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tongue-like-a-razor · 10 months ago

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Hotter Than Texas | Part I

(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.

While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.

When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.

As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.

Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”

Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”

You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.

You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.

Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.

This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.

Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.

“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.

He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.

You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.

Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.

You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”

Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”

You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”

Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”

Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.

…

About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”

You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“With a pinch of salt.”

Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”

Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”

You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”

“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.

Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.

Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.

Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.

He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.

Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”

Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.

But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”

Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.

Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.

Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.

Read Part 2

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!

@joaquinwhorres

@katiemcrae

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@toomuchfluffs

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@callsign-jupiter

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@olliepig

@coffeeaddictedmay

@boringusername3

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@annedub

@jules-1999

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@cyanide-cryptid

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@artemissunn

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@callsign-sunshine

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@avis15

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@ijustwantedplums

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@avengersfan25

@hallecarey1

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@lilianashomaresparza

@lovingperfectionsblog

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@SometimesAnAlice

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@adaydreamaway08

@mattyskies

@desert-fern

@catsandbooksandstuff

@Topguncultleader

@avengers-fixation

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witchywithwhiskey · 1 month ago

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to save me from tears

pairing: DARK!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you thought you were going on a weekend getaway to the cabin of the guy were seeing, but it turned out bucky barnes had no intention of ever letting you leave. now, one year later, it's the anniversary of an important milestone in your relationship, and he knows just how to celebrate the special occasion.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), dark themes and elements, non-con/rape, abduction, drugging, imprisonment/captivity, sexual exploitation of reader, forced camgirl work, live-streaming sex, smut, rough sex, painful sex, unprotected sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, oral cockwarming with a dildo gag, squirting, sex toys, bondage/shibari, sadism/forced masochism, ass spanking, degradation, objectification, dacryphilia, choking, breathplay, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (doll, winter slut), mind break, reluctant stockholm syndrome, reader passes out during sex, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, if i missed something please let me know!

word count: 5.6k

a/n: here's my second entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: Has it been a year already? my last fic was so sweet that apparently i had to balance things out with the absolute darkest, filthiest fic i've ever written. i guess i was feeling some type of way, idk!! anyway, i hope y'all enjoy ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Frank Sinatra’s “Silent Night” played softly from a speaker in the corner, the chords lilting serenely through the cold basement, the choral harmonizing of the background singers becoming a soundtrack to the depravity you were forced to endure.

It occurred to you that you might wonder how you’d ended up where you had, but you knew exactly how—you’d trusted the wrong man.

Bucky Barnes had been charming from the moment you met. The former army sergeant had wooed you with ice skating dates and trips to the book store, regaling you with stories from his childhood growing up in Brooklyn over cups of hot chocolate and herbal tea.

He’d seemed perfectly normal, like the kind of man you’d want to settle down with, and you found yourself wanting to start a new life with him. It hadn’t been long, but you thought he was the one, and you began planning what that new life would look like in your own imagination.

Apparently Bucky had been determined to give you a new life as well, but he hadn’t given you a choice about what that life would look like. While you’d been picturing a cozy apartment in the city before buying a house and moving out to the suburbs, he’d been planning something much different.

It had all started that weekend in December, when Bucky had invited you for a weekend away at his cabin upstate. You’d been seeing him long enough that you trusted him, and you were excited, hopeful, even, that your relationship would deepen on the trip.

You were so happy about spending a whole weekend alone with Bucky that you didn’t think anything of the darkness in his voice when he’d warned you to never, under any circumstances, go into the basement of the cabin.

Then, after a weekend filled with delicate kisses and gentle lovemaking, you’d been packing to return to the city when a soft cloth had covered your mouth and nose and you’d smelled something sweet. You hadn’t known it at the time, but that was the end of your old life, and you didn’t even have the time or the strength to fight.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when you’d woken up in the cold basement that would become your only home in the months to come. A thick leather collar had been wrapped around your neck, connecting to a chain that was attached to the heavy wooden frame of the bed you lay on. To your horror, you’d realized you were clad in lingerie that wasn’t yours, some cheap set that still managed to fit you perfectly.

Bucky had been waiting for you to notice him at the foot of the bed, standing next to a camera aimed directly at you.

“Welcome to your new life, doll,” he’d said, a depraved smirk spreading across his handsome face—and expression you’d never seen before. “Time to earn your keep.” His blue eyes had been glittering with dark excitement as he’d clicked a button on the laptop linked to the camera and crawled onto the bed with you.

That had been the first moment you’d seen the real Bucky Barnes, and he’d spent every day since then showing you exactly how vile and perverted he truly was. He’d kept you in the basement of his cabin and forced you to fuck him on camera, using the money he made from it to buy you more cheap lingerie and all manner of toys to use on your body.

The sharp, cracking sound of a palm meeting soft flesh filled your ears, the subsequent stinging sensation reverberating from your ass through the rest of your body effectively dragging you back into the moment of your latest debasement.

The pain of Bucky spanking you with the full force of his strength only joined the other aches already living in your body—but you knew better than to complain or cry or whimper. You’d made that mistake early on, but Bucky had only seemed to soak in your pain like it fueled him.

The first time he’d spanked you, you’d begged him to stop. Instead, though, he only hit you harder, grinning ear to ear while he’d told you that you had no idea what you were in for yet, fake pity dripping from his tone.

But in the present moment, your pain wasn’t only coming from Bucky’s palm.

Your shoulders ached from the way your arms had been tied behind your back, your hands gripping your forearms and constrained by intricate knots of cords wrapped around your body. To further restrain you, your calves were tied to your thighs, leaving you bound and unable to move with your ass high in the air while your face was shoved into the bed.

In honor of the holiday season, Bucky had traded in the coarse rope he typically used for a long string of multicolored Christmas lights, one end plugged into the wall so your skin was washed in shades of blue, red, green and yellow.

The string of lights was much more uncomfortable than the rope, even though that had burned. The wire holding the lights together was so thin, and the small bulbs dug painfully into your skin. If you didn’t know your discomfort was exactly what Bucky wanted, you might’ve let him see how unhappy you were with your current predicament.

Instead, you hid your face in the blankets of the bed, trying to focus on anything except Bucky’s big cock fucking into your cunt at a bruising pace.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to ignore him, his hard length plowing into your body. Not even the cheery lights wound around your body or the Christmas music playing out of the bluetooth speaker in the corner could distract you from the feel of his cock inside you.

Another jarring smack resounded in the cold basement a brief second before the sting of Bucky’s spank quaked through your body. The strike was hard enough that you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out. You didn’t want to give him that, even if it would’ve been muffled by the blankets under your face.

“How many times do I gotta tell ya, doll,” Bucky huffed, his voice patronizing and impatient, like he was talking to a misbehaving child. “Look at the camera when I’m fucking you.” He spanked you again, so hard you felt your entire body tremble under the weight of it, then he grabbed and groped your ass cruelly enough to leave marks. “Our audience wants to see your face—don’t ya, fellas?”

That last part was directed at the camera. You turned your head, tipping your face toward the lens just in time to catch the reflection of the rakish grin Bucky shot to whoever was watching.

The chat box on the screen of the laptop set up just out of frame lit up, the audience for your daily stream with Bucky telling the both of you just how much they wanted to see your face while you were fucked by his fat cock.

Your eyes caught a few of the filthy, degrading messages before looking away. You refused to believe the way your cunt clenched was in response to what you’d read. You absolutely were not getting turned on by the depraved life your captor forced you to live.

Bucky’s large body curled over your back, his hand wrapping around your throat and lifting your head from the bed so the camera could better see your face. The position shoved his cock even deeper into your cunt, ramming painfully against your cervix and, against your will, your face contorted at the twinge deep in your body.

The chat lit up, chimes dinging fast and furious as the messages came in, and Bucky reached for the laptop so he could read what your viewers had written.

All the while, his hips kept grinding idly against your ass so his cock rubbed even harder into your cervix, making you let out a little whimper of anguish. His fingers tightened around the sides of your neck, enough to cut off your ability to breathe, and your whimper turned into a desperate, scared little keen.

You felt Bucky grin against your cheek, and you could’ve kicked yourself for giving him exactly what he’d wanted—a reaction. But at least his grip loosened, though you knew it was only because he didn’t want you to pass out too soon.

“The chat says you look like such a pretty little toy when I fuck you all tied up like this, doll,” Bucky cooed in your ear, grinding harder into your cunt.

You sunk your teeth deep into your lower lip as your whole body trembled under the assault of Bucky’s thick cock. Despite yourself, you felt your cunt clench hard around his stiff length, wetness frothing and gushing from your hole as he made a mockery of your protests.

Before you’d met Bucky, you would’ve sworn you didn’t like pain. You’d have said you hated it, in fact.

But after so many days and months of being speared open by his fat cock, all three of your holes ravaged by his hard, unrelenting manhood in his need to dominate you, to conquer your body in every way possible, you couldn’t help your pussy’s response to it.

You told yourself it was some kind of defense mechanism, that your body had begun to react to pain the same way it did pleasure. It was the only explanation you could bear to endure. Because if you admitted you’d begun to like the way Bucky fucked you and abused you…

“Ohhh, listen to this one,” Bucky crooned excitedly, drawing you out of your thoughts and giving you a distraction from the way he was working your body toward its undoing. “‘Happy anniversary to the Winter Soldier and his Winter Slut!’”

The names were, of course, fake ones that Bucky had chosen to give the audience of your streams something to call you both. His was based on his past as a sergent, combined with the season when he’d taken you captive, while yours showed his ownership over you.

You hated it. You didn’t want anyone thinking Bucky owned you.

But Bucky either didn’t notice or ignored the way you grimaced when he read the fake names aloud. He turned his eyes, filled with cheerful wickedness, toward the camera.

“Has it been a year already?”

The question was full of charm, and you could almost imagine it coming from the Bucky you’d originally met. The one who might’ve celebrated your one-year anniversary with a recreation of your first date, ending with a heartfelt proposal that the two of you move in together.

Instead, the question hadn’t even been asked to you, but to the camera—to the audience of loyal, degenerate perverts who watched your streams.

The quick, successive chimes from the laptop drew Bucky’s attention back to it, and he hummed in acknowledgement as he read through the messages.

His fingers squeezed around your throat, making you choke harder for the camera, adding to the small sounds of anguish that were slipping from your lips while he kept up his merciless grinding, his cock bruising your cervix.

A new sound, one like a cash register, joined the dinging chimes of the chat message and your heart sank.

That was the sound of people in the chat sending extra tips on top of the subscription fees they paid to get access to your streaming channel. It meant they were making requests for Bucky to do something new—and that never resulted in anything good for you.

