, and he flips you onto your hands and knees.

A large, heavy hand pushes you down against the sheets. He pushes back into you and the new angle makes you scream into the fabric beneath you. Every thrust sends you forward into the mattress, and Crocodile does absolutely nothing to hide your moaning.

A few minutes later, you hear a loud banging at the door, and before either of you can move, Mihawk swings the door open as if he's completely unaware of what you are doing.

Your husband pulls you upwards so your back is against his chest and wraps his big arms around you, covering your most intimate parts. There's a beat of silence before Mihawk launches into a flustered tirade.

“You two are completely inconsiderate. Do you ever fucking shut up?” While he continues ranting, Crocodile leans down to speak in your ear.

“Look at him; he wants us so bad,” he whispers. He's not wrong if the flushed skin and raging boner are anything to go by. “Do you wanna invite him in?” he asks, paying no mind to Mihawk's scolding. When you nod, your husband drops his hands away from your chest and between your legs. Mihawk goes silent now that your body is exposed to him. “She has another hole for you,” says Crocodile, pressing his fingers against your lips. You obey his silent command and open your mouth to suck on his fingers. “y'know if you want help with that,” smirks your husband, gesturing to the tent pitched in Mihawk's trousers.

Mihawk considers the offer for a minute before approaching the bed. Crocodile lets go of your body and pushes you back down as Mihawk pulls his cock free from his trousers. You lick up the underside of his cock and then take him into your mouth, relaxing into taking as much of him as you can. You can hear verbal encouragement from both men, but you're not focusing on the words at all; you're too busy being stuffed with cock.

Zoro

Zoro can't keep his hands off of you, you've been at a bar for all of ten minutes and he's itching to pull into the nearest bathroom and fuck you stupid.

“Baby, come on,” Zoro says, pulling your back against his chest as you stand at the bar. “No one will even notice we're gone.”

Your boyfriend is impossible to resist and you let him drag you to the bathroom. He pins you against the wall, kissing you as he pulls his cock free. He holds his hand in front of your face, instructing you to spit in his palm. He uses your saliva to lube up his cock before lining himself up with your cunt and pushing in. You pull Zoro into another kiss, much nastier and messier than the last. His hips rock into you, cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

“Hold on to me, pretty girl”, he groans as you cling to his shoulders. He fuckss you harder, intending to make you cum as quickly as possible so he can get you home and really take his time with you. Neither of you realise that you didn't lock the door until you notice a blonde man with a familiar pair of eyebrows staring at you in shock.

“Zoro, Sanji's here,” You whine, slightly embarrassed. He knows; he heard Sanji coming in. He just doesn't care. At this point, almost nothing could stop him from making you cum.

“Let him watch. Let that shitty cook see what he'll never have” The cocky smile on his face makes your pussy drool. Zoro isn't jealous; he has no reason to be, but he has one of the nastiest possessive streaks you've ever seen in your life. “This pretty pussy is all mine, right baby?”

“uh-huh” is the only pair of syllables you can form as he fucks you so hard you fear you might crack the wall. You're not lying, though. Every part of your mind, body, and soul belongs to Zoro and vice versa. Sanji tries to focus on glaring at the swordsman, but he keeps getting distracted by your exposed skin and pretty noises.

“Cum for me” He emphasises the word ‘me’ reminding both you and Sanji that every drop of cum that leaks from your sweet pussy is his. Your body follows through on the command, shaking in his grasp as you cum. Both men stare at you in awe. Zoro cums soon after, unable to stand the way your cunt pulses around his sensitive cock any longer. “Get out of here,” Zoro growls, voice startling Sanji back to reality and he hurries off so you and Zoro can clean up in privacy.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)

comments and reblogs are massively appreciated ♡

#one piece x reader #one piece smut #zoro x reader smut #zoro x reader #zoro smut #ace x reader #ace smut #portgas ace x reader #ace one piece #zoro #crocodile smut #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk smut #sir crocodile smut #☁️.onepiece #☁️.smut

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pathologicalreid · 3 months ago

Text

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head. “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid dilf agenda #written by margot

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writtenapoiogy · 3 months ago

Text

home; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: 'You were 20 weeks pregnant when Jacaerys and the Queen had deemed Dragonstone no longer safe for you and the babe. You were to be sent to Winterfell where your safety would be secured. Or so Jace thought.'

word count: 3.8k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy sex, slight hair pulling, some dirty talk, jace is obsessed with readers belly, ALSO-- ANGST, pregnancy, miscarriage, blood, hurt and comfort, and sadness PROBABLY SOME OTHER STUFF I FORGOT

a/n: i don't go too in-depth about the miscarriage but it is known that she has one ALSO THIS IS THE MOST IVE WRITTEN EVER???? yall it took me TEN days to write this... anyway i hope you guys enjoy it <333

You stood watching the Dragons soar above the castle. Your hands sat clasped under your growing belly. You heard footsteps approach from behind you. You were pleased to see Jacaerys yet shocked to see the Queen trailing closely behind. You didn’t see Rhaenyra much unless she had matters to discuss involving the war— more specifically what you could do to help.

“Jace,” you smiled before curtsying to Rhaenyra. “Your grace. Is everything all right?”

Jace came up beside you and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. His hand came to rest on your belly; something he did regularly since you two found out you were with child.

Rhaenyra smiled at the happy couple. “How’s the babe, Princess?” Her question was genuine. She was very happy for you and the prince.

You smiled and placed your hand on top of Jace’s, “He’s moving a lot more.”

“He?” The Queen exclaimed.

Jacaerys chimed in, “The princess believes we are having a boy. I think it is a girl.”

Though it was nothing but harmless small talk you couldn’t help but think there was something more they came up here to talk to you about. “Not that I don’t enjoy your presence, your grace, but I can’t help but wonder if there is some other reason you came up here with my husband.”

Jace stepped away from you and you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. A feeling of worry and impending doom took over. The worst of the worst flooded your thoughts. You took a deep breath, “Was there a raven from the North? I-is my brother okay?” You tried to remain calm but the thought alone had you hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey. Shhh.” Jacaerys cupped your face to calm you down. “Everything is alright, my love. Everything is safe up north.” More than one meaning was behind his words. He kissed your forehead as you caught your breath before you had a panic attack. “Which is why you must go.”

What? You must’ve not heard the prince correctly.

“Beg your pardon?” Your eyes went from your husband to his mother quickly. The Queen, however, did not move. She let you and the prince talk this through.

Jacaerys grabbed your attention again. “You are not safe here. Neither of you.” He looked down at your belly. Worry dripped from his words. After losing Lucerys he couldn’t survive if he lost you too— the both of you. What is a man without his wife and child?

“Yet Dragonstone is safe for you?” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You are going through something that should be faced together as a couple. Together as a family.

Jace took a deep breath. It was going to be harder to convince you than he originally thought. “It’s different.”

“How? How is it different, Jacaerys?” You quipped

“Because you cannot fight. We don’t need you to fight. I don’t need you to fight. I just need you and our future prince or princess to be safe. And that is not here. It cannot be here.” Jacaerys’ words punched a hole in your chest.

You felt so useless. You knew how to fight. It was one of your favorite pastimes with Cregan. But due to you being with child, it seemed to have left you feeling worthless. You stormed past the two of them, heading inside the castle.

You headed down a corridor for your bedchamber with hot tears running down your cheeks.

Rhaenyra was quick to follow you inside.“Princess,” the queen spoke gaining your attention. “Every day that that babe grows and flourishes inside of you, you are helping my claim and your husbands. You’re helping us win. That is why we need you in Winterfell, with your brother and his men, so that you will be safe.” Rhaenyra and Jacaerys had spoken about this before they came outside to find you. They knew that this was the best way to secure your family’s future. They just needed you to see that too.

She was right. You had the crown prince’s child growing within you. And keeping you safe is keeping the baby safe. “Okay, your grace. I will go.” You continued, rubbing your belly. “For our protection.”

“It must be tonight, Princess. Once you are farther along it will be too dangerous for you to fly.”

You nodded at your queen and headed to your chambers to gather what things you could.

Within hours you were atop Vermax, your arms wrapped tightly around your husband. The air grew crisp and cold as you flew closer to Winterfell. You buried your face into Jace’s shoulder. You inhaled his scent, never wanting him to leave you. You knew that this was necessary. You held part of the succession to the Iron Throne inside of you.

You landed fairly close to the entrance of Winterfell. You embraced the cold air then you looked at Jacaerys who looked as if he might turn into a popsicle at any given moment.

Cregan called your name as you walked through the doors into Winterfell with the prince by your side. You picked up your pace and threw your arms over your older brother’s shoulders. It had been a while since you last saw him. He squeezed you tightly. After your brother had passed, it was always the two of you. Protecting and comforting each other.

After separating from your embrace you both looked at Jace.

“Could we go inside? Preferably by a warm freshly lit hearth?” The crown prince’s teeth chattered together. His arms wrapped around his chest to preserve heat.

“Always a dramatic to our cool air, my prince.” Cregan jested.

Jacaerys scoffed, “Cool is drastically an understatement, my lord. Sea breeze is cool. This is whatever the complete opposite of dragon fire would be.”

You tried and failed to bite back your smile as you stuck your hand out to Jace. “C’mon my icicle.”

You and Cregan had convinced Jace to stay for supper and to spend one night in the castle before heading back down south.

You were in your nightclothes, standing in front of a warm fire. So much had happened in just a day. Your day had started in Dragonstone and had ended in Winterfell. All you could think about as you looked into the flames was your future with Jacaerys. What the future would hold when this dreadful war was over. What life would be like with your little family on Dragonstone.