Before you could glance at the laptop to try to get an idea of what was coming, Bucky sat back on his haunches, hauling you up with his hand around your throat. Between gravity and the change in position, it felt like Bucky’s cock pushed even deeper into your cunt, pressing against your cervix so hard it stole the breath from your lungs.

“It’s the one year anniversary of your very first stream, doll,” Bucky announced gleefully in your ear, using his free hand to slap at your tits. They were bound between two strings of the Christmas lights wrapped around your body, your soft tits highlighted by the shining, multicolored hues. “Do you have anything to say to our audience, my little Winter Slut?”

It was clear Bucky wanted you to thank them for their loyal viewership, but resentment held your tongue. Memories assaulted you of the very first stream you’d been forced to do.

Bucky had pinned you down on that very same bed, using nothing but his strong hands and large body to pin you to the mattress while he tore your cheap lingerie off your body. Then he’d ravaged you, slapping and groping your tits before biting them so hard you’d started crying.

It had been the only foreplay he’d offered you before he’d shoved his cock deep in your cunt. He was so big and your body was so unprepared that you’d screamed, which only made Bucky laugh. He’d told you, mockingly, that there wasn’t anyone around to hear you scream—only the audience on the dark web where he was streaming your defilement for who knew how many people who were just as vile as Bucky.

Bucky’s fingers digging deep into the sides of your neck brought you back to the present moment, small gasps falling from your lips as he cut off your air again. Your pulse pounded in your head, but you still managed to notice that Frank Sinatra’s “Silent Night” had given way to another Christmas song, the festive music so at odds with the dread and fear pooling in your belly.

“I guess my Winter Slut is feeling ungrateful today, chat,” Bucky said on a laugh.

His tone was mocking in a way that sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you refused to believe it might be anticipation. Your body quaked when his soft mouth brushed against your cheek, the gesture almost like a kiss as he turned his head so he could murmur in your ear.

“Our audience wants to see something special for our anniversary, doll,” he cooed. “They want to see me break you.”

Unease and something else flooded your veins, the conflicting emotions warring for dominance as you struggled to make sense of the way your cunt had clenched around Bucky’s cock when he’d said he was going to break you. You pressed your mouth into a grim line, still determined not to show your reaction to Bucky or the camera, especially when you didn’t understand what was happening to you.

In the year that you’d spent as Bucky’s personal cam star, you’d endured a lot—and if anyone had asked you, you’d have said you hadn’t enjoyed any of it. But over time, that had begun to change. You’d been fighting it, fighting your body’s responses to Bucky and every depraved thing he did to you. It was becoming so hard, and you were growing so tired of fighting, of pretending…

“I have just the thing—but first, let’s fill this slut’s mouth,” Bucky was telling the camera, and you forced yourself to focus back on the moment to prepare yourself.

Bucky shifted to the side, grabbing something from the basket of sex toys he kept next to the bed during streams. When you saw what he pulled out, you bit your lip against a helpless whimper.

He’d pulled out a penis gag, but it wasn’t just any normal penis gag—it was one he’d specially ordered for you. Instead of having a two or three inch dick attached to the strip of leather that would tie around your head, there was a full-sized dildo replica of Bucky’s cock. His big, thick cock.

You tried to keep your mouth closed when Bucky pressed the tip of the silicone cock to your lips, but he only tutted at you with a patronizing click of his tongue. Shifting his fingers from your throat to your cheeks, he dug them in until it hurt. Your jaw gave way.

“That’s a good little cock slut, open for your Winter Soldier,” he cooed patronizingly, shoving the fake dick into your mouth without preparation or remorse.

You gagged as the stiff dildo invaded your throat, tears beginning to flow from your eyes and spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth. Your arms yanked against the Christmas lights holding you bound, but that only forced them to dig deeper into your skin, making your struggle hurt that much more.

While you were distracted by trying to adjust to the silicone cock shoved deep inside you, Bucky secured the leather strap around the back of your head, tying it into place and making it impossible for you to do anything but hold the dildo in your mouth and breathe through the way it bulged in your throat.

Then Bucky was dumping you unceremoniously on the mattress and pulling his cock from your cunt, leaving you to fall face first into the blankets while he hopped up off the bed. You were thankful you could muffle your whimper at the loss of him in the sheets, even as you knew that whatever he had planned would be so much worse than him just fucking you while tied up and gagged.

“I was going to save this one for Christmas,” he was saying from behind a privacy screen beside the bed. It was set up to make sure the camera would only show viewers what Bucky wanted them to see—which was you, and everything he did to you. “But since it’s a special occasion, I’ll let you have your present early.”

When Bucky stepped back into view, your heart nearly stopped.

A leather harness was strapped onto Bucky’s hips, a dildo attached so it hung below his cock. The contraption, which had clearly been specially ordered because you’d never seen anything like it, wasn’t what shocked you, though—it was the size of the dildo.

The fake dick was easily twice the size of Bucky’s cock, bigger around and just as long. Staring at it with wide eyes, you genuinely didn’t think it would fit in any of your holes, no matter how roughly Bucky tried to stuff it in. But your cunt was between your thighs like it couldn’t wait for him to try.

Despite your dedication not to give Bucky or the audience any kind of reaction, you couldn’t help the, “No, no, no, no, no,” that came from your mouth. You couldn’t fathom the massive dildo fitting inside you, let alone you enjoying it, no matter how much your body warmed at the prospect of being fucked with it.

Your protests were muffled by the gag in your mouth, to the point that your words were indiscernible, but their meaning must’ve been understood because Bucky chuckled as he walked back to you.

“I know what you’re thinking, doll,” Bucky said conversationally while he climbed onto the bed and retook his place behind you. “There’s no way it’ll fit.”

He grabbed the knotted string of Christmas lights where they crisscrossed between your shoulder blades, pulling your torso up off the bed so your face was level with the camera. You tried not to look at your reflection in the lens, your mouth split open around the dildo in your mouth and your eyes round as saucers, but it was hard not to stare at the look in your eye—the look of something like fear… or excitement.

“But that’s what’s so fun about it,” Bucky went on, dragging the hard length of the silicone dick through your dripping wet folds, coating the fake cock in the mess of wetness your body was leaking against your will. “It will fit—and it’s going to ruin your cunt.”

Once upon a time, you’d thought the same thing about Bucky’s cock.

The first time you’d had sex with Bucky—before the cabin and the basement and the camera—you’d taken one look at his cock and whimpered in fear. But he’d been so gentle, promising you that he’d take it slow, that your pussy was made to fit his cock.

He’d taken his time, kissing your lips and cheeks and all over your face while he worked his cock into your pussy, giving you another inch only when you’d adjusted to the last and relaxed in his arms. Slowly, and with what seemed like an endless amount of patience, he’d opened you up for him.

That night, he’d made love to you in deep, toe-curling strokes that had wrecked you. He’d seemingly rearranged your body to be the perfect fit for his cock, and then he’d given you the best orgasm of your life.

No wonder you hadn’t stood a chance.

More than a year later, the memory felt like a dream. It was so faded around the edges, aged by the months spent taking Bucky’s cock roughly, furiously, whenever and wherever he wanted, all while he streamed your debasement for the audience on the dark web.

“You’re going to be so loose that you won’t even feel my cock anymore, doll,” Bucky was saying as he dragged you back to the moment by thrusting his own hard length into your cunt, soaking himself in your juices. “You’ll have to beg me to fuck you with this massive dildo just to feel anything again.” He paused, chuckling to himself as he bent over you, pressing a kiss to your spine between your shoulder blades before murmuring darkly, “That’s your Christmas present this year.”

Then, without anymore preamble, Bucky sat up and pulled out. You didn’t even have time to beg or whine before he lined his cock and the dildo up at the entrances to your tight holes, then shoved both into you at the same time. Bucky buried himself inside you so deeply, so thoroughly, that it felt like he was pushing into the very core of your being, conquering your soul just as completely as he’d conquered your body.

The intrusion was so sudden, you never had a hope of preparing, and all you felt was the devastating sting of being stretched past your limit, the overwhelming ache of being stuffed full beyond what you thought your body could ever take.

Pain eclipsed any semblance of pleasure you might’ve gotten from having both your holes stuffed full, and your eyes rolled back in your head, a piercing cry tearing from your throat. A white hot burn scorched through your body, and your mind went entirely blank, leaving nothing but depraved annihilation in its wake.

“Oh fuck, fellas, she’s so fucking tight like this,” Bucky groaned, talking over your head into the camera. “I can feel the fake cock splitting her open—it’s making her ass so fucking tight.”

Humiliation and shame swept through your body at his words, turning the burn into something slightly more bearable, almost pleasurable. There was something about being ignored, being treated like nothing more than a fleshlight or a fuck doll while Bucky completely decimated your body that was so…

You shook your head. No. You weren’t going to finish that thought.

“Fuck, I don’t know how long ‘m gonna last,” Bucky was grumbling, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your audience.

The words should’ve sounded like music to your ears. You should’ve been happy the torture was almost over. Instead, you felt a pang of disappointment deep in your heart. But you didn’t have time to unpack what that could mean because then Bucky started fucking you.

His hips pulled back until only the tip of his cock and the dildo were still in your ass and pussy, then he plowed forward, shunting his entire length and the fat, massive fake cock into your holes once again. The pain of being split open was already starting to fade, an all-consuming pleasure creeping into the edges of your awareness against your will.

On Bucky’s third thrust, you moaned.

Your mind was hazy with a mixture of pain and pleasure that was leaning more toward the latter, and with the cock gag in your mouth, you were helpless against the reactions Bucky was wringing from your body. The sound of pleasure slipped from your lips unbidden, and your face heated in shame, which only served to add more fuel to the fire burning through your body.

“Did ya hear that, chat?” Bucky crowed, slapping your ass painfully hard—hard enough that another muffled cry was wrenched from your mouth. “Our little Winter Slut is enjoying her Christmas present! She loves getting her cunt ruined, don’t ya, doll?”

He slammed deep into your body as he asked the question and you were powerless, incapable of doing anything but moaning obscenely for the camera, tears streaming down your cheeks and joining the spit that coated the lower half of your face. Long strings of drool and tears were hanging from your chin, dripping onto the bedsheets below.

Distantly, you heard the chimes from the chat log and the cash register sounds as messages and money poured in. They were coming so fast and so furious that you couldn’t even begin to fathom how much money you were making for Bucky while he broke you with his cocks.

Bucky must’ve heard the sounds too, because he doubled his efforts. He picked up the pace of his thrusts, fucking you hard and fast, spanking your ass mercilessly while his other hand still held you up off the bed by your Christmas light restraints. It meant that your face was framed perfectly in the camera frame.

It occurred to you that you should let your gaze drift off, let your mind retreat somewhere deep inside itself where you could hide from Bucky and what he was doing to your body. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the camera’s display panel.