Jacaerys walked up behind you and brought his hands to rest on your plump belly. He placed feather-light kisses on your neck, making you relax into him. He rutted his hips against your arse. You felt his hardness against you.

“Jacaerys.” You warned. You brought your hand to the back of his head when the kisses to your neck got rougher. You spun around and as you went to slot your lips together, Jacaerys began to back away pulling you with him. He made you yearn for his kiss, a devilish smirk adorning his face.

You followed him entranced. You climbed into his lap as he sat on the bed. Jace rid you of your gown. Your arms fell to his shoulders, using him to steady yourself. He wrapped a strong arm across your back. He ran his unoccupied hand across your full stomach before running his hand up to cup your plump breast.

You let a whine out at your husband’s touch. His hands left a trail of molten lava on every inch of you they touched. You’ve been ultrasensitive to his touch recently. “Someone will hear us.”

“I do not care,” Jacaerys said bringing his hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you down to smash your lips together. He didn’t know the next time he would see you after tonight. He was going to make sure he left an imprint. He moved his head down giving you a second to breathe. Your foreheads rested together. “I am the crown prince. I will have my wife when I so please.”

You moaned, snaking a hand to the back of the prince’s head to pull his head back. He groaned in response. You felt wetness pool in your smallclothes. Staring down at the pale skin on his outstretched neck. You quickly made work of ridding him of the thin shirt. Not even bothering with removing his pants completely, you only freed his hardened length.

The two of you stared down at your hand wrapped around the top of his shaft. Jacaerys’ slick smirk faltered when you began to pump him slowly. The tip of his cock hit your stomach, eliciting a moan from the dark-haired boy. Droplets of precome dripping from the head, smearing on your stomach.

Your breath hitched, “Jace. I need you.”

“Then take me, darling.”

You let out a low whimper. You lifted your hips and ran his member down your folds til he reached your entrance. You leaned your forehead against his. You began to sit on his hardness. Feeling his cock enter you deliciously slow.

Jacaerys helped guide you down. You tensed, the burn from his size becoming too much.

Running a soothing hand along your spine, “Breath, my love. It is nothing you haven’t had before.” Jace rasped against your lips.

You took a deep breath in and tilted your forehead against Jacaerys’. You moaned as you exhaled—his cock had begun to slip inside of you as you adjusted to his size.

“That’s it. That’s my girl.” he moaned as he slid completely into you. He adjusted his grip so that his hands were at the base of your bottom, assisting you.

“Jace.” You whimpered feeling so full it was overwhelming. So full of him. So consumed by him. He was all around you. He was completely inside of you, everywhere. You carried his babe inside of you. His blood practically ran in your veins.

“Yes.” He groaned.

You attempted to move your hips to the best of your ability. But you were beginning to realize that your condition was going to be hindering your mobility. Especially while in bed with your husband. “I can’t anymore. I’m too-,” You tried to get out your words, exasperated by the difficulty this was causing you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jace reassured you. He helped move you so that you could lay on your side. After placing you on the bed he stripped the rest of his clothes off of his body.

He laid behind you so that the two of you were spooning. “You are so perfect.” Jacaerys praised you as he placed chaste kisses from your shoulder to your cheek and then to your neck.

You hummed at the words that left your husband’s mouth. You lifted your leg so he could guide his cock to your entrance. He slowly began to press into you, his hand which was once on his member, moved to your hip to completely push into you.

Jace had to squeeze his eyes shut hard to make sure he didn’t come too quickly. Your wet walls welcomed him in. They pulled him deep within your warmth. “Your sweet cunt is all mine, pretty.” He said into your ear, his voice coming out hoarse. He started to slowly thrust into you. He was so tender with you.

Jace had your walls clamping down on him within minutes. The angle at which he was rocking into you, made his cockhead hit that sweet spot deep inside of you leaving you a complete whimpering mess. You swear you could feel every detail of his member. The slight curve it had. And the vein that ran up the side— which you loved to trace with your tongue.

“Fuck.” He groaned into your ear. His hand moved to hold on to your belly, spurring his thrusts. He pumped into you harder now. He loved seeing the results of his actions. Seeing his seed having taken root and growing a beautiful life inside of you. It drove Jacaerys absolutely insane.

“Jace, it’s so-, Fuck!” You yelped at one particularly sharp thrust.

Jace brought his hand down to your sensitive cluster of nerves and drew figure eights. His hips snapped against your arse relentlessly. He loved the noises he was pulling from you as you attempted to keep quiet.

You turned your head back to face your husband as you felt your body begin to convulse. He covered your swollen lips as you let out a drawn-out mewl as you came. Pulsing around him, milking him for all he was worth.

The push and pull of your cunt caused his release to hit him hard and unexpectedly. He moaned into your mouth. He covered your walls in searing hot come. You two lapped your tongues at the others as Jace continued to slowly pump into you. Making sure he had emptied himself completely inside of you.

You winced as Jace pulled out. You hated the feeling of being empty, being without him.

He cleaned you up and you cuddled. One last night before gods knew how long.

One moon had passed since you last saw Jacaerys. And though you had not seen him, you had received a letter from him every other day. He expressed how much he missed and loved you deeply. How much he missed rubbing and kissing your belly. He worried the babe would forget his voice.

He told you that his uncles had been keeping a close look at the skies and that flying to you on a regular basis would do nothing but endanger the both of you. But he promised to fly to you when the babe arrived. He would be there for you. No matter what he would find a way.

You decided to take a stroll, needing a break from the interior of the castle. You were beginning to feel woozy and a change of scenery should do the trick. You had just begun your walk when your brother approached you. “Sister. What are your plans for this afternoon?”

“Read, and read, and then probably read some more.” You joked with the taller man.

Cregan smiled warmly. “What if I knew something fun we could do that does not involve dusty old books?”

“And what would that be dear brother?” You had missed your brother and your people. You knew no one other than Jacaerys down south.

He leaned down, closer to you, “Hunting.” Cregan said in a hushed whisper.

“Hunting? In my condition?” You could’ve let out an obscene laugh, but you didn’t. That would’ve been absurd for a princess.

“Our ancestors had been doing it for centuries. You don’t even have to get close to the animals.” Cregan bumped into your shoulder. “You always had a natural talent with a long bow.”

He was being truthful, however, you hadn’t picked up a bow or, any weapon for that matter, since you began your courtship with Jacaerys. That skill you once had probably dwindled to nothing. “Fine. Under one condition.”

“Anything. I have missed my sister, dearly.”

Your lips upturned into a smile, “We must stay close. If Jace sends a raven or by the grace of the Gods flies in, then I want to be near.”

“Deal.”

The two of you stepped just outside the gates of Winterfell. A quiver weighed heavy against your back, and your longbow sat comfortably on your shoulder. You welcomed the crisp air against your face. The war beams from the sun greeting your cheeks. Oh, how you missed the North. The South was beautiful but it would never compare— it would never quite feel like home.

You and your brother forgone your horses for this hunt since he promised you you would stay close to the wall. You missed hunting. You missed having a bow in your hands. The adrenaline rush it gave was unlike any other.

You were about a quarter mile from the gates when something felt terribly wrong. Cregan turned towards you as he heard your footfalls cease.

Your bow fell, your hands dropping down to your stomach. “Somethings wrong.” You blanched. You turned behind you and looked down noticing a trail of blood. “Cregan..” You gasped and just as you were about to collapse your brother rushed towards you, catching you in his arms.

Cregan had one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. He ran all the way back to the castle yelling for them to open the gates. His heart was pounding. He couldn’t lose his sister like this. He made it to your bedchamber with the Maester Kennet following closely behind.

As Cregan placed you in your bed the Maester tended to you swiftly. You moaned in pain. “This can’t be happening.”

“How far along is she?”

You spoke before your brother had the chance, “We only found out two moons ago.” Your sentence finished with a loud groan.

Cregan stood there frozen watching you in pain. His first wife had suffered a terrible fate at the birth of his son. But you were his baby sister and he needed to be there for you in the absence of your husband. He ran to your side taking a warm wet cloth from one of the handmaidens, dabbing it on your forehead.

“Send a raven to Jace. Please.” You said hoarsely to your brother.

“He won’t get it in time.”

“But he will get it. Please just tell him it is urgent. I need him here. I do not care.” You moaned in pain, lurching forward. “CREGAN GO PLEASE!”

The lord rushed down the hall, your screams fading. He quickly found a sheet of paper and wrote a message to the prince hoping he would receive it faster than normal.

“Where is she.”

When the prince arrived in Winterfell, he immediately sought Cregan. Finding him in the Great Hall. The letter Jacaerys received told him something was wrong with the babe and that he needed to come to the North as soon as he possibly could.

“She’s at the godswood.” Cregan looked destroyed. “She refuses to leave.”

Jacaerys went into the woods inside of Winterfell with a lantern since it was the dead of night— and way too cold for you to be out here in any state.

You didn’t turn your head when he called out your name nor when he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Please look at me.” He pleaded. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that without me. I’m sorry we were apart.”

You turned to him sharply. Bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “We were apart because you decided. You sent me away. You sent me away to go through this alone.” Venom dripped from your words, not hiding your pain.

“I sent you home so you would be safe. So you could bear this child in a safe environment with your family.” Jace tried his hardest to make you understand why he did what he did. “I did what I thought was best.”

“And how did that work out Jacaerys?” You knew you shouldn’t be mad at him. It was a great loss for you both, but you needed to direct your anger, your hurt somewhere. “You are my home. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t know this would happen. The queen needed me and she needed my dragon.” He let out an exasperated breath. “This war needs me!”

“More than I? Your wife?” Your words stung him. Tears welt up in his eyes, seeing you like this. Hearing you speak to him like this.

“Please,” Your name fell from his lips.

“You cannot believe that to be true.” You finally reached out and grabbed Jacaerys’ hands, pleading. “Just stay here with me. That way we don’t have to be apart again. We can guarantee each other’s safety.”

“I can’t.” The regret in his eyes was evident. He knew you needed his comfort. Husband and wife shouldn’t be separated the way you have been. He, however, feels that pull to the war. Jace will not be seen as the princeling who didn’t fight for his kingdom or his people. What kind of king would that make him in the future?

“Jacaerys, you can. Your mother has plenty of men to fight for her. She sent your brothers away for their safety. Why would she deny you the same luxury?”

“Their dragons aren’t grown-,” Jace began.

You cut him off, “And Vermax is?”

Jace exclaimed your name, frustrated, “Sending me away with Vermax means my mother is losing another dragon and dragon rider in a war between dragons.” He tried to compose himself not to raise his voice at you. “We cannot sit here and argue when there is a war going on. We just lost our child! I do not want to sit here and argue with my wife when I should be holding her.”

Your face softens. “So stay and hold me Jace. You can fly off with my brother in tow when the time comes. When you are needed. But for now, I need you here. I need you with me. Just come home. Your mother has to understand that. More than anyone. She should understand that.”

“I am home. Anywhere I am with you, I am home. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

You brought your hands up to his face, his face resting in your palm. The two of you were so young. Only ten and seven. He placed his hands on your back and closed the distance between you both. You and Jace relaxed into the kiss. Millions of emotions poured into one kiss.

You pulled yourself away from his lips. “There is something I want to show you.” You took his hand and walked him behind the beautiful weirwood tree. At the bottom of the stomp laid a carving of a baby girl.

Jacaerys gasped. “Is that-,” He started.

“Our beautiful little girl.”

He tried to hold his composure but it hurt so much. He blamed himself. A thousand maybes and what-ifs clouded his mind. He fell to his knees and traced the carving. “I am so sorry.” Jace started to sob.

You fell to the floor and embraced him. “Jace this isn’t your fault. There has been a lot going on. Maester Kennet said it could’ve happened no matter where I was. I was under a lot of stress, Jace. We are in the middle of a war.” You pulled away and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

He pulled you so that you were sitting in his lap. He held you tight, almost suffocating. “I love you. This will never happen again. We will never grieve a loss like this apart.”

“I love you most, Husband.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face into his neck.

“I won’t leave you again.”

“Good.”

divider creds: @cafekitsune

#jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #hotd #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon angst #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys

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arolesbianism · 2 years ago

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I've been messing around with clangen a bit. Bet y'all cant guess what happened

#rat rambles #^ got attached and made a new story using my 4 clans #Im mostly using where Im at currently as a starting point for a new story #featuring my lovely lil guy Ive been calling murtlepaw in my head but that name may not stick idk #theyre just the embodiment of just some guy in the body of the specialist guy in the world #they have their whole sope opera backstory that they dont event remember most of but whats most important is that the spirit of one of the #dead clan leaders has been kinda haunting them for their whole life #she was mostly chill tho just kind of pushy after a while to go join her old clan and after they did she stopped showing up as much #which wouldnt be as big of a thing if shit didnt hit the fan the gathering after they joined #basically the four clan founders started fighting over the clans specialist little guy in front of everyone #then they all try to sort of possess them but since they all try at once they kind of just get too stuck wresting eachother for control to #actually properly possess them so now murtlepaw is just having a panic attack while everyone else at the gathering stand there in shock #before that the leader of the clan murtle joined had treated them quite coldly due to who brought them there #the past leader made her deputy right after she had lost her tail and had just lost her best friend and then proceeded to die soon after #the past leader I mean #so she. has quite the bad association with her.#but after that gathering she recognized that murtlepaw didnt chose to be involved with most of this shit #and immediately felt terrible abt how she had been treated them and quickly becomes the number one murtlepaw defender #in particular shes quick to defend them from the other leaders trying to claim them as their own prophesized cat #shes trying her best to give murtlepaw as much control over the sitiation as she can but its a goddamn struggle #the other leaders are mostly just sitting there like this bitch is so old please just drop dead already so we can force this child to move #and I need to sleep but if I keep developing this story prepare for me to keep vaguely talking abt it #or not since even tho I do think abt my other main wc story a good bit I still dont talk abt it much lol #tbf thats mostly because I might actually make smth for it someday and I wanna avoid spoiling everything

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yandere-daydreams · 5 months ago

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Title: Going Live.

Pairing: Yandere!Nanami x Reader (JJK)

Word Count: 7.6k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Camgirl!Reader, Kidnapping, Physical Intimidation, Long-Term Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Delusional Behavior, Slight Exhibitionism, and Panic Attacks + Disassociation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were a lot of things to Nanami Kento – his world, his light, his love – but above all else, you were the reason he looked forward to getting home.

Calling it ‘infatuation’ would’ve been a disservice to the depth of his feelings for you. It’d been love at first sight; instant and wholehearted, a shackle snapped shut around his neck that he had no will or desire to escape. His eyes were on his watch as soon as he crossed the threshold, his coat shrugged off and abandoned along with his tie in the doorway. He didn’t bother turning on lights or taking off his shoes, doing anything to make his empty apartment seem more lived-in, his focus solely dedicated to reaching his home office with as few disruptions as was possible, with Gojo and the higher-ups still attempting to contact him about the curse he’d finished exorcising less than an hour prior. They could wait. You wouldn’t.

He was smiling by the time he collapsed into the leather-cushioned chair, his laptop still on his desk from the night before – the last time he got to see you. The motions were automatic, practiced to the point of reflexivity. One hand glided over the keyboard while the other found his phone, silencing it in the same motion as he tossed it haphazardly onto the desk, out of his view. He checked his watch one more time; 6:59. Good. He was early.

His grin brightened, as did his laptop. Your stream flickered to life a second later and with it, your smiling face. The relief was instant, pure warmth accompanying it. The bittersweet tinge – as subtle as it was prodding – came only a moment later, but Nanami did his best to ignore it.

You were the sole reason Nanami Kento looked forward to getting home. The center of his world, the sole light in his otherwise bleak life. The person he loved more than anything, more than everything.

It was only a shame, then, that you had no idea he existed.

One of his favorite things about you had always been your meticulousness. For tonight’s show, you were splayed out across the foot of a queen-sized bed, surrounded by pastel pink satin sheets and a fleece comforter of the same shade, a matching dormant hitachi vibrator (Nanami’s favorite and, guessing from how often it made an appearance in your shows, yours too) nestled between your thighs. Your outfit was aesthetically pleasing – a set of lacey, baby blue lingerie with white, knee socks – but paired with your set up, casual enough to give the impression that you hadn’t realized the camera you were posing in front of was actually on, as if you weren’t entirely prepared to be seen by a thousand or so strangers just yet. The fact that you didn’t start talking right away, only humming as you idly toyed with your hair, only added to the nonchalance of it all. You would make a good actress, if you ever decided to pursue something more, for lack of a more applicable phrase, legitimate.

Nanami’s attention drifted from you to your chat, slowly starting to fill with impatient viewers. Despite himself, he felt his absentminded smile waver, an irk of irritation momentarily tainting his bliss. He knew you weren’t entirely real, that he didn’t have any right to be possessive over a performer, but he loved you. It would’ve been difficult for anyone to watch someone they loved be exposed to so many prying eyes.

user34333: fuck she’s hot

hotbox420: looking good y/n!!!

lostandconfused: why does she still have her clothes on?

The only silver lining was how oblivious you seemed to it. Another minute passed before you straightened, yawning slightly as you pushed yourself up, legs hanging over the foot of your bed. “Welcome home,” you started, with a quick stretch and a playful wave towards the camera. “Everyone’s already put the kids to bed, right? I’ve got a very special surprise I want to bring out a little later, so nobody’s allowed to leave early.”

Your tone was light, melodic, saccharine. Already, Nanami could feel his cock beginning to harden against his thigh, straining at the material of his pants. You were always mobile during your shows, prone to flitting from one position to another, but tonight, you almost seemed antsy as you pulled your legs back onto the mattress, tucking your knees underneath you and bowing your head, your neutral smile taking on a shy undertone. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” you admitted, speaking quickly enough for the words to blend together. Then, with more composure, “Who wants to get us started?”

Nanami’s hand was already on his keyboard, waiting for your cue. Somehow, he was still too late.

blueeyeswhitedragon sent 150 credits!

blueeyeswhitedragon: Bra first, pretty please.

You giggled as you raised your hands, leaning forward to give the camera a better view of your chest as you undid the clasp at the nape of your neck. Nanami’s breath hitched as the thin fabric fell away, revealing the soft curves of your breasts and your pretty, perfect nipples – already hard, already enough to make saliva pool underneath his tongue. The lower clasp was next, undone with more effort and more bouncing than what seemed absolutely necessary, but Nanami couldn’t complain, not when he was struggling to undo the fly of his dress pants without ever looking away from you. There was another giggle as the article fell away entirely, then a third as you cupped your chest with both hands, groping gently. “I used to be so shy about taking my top off on camera…” You trailed off, batting your eyes. “But, you guys think I’m pretty, right?”

Your requested affirmations flooded the chat in an instant. Nanami grinned, slumping back in his chair. He could compliment any part of you earnestly, but aside from donations, he rarely let himself participate in your chat. Speaking to you so openly, being one of a dozen people whose username you’d glance over in a second – that wasn’t what he wanted. Anonymous adoration wasn’t the shape his affection took.