There, you could see the scene Bucky had constructed—your body tied up in glittering, technicolor Christmas lights; your face covered in tears and drool, lips spread thin around the base of the cock gag; your throat bulging from the fake dick buried deep in your mouth; your tits bouncing between the strands of lights.

Behind you, with a look of deeply depraved joy on his face, was Bucky Barnes.

He was naked save for the harness belted around his hips and the santa hat on his head. His big body was on display just as much as yours, his broad chest swathed in pale skin and chiseled muscles, his arms bulging as he held you up and spanked your ass.

Bucky’s dark hair was falling into his handsome face, but the strands didn’t hide the merry grin on his lips or the way his blue eyes glittered with wicked delight as he stared down at the place where his cock and the massive dildo were brutally fucking your holes.

It was too much to watch your defilement. It was too depraved and too…hot.

God help you, but something must’ve finally broken inside you because it was so fucking hot to watch yourself be violated on camera while jaunty Christmas music played in the background and hundreds, if not thousands, of perverts watched Bucky have his way with you.

Your pussy spasmed and clenched around the fake cock in your hole as you thought about those people watching you. It turned you on that the audience knew Bucky was fucking you against your will and not only were they doing nothing about it, they were taking their own pleasure from watching you be ravaged. Your cunt drooled even more.

Bucky Barnes had officially broken you.

That was the only conclusion you could reach, because when you’d met him more than a year ago, you never would’ve imagined that your pussy would be creaming all over a fat, girthy dildo while Bucky fucked your ass and held you tied up with Christmas lights for anyone on the dark web to watch.

But after a year of being fucked hard in every one of your holes, Bucky had finally broken you down until you’d joined him on his level. He’d torn away every ounce of shame, every bit of what had made you you, and remade you in the image of his perfect toy. You were a doll, his doll, just like he called you.

The realization filled you with a sense of peace you never would’ve expected, your body relaxing as your mind went blissfully blank. It was easier this way, you told yourself, as you breathed a sigh of relief. All that was left of you was Bucky Barnes’ perfect doll—his Winter Slut cam star.

Bucky must’ve felt or somehow sensed your submission because he groaned a filthy sound of pleasure and shoved his hips flush against your ass. He paused for a moment, his hand groping your ass possessively before pulling back and ramming home again, burying himself even deeper inside you, the massive dildo bullying your cervix as he pounded into you.

“That’s my girl, take your Winter Soldier’s cock like a good little fuck doll,” Bucky purred, his voice taking on a tenor of contentment you’d never heard before. It was like he was praising you for your submission, for finally giving yourself over to him, mind, body and soul. “You’re being such a perfect Winter Slut, taking me so good and crying so pretty for the camera.”

You preened under his praise, using what little strength remained in your body to shove your hips back onto Bucky’s cocks, fake and real alike, while you sucked enthusiastically on the fake dick in your mouth. Tears flowed harder from your eyes and you sobbed your pleasure, choked sounds of enjoyment falling from your lips.

You could feel the most devastating orgasm of your life building in the core of your being, and you were eager to chase it, knowing it would rewrite the fundamental fabric of your self.

“Fuck yeah, doll, be my perfect little cam star,” Bucky rumbled, slapping your ass in encouragement, the sting of pain swirling with the pleasure he was wringing from your body and adding to the burning bliss scorching through you. “Show the chat how good my Winter Slut can cry for their money—show them how much you love feeling me ruin your holes for Christmas.”

Bucky rutted into you, pounding into your cunt and ass so hard that the clapping of his hips against your skin was filling the basement and almost drowning out the new Christmas song that had begun. It felt so good, so fucking good to be fucked and filled in every hole, that you were close—so close you could nearly taste it.

“Fucking take it, Winter Slut, take the only cock you’ll ever feel again,” Bucky growled, curling around your body and taking your throat in his hand. He squeezed tightly, grinding his cock and dildo into your body, so deep, you could feel them in your guts. “For the rest of your life, you’re gonna do nothing but take my cock and be my pretty little cam star—you’re all fucking mine.”

Something snapped inside you and you felt liquid gush between your thighs, coating the massive fake cock in your cunt. Your squirt sprayed down to soak the sheets beneath you, and all you could do was revel in the pleasure flooding your body, every limb trembling with the force of it while you gasped and cried around Bucky’s hold on your throat.

When he realized what you’d done, Bucky whooped with triumph, crowing into the camera that he’d made you squirt, that you were his perfect little fuck doll cam star. But you were too consumed by your oncoming release, which was barreling toward you with the force of a freight train.

Before it finally hit you, and you came so hard your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you passed out, Bucky wrapped himself more tightly around your body, his chest pressing into your back and his arms wrapping around your front. He choked you with one big hand while the other groped and played roughly with your tits.

To your surprise, he brushed a kiss to your cheek in a gesture that felt affectionate.

“You’re making me so fucking proud, doll,” he cooed in your ear, and you thought, for a moment, that he sounded just like the sweet Bucky Barnes you’d met all those months ago. “You’re the best Christmas present I ever could’ve asked for.”

Just then, your release slammed into you and you screamed—and there wasn’t anyone around to hear you except Bucky and his camera.

Overwhelming pleasure washed through you, darkness creeping into the edges of your consciousness as your body convulsed and you choked on the dildo in your throat while your other holes clenched around the cocks that had split you open beyond your limit.

The last thing you heard before the weight of your release dragged you under was the festive synth pop chords of another Christmas song, and Wham! singing, “This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special.”

Somewhere inside you, you knew that everything was going to change once you woke up. Bucky had finally broken you, and you’d given him your ultimate submission. Nothing would be the same, but you found that that didn’t scare you as much as it once might have.

You belonged to Bucky Barnes and you’d finally accepted that as fact. He’d taken everything else, but you still had your heart left to give—and you were certain it wouldn’t be long before you gave him that too. Maybe, at least, it would save you from tears…

As you came so hard you passed out, you accepted that your thoughts, your pleasure, your mind, your body, your soul—your everything—belonged to Bucky Barnes. Then, everything went black.

december daze challenge masterlist

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hayatoseyepatch · 4 months ago

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Description: You couldn't believe your misfortune. Once more, you found yourself tethered to Sylus, stuck in a closet with no choice but to stay hidden so you both wouldn't be discovered. But this time around, it seems Sylus has every intention of making sure you have a hard time remaining quiet enough not to be caught. Character: Sylus (Love & Deepspace) Word Count: 2.1k Contains: Sylus x Fem!Reader. SMUT. Forced proximity, penetrative sex, semi-public sex (kinda?), trying not to get caught, dirty talk, praise, degradation, Sylus being Sylus.

Authour's Note: So I just realized it's been almost an entire month since I've published an actual fic, 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖕 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖕. Hi y'all thanks for sticking around and being patient with me! Between kinktober prepping and working on my matchup event (thanks for being patient I'm getting those out asap) I've been SWAMPED. This is based off the "Immobilized" memory, I couldn't stop thinking about this ever since I pulled it so here we are.. This is my first Love & Deepspace fic, so please be gentle with me, if there's anything I can improve please let me know! I just started playing and I'm already hooked (its so bad save me). Anyways I hope you enjoy!

The enclosed space in the closet is cramped, you and Sylus were chest to chest, both trying to remain quiet as to not be caught. You couldn’t believe you had been so foolish as to forget another one of your belongings in this room. The bond around your wrists still tethering you together, he smirked, a glint in his vermillion eyes as he leaned down. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear, you could feel his hot breath caress the sensitive skin as he speaks. “Careful, kitten, or I’m going to get the wrong idea and think you like being stuck in a cramped space with me.” He teases, that infuriating grin never leaving his lips. You reach your free hand over, shoving him harshly, which only serves to make him chuckle.

You peek through the slots in the closet door, the roommate you had for this event was just sitting down at the vanity in the room to get started on her hair and makeup. You exhaled, careful not to do so too loudly to alert her to the fact you were currently tethered to the leader of Onychinus. The mischievous glint in Sylus’ eye was impossible to ignore. He stood to full height, in two strides in the cramped space, he had your back pressed against the wall. His head ducking to the crook of your neck, his breaths fanning across your skin had your heart racing and breaths coming in unevenly. “What are you doing?” You whisper harshly to him, though your words are hardly threatening due to the way your voice shook from having him so close.

The only response you get is a soft ‘shh’ sound coming from his lips before his lips attach themselves to your neck. His mouth begins to leave open-mouthed kisses up the expanse of your neck, not stopping until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “Seems like we’ll be trapped here for a while, sweetie.” His whisper comes in between rasping breaths to your ear.

“Let’s see how quiet you can be while we ‘pass the time’, shall we?” His sentence was punctuated with a playful nip to the skin of your neck. His large hand grabbing the back of your thigh to wrap one leg around his hip. Any words you could attempt to formulate would be cut off by the following kiss he presses against your lips. The tension between you two over the last few weeks could be cut with a knife and Sylus couldn’t stand it any longer, he needed to have you. He was a man who seized opportunity, and he saw this as the perfect one to make you his.

You can’t help but melt into the kiss. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you never wondered what kissing Sylus would be like, as frustrated as it made you, you couldn’t help but think of him often. The striking red of his eyes, his broad shoulders, that deep rasp that his voice held making every word he spoke go straight to your- Your trailing thoughts were interrupted by a gasp, feeling him roll his hips into yours, feeling just how much the kiss was effecting him against your center. He pulls from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips for a moment before it snaps. Looking up you meet those vermillion orbs, he lifts a sculpted eyebrow, smirk returning to his features.

“Someone seems distracted. Something on your mind, sweetie?” His words are hushed as to not draw attention to the third party just outside the closet door. Suddenly your current predicament comes rushing back, alarm bells ringing in your head. “We shouldn’t, what if we get caught?” You look up at him, eyes laced with panic, to which he only chuckles under his breath.

“Well, then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then won't you, kitten?” He cuts you off once more with his lips, his tongue slipping past your parted lips with ease. His hand slipping up the smooth skin of your thigh, well past the fabric of your skirt. He relishes the sweet whimper he receives when the pads of his fingers come into contact with the damp fabric of your panties. His next words coming murmured against your lips. “But of course we can always stop if that’s what you want.” He goes to pull from you, grinning when your lips chase his as he attempts to separate.

“Though if we’re going by the state of your panties, darling, I’d say you want this as much as I do.” He coos, pushing the fabric to the side. He tsks as he collects your wetness on the pads of his fingers, using it as aid to glide his fingers against the sensitive nub of your clit. “So wet, is this all for me, little bird?”