Eventually, you collapsed back onto your bed. “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you went on, as Nanami wrapped a fist around the base of his cock. “What next?”

There was another offer – 300 credits for your panties, 400 if you took them off with your back to the camera. You obliged, bent at the waist, inching the silken fabric down your thighs at an almost sadistic pace. After you finished, you seemed ready to move onto the main show, but another donation cropped up in your chat.

user34232 sent 75 credits!

user34232: for the socks pls

That, as far as Nanami could tell, seemed to catch you genuinely off-guard. He could see you blushing as you leaned towards the camera – or, he supposed, the laptop you had positioned underneath it, as if you’d misread something. “…my socks?”

Nanami stifled a grown, tightening his hold. With his free hand, he reached for the keyboard,

n. kento sent 200 credits!

n. kento: Don’t take them off.

You played your part perfectly, sighing as you let your head lull to the side. All it took was you batting your eye lashes while letting out the sweetest murmur of “Well, I don’t know if that’s fair, but…” for your chat to dissolve into a bidding war, donations ranging from five credits to five hundred. If you were making any earnest attempt to keep track of which side was winning, you clearly had no motivation to call it too early on – pulling your legs onto your bed and kicking your feet out playfully towards the camera. “Some of you guys ask for such weird stuff,” you went on, rolling your left ankle. “If someone doesn’t tell me what to do soon, I think I’m just going to have to change into another outfit.”

Nanami let out a breath of a chuckle, only half aware he was typing.

n. kento sent 1,750 credits!

n. kento: You look beautiful. Keep them on.

You laughed, and this time, Nanami chose to believe it was sincere. “I get it! We’ll move on.” You were already leaning back, rolling onto your stomach, giving your viewers a perfect view of your ass as you reached for something off-screen. “Normally I’d ask for a suggestion,” you said, as you brought what you’d retrieved back into frame – a pale pink rabbit vibrator, the penetrative half of the forked wand ribbed. “But I have something I’m kind of looking forward to. I promise, I’ll try to get past the boring stuff quickly.”

You thought too little of yourself. Arousal drooled from Nanami’s flushed tip as you positioned yourself on the edge of the mattress, legs spread wide and slick, glistening pussy fully on display. You were already wet, but he knew you would be. It was something you joked about often – how sensitive you were, how something as minor as a wet dream would have you soaking through your panties. Normally, he would’ve figured you were just playing it up for the sake of your viewers, but it was hard to deny the evidence in front of him.

A whimper slipped past your parted lips as you eased the head of the toy past your entrance, stretching yourself out on its bulbed tip. Now, now, he started to move his hand, pumping his fist over the length of his shaft in short, slow strokes, matching your tempo as you rocked your toy into your pussy. A dull hum fills the room as your thumb finds the switch built into the handle’s underside, and your expression immediately goes from dazed to pained, your tongue peaking out from between your lips and your eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked against the vibrator. “It—It feels—” Your thighs threaten to twitch shut, but you hold them open, determined to give your audience the best possible view of your pussy clenching around your toy. “I really—I wanna get some bondage gear soon, so that I can—”

Whatever you might’ve said was replaced by a bubbling moan, and just like that, Nanami was fucking his fist without restraint. He knew how pathetic it was, but it would’ve been impossible not to imagine it was his cock sinking into your dripping cunt rather than an inanimate toy, not to wish it was your pussy clamping down around his length rather than his own fist. He wondered what you smelled like, if you wore perfume, what it would be like to have his face buried between your thighs. He was aware, vaguely, that your chat was the most active it’d been all night, people trying to catch your attention with donations and tips and compliments, but they didn’t matter. They weren’t watching you, not really, not the same way Nanami was. He knew you, well enough to know that you couldn’t think once something had been stuffed inside of your cunt. He loved you, enough to wish he was the one making your mind go so euphorically blank.

There was more moaning, more failed attempts to speak, but you didn’t let yourself cum. You were visibly trembling by the time you switched the toy off, and it took agonizing seconds to ease the wand out of your disappointed pussy – seconds Nanami watched with rapt devotion. More out of sympathy than anything else, he lets go of his cock entirely, gritting his teeth and attempting to ignore the pulsing ache forming in the pit of his stomach. What was next was better. What was next was worth waiting for.

You took a few panting breaths, your voice still airy by the time you managed to speak. “I have a—” You paused, grinned. Nanami smiled too. “I have a surprise for all of you, tonight. I think I mentioned that already, but— oh, right.” You perked up, playing excited. “We have to move to the floor, for this next part.”

You slipped off-screen, and a second later, the camera shifted to follow you – falling onto a corner of your room less staged than your bed, but just as pristine. Abstract, pastel tapestries obscured the walls, but the dark floorboards were left bare. On one side, most of a dog kennel was visible, decorated with string lights and clearly meant for one of your more niche shows, and on the other, he could make out the bottom corner of a poster – not for anything kinky, or sensual, or in any way suggestive, but an underground band, a local band. You probably hadn’t realized it was in the shot, let alone meant for it to be. You were usually more careful about giving away anything even remotely personal, but Nanami couldn’t be mad.

After all, it’d been that poster that’d let him find you.

He could still remember the first time he ever saw you – actually saw you, not through a screen, but in person. After he knew that you lived in the same city as him (the same district, even), it’d only taken a few more days to find your name, your age, your address. Still, he put off visiting you for weeks, telling himself that it didn’t matter, that you wouldn’t recognize him, that you wouldn’t want to see him. And, in the end, you hadn’t seen him at all – you hadn’t needed to.

That night, he’d watched your show from the rooftop of the building opposite of yours, straining to see you through a bedroom window left carelessly open. Even now, the guilt was almost tangibly agonizing, the shame practically unbearable.

Almost as unbearable as the temptation to go back.

But, that part would come soon enough. You were on screen, again, holding something he recognized.

“I have some exciting news,” you chirped, as you kneeled on the floor, holding a pitch-black dildo, a suction cup attached to the base. Despite its color, Nanami could make out defined veins running down the silicone shaft, a noticeable girth to the base. A perfect mirror of the cock currently pulsing for attention in his lap.

He felt himself grinning, as you went on. “I got my first real fan gift!” You held up the toy to your cheek, like a child showing off their first stuffed animal, before planting it on the floor between your thighs. “It’s so big, too,” you said, showing off its size, where the blunt tip rested well above your navel. “Everyone say thank you, Daddy Kento!”

Your chat was instantly flooded with predictable responses, but Nanami couldn’t look away from you. You were enjoying yourself, clearly. You must’ve thought you were so smart, renting out a P. O. box, going on and on about how grateful you were to your dedicated fans when he reached out to ask if you accepted physical donations, and you were smart. It was only a shame that Nanami loved you enough to look past all of your attempts to keep him away.

As you began to move onto your knees, he allowed himself one more intervention.

n. kento sent 3,000 credits!

n. kento: Take it to the hilt.

It was cruder than he usually cared to be, but as your eyes flickered towards your monitor, your lips quirked into a slight smile. You didn’t respond verbally, but you nodded, and sunk down onto his cock.

Immediately, his hand wasn’t enough, but he tried to make do – matching your agonizingly slow pace, imagining what it would feel like to have you lower yourself down onto his real cock, rather than a cheap imitation. Trails of iridescent slick dripped down the dark silicone, your camera positioned strategically to catch every bounce of your breasts as your breathing hitched, to provide the optimal view of your pussy stretching around the tip, then the head, then the shaft as you lowered yourself slowly. “It—It’s so big,” you repeated, bringing a hand up to your stomach while the other remained on the floor, keeping you stable. “I mean, I knew it would be, but—fuck—” Another inch, Nanami’s fist moving over the same part of his cock. You let out an airy laugh. “Just be thankful I’m so tough.”

“I am,” Nanami muttered, his voice echoing off the bare walls of his office. “You’re perfect.”

“I really wanna cum on this one, too – to, like, christen it, or something. Been keeping myself pent up all day for it.” With a pitchy keen, you brought yourself a few inches higher, then dropped. Your free hand shot away from your stomach and back to the floor as you continued to bounce on the toy’s length, getting just a little deeper each time. “Welcome it to family, y’know? Maybe make it a regular, for you sadists out there.”

Nanami stiffened at the thought of you fucking yourself on a replica of his cock in front of thousands of people twice a week; drooling and panting as you told your viewers how big he was, how good he felt inside of you. With his restraint brought to its limits, he fucked his fist carelessly, his attention fixed on the steady movements of your hips as you rode his toy. Your eyes didn’t flutter closed, this time – they clenched shut, and you couldn’t seem to keep your voice under control, little mewls and half-conscious whines bubbling up from your chest as you struggled to take that much more of him with every thrust. When you did manage to speak, your voice was uneven, whiney, so sweet it made him want to dig his teeth into something and tear. “I’m so close,” and then, as you brought yourself back down, so close to bottoming out, “I wanna cum!”

“You will,” Nanami whispered. He knew you couldn’t hear him, but it was true – you would, and if he’d been able to, he would’ve made you. He would’ve let you fuck yourself on his cock whenever you asked, would’ve woken you up every morning coming undone on his tongue and made sure you fell asleep with his cock buried inside of you. If you were with him, you’d never have to think again, never have to feel anything but pleasure – any time you wanted it, every time you wanted it. He’d make sure—

You didn’t moan as you reached the toy’s base, you screamed. One of your hands moved to the space between your thighs, two fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit as you nursed yourself through your orgasm. Nanami didn’t stand a chance, still chasing his fantasies as he spilled over his hand; searing hot cum pooling on his lap, soaking into the material of his shirt, spilling onto his desk. He didn’t stop moving his hand, though, not until you went limp – bending at the waist, bracing yourself on the floor. Finally, you managed to raise your head, flashing that brilliant smile towards the camera. Of course, Nanami smiled back.

In a daze, he watched you ease yourself off of the toy and wrap up your stream, so familiar from your script that he would’ve been able to recite it with confidence. Even after you signed off, the screen going black, he didn’t move, only letting his head roll to the side with a shallow sigh.

It was pathetic, just how much he loved you. It was painful, being so far from someone who made him feel so irrationally happy.

He could only count the days until he wouldn’t have to limit himself to only watching from a distance any longer.

There was a man in your apartment.

A man you didn’t want to be in your apartment, just to be clear. You’d heard the front door open, seen a bulky silhouette moving through your living room, and now, you were listening to him riffle through your bedroom as you hid in the en suite bathroom – crouched in the smallest corner you could find with both hands locked over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound of your own breathing. The door was locked, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want to find out how much a thin sheet of wood would do to protect you. You didn’t want to give him a reason to acknowledge you at all.

As far as you could tell, there was only one intruder. You could only hear one pair of muffled footsteps, with second-long gaps between every little movement. The air caught in your throat as you heard him edge closer, closer, then pause. There was a dull clack, the sound of metal clashing against plastic, and you relaxed, sighing into your palms. Your filming equipment. It was expensive, but nothing you couldn’t replace. If you were lucky, he’d take what he could carry and leave.

And that was what he seemed to be doing, too – more rustling interrupted every so often by a few moments of heart-wrenching silence. Soon enough, you heard the intruder start to move again, his footsteps edging closer to the bathroom door as he moved to leave your bedroom entirely, and—

“(Y/n)?”

Fuck.

You didn’t say anything, holding your breath and digging your nails into your cheeks, willing yourself not to move, not to think. You didn’t make a sound, you couldn’t have, and yet he kept talking.

“I know you’re in there. Please, come out.”

He couldn’t know. He couldn’t know. You’d kept the lights off, and you hadn’t moved in minutes, and—

He tried the knob, and something cracked deep inside of your chest. There was an airy sigh, then a dull thud, like he was leaning against the door frame. “Please,” he repeated, sounding more exasperated than angry. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Y-you can take whatever you want,” you stuttered, your voice unsteady, just a touch louder than it really had to be. That was fine. You didn’t have to pretend to be brave, so long as you made it out of this alive and uninjured. “I won’t call the police – I can’t call the police, I left my phone in the kitchen. You can take it, too. I… I don’t have a lot of cash, but my camera, it should be worth—”

“I don’t want your camera, love.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he sounded wistful. “Come out, or I’ll break down the door.”

Honestly, it hadn’t occurred to you that he could.

It took a second to pry your hands off of your face, and another to push yourself to your feet – your legs shaking as you struggled to stand. Almost mechanically, you moved towards the door; unlocking it in the same motion as you pulled it open. Light from your bedroom spilled into the entryway, revealing—

God.

He was taller than you’d expected him to be.

Six feet at least, with a build to match. The sleeves of his dress-shirt were rolled up to his elbow, showing off arms so muscular, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d planned to tear your door off its hinges with his bare hands. He had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, visibly full, but you could still see your equipment standing untouched behind him, and you couldn’t imagine anything else he would’ve wanted to take. His blonde hair was swept back, out of his eyes, and he was holding a butcher’s knife in his right hand, the blade wrapped in leopard-spotted fabric. Surprisingly, though, his weapon wasn’t what concerned you the most.

He was smiling. No, actually, that wasn’t right.

He was beaming.

“(Y/n),” he said, again. You didn’t let yourself wonder why he knew your name. “I—I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself earlier. I might’ve gotten a little carried away – I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“…it’s okay,” you managed, your voice barely audible. “Are you going to kill me?”

His expression dropped. “No. Of course not.” And then, after a brief lapse, “I’d never hurt you. I…” You saw his right hand flex around the grip of his knife, and thought you might black out. “I’m a fan.”

Instantly, you felt the blood freeze in your veins.

Fuck. Fuck.

You knew you should’ve gone into accounting.

“I… You’re a fan?” You tried to smile, but it might’ve come across more pained than relieved. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to meeting people who’ve caught my stream. Should I know what to call you?”

And just like that, his grin was back, any momentary tension assayed. You wished he would’ve put down the knife, too, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Kento,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed the pink hue creeping over his cheeks. “Nanami Kento.”

You grit your teeth as you struggled to place him. After a second, it came to you.

Kento. Right. The dildo guy.

Somehow, knowledge provided little comfort. Still, you soldiered on. “It’s really nice to meet you, Nanami.” You clasped your hands behind your back, rocking gently on your heels. “I—I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting any guests. If you want to step out for a couple minutes, I can change into something more comfortable, and show you how appreciative I am for your—”

“I’m not an idiot.” He cut you off, still grinning. “You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t let your smile waver, either. “And, if I didn’t want to go with you…?”

“I’m afraid this isn’t about what you want, anymore.”

You meant to say something – opened your mouth and everything – but nothing came out. Your heart tightened in your chest, a not inconsiderable portion of your mind screaming for you to run, run, run. And yet, when he took you by the wrist in a feather-light hold, leading you through your own apartment and out into the hall, it was all you could do to smile and follow after him.

The first thirty minutes of the car ride passed in silence. Nanami – because you couldn’t stand to keep thinking of him as ‘that guy who bought you a dildo shaped like his own dick and paid you thousands of dollars to ride it live on stream’ – kept his knife in his lap, his hand falling away from the wheel and onto its hilt whenever you so much as took a deep breath. Eventually, your eyes fell to the clock built into his dashboard, and you broke through your paralysis with a nervous laugh.

“It’s a little funny,” you started, for lack of anything else to do. “I’d actually normally be getting ready for my stream, around now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him swallow, his jaw tensing. “I know.”

Great. Okay. Whatever. “I don’t mind, y’know,” you managed, before you could let yourself fully consider what you were going to say. “If it means we don’t have to go through with the whole kidnapping thing, I really wouldn’t mind sleeping with you – you can even take pictures, if you’d like that, or record, whichever you’d prefer.”

“That’s not what I—”

“I haven’t tried a lot of hardcore stuff, but I wouldn’t mind if that’s what you’re into. We don’t even have to go back to my apartment, you could just pull over, and—”

“That’s not what I’m interested in.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone left no room for protest. “I’m not going to… I’m not going to just fuck you once and leave you by the side of the road. I’m doing this for your sake.”

As if you’d willingly climbed into a maniac’s car. “I… I’m not following, Kento.”

“It’s for your own protection. Once I thought to look, it took me hours to find out everything about you.” He spared you a quick glance, that same uncanny smile. One of his hands left the wheel and, rather than moving to his knife, found your knee, squeezing gently. It took everything you had not to scream. “Imagine what someone could do with that kind of information. They could blackmail you, if they found your full name, or track you down if they pieced together your address. It’d be a miracle if they were only a stalker. It just wasn’t safe to let you keep going on that way.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. “They could even break into my apartment and abduct me at knifepoint.”

His gaze narrowed, but his smile only softened. Neither of you spoke for the rest of the journey.

After far too long and not nearly long enough, you reached your destination: a housing complex, leagues nicer (and more expensive) than your own rundown building. Calling them apartments would’ve been a disservice; they were more similar to free-standing condos, or miniature villas slotted just outside of the city’s more metropolitan districts. Without a word, you let him guide you into a relatively generic home, its only notable feature being the absolute lack of evidence of meaningful life within it. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a rental, leased exclusively to give him someplace to do… well, whatever he planned to do to you. It’d be more off-putting to know that someone actually lived someplace so vacant.

He led you through the empty halls and up a flight of stairs, keeping you in front of him and in his line of sight at all times. Finally, you reached the door he seemed to be looking for and, with a nod by way of instruction, let yourself inside.

Before you stood, puzzlingly, your own bedroom.

Or – the parts of it you could make out on camera, at least. The bed was the same size, the same model, made with the same sheets and littered with the same pillows, but the floor was covered in a harsh white carpeting, the surrounding walls soundproofed with suffocating black foam. Camera equipment identical to your own had been set-up at the foot of your bed, but an unfamiliar silver laptop replaced your own sticker-covered monstrosity. You didn’t see any chains, whips, or shock collars, which was good. You still didn’t know what the fuck was going on, which was bad.

Confused, you turned to Nanami as he crossed the threshold and rather conservatively, shut and locked the door. “There are clothes on the bed,” he explained, with a tone that made it difficult to tell whether or not he knew how weird this was. “A script, too. Memorize as much as you can.”

So he still expected you to stream. Or, that was what you hoped, at least – considering the only alternative was that he was planning to make an extremely elaborate snuff film. “I’m not used to using scripts.”

“You’ll manage.”

You didn’t bother trying to argue, only moving towards the bed and attempting to forget he was there entirely.

The ‘clothes’ he’d left for you turned out to be lingerie – the nice stuff, too, white and lacey and bridal with a babydoll cut. You glanced over his script (which, disturbingly, didn’t exactly not sound like you) as you got dressed and fixed your hair, doing the best you could without any of your usual supplies. You wouldn’t be able to reapply your make-up, but you’d put some on earlier, and—

You almost laughed at yourself, stifling a chuckle.

You’d been kidnapped, and you were worried about your make-up. If you got out of this alive, you swore, you’d never touch foundation or a ring light or a camera ever again.