Your fingers grip the fabric of his sweater, so lost in the feeling of him you don’t notice the bind connecting your wrists had vanished. His fingers begin rubbing lazy circles against your sensitive spot, lips returning to your neck. “I couldn’t hear you, kitten, who made you this wet?” He grins as you grip him harder, nails pinching his skin through the fabric. Your words are unsteady and hushed, trying your best to remain concealed.

“Yes, Sylus, I’m this wet for you.” His grin is palpable, guiding his fingers to your entrance. Rewarding your compliance with a finger sliding past the velvety walls of your cunt. “That’s my girl.” Without hesitation, he slips a second finger inside you, groaning lowly at how your walls contracted around his fingers. Just feeling how tight you were has his eyes rolling back in his head. He works you over with his fingers, digits scissoring inside you to offer some preparation of what's to come. He works you over on his fingers, pumping them in and out of your tight heat.

“I don’t know, baby, I think if anything’s gonna get us caught, I think it just might be this cute little cunt.” He chuckles softly as you slap his shoulder in protest. “It’s not my fault she’s being so vocal for me, do you hear her?”

His words have heat rising to your cheeks as he speaks. He curls his digits, pads of his fingers expertly hit the spongy spot within your walls that has your eyes seeing while. Bundling his shirt in your fists, lunging forward to sink your teeth into the skin of his neck to muffle your moans as you shake against him. Walls spasming around his fingers as you come undone on his fingers. He hisses upon the impact of your bite but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. He barely allows you time to recuperate, maintaining eye contact as he slips his fingers from your cunt and past his lips, tasting you on his digits and groaning low in his throat.

“Absolutely delicious sweetie.” He purrs, lifting your thighs to wrap around his waist. Supporting your weight with one hand that grips the plush skin of your ass. In one swift movement, he has his pants unzipped, pulling his hardened member from his boxers. Hand holding the base to position himself at your entrance. “Need to hear you, kitten. Tell me how much you want me inside you.”

Your eyes look up into his own, holding onto him as you're pressed between him and the wall. Chewing on your bottom lip, whimpering as he uses your slick as leverage to tease your clit with the mushroom tip of his cock. Unable to take his teasing any longer, you comply, not recognizing your own voice from the need lacing your tone. “Please, Sylus, I need you. Need you to fill me up with your cock, want to feel you splitting me open, please.”

Your words send a shiver up his spine, wishing only that he could hear you whisper to him so sweetly on repeat. “Now how could I deny my little bird when she begs me so sweetly?” He grins slipping past the tight ring of your entrance, silencing your sounds with his mouth. Tongues and teeth clashing from the intensity of the kiss both of you being consumed by your need for one another. He spurs on, continuing to sink inch by inch before bottoming out. He lets out a shaky breath against your lips, pulling away just far enough to check that you were okay. The half-lidded expression you send him has his cock throbbing, your eyes begging him to move. The both of you catch the sound of the door shutting outside the closet door, the tell tale sign that you both no longer needed to be quiet. “Fuck, finally, need to hear you kitten. Don’t you dare fucking muffle a single sound, you hear me?” He groans into the skin of your neck.

His hips start to move, setting a brutal pace from the start. Every moan, whimper, and call of his name that slips past your lips goes straight to his cock. The sounds only spurred him to continue slamming his cock against your gummy walls. Leaning forward as he began rolling his hips against your own, pressing another desperate kiss against your lips. He pulls from you after a moment, using his thumb and finger to open your mouth and spitting directly between your now-parted lips. Watching with hunger as he watches your throat contract as you swallow.

“Gods kitten, so goddamn pretty.” He grunted out throwing his head back, his hands coming to the backs of your thighs, using them as anchors to pull you down on his cock. The feeling has a deep groan slipping past his lips, his eyes rolling back in his head from the intense pleasure. “Fuck sweetie, so fucking tight. Gonna have you molded to my shape by the time I’m done with you.”

His words have you shivering, eyes hazy with pleasured tears glassing over your vision. Feeling your end approaching, needing desperately for him to push you both over the ledge. “Please Sylus, fuck me harder. Fuck, please, Sy can't take it, please.” Your words ignite a fire in him, hand coming to the small of your back pushing you down just a bit further angling your hips for a better angle.

“Oh? is that really what you want kitten? Want me to breed this pretty little pussy? Have you walk out of here and back to base with my cum dripping down your thighs? Want me to fuck you harder, is that so?” he questions, a satisfied grin on his face, but unable to deny the effect your words had on him. “Well your wish is my command, sweetie, begging me so prettily. Oh so proud of you, that’s my girl.” He grips your hips, slamming them against your own the sounds of skin slapping echoing in the room. “Fuck daddy, please, fuck please” You beg, hearing the pathetic need in your own voice. Your eyes roll back, hearing your own wetness now, coil inside tightening at a rapid rate aching to snap.

Sylus felt his own coil reaching its end. He knew that it was bound to break and crumble, much faster than it usually did from the sheer tightness of your gummy walls. Whimpers started falling from his mouth as he heard your calling to him begging for your own sweet release. His thrusts became sloppy, desperate, as he urged you both to tumble over the edge.

“Go on kitten, give it to me, you can let go.” He whispered in your ear, making sure that you released before he finished the chase for his own high. Reaching between your legs rubbing your clit in small tight circles, feeling you tighten around him as he shivered a bit. Your cries and begs were like music to his ears. Unable to help it, your hips rolling against the attention to your clit. Hand gripping him by the back of his neck to pull him into a heated kiss, moans spilling into his mouth. One last harsh thrust has your coil snapping, crying into his mouth as your walls clamp down on his cock. Sylus groaned, biting down on your shoulder, sure he would leave a mark in his wake. Falling over the edge himself. A low groan and a cry of your name falling from his lips. His hips slowed as he allowed you both to come down from your highs, holding you close to him. Pressing his forehead against your own as he stilled his hips.

“So beautiful sweetie, did so fucking good for me. Let's get you home, kitten. Get you nice and cleaned up where you can rest.” Sylus never imagined this being the situation where you both would find yourselves in each other’s arms. But he would be the last to complain, so long as he was finally able to call you his, he couldn’t ask for more.

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @adornedwithlight. Writing & character banners by me. Special thanks to @staraxiaa & @ambiguouslady42 for beta reading for me you guys are the best! Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

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tpwk-formula1 · 4 months ago

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hi! I have a request for your pizzeria (hope it's not too big I couldn't make up my mind). So, I'd like my pizza served by Sebastian Vettel and the order is: deep dish with red sauce and for toppings onions, cilantro, parmesan cheese, gouda cheese and prosciuto. My drink of choice is vodka redbull and I'd love some dessert. I love your fics btw and no pressure to write this 🫶

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

deep dish teammates to lovers red sauce rough sex onion "I saw you being a little slut" cilantro "Stop crying and fucking take it" parmesan cheese "Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again" gouda cheese “Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl” prosciutto "I love making this pretty pussy squirt" vodka redbull squirting dessert yes served by Sebastian Vettel

Sebastian x AM teammate! reader

TW - AGE GAP, squirting, rough sex, spanking, multiple orgasms, doggy position, 18+

WC 1100+

AN: I was so excited to receive this request! I love and am so thankful for each request I receive but when I saw this one... pussy=throbbing :) sorry if that was tmi but I just had to say I was HAPPY to see the pure rough and desperate side of Seb! Anyway hope y'all love it as much as I loved writing this!

Y/N POV

"What are you doing," I hiss to Sebastian as he continues to drag me through the busy club.

"I saw you being a little slut. You didn't think I wouldn't notice you talking to the papaya boy?" Seb says clearly referring to me talking to Lando.

"Are you fucking serious," I snap while yanking my arm away from Seb's tight grip making him turn to face me making sure we were standing face to face.

"You're telling me you're worried about the fucking McLaren driver?" I question him clearly getting just as pissed as Sebastian.

"I wasn't the one who was all up on him. Rubbing his arms telling 'oh Lando you're time will come!' Like stop stroking the kid's fucking ego just so you can stroke his cock," Seb snapped back grabbing my arm again and leading us out of the club. I knew we had made a scene and I knew we would have some awkward questions to answer for the media at the next race but for now, I let Seb drive us back to the hotel.

"You're ridiculous you know that," I tell Seb when I feel his grip tighten on my thigh.

"I'm ridiculous? You're the one who was riding my cock this morning tell me how I do it better than anyone and then night comes you're warming up to Lando, for what? So you can go back with him? You think he can fuck you even half as good as me," Seb says clearly getting more mad the more he talks because the grip on my thigh keeps getting tighter before he snaps and sends a hard slap down making me whimper and jump slightly.

"I wasn't gonna go back with him," I told Sebastian sheepishly knowing it didn't matter what I said to him right now.

"When we get inside my room I want you to strip down into nothing, and lay on the bed," Seb tells me just before we pull up to the valet where he gives them his keys and grabs the little ticket before he takes us up to his room.

I waste no time in stripping down into nothing before climbing into the middle of the bed and getting as comfortable as possible. When Seb finally came into the bedroom part of his hotel room he was in nothing but his briefs clearly having striped in the little living room.

"Spread your legs," Seb tells me roughly making me part my thighs and wait for Seb's next move. When he climbs into bed he pulls me in for a rough kiss while also running his fingers through my soaked fold making me gasp into his mouth.

"You love being treated like a whore, you're fucking soaked," Seb groans against my lips making me whimper.

"Or is this all for Lando? Did Lando flash his flirty little smile and make your knees weak?" Seb questions clearly getting angry at his own words because he starts speeding up his fingers and applying hard pressure making me whimper.

"No sir! All for you Seb," I whimper out. I feel Seb slip a few fingers into my pussy making me whine at the rough attack on my pussy.

"You're gonna fucking cum all over my fingers," Seb says while roughly rubbing my clit and making sure to keep the pace up.

"Seb!" I scream when I feel my orgasm hit making me start cumming all over the place. My pleasure was squirting all over the place soaking the bed.

"I love making this pretty pussy squirt," Seb says while still fucking into my pussy with his fingers making me cry out in overstimulation.

"Stop crying and fucking take it," Seb says making it clear that I was gonna cum again for him.

"Too much," I cry again trying to pull my hips away from the brutal attack but Seb is having none of it because he roughly grips my hips to hold me still while still fucking his finger bringing me over the edge into another squirting orgasm making me scream out again.

"Fuck, you love to soak my bed," Seb says while pulling his fingers out finally but he quickly shoves them into my mouth and makes me clean them with my tongue.

Seb roughly flips me onto my stomach and pulls me onto my hands and knees before he starts slapping my ass turning me into a whimpering mess under him.

"Seb! Hurts," I cry out while trying to pull away from his rough hands but he just holds me in place and continues to spank my ass red.

"Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again," Seb roughly tells me before sending another rain of spanks down on my ass making sure I will feel it tomorrow.