He didn’t have to tell you when it was time – you would’ve known by instinct alone. With Namami watching from an armchair pushed against the opposite wall, you clambered onto the bed and took your usual position, kneeling in center frame. He’d never asked for your credentials, and yet, when you glanced towards the laptop positioned just underneath the main camera, you found that your own profile was already pulled up, a miniature timer in the corner of the screen counting down the seconds until you went live.

As it reached thirty seconds ‘till, it occurred to you that you were in a soundproof room alone with the man who’d kidnapped you and was currently holding you hostage, and that no one could’ve possibly known where you were or, more importantly, who you’d been taken by.

As it reached fifteen, you realized you were being held captive and being forced to wear bridal lingerie that your kidnapped must’ve picked out with the occasion in mind.

As it reached five, for the first time that day, you thought you might actually start to cry.

And, as it reached zero, you put on your biggest, brightest smile and hoped beyond hope that you’d stop thinking entirely, eventually.

“Welcome home!” Skipping over your normal grace period only felt right. You didn’t think you’d be able to survive sitting in silent, motionless suspension for another second, let alone a full minute. “Sorry if I seem a little nervous tonight – to tell the truth, I kind of am. I’ve got a major announcement, and I just can’t put it off any longer.”

Reflexively, your attention drifted first to your own feed – you looked perfect, as always – then to your chat, moving quickly despite your sudden start. You caught a few of the longer messages in your peripheral.

secretary.lover: Is it just me, or does she seem kind scared lmao?

blueeyeswhitedragon: yeahhh i thought her room looked kinda weird too lol

justheretowatch: fuck ur pretty

rapidfire: let me guess, another fake dick?

“I know I probably should’ve given you guys more of a warning,” you went on, fighting the temptation to break, to yell for them to call the police, to give up entirely and make a run for it. “But…”

You forced yourself to laugh, to beam, to clap your hands together in front of your chest like a schoolgirl – excited to tell her friends that she’d gone through with her first ever confession. “I’m getting married!”

You didn’t have a ring to show off, but you tried your best to preen regardless, to not let any amount of fear or discomfort or hesitation show on your shining expression. After a show delay, congratulations and well-wishes filled your chat (some genuine, others more reluctant), and you did your best to go on without letting the sizable knot slowly gaining mass in the back of your throat smother your voice entirely. “This is going to be my last stream – for a while, at least, until we get settled in. And…”

You tried to remember what’d been listed next in Nanami’s script, but your conscious mind was bogged down by a thick layer of buzzing static, your sense of improvisation dulled by a heavy dose of anxiety. Your eyes flickered to where Nanami was sitting behind your equipment, only to find that the chair he’d formerly occupied empty. You didn’t have time to panic before the edge of the mattress dipped under a new weight, and you remembered what you were supposed to say. “My husband actually wanted to cameo on my send-off show. I was a little hesitant—” Another dip in the mattress, this one much closer than the last. “—but he insisted. I thought you all deserved a chance to meet him, too.”

As soon as you finished, you felt a large hand on your shoulder, a sudden presence at your back. Your gaze fell back to your feed, your own image now accompanied by that of your captor – on his knees behind you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, the framing positioned so that his head was cut off just above the mouth. The lower half of his face was covered with a black surgical mask, and you had to stop yourself from frowning. You hadn’t expected him to be stupid enough to show his face on camera, but still.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you felt his hand fall away from your shoulder, slipping underneath the lace camisole of your babydoll. You tried not to move, not to flinch, but you couldn’t stop yourself from jerking forward as you felt his hand slip under your bralette, the angular ridges of his knuckles visible through the thin silk. Despite everything he’d said about not hurting you, about doing this for your protection, he made no attempt to be gentle – the calloused pads of his fingers pressing into the curve of your breast with enough force to bruise. You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sincere reaction. If you wanted to go home, you had to put up with this. He’d never said anything about pretending to enjoy it.

(In the back of your mind, you knew he hadn’t said anything about letting you go home, either. Still, you didn’t let yourself dwell on such discontinuities).

You should’ve known better than to think he’d attempt to follow the normal flow of your stream, and yet, it still caught you off-guard when his unoccupied hand found its way to the waistband of your panties, then to your clothed sex. You weren’t overly sensitive, despite how you might’ve acted in front of your viewers, but you were still on edge, still panicked, and while the adrenaline being held at knifepoint might’ve sparked was beginning to fade, having your kidnapper grope you on camera was enough to bring on a fresh wave. Reflexively, you pressed your back into his broad chest as his thumb traced over the length of your slit, pausing only momentarily to press into your clit with a dull, oppressive sort of pressure, biting down on your bottom lips to stop anything vulnerable and pathetic from escaping. If Nanami was affected by your stoicism, it wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling the flimsy material to the side entirely and slipping two fingers into you, your now-slick cunt providing humiliatingly easy access. In the same motion, the heel of his palm pressed into your clit, the friction immediately too harsh, too much. It would’ve been too much if he wasn’t touching you at all. It would’ve been too much if he was still sitting alone in his dark, empty house – getting off to the idea of degrading someone he claimed to care about so publicly.

It didn’t help that you were wet. Not dripping, sure, but wet enough for there to be an audible, slick clicking-type noise as he pumped his digits into you, never taking the pressure off of your clit. You could feel his cock pressed into your ass, already hard, already too familiar not to be nauseating, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush to move past your exhibition; his pace measured and experimental, his fingers prone to spreading apart and curling inside of you. To distract yourself, you moved your attention back to your chat, trying to pick out the longer messages between donation notifications.

user84343: girl i call dibs when you’re done with him

hotbox420: no seriously y/n are you okay???

bunnygirl69: still can’t believe you’re leaving us for him </3 can’t say i don’t see why tho ToT

absolutely.soaked: Blink twice if you’re in danger lmaoooo

“G-guys, I’m totally—” Your breath hitched as he forced another finger into you, the stretch now a touch past ignorable. His other hand kneaded at your chest, blunt nails scraping against tender flesh, and momentarily, you wondered if it really would’ve been so bad to take your chances and let him kill you right away. “I’m totally fine, I’m just—” His nails bit into your skin by way of warning, and you allowed yourself a single, stilted moan. “I’m just so happy that I finally get to—to—”

You didn’t know what you were supposed to say, but it didn’t matter. Nanami’s hand dropped from your chest to your side, his arm locking over your midriff and hauling you that much closer. You couldn’t stop yourself this time – whimpering as the tempo of his fingers sped up, as tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes. You glanced around the bedroom, searching for anything familiar, anything you could use to stabilize yourself, anything that you could start to find comforting. Instead, your eyes landed on the duffle bag he’d carried out of your apartment, the zipper now partially undone. You couldn’t see much, but you could make out the handle of a pink hitachi. It wasn’t difficult to guess what the rest of the bag’s contents looked like, what he’d spent so long riffling through your possessions to find.

It wouldn’t been pointless to try and hold back the crooked, ebbing sob that leaked past your lips. This time, when you turned to face your camera, it was with tears just beginning to spill and absolute terror written across your expression. “Call the police,” you managed to spit out, making no attempt to be subtle. “I—I don’t actually know this man, and this isn’t my apartment, and—“

It happened too quickly – like he’d been expecting you to do something so obviously short-sighted. You processed that he was pulling out of your cunt as you felt his fingers entangle themselves in your hair, and then your face was being shoved against the mattress, your body folding over itself as he forced you down. You tried to yell, tried to scream, but your voice was muffled by your own fucking comforter as you heard fabric shifting behind you, as you felt something warm and stiff and leaking align with your entrance. You refused to put a name to it, but that didn’t help. Nothing would’ve helped.

His palm pressed into the back of your head, his body slotting against yours as he leaned down, lowering his head so that he could speak directly into your ear. “I’m doing this for your own good,” he whispered, his voice muffled but still painfully audible. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

You didn’t have a chance to response. He was already inside of you – his cock filling you to your breaking point.

You weren’t sure if your viewers could hear you, but you hoped they could. It would’ve been a pity to sob so loudly for the sole entertainment of the sick, sick man currently rutting into you, grinding into your cunt from behind with a kind of animalistic desperation – all desire and no control. It was a struggle to stay on your knees, not to go entirely limp underneath him, but you doubted it would’ve made a difference if you hadn’t, that he wouldn’t have fucked your limp body just as enthusiastically. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely see the monitor – the miniature image of Nanami’s body moving on top of yours, his blond hair still obscuring the other half of his face, and then next to it, your chat. If you’d been thinking more clearly, you wouldn’t have let yourself look, wouldn’t have let yourself fully acknowledge that there were still thousands of people watching you, but you weren’t thinking at all, and you would’ve given anything for someone to say something that made you forget where you were, just for a second.

sniper727: so the bitch likes it rough? hot

callmeanonymous: FINALLY!!! I’ve been waiting for some cnc rp for actual years.

blueeyeswhitedragon: hey i think i might work with that guy

hotbox420: yeah no i’m calling the cops.

Predictably, your efforts were grotesquely unsuccessful.

Nanami didn’t seem as bothered. The weight on the back of your head disappeared as his hands found your hips, pulling up as he straightened his back. For anyone else, it might’ve been an awkward position – holding up your uncooperative form while bouncing you on his cock – but no amount of unpleasant technicalities could’ve stopped him from burying himself to hilt with every stroke, keeping you in a constant state of mind-numbing fullness. You tried to talk, again, to call for help, but fractured mewls and pathetic whines drowned out whatever you might’ve said, and even those were put to an end as Nanami took you by the jaw, turning you to face him as his lips crashed into your – his mask either pulled down or discarded entirely, you couldn’t be bothered to check. The kiss itself was messy, rough, brutal, his tongue raking over yours as you sobbed unabashedly into his mouth – your connection only growing more chaotic as his hand once again found your clit and ground two fingers into the sensitive bundle of nerves. You knew what he wanted. You knew what he was trying to do.