"Fuck, I love to watch this ass grow red," Seb groans while he continues to spank me.

"Too much," I whimper out through a strangled breath. Finally, Seb stops spanking me but I can tell he's yanking his briefs down before roughly shoving his cock into my pussy.

"Fuck," I gasp when Seb is fully seated in my pussy making the stretch all the more overwhelming.

When Seb starts rocking his hips I'm already a moaning mess in the palm of his hands making him speed his thrusts up just slightly.

"More, please," I beg making Seb's thrust speed up. "Fuck" I moan loudly while pushing my hips back trying to gain more pleasure.

Seb's pace picks up even more making me scream out from how hard he was fucking into me.

"Too much Sebastian! Slow down," I shout to Seb when he keeps letting his thrusts get harder and more rough.

“Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl,” Seb says roughly while sending another slap on my ass.

"I'm cumming," I scream when I feel my orgasm hit without any warning making me clench around Seb's cock making him speed up his thrusts before he starts cumming deep into my pussy and filling me up with his hot cum.

"Fuck!" I moan out as I start coming down from my orgasm.

"Fuck, you always take me so well," Seb tells me while pulling me down to his chest so I can relax in his embrace.

"Well, I have zero interest in Lando, I will go on a date with him if you fuck me like this after," I tell Seb making him groan and pinch my hip roughly.

"Still can't believe you're threatened by a 22 year old," I tease making Seb laugh lightly.

"You do realize you are also a 22 year old so there's a reason I get threatened. I'm retiring this year and you're a rookie," Seb points out making me shrug.

"Just means you get to be my wag next year," I joke making Seb laugh but nod his head.

"You're mine. I don't want anyone else," I tell Seb softly making me smile and pull me in a bit tighter.

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onmykneesformatt · 5 months ago

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🍒cherry candy🍒 -m.s.

synopsis: one of your biggest insecurities is matt’s favorite thing in the entire world. so what happens when you go on a shopping spree?

warnings: SMUT, softdom!matt, fem!reader, no use of y/n, semi-public sex, PRAISING OH MY LORDDDTT, unprotected p in v (safe sex is great sex, betta wear a latex), boob play for DAYS, mentions of body dysmorphia, i don’t think anything else???

a/n: this is a lil slow but i'm hoping y'all like it anyways >-<. y’all were HEAVY on the tittyguy!matt shit, so i decided to treat y’all and give y’all a fic😛🍒🌺 ENJOY SLUTS!!🍒🎀🌺

“let’s start at target! they have those billie eilish shirts for her newest album!”

you giggled like a little girl, practically skipping into the target while holding matt’s pinky.

“alright, your choice.” he smiled, happy that you’re finally getting out of the house more.

you’ve been staying inside for the past couple weeks.

he picked up on signs that it was about something someone might’ve said at your family reunion. he loved your body, and he thought anyone who didn’t was insane.

you admitted to him after the first week straight of not having sex or even being half-naked around him while getting dressed everyday.

“what’s up with you? you used to love putting on fashion shows every morning while changing, but you haven’t for, what? two weeks now? it’s so cute, and i love it. what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing.”

“it’s something.”

he stood up from the edge of the bed to stand in toe-to-toe with you, your back almost touching the closet door.

“uhm.. i-“

“you can tell me, pretty girl. i wont judge you.”

“mhm, okay. well, do you remember my dads side of the family?”

“oh, god.”

he scoffed, knowing what you were about to say.

“well, at the family reunion, they wouldn’t stop bringing up how i was looking ‘more exposed’ than a college girl should, and kept staring at my boobs. i didn’t take any of it to heart at first, but then my cousins started whispering to eachother. i mean, i get it, i might’ve gained some weight since the last reunion, but it still hurts. and i can only imagine how they felt seeing my thighs and stomach. i went swimming! they practically saw everything they needed to make fun of me!”

he grabbed your waist, pulling you into a hug against his chest while you caught your breath.

“baby. are you kidding? do you know how often i imagine myself between those thighs while i’m at meetings? how i love pressing on your stomach to push you closer against me when i’m behind you? and, oh my god. those boobs. i would lay on them all day if i could. have you ever noticed how when we’re laying down, my hands just ‘happen’ to move up to your chest? or when you’re.. y’know.. on top of me, i use them to relieve ‘stress’?”

he was helpful whenever it came to compliments. more than helpful.

“i know. but almost every girl in my family has the perky, slim look. i don’t think i’m overweight or anything, but compared to them i must look huge.”

matt shook his head at your comment, knowing that no matter what you wore, you looked like a goddess to him.

“you’re not, baby. you’re perfect.”

he backed up, having a cheesy grin on his face. the same face he makes when he’s about to say something funny but kind of corny.

“i mean, you’re like cherry candy to me.”

you giggled, wiping away the light tears on your face.

you felt safe again.

the morning after, you started doing your fashion shows again. matt smiled knowing he was able to bring you so much comfort, and also bring back your confidence.

”how about this?” you grabbed the light brown, one-piece bathing suit that had a sheer cover-up attached to it.

“you would look amazing in it. but, i thought you didn’t like one-pieces because of the way they felt on your skin?”

“i don’t,” you looked down, starting to fidget with the price tag. “but, i don’t know. there’s gonna be a lot of girls at this pool party.”

“so?” it slipped matt’s mind. again. he thought you were perfect, so he saw no issue with the way you looked.

“oh.” he remembered. the comments from your dads side of the family shouldn’t have stuck the way they did. he tried to keep his composure, trying not to imagine the way you must’ve acted after they would say things like that. he started to regret not going with you. it was only a few hours, but those few hours affected the next few weeks of your life.

“well, i think you should forget about what people might think. as bad as this may come off, you can’t change anything about your body. i mean, i love it. if you couldn’t tell.”

his hands landed on your waist, pulling you in.

“and, personally, you have the best body i’ve ever seen.” that meant a lot coming from a guy who’s friends with people like madison beer, nessa barrett, and multiple other attractive female influencers. not that you thought he would ever go for them, but he worshipped you. like, worshipped you.

“i love you so much, matt. you have no idea.”

“i love you more.”

~ after about 15 minutes of scouring through the target to find more bathing suits to try, especially two-pieces, you found the dressing room.

matt sat patiently on the bench right outside, waiting for you to walk out.

“uh, matt?”

“yeah, babe?”

“i don’t really wanna, y’know.. walk out there.”

“okay, that’s fine.”

his eyes widened slightly when he saw the opportunity approach.

“do you want me to.. go in there with you?”

you honestly thought nothing of it. i mean, he's your boyfriend. he's seen you naked like a thousand times.

"sure. maybe you can actually help me get this shit off."

you giggled, and he smirked at your offer.

you unlocked the dressing room door, hiding behind it as you cracked it open making sure no one could see you.

as you stepped out from behind the door, matt's jaw dropped at how the beautiful blue bikini hugged you in all the right places. all the right places.

"holy shit."

you accidentally covered your cleavage with your left hand nervously playing with your necklace, while the right rubbed your forehead.

"you think?"

without a word, he grabbed your left hand and threw it to your side. he was drooling at the sight of his favorite thing in the world.

your tits.

"i- uh.. just.. wow."

you blushed, covering your face with both hands.

"stop doing that."

he threw both of your arms down to your side with a stern look on his face.

"sorry, baby. do you.. maybe wanna help me change out of it?"

in an instant, he turned you around and quickly untied your top.

he slid the straps down your shoulders, admiring the soft skin.

his breath was heavy on your ear while he praised you and stared at your chest.

"god. what could i ever do without you? without these?"

his hands slid from your lower belly all the way up to your chest, playing with them like he needed it.

leaving hickeys all over your neck, he slowly turned you to face him. he tugged at the side of the bathing suit bottoms, signaling for you to take them off. after you did, he was quick to proving that you were everything and more.

"jump."

he had you pressed against the wall, your legs around his lower waist and arms slung over his shoulders. he started kissing in the crook of your neck until he reached your chest. he pecked anywhere he could reach, leaving behind little praises.

"i don't deserve you."

"i can't believe you're mine."

"you look more and more perfect every single day."

after about a minute, you both grew impatient.

he slipped his sweatpants and boxer down to his mid thigh. he kept heavy contact with your lips, making sure you knew just how much he craved your sweet taste.

he teased your entrance, slowly slipping his length into you. after adjusting to not only him but also the new position, he started going at a sweet and sultry but quick pace.

he somehow slipped a free hand, squeezing any amount of your tits that he could while kissing your neck. you fell into a high that left claw marks at his upper back, only motivating him more.

"you see how much i care about you? how perfect your- fuck.. your body really is? you had me folded from a bikini."

you giggled while still keeping your heavy breaths.

"try to stay quiet. don't need some rando knowing how great you really are. you're mine. you're my candy."

light groans and quiet sighs both escaped your mouths as you tried to keep from screaming each others names.

"i love you. i love what you give me. i don't deserve it. god- fuck.. i love you."

the coast was clear after walking out of the dressing room, both of you sweaty with slightly messy hair.

you walked to the register, smiling and holding matt's hand.

"just these, please."

"great choices, and i'm sure the boyfriend approves."

the cashier giggled while giving a look that made you blush knowing what just happened five minutes prior.

matt pulled you closer to him by your waist.

"trust me, i do."

HAHA YALL BETTER BE HAPPYYYYY

now time to move onto subnerd!matt which might be out by next week!!!

bye sluts!!🌺🍒

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #onmykneesformatt🌺

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grimespial · 6 months ago

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Husbands

Daryl Dixon x Husband!Male Reader

I like to imagine Daryl eloping, mainly because he got the courage and because there's not exactly many people he would even want there

Merle sort of grew to accept you? More like he just makes little comments that didn't seem in "bad" faith, he's grown a bit atleast.

As much as you didn't like the groups Merle was in cahoots with, and all the trouble he got in, but you helped Daryl clean up after him.

But then the apocalypse happened.

You obviously got out with the Dixon brothers, it would be a cold day in hell if you separated from him.

At the camp neither of you told the group you were married, and Daryl tended to keep PDA to a minimum anyways

The group couldn't tell what your relationship was, obviously Daryl and Merle were brothers but were you and Daryl just good friends?

It was something you teased Daryl about, how good friends you were, he always said it wasn't as funny as you found it but you saw his smile.

It took a while before someone figured it out, not even on purpose, Carol went to go ask if y'all wanted your clothes washed, and caught you holding Daryl against a tree

Needless to say, you couldn't face Carol for a while and Daryl took every chance to make comments about it.

It didn't help he had a hickey that reminded you everytime you saw it.

It was the CDC that most of the group guessed something was going on, you both could hold your drink but you couldn't hold the PDA back.