And you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

With a ragged sob, you came undone around his cock, any strength you might’ve once had flooding out of your body and dripping down his shaft. Nanami groaned into your mouth, drawing back just far enough to bury his face in your neck and mouth meaningless nothings into your throat as he chased his own climax. He thrusted into you again once, twice, and then you felt pure heat pour into you – a new kind of torture that rendered you entirely senseless. You didn’t try to scream, again.

You were distantly aware of him moving, shifting, pulling something out of his pocket as he muttered a mix of ‘you did so well’s and ‘I love you’s into your skin. When you did finally manage to raise your head, you didn’t think to look toward the remote in his hand or your tattered lingerie or the cum slowly leaking out of your entrance. Rather, your attention landed on the same thing it always did during your streams – your monitor.

You’d never know why, but for whatever reason, you could feel your heart break in your chest as you realized that the screen had already gone black.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #yandere nanami #yandere nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader

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leascorner · 18 days ago

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j.b.b. | Secret Santa

Summary: Natasha rigs the Secret Santa because she knows Bucky has a crush on one of his colleagues

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x colleague!f!reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N and feminine pronoums, a few mentions of food, mention of christmas and gifts, two idiots in love

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: This is the 2nd Xmas OS of the series. My favourite so far. Please do share and like if you enjoyed it, it means a lot!

2024 Christmas Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Secret Santa.

Bucky hated it. He didn’t understand that concept. Buying a gift for someone – needless to say, a coworker that he didn’t know personally – only by obligation. He wondered who had thought of this first and how it had become a so-called tradition. He would have rather like to go to the restaurant, share a drink with the team and be done with it. No, now, he had to choose a piece of paper to select for whom he was going to think about what to give them. Like it wasn’t already pure torture to think about what to buy for his own friends and family.

He had tried his best to leave the room every time Natasha had showed up with her glass filled of all those tiny bits of paper. It was all before she took the matter in her own hands and decided to confront him up right outside his condo at the compound. It was up to three pieces of paper that Natasha had reordered in a particular order after she had showed up at his doorstep.

Bucky could see the ambush from a mile away. She wanted him to pick a particular piece of paper, the one right in front of him. His mind raced through a million of possibilities yet, he couldn’t see why she would act suspiciously. This was just a stupid Secret Santa, one of the too many that would be organized around the world that year. There was no reason for her to trap him. No reason at all…

Still, he couldn’t get himself to pick up the paper directly in front of him. He was smarter than this, he thought; he wouldn’t fall into whatever trap she had lay for him. He rather selected the one piece right at the back; just because it felt like the most rational thing to do. As his hand went to get the paper, he couldn’t help but notice the sly smile that appeared on Natasha’s face. He tried to change his take for the middle piece – the one he had thought she wanted him to select in the first place – but she playfully slapped his hand away.

“You touched it, it’s yours.”

The redhead winked at him as she handed her the tiny bit of paper. A lightning of dread struck Bucky as he understood he had indeed felt into a trap. Unfolding the white paper with his thumbs, his heart missed a beat when he read the name written on it. No doubt now why Natasha had done this on purpose.

It was all because of… Y/N.

Y/N was a Stark employee. She worked on Branner’s team in another wing of the compound and their paths would have never crossed if it wasn’t for Nathasha. Bucky was not sure how it started however, for a while now, the redhead had been teaching a self-defence course every Tuesday night for the Stark Industries employees. Bucky, Steve and Clint had come to help a couple of times and one of those nights was when he was paired with Y/N for an exercise. He spent the night teaching her how to get rid of an attacker if they got their neck from behind.

Afterwards, he seemed to meet her again everywhere: in front of the compound, at Tony’s gala or even at some other Natasha’s courses. They immediately took off. Y/N was doing most of the talking and he liked to hear her voice. They talked mostly about books. She lent him some of the most recent New York Times best sellers and he found for her his favourite’s volumes of poetry – some of the ones that he wouldn’t admit to Steve he had read, back in the days.

Before they met, Bucky had never seen her in the Avengers’ wing, yet Y/N seemed to go more and more to that side of the compound. She went to have a quick break, exchange a book with Bucky or put a cake she had cooked in the kitchen. And this, of course, had not escaped to Natasha’s sharp eyes. Ever since, she had made it her aim of the year to get them together – or at least to get Bucky to confess to Y/N what she thought was his undying love for her.

Bucky could not lie; he indeed found her attractive, both inside and out. Yet, he knew he was just a friend for her. And even if she had the same feeling as him, he was not sure if he wanted to be in a relationship right now… He had a long list of reasons as to why not. He was just accustoming to this life back in the United States. He was gone for long periods of times, working with the Shield on breaking down Hydra. And most importantly, he was risking his life for a living.

He sighed and crumpled the paper in between his fingers, conceding that Natasha had won and that now, he just had to find a gift for Y/N.

A week before the Stark Industries Christmas party – the event at which they would exchange gifts, Bucky was still thinking about what he would buy for Y/N. He had already spent all his free time looking for the perfect gift, but nothing seemed good enough for her. The first thing he had thought about was books. He knew she would always like one however, he didn’t want to buy her some random books. No… he was looking for something a bit more personal. Something that would put stars in her eyes and that would show her how much he appreciated her. Even only as a friend.

Only one week to go before the party and he started to feel a bit panicked. He had even considered asking Natasha for help – this was how stressed he was. However, he quickly made up his mind as he knew she would have liked that a little too much and she would have never let him live it down.

So, when he woke up that morning, he had decided that today was the day. He would finish that report for Steve, and he would search all the Internet for a gift. He would not leave his desk until he had found something.

Three hours later, a headache was slowly crawling right behind the bone of his forehead, and he couldn’t think straight anymore. When he looked up from his laptop screen, he realized he had skipped lunch and that his stomach was rumbling. He would take a break and when he would get back, he would definitely decide on what to buy.

Arriving at the Avengers compound’s kitchen to pick up something to eat, Bucky stopped on the doorstep. Y/N was facing back, making herself what Bucky guessed was a tea. Ever since he randomly took the paper with her name, he had tried to avoid her. Not that it was hard, she was locked in one of Banner’s lab most of the time these days and he was also busy working with Steve on the mission they planned early in the next year. It was not that he did not want to see her. He just felt like anyone could see on his face that he was literally petrified by the idea of offering her something that she wouldn’t like. And he also was pretty sure he couldn’t keep a personal secret even to save his life.

Now that she was slowly turning to the other side, he had no other way than to speak to her. He also knew it would be suspicious if he continued avoiding her for too long.

“Hey Y/N,” he said before going straight to the fridge. Too busy examining its content, he didn’t realise she didn’t respond and only look back to her when she let out a cry, startled to see him there. She had her earphones on that she was now taking off after the original surprise of seeing him.

“Sorry, I hadn’t realised,” he stuttered while pointing to his own ears. He mentally faced palm himself for acting like an idiot. He hadn’t realized that she was wearing workout clothes and probably was just back from a run around the block, just like she did sometimes.

“No worries,” she smiled, “I know I’m not supposed to be here, I’m just picking up a tea and I’ll be gone.”

He waved it off; none of them minded that she used the kitchen – it was made to be used after all. “Good run?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Wouldn’t run a marathon, but it clears your head, you know?” Bucky didn’t know, but he could imagine the feeling, his own demons always pretty much present in his own head. They stayed silent for a bit, each of them trying to find a subject for discussion.

Eventually, the fridge beeped loudly, complaining its door had been opened for too long. Bucky leaned forwards to grab some random ingredients to make himself a sandwich while Y/N grabbed her cup of tea and the Tupperware in front of her before making her way out.

“Hey Bucky,” Y/N said just as she was about to leave the kitchen. “I know that we are not supposed to tell who we got for the secret Santa and everything… but would you like to go to the city this weekend? I’ve got some ideas, and I could really help a man’s opinion.” Bucky’s lack of respond made her continue: “I mean, if you’d like. And I could always help you pick up a gift for your Secret Santa as well.” Her cheeks heated up as she realized what she had implied so she was fast to mumble: “If you haven’t already, of course.”

Through he knew this wasn’t a good idea – how could he buy her a gift while she was here – Bucky did the only thing he could do right now – he nodded.

It went without saying that Bucky did not find a gift for Y/N that afternoon. Instead, he spent it imagining the worst scenario about their trip to the city. He couldn’t believe he had accepted and while he thought of excuses not to go, he agreed that it would be a little too suspicious. Once again, he could only resign himself to going on with the flow. After all, it could be a good thing, who else better than Y/N could tell him what she would like…

This was how he ended up picking up Y/N on an early Saturday morning and driving to the city. She had suggested going to a mall and while the idea to visit one on the last weekend before Christmas was not very appealing, he still didn’t have any idea of what he would buy for her. So, he could only agree.

Y/N took advantage of the drive to go through a playlist of the 2000’s songs and educate Bucky on all the most iconic songs. Obviously, Bucky didn’t know any of them, but they had a good laugh when he pointed out a couple of ambiguous lyrics and Y/N realized what they actually meant for the first time.

“Alright so for whom are you looking for?” Bucky asked after they entered the mall. Y/N looked back to him with a startled expression, as if she didn’t expect to have to tell him it seems. “I can keep a secret,” he assured her in return, and she shook her head with a smile.