Daryl no longer had a name, it was only "My Husband", if anyone said Daryl you corrected them, most of the group assumed you were teasing him with how he kept going red and pushing you off him.

It was a nice takeback to before the outbreak, and people who were hungover (mostly Glenn, Daryl and you got him absolutely wasted for fun) forgot about it.

When the group finally knew the PDA was slightly increased, mostly just a chaste kiss and holding eachother

Daryl never realised how much he missed just holding you, he would never admit it to you, especially to anybody else.

It was everybodys favourite way to tease you both, especially Carol, asking Daryl 'how his husband felt', to 'ask his husband for permission'

There was never just one of you, y'all were a package deal, it was accepted before they even knew of your relationship

Daryl never got over being reffered to as 'Mr and Mr Dixon', yeah that's literally what your were but his cheeks always flushed.

When it came to resting it was easier next to you, when Beth died he couldn't sleep unless you were holding him

At first he "assured" you he was fine, he just wanted to take watch so that others could rest up, but then you gave him a choice between cuddling or you take watch with him

Daryl was hoping to just stay with you until you fell asleep and then go back on watch, but he practically passed out, being the last to wake up the next morning

He acted upset but he was grateful you managed to force him to get some sleep.

Hunts was the time you two spent to get some food, but also spend some alone time away from the groups eyes

It didn't exactly hide what you had done, nobody believed that Daryl's flushed face, messed up hair and hickey just barely hidden under his shirt was simply from a "hard hunt".

They'd pretend to save y'all the embarrassment, but that didn't stop them from making jokes about "how hard the hunt must've been" and how "Daryl will need some rest after that hard, rough hunt."

Carl didn't exactly understand most of the jokes but he found fun poking at Daryl.

As the group grew closer, becoming a family, Daryl became more comfortable with PDA, not completely, but he wasn't as reserved with kissing, no longer just restriced to a quick kiss that was barely a feather touch

He didn't have to worry that the group would send disgusted looks at him, they're family, they loved him.

You loved him.

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pboogerswbb · 13 days ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 2

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, slight sexual language Wordcount: 5.9K A/C: SURPRISEE we're back!! again, be prepared for a slow burn y'all, don't expect anything big anytime soon (sorry). anyway got lots of love for chapter 1 so ty for that and being so patient with me over christmas! hope you had a good time over the holidays aand again send me your thoughts on the chapter! NOW GO READDD

Before London

“After you ma’am.”

Trey presses his keycard against the reader on the door, pulling it open for me. I can already feel myself regretting leaving my hair down, the spring breeze not as gentle as I’d hoped, causing my black strands to fly all over my face. Hurrying inside, Trey follows after me into the corridor. The moment he shuts the door I miss the wind, the heat inside College Park Center stifling me.

“Is it always this hot?” I ask, already fanning myself, my chunky knitted sweater a horrible choice for the temperature.

“Holy shit, no,” The guy walking in front of me groans, opening another door at the end of the corridor and letting us into another room, lined with doors. I already knew I was bound to get lost here, the identical doors and hallways making it feel like a maze. A security guy walks by us, but Trey stops him, asking about the heat.

“Yeah man, AC is broken,” the guy complains. “Should be fixed tomorrow.”

Great, and for once I thought I could get away with wearing a sweater.

“Nothing works around here huh? Can’t wait to get out of this damn arena,” Trey says as we walk off, me following after him, my heels tapping against the floor echoing up and down the narrow hallway.

“When’s that gonna be? 2026 right?”

“Yeah,” Trey says, abruptly turning right into another almost identical hallway.

“Someone’s gonna have to draw me a map of this place,” I laugh, already feeling the sweat dripping down my back and breathing becoming laboured in the heat.

The man laughs, interrupted by the sound of balls bouncing off the floor faintly somewhere far away. “You’ll learn, your keycard should be coming next week.”

It was the first of what I already knew would be many times at College Park Center. Linda had sent us to come get some footage of the arena, simultaneously encouraging us to get some clips of Paige Bueckers’ first official practice.

I knew it was my first proper test. I had made a few posts here and there already in the past week but this was the first time it was just me, Trey and his camera. No script, no guidance. It was up to us to figure it out, and watching Linda closely in the past week she didn’t seem too impressed by Trey. So it was on my shoulders, like always. Which was fine by me, I was used to it. Being the one to carry the load - work, relationships, friends, you name it.

Finally the man beside me comes to a stop, unlocking the door beside us.

”This is for the media team. The players are around that corner closer to the court.”

I step into the small room, two leather couches in the corner, a couple desks lined up, a fridge and Dallas Wings merch and posters covering the walls. The lack of windows made the room feel tighter than it was, and the slight musty smell didn’t make my first impression more favourable.

”Welcome to our office,” Trey grins, reading my uncomfortable expression.

”It’s… cozy,” I say, not believing a word that spills from my lips. Trey laughs, hand wrapping around my shoulder. I still wasn’t used to how touchy people in Dallas seemed to be, or at least Trey, but it didn’t make me cringe and tense up anymore.

”You can also work anywhere else in the building,” he comforts me and I sigh in relief.

“Oh thank heavens,” I chuckle, pulling the knitted sweater off, leaving me in low waisted, white, flowy pants resting on my hips, and a silky leopard print top, with thin straps holding it up. If I was dressed this way for my previous job in London I surely would’ve been fired, but what I had found out in the past week was no one at the Wings cared to dress corporate, most younger workers dressing in sneakers and hoodies. I notice Trey watching me for a while, his gaze quickly averting when I catch his eye.

“Well,” I say sitting down on the desk, “Shall we throw some ideas around?”

It felt good to be back on the court. After my last season at Uconn I felt ready, focused, like I was on fire. What felt even better was Koclanes had made sure to make it clear for everyone - I’m a point guard, no reason I shouldn’t be running offense instead of the nonsense Geno had me doing last season.

Honestly, it was such a relief I had to fight back tears hearing it. All season I had fought to do what Geno wanted me to, I wanted to be the perfect player, to make him proud. I think in the end I had done so, but God it would’ve been so much easier if I just got to run the ball.

“P!” I hear Arike’s voice from behind me, somewhere on the left. Trying a no-look pass, I let the ball fly. Turning around I realise she's nowhere near where I thought she was. We had a lot of work to do, I knew this. But I missed my girls. I knew them better than anyone, knowing where they were each moment of the game, where I could easily find them. Now I had to start from scratch once again.

“My bad,” I laugh, wiping sweat off my forehead. Of course the AC had broken down the day of my first official practice in this hellhole. Instead of cancelling, we all agreed to take lots of breaks and we had all undressed to our sports bras and shorts. Still, the sweat is dripping down my neck and back, and my chest heaves fiercely.

“Paige, Arike, Tea, take a break before you get a heatstroke,” Chris yells from the sidelines. Gratefully, I jog to the seats and sit down, chugging water, Arike sitting right next to me. We both knew it would take a while for us to build that chemistry the team needed us to have. Thankfully, I really liked her already. Could’ve been worse I guess.

“P,” Arike mumbles breathlessly, elbowing me.

“Get your sweaty ass off me,” I jokingly complain, making the girl snicker to herself.

“Just look behind us,” Arike groans, nodding her head backwards. Turning my gaze, I nearly fall off my seat. About ten rows behind us, Zari is sitting cross-legged, her hair down not in the neat, tidy way as usual but unruly, soft waves falling over her shoulders. The curves of her breasts are visible all the way from here, left strand of the slinky top falling off her shoulder, forehead glistening with sweat. Even so, she makes me feel breathless.

It had been nearly a week since I last saw her, and I had spent that entire time convincing myself I was delusional - there was no way anyone could be as beautiful as I remembered her to be. Now watching her whispering with Trey, I realised it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Clearing my throat I turn back, shrugging, acting like it made no difference to me. I didn’t need the other girls to clock how much I’d been thinking about Zari. Which had been more that I’d like to admit.

“It’s your girlllll,” Arike giggles, finger poking my shoulder.

“Alright, enough,” I tell her, rolling my eyes. Before I can stop her, Rike is waving them over.

“Bro,” I scoff in a whispered voice, quickly rubbing the soft towel against my skin, wiping as much sweat off as I can. Great, here comes this perfect, poised, classy girl and I’m here sweating like a sinner in church, red in the face, half naked, hair falling out of my bun.

“Whatchu guys doing here this early?” Arike asks as Trey and Zari come up to the row of seats behind us. I’m still wiping the towel against my neck, giving an awkward smile to the pair.

“We’re here to play, clearly. Can you not tell by my fit?” Zari asks, her gravelly voice smooth like butter in my ears. My eyes roam her body, watching the way her midriff is exposed from how low waisted her pants are, her stomach slightly soft, light brown skin peeking out. Eyes travelling upwards my eyes take in her chest, and my mouth goes dry.

Arike kicks my ankle, and I realise everyone’s noticed my staring - no, my ogling. Face going bright red I rub my jaw, looking for any save. At least say something Paige.

“You look… nice,” I murmur, making Arike cover her mouth to hide her chuckling.

But instead of calling it out or embarrassing me more, Izara merely smiles and quickly brushes her fingers through the long, black ends of her hair.

“Thank you Paige.”

Paige. Paige. Suddenly, for a fleeting moment my name becomes my favourite word, the way it sounds from her lips making my heart race.

“Haven’t seen you around the building, neighbour,” she grins, her hand reaching to squeeze my shoulder. It’s sweaty. I know when she quickly pulls away.

“Sorry, I’m sweaty as hell,” I chuckle awkwardly.

She scoffs, easily waving it off with her hand. “Isn’t that your job anyway?”

I smile sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck, hoping she might notice the flex of my arm. God what was I doing? She was probably straight anyway. And I had promised to stay celibate. Besides I don’t think she likes me anyway, even as a friend. Are we even friends? Probably not, we’d talked like one time. I’d like to be her friend though, I think. Wait, everyone’s quiet. Fuck, what did she say.

“Uh, yeah?” I mumble, not sure what to say.

“It was a hypothetical question darling,” she giggles. “Does anyone have a towel please? I feel like I’m sweating too.”

Immediately I hand her the one on my shoulder, drenched with my sweat.

“Paige I’m pretty sure she wants a clean one,” Arike says, grabbing a fresh towel from underneath the bench.

“Oh right,” I murmur, laughing at myself. To my delight, the black haired girl laughs too.

“I mean I could get some good money selling that,” she chuckles, wiping the towel against her glistening neck.

“Yeah, her fans are something else,” Trey adds, and suddenly I’m reminded that he’s there too, my focus all on the girl standing behind me.

“Speaking of your fans, can we get you in for a clip later? Only for a moment, I promise,” Zari pleads, batting her eyes at me. There’s no universe in which I could say no.