“Let’s say… My secret Santa is a man,” Bucky nodded, he did know that much, “In his late twenties. Not fond of technologies. Amateur of arts. Doesn’t like attention. Dresses casual, more practical than fashion.”

He laughed, imaging she was talking about Steve and his infamous combination of Jean-T-shirt-Jacket. “Any gift ideas you were thinking of?”

“I was thinking about an accessory. Not something cheap though. An accessory that would go with everything, be of good quality and last a lifetime. Something…” she thought, “Timeless. You know… like a belt or else,” she shrugged.

Bucky nodded, a serious look on his face. He had heard a small weakness in her voice as she was explaining what she was looking for. She was anxious about picking this gift. She wanted to select the right thing. She wanted this present to be impactful. And he was going to help her figuring it out.

“I think the best option is to have a look at what we have here and then we can take it from there. What do you think?”

Y/N nodded, and they happily made their way through the mall. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people at this early time in the morning. They did a couple of menswear shops, asking the sales assistant for advice and inspecting whatever they were suggesting. None of them found something promising.

After the sixth shop, Y/N seemed on the verge of giving up, while Bucky had made it his mission to help her find something. The truth was, if she found something, he was hoping she would forget they were also here for him to find a gift. So, Bucky bribed her by promising her a sandwich before he entered the seventh store.

This one was a vintage store, not a thrift store but a store proposing clothes and accessories inspired by second half of the twentieth century. Y/N went on to ask they showed them the belts they had. The saleswoman happily obliged and got back to them with a dozen of accessories. They ruled out the cowboys’ ones and were left with only four. All black or navy blue. All tanned leather. They would all go with a casual jean or a more formal outfit. Their differences resided only in the details. A most subtle buckle. A few inches larger. A different seam. A different texture.

Y/N stared at them frowning, a small wrinkle in between her brow. Even now, she wasn’t sure which one to pick out. If she was listening to herself, she would probably buy them all. One never had too many belts, did they? Bucky detailed the expression on her face and could help to think she looked cute.

“If this is for the person I think it is,” he didn’t want to say Steve, even if he had no doubt it was him. After all this was supposed to be a secret, “I would go for this one.”

“What about this one?” Y/N pointed out the navy one.

“I personally like it better, but I don’t think he would.”

“You’re sure?” Y/N asked, still chewing on her lower lip.

“One hundred percent,” Bucky acquiesced.

Y/N took all four belts and went to the cashier to pay. Bucky listened from one ear as Y/N and the saleswoman chitchat for a bit. He had a look about what other clothes they had in display and made a mental note to go back sometimes for a bit of shopping for himself.

A couple of minutes later, Y/N was back at her side with a bag containing her gift in a nice white wrapping.

“Thank you so much for your help!”

Y/N gave Bucky a hug with one arm – the one that wasn’t holding the bag – and she seemed to put all her gratitude. When she pulled back, the line between her eyebrows had disappeared and she looked relived, totally pleased with herself.

“Lunch?” Bucky asked.

Just like he had promised, they got a sandwich, a lemonade and sat for a bit. They talked for a while; and for once, about something other than books. They discussed work and somewhat bet on whom was going to offer a gift to whom. When they lifted their head from their sandwich – or their lack of – to be precise, the mall was now teeming with people doing their last-minute shopping. Y/N grimaced and stated her dislike of the crowd, to which Bucky could only agree. How would she be happy to get home after they were done. Bucky then understood under the lines that she had indeed not forget about helping him find a gift for his own Secret Santa.

“So, now,” she talked as she brushed her hands on her pants after having thrown away their sandwiches packaging. “What about you? What are we looking for?”

“I have no idea,” instead of lying, he had decided to be honest at least. “Not that I don’t know the person, I just… don’t know what to get them.”

“Man, woman?”

Bucky was grateful she did not ask him directly who it was. “Woman,” he indicated.

Thinking, Y/N had a look around her as if the shops around were going to give her the solution to all her problems.

“Books?” She suggested, looking back at him. Bucky could help but grimaced; he had already ruled out this option himself. She had already a quite impressive collection of books and while she would like this, it would be way too easy to offer her one.

“Alright, no books then.” She looked around some more, and her eyes landed on a jewellery’s shop. “A jewel, maybe?”

Bucky’s face went blank. He had not thought of this, but it suddenly felt like it was a lot. Who would buy you jewel for a silly Secret Santa? Not a coworker, he was sure of it. It would be too obvious, and besides, he would be offering it in front of everyone. If he were to do that, he was sure Natasha would call him out in front of everyone and he would rather not.

“No worries, doesn’t have to be an engagement ring!” She laughed and God, what a nice sound to hear, he thought. Her playfully making fun of him didn’t ease the restlessness in his stomach though.

“Could be simple earrings or a brooch. What do you think?”

That, Bucky thought was a good idea. Something discreet and that she could wear with everything, yet something that would emphasize her natural beauty. It seems like the best idea he had never had. So, they made their way to the first jewellery’s shop and were quick to make their way out of it. It had too much gold and their jewelleries were too big, too flashy, not her type at all.

They tried a second one where everything seemed so cheap that Y/N wondered out loud if people were really buying from there – once again, Bucky could only agree. They tried a third one in which the salesman immediately took them for a couple. Their cheeks went hot as if they were teenagers caught making out under the bleachers of the gymnasium. After they had denied, they separated to inspect the displays.

Bucky looked over a couple of display cases. When he saw that hair jewellery, he knew it was exactly what he was looking for. A piece discreet, she could use to have their hair up when she was doing experiments in the lab. A jewel she would also be able to wear for a more festive occasion. The only problem was that Y/N was only a couple of meters away and he had no ideas how he would be able to buy it without her knowing it…

“Found something you like?”

Bucky jumped, not having seen Y/N coming back to his level. She had already had a look at the other side of the shop, but nothing had quite caught her eyes. Bucky mumbled something about a pair of earrings he had seen. They were simple, a simple loop, quite small and in a silver. Truth be told, he only thought they were okay, but it wasn’t like he had a lot of options anyway.

Y/N examined them through the Plexiglas and Bucky fiddled with his fingers, obviously anxiously waiting for her opinion.

“Lovely,” was all she said.

“You’re not convinced,” Bucky retorted, a bit bitter.

“No, no,” she shook her head and pointed at her ears. He then realized she didn’t have her ears pierced. “Couldn’t wear them personally as you can see. But these are really lovely, Bucky. Simple and would still go with everything. It’s a good choice.”

Keen to be done with it, Bucky called after the salesman and let him he would buy those ones. He specifically asked for a receipt ticket, in case the person didn’t like them – after all you never knew, he said. In reality, he was already planning to go back before the party and exchange them.

Y/N flashed him the biggest smile when Bucky had retrieved his purchase, and they made their way back to the car. As a gentleman, Bucky opened the car door for her and his cheeks got as hot as hers when she thanked him.

“Thank you as well, for everything! I don’t know how I would have done without you.” Indeed, he would have never found her gift had she not dragged him in this jewellery’s shop.

“Next time, I suggest we do it earlier in December though. The crowd was a nightmare in there.”

Bucky watched as his coworkers, one-by-one, exchanged gifts. There were the most banalities. Some teas. A book. A new cup. A travel-sized bottle of perfume. It only made him more anxious. His own gift sat on his lap seemed to weight a ton. Was this really a good idea? Finally, he blamed himself for not having bought this Christmas novel that was recommended by all bookshops in town. At least, he would have been sure Y/N would have liked it…

Bucky was so lost in his thought that he did not realize right away that it was now Steve opening the gift he had received. A small black box that looked way too small for a belt to fit in it. He frowned as Steve discovered a small iPod Nano and got up to give Tony a hug.

He instantly searched for Y/N, whom he found sat a couple of seats from him. She caught his eyes as if she had been waiting for him to look up at her. Her lips twist into a strange, somewhat nervous smile that Bucky couldn’t quite comprehend. Frowning, he watched as she took the package in front of her before getting up.

Heart racing, he watched as she made her way to him. Only realising what he thought was really happening as she handed him the white package with a sly smile. He unwrapped the package knew exactly what this was in it. Just to think that he thought he had helped to pick out his own present.

To his surprise, he discovered another belt in the box, the one he had really liked that day.

“I asked the saleswoman to get the one you liked when you weren’t watching,” Y/N explained, cheeks definitely as hot as his.

Bucky had to clear his throat. He felt all kinds of emotions looking at the belt in his hands. It was a lot of them, none that he could identify. It created a storm inside of him, though it wasn’t one of those storms that would destroy everything in its path. No… It was a good storm. One of those that had hotness embracing you, making you fell love. And he simply couldn’t believe it. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry that I- well, I kind of lied to you. I just wanted to get you something- something nice.”

“I know,” he said, taking the package on his lap. “I did too.”

“Me?” Y/N asked as if she couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, you.”

She laughed as she opened it and saw that instead of cute earrings there was a hair jewellery in it. Of course, he didn’t offer her the earrings, she wouldn’t be able to wear them.

She looked back to him with incomprehension in her eyes.

“I went back to exchange it,” Bucky explained, chuckling nervously of this whole situation and coincidence. “Do you like it?”

“Yes! It’s beautiful. Thank you so much!”

Y/N kissed his cheek and hugged him. Her embrace was like the storm actually surrendering him this time. Around them, everyone continued to exchange gifts, but Bucky couldn’t care. They probably had never been this close. His nose was in her hair, and he could smell the perfume of her shampoo. He never wanted to let go.

On the other side of the table, he saw Natasha winked at him. The enormous smile on her face made him think it was indeed not a coincidence that Y/N also draw his name, but at this moment, he couldn’t care less. He had everything he needed.

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