“Sure, whatever you need.”

“I must tell you Izara, Jasper came over today. Brought back some of your things. He’s such a considerate young man, he had packed everything so nicely. Not a single plate was broken. Now I know I know, not that hard but men are a bit dim sometimes. I can’t even tell you how many plates your father would’ve broken if I ever let him pack any-”

“Muuuum,” I groan, her rambling about my ex-fiancee making my heartrate pick up quickly. I turn the phone away to roll my eyes out of sight from my mother on facetime.

“Anyways, he came over and Izara. That man looked so poorly, like he hadn't slept or eaten. I just feel so bad, he’s really upset Izara.”

“Mum,” I try to stop her but as always, she barely hears me.

“I just don’t understand why you ended things. He’s a good man. Good men are so hard to find Izara,” my mom preaches, the same words that I’d heard nearly daily since I informed my parents about our breakup. My brother had been more supportive, he’d never liked Jasper. At least there was someone in my family who saw him for what he really was from the get go.

“Mum, if we keep talking about this I’m going to end the call, please. I already told you that I don’t want to talk about it,” I finally assert myself, hearing my mother let out a frustrated huff.

“Fine. Fine! You do need to tell me one day though, because I don’t understand any of this nonsense of-”

Taking a deep breath I close my eyes, trying to swallow my frustration. I can’t. “Mum, I’m really tired. I’ll call you back tomorrow after work, okay. I gotta edit some posts anyway.”

With that I hang up, throwing my phone on the bed as I sit on the bedroom floor. Running my fingertips through my hair I lie down. Just for a moment. Then I’ll get back to work.

Chewing on my cheek I fight the tears threatening to spill over. I didn’t want to cry. No, I refused to. I just wish I could get my parents to shut up about it. I didn’t want to think about it anymore, of Jasper, of the hell I went through the past year.

As I take deep breaths to calm myself down, suddenly I notice a faint bitter, acrid smell. Abruptly getting up I search my apartment for something burning, checking everything I could think of until I realise it’s coming from the stairway. Putting on a pair of slippers and grabbing my keys I slip outside, walking around to find the source of the smell - until I end up behind Paige’s door.

Without thinking about it further, my hand firmly knocks three times on the door, other hand subconsciously brushing through my hair to flatten it, hoping I looked at least presentable.

I found the blonde interesting. Whenever I observed her, she seemed to have this insane confidence, this incredible skill to put people at ease, to get them to like her. It would’ve been so easy for Paige Bueckers to be just another entitled basketball star. However, she was anything but that. Yet, around me, she seemed to tense up for whatever reason. I had a feeling she didn’t like me at all.

When the door opens, Paige is standing there looking discombobulated, eyes widening further when she sees it’s me on her doorstep. The blonde is holding her nose, still just in a sports bra and grey sweats hanging low on her hips, boxers showing just the tiniest bit reminding me of how a teenage boy might dress. And I might’ve poked fun at it but something about it suited her, made her even more charming.

“Zari! Uh, hey,” she murmurs, holding her nose.

“Is that smell coming from yours?” I ask, the scent getting even stronger now. “I can smell it all the way in my apartment.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” she groans, cheeks turning a shade of pink. “I didn’t know microwave meals can burn.”

“Evidently,” I chuckle, glancing over Paige’s broad shoulders into the apartment. It was the same as mine, though looked to be bigger. The same white walls, cold and sleek and modern. Suddenly I hear her stomach rumbling, making Paige bring her hand to the bare skin there and letting out an awkward chuckle.

“Sorry,” she murmurs but I shake my head.

“You’ve got to stop apologising so much love,” I could feel all the nurturing bones in my body beginning to take over, as this poor, hungry, younger girl stands in front of me, in an apartment smelling like smoke. “Did you open all the windows?”

“Oh right, I should prolly do that,” Paige murmurs, looking back into the apartment, stomach rumbling again. I couldn’t help it, I felt pity towards the girl.

“I was just about to make dinner actually, do you want to come downstairs while you let your place air out?” I ask, inviting Paige over.

“Uh…” she mumbles and I can feel my stomach twisting in anxiety. Why would I be anxious? So what if she says no? I really didn’t want her to though for some reason, maybe I just needed a friend that bad.

“Ion wanna bother you if you got something to do,” Paige says, swinging back and forth on her feet.

“You’re not! I’m offering,” I insist.

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“Aight. Thank you.”

With that Paige grabs a navy Uconn hoodie, her keys and phone before we make our way down, her blue eyes watching me unlock my door. She steps into my apartment, looking around. Not that there was much to look at yet, the walls were blank and the basic furniture was sitting where it had been placed for me.

“I haven’t really decorated yet,” I murmur, following the blonde girl in.

“I can see that,” she chuckles, blue eyes roaming the space. I watch as she takes steps further, and can’t help but grimace at her shoes.

“Sorry, but could you take your shoes off please?” I ask carefully.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige obeys without thinking, kicking her sneakers off and placing them neatly next to the wall. The way she bends to my will quickly, so eager to please, makes my face burn up for some reason.

“So you’re hungry?” I ask, walking into the kitchen with the blonde following close behind.

“I’m starving, but you don’t need to be cookin’ for me, we could just order a lil something? Or go out?” She suggests, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

I wave her off, grabbing my big chalkboard which had every meal planned in advance, a column for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“No no no, I like to cook. Especially for other people, so really, you’re doing me a favour,” I insist, feeling her come up from behind me to peek over my shoulder at the board. My skin tingles as the heat of her body radiates off of her, the pounding of my heart not letting up. Must be the Dallas heat making me all loopy.

“You weren’t joking about being a planner huh?” She chuckles, her finger scanning over the text as she reads.

“I just like to be organised. I don’t see any harm in being prepared.”

For a moment she stands close behind me, reading. I can feel her breath on my bare shoulder, goosebumps spreading down my arm.

“Damn, you can cook all this stuff?” Paige asks, clearly impressed.

“Well, yes. I like to cook,” I chuckle, putting the board down and turning to the girl behind me. “I could teach you, if you’d like?”

“Who says Ion know how to cook,” she scoffs, our eyes locked in each other’s gaze. I realise this must be the longest she’s held eye contact with me yet. Not used to it, I look to the floor and shrug.

“The burnt smell coming from your apartment does,” I tease, opening the fridge next to the girl, everything neatly organised. “Now, what would you like to eat Paige?”

“Like this?”

“Oh, well, almost. Let me show you darling.”

Suddenly her hands are on mine, guiding the knife through the vegetables as she stands next to me.

“See, you don’t need to lift the knife, keep the tip on the board, got it?”

Honestly I barely take any of it in, my heart beating so loudly I was sure Zari could hear it. My skin tingles as her shoulder presses against my arm, my eyes locked on how our hands look together. Her brown skin makes mine look paler, the long nails on her slender fingers making mine look stronger, more masculine. To my dismay, Zari’s hand lifts off mine and she steps back as if suddenly aware of our closeness.

”Now why don’t you try for me?”

For her? I didn’t know her well at all, but everything about her had me wanting to do anything for her.

So I do as she says, doing my best to follow her advice, my brows furrowing in concentration. I watch as the knife cuts the pepper into pieces, uneven in size. I wasn’t very good at this cooking thing, I should probably consider getting a personal chef. Maybe I could hire Zari and have her cooking for me in a maid dress, or in lingerie. Okay no, I gotta focus.

”There you go, good job Paige,” Zari murmurs, watching closely, her hand coming up to rub my shoulder. ”You’re doing so good.”

I swallow, my throat bobbing. It’s almost embarrassing, the heat between my thighs when I hear her say those words, her praise making my mind spin, her touch leaving fire in its wake. God, I need to get a grip.

”Uh, do I add them to the salad?” I ask flustered.

”Yes! Let me check on the chicken,” Zari smiles, taking the food out of the oven. The smell is making my mouth water, why doesn’t chicken ever smell like that.

”Yo that smells so good,” I groan. ”What spices did you use?”

”A lot,” the girl laughs. ”I can write down the recipe for you?”

”O-okay,” I mumble. The time spent together had only turned me more tense, I was just hoping she couldn’t see it.

”Go into the living room love, I’ll make your plate. Would you like some wine?”

Before I can think, a yes slips through my lips, too discombobulated by the nickname. I didn’t even like wine.

Cussing to myself in my head, I walk into the living room, eyes roaming the identical furniture to mine. Except hers was neater, and the only decorations in the room a vase of white lilies on the coffee table and a colourful chart hung on the wall. Looking closer I realise it’s a fully colour-coded schedule, every minute planned in advance. Jesus this girl was wound up tight.

I plant myself on the couch, Izara soon bringing me a plate of quite possibly the most delicious looking chicken salad I’d ever seen and a glass of white wine. The dark haired girl sits in a black leather chair facing me.

“Oh my God,” I groan, my mouth full of food. It was delicious. Zari laughs, lifting her glass.

“Cheers.”

”Cheers,” I smile, grabbing the glass, trying to hide the scrunch in my face as I sip the white wine, the bitter taste filling my mouth.

Zari lets out a soft laugh, noticing my expression. ”You don’t like it?”

I shake my head, my eyes still closed. ”I hate wine,”

”Why didn’t you say something Paige? You don’t have to drink it, poor girl.”

I laugh at myself, placing the glass on the coffee table.

”I dunno man,” I rub the bridge of my nose.

There’s a moment of both of us chuckling filling the room till it goes quiet again. I recognise a sliver of unsureness on the other girl’s face, something I’d never seen before.

”Can I ask you something?” She asks, voice softer than I’m used to. I nod.

”Did it upset you when I didn’t recognise you that first time I saw you?”

Her bluntness shocks me. I put my fork down, shaking my head. ”No, not at all,” I reply.

She thinks for a while, putting the plate down on her lap and watching the floor. ”I’m just getting a sort of feeling that you don’t really like me much.”

I’m shocked, confused. Our eyes meet for a moment but surprisingly, she looks away. The way she says it seems lighthearted, casual, like we’re talking about the weather or something.

”Huh? No, not at all Zari,” I say urgently, chasing for her gaze. She meets my eyes, shrugging. From the outside she didn’t seem bothered at all by the possibility of me hating her, if it wasn’t for the way she was fiddling with her golden necklace.

”I don’t quite know how to explain it. You just seem a little uncomfortable around me.”

Okay. Apparently I hadn’t been as slick as I thought. In the midst of trying to hide the little innocent crush I had, I’d come off so cold and withdrawn now Zari thought I didn’t like her. Great.

I sigh, feeling a heat rise to my face. ”Shit Zari, I’m sorry,” I say, knowing there was no other way of explaining my behaviour.

”I’mma be honest, and don’t take this the wrong way. But you’re pretty intimidating.”

She thinks for a while, taking a bite of her food and swallowing before speaking again.

“How come?” Zari asks, tilting her head.

“You seem like a woman who knows her shit, and you got this mad confidence too,” I admit, picking at my cuticles. “You’re also really pretty. So yeah. Intimidating.”

I swear, for a fleeting moment, her face flushes red - but only for a second. Then she laughs and nods.

“Huh, I must work on that,” Zari says more so to herself. I shake my head.

“Nah I like that, but honestly I just feel stupid as hell around you.”

“Well you are American,” she says seriously, but the twinkle in her eye tells me she’s teasing.

“Alright now, best country in the world,” I grin, making both of us burst into laughter. Zari sips her wine, shaking her head.

“Just to be clear Paige, I do not think you’re stupid,” she hums, meeting my gaze. A look on her face that tells me she’s being genuine.

“Okay, my turn to ask a question then,” I say, leaning back on the couch. Zari crosses her legs in her chair, intrigued.

“Are we playing 21 questions?” She asks, teasing again. “Pretty sure the last time I played this was in uni with this guy who was trying to shag me.”

It’s a tempting idea, but I shake my head swiftly. “Nah, just wanna get to know you.”

“Well go ahead.”

“You’re from London right? What in the hell got you to move to Dallas, Texas out of all the places in the world.”

Zari thinks for a while, looking up at the ceiling and shifting on her chair to get more comfortable.

“I used to work summers at this pub in Leicester Square, All Bar One. It’s horrific, super touristy and the pay wasn’t great,” the girl starts. “And there was this older man who came to London the same week every summer I worked there. He was from Dallas and told me all these stories about it being the greatest city in the world.”

“And you believed him?” I ask amused.

The girl laughs. “No, absolutely not. But then I was uh… well let’s just say going through some stuff and saw a job offer in Dallas and thought of him and took it as a sign I suppose. Not that I believe in signs but.”

I don’t pry, but I do notice the way her right hand squeezes into a fist as she talks, telling me she was really affected by whatever she was talking about.

“My turn,” she says to change the subject. “You miss Uconn?”

Easy question. “Like crazy,” I start. “‘M not used to living alone.”

“The silence right before you go to sleep is the worst,” Zari says, like reading my mind.

“Exactly,” I reply. Our eyes meet for a moment, in a silent exchange. We might be really different, but she gets me. “Miss having friends.”

“Aren’t we friends?” The girl asks, her eyes studying me.

“Are we?”

“I think we are,” she hums. “Or could be, if you’d like. It’s not that I’ve got friends here either.”

I think for a moment, looking at the empty plate on my lap. Friends. That’s all I could want.

“I’d like that Zari,” I murmur. A silence falls over us, now more comfortable than before.

“Sooo, why haven’t you decorated?” I ask. Zari chuckles and shrugs, looking around the living room.

“I only have a visa for a season. Seems like a waste to start turning this place into a home,” the girl explains.

I furrow my brows, studying her face. “What’s the point of coming here then? If you’re not tryna make it home?” I ask, and my words hit me just as hard as they do Zari. The past couple weeks I had spent moping around, feeling sorry for myself, refusing to move forward. Maybe it was time to accept that this is my home, that maybe I should be trying a little harder to make it so.

“I mean I got some shelves but I realised I don’t have a drill so I can’t put them up,” she says, pointing to the wooden boards leaning against the wall in the corner.

“I got a drill.”

She turns to me, surprised. “You do?”

I nod, feeling proud that I might just get to save her once more. “Yeah, my dad got me a tool set when I moved.”

“Smart man, do you know how to use it though?” Zari questions, making me scoff.

“Of course I do,” I say offended, though I hadn’t used it more than once before. Finally I get up from the couch, grabbing the girl’s empty plate from her. She begins to stand up too.

“Nah, you sit Zari, I’mma put the dishes away and go get that drill, aight?” I say. She looks up at me, eyes wide, surprised, studying my face. Like she wasn’t used to this. Eventually she nods, her mouth stretching into a smile. She’s pleased, I could tell. It made me wanna do more. “I’ll get you another glass of wine too.”

It’s her turn to go speechless, as she hands me the empty glass. I can still feel her eyes on me as I walk out of the room.

“Are you sure I can’t help?”

“I got it, sit down.”

“But, are you sure you can keep it str-”

“Zari, please sit down and drink your wine. I got it.”

Letting out a frustrated huff, I plop myself onto the soft couch, resting against the cushions. My eyes are locked on the blonde, her veiny hand wrapped around the drill, the muscles of her back flexing from the strain of holding the shelf up.

I huff again, sipping on the wine and crossing my legs. I felt useless just watching her like this. I was so used to doing everything for myself, letting someone else work for me felt entirely backwards. Still, a part of me was enjoying being taken care of this way.

Done with the shelves, Paige takes a step back to admire her work. “Uhh, I don’t think it’s straight.”

“What?!” I ask, sitting up to see better.

She turns to me, a big grin on her face. “Kidding.”

I throw a pillow at the blonde, laughing too.

“You’re not very good at that huh?” She asks, dodging.

“At what?” I ask, furrowing my brows.

“At relaxing,” the blonde says, taking a sip of a can of Coke. She’s got a point so I don’t argue. I was wired that way, being tense was part of me, a tightness in my shoulders constantly a reminder of my brain working overtime.

“I’m not the relaxing type,” I answer, standing up to look at the shelves on the wall. I gasp noticing she’s done well, even to my standards. It wasn’t lopsided at all.

“Did I do a good job?” Paige asks as I walk to stand next to her, finishing the last sip of wine.

“Mhm,” I nod, noticing a tingle running up my arm as our hands brush together for a fleeting second. Strange, must be the wine. “You did good, thank you Paige. I owe you.”

The blonde scoffs, leaning close enough for our arms to press against one another. I smell a hint of her shampoo, fruity, apple maybe? Either way, it must have been the closest I had been to a person since me and Jasper called it off.

“You made me dinner, you don’t owe me nothing,” she chuckles. I feel her eyes on me, seeing the way her face is turned to me in my peripheral vision. I could feel my chest heaving, not quite sure why.

Paige points to the colour coded schedule on the wall. I knew it seemed excessive, neurotic even. But it was the only way I got everything done. My life wasn’t easy, far from it. I had always been one to plan, but ever since my break up structure seemed like the only thing keeping my life from falling apart.

“You follow that forreal?” Paige asks, walking closer to the schedule to read through it.

“What’s the point of having it if I don’t,” I point out, watching as her blue eyes roam the different colours. Shaking her head, she turns to me.

“You ever take a break?”

I chuckle, leaning in to point out the yellow text on the paper. “Yes, I got it scheduled in.”

“It says you should be working right now,” Paige says.

I nod. “I know.” I knew it by heart.

Paige’s blue eyes land on my face for a moment, studying me. I could feel the wine making my cheeks heat up, so I look away, back to the shelves the blonde had put up for me. The idea made my heart flutter, someone doing something like that just for me. Without expecting anything in return.

“Well,” the taller girl grabs her toolkit. “I should prolly head out and let you work.”

I feel a slight disappointment deep in my gut, hoping she would stay a little longer. After all, she was the only friend I had. But I knew what the schedule said.

Thursday 7:00PM-9:30PM work

So I nod, following the girl to the front door, watching her put her shoes on.

“Thanks for dinner,” the blonde smirks, lids heavy as she looks down at me. My skin burns, I must have forgotten to turn the AC up after work.

“Thank you for the drilling,” I say which makes Paige let out a loud laugh. Realising what I said, I cover my face with my hand, joining her. “I mean, for the shelf.”

“Right,” Paige grins, wiping her lower lip with her thumb. “You ever need help relaxing, I’m right upstairs.”

Her voice is hoarse, deeper than usual. For a moment I think she’s flirting with me, trying to imply something entirely different than one might think at first. But I quickly shake the idea off. That wine really went to my head.

“I’ll see you Paige,” I murmur, watching her go, closing the door behind her.

I stand there for a moment, still a hint of her shampoo in the air. Turning left I eye the kitchen, everything perfectly in place just how I liked it. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had cleaned for me. Jasper always claimed my standards were too high, that it was impossible for a person to fulfill my requirements. But looking at my kitchen now I had no complaints. Maybe there really were people out there that wouldn’t always disappoint me. Maybe Paige was one of them.

My eyes land on the hoodie draped over the back of a chair, navy blue and too large to be mine. I pick it up, looking at the Husky decorating the front, and I know I’m either mad or much more wine drunk than I realised when I lean in and press my nose against it, inhaling the scent, a mix of skin and deodorant and sandalwood. Returning back to my senses, I quickly pull away and neatly fold it, urgently hiding it in my wardrobe and closing the doors.

“Jesus Izara,” I mumble to myself, making my way to my desk to work, the faint scent of sandalwood still apparent in the air around me.

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#paige bueckers #so it goes #lilas writing #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x fem #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers smut

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xxaraaq · 8 months ago

Text

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙑𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙚

masterlist

Synopsis | Alicent is a Godly woman who's morals stand high above everything else. She's given everything she's supposed to to the realm. She is so selfless, so fucking her husbands brother is the one thing she can keep to herself, right?

Word count | 1.5k

cw | Infidelity, spoken violence, corruption?

Authors note | Hi y'all. I know I haven't posted in literally the longest time ever but if I'm being honest I've been fighting with life it up until about a week ago it was beating my ass. Anyways, I'm back now, and I hope that this will make up for it, enjoy! Not edited.

She is a good queen.

That’s what she thinks to comfort herself whenever the regrets of her past set in. She has done her duty to the realm, giving birth to formidable sons and a beautiful daughter. She did what she was supposed to do, she just happened to do it with the wrong man.

No one could blame her for her choices. Her husband, a now senile, miserable old man who had no romantic love for her, failed in his role as her source of comfort. Once Rhaenyra went off and fucked her uncle in a brothel, she felt as though she had no true friends, no real allies.

No one except you.

You were the youngest of you, Viserys, and Daemon. Meaning that you had no real responsibilities. You had close to if not no chance of inheriting the iron throne, and you accepted it. Instead of struggling futilely trying to climb your way up the line of succession, you sat back, kicked your feet up, and enjoyed the life of a royal, of a Targaryen.

With you and Alicent being so close in age, you only being four years her senior, she found it easier to converse and jest with you compared to her husband and virtually everyone else around her. You were light hearted, a companion she often sought the company of. And even though her fathers concern grew about the influence you have on her that grows with each passing day, she paid it no mind. After all, she was the queen, and no one could tell her no.

It was the day the ‘rumors’ spread about Rhaenyra that you swooped in. Exhausted, you were the first person she went to to deliver the news.

“Your sister has ruined almost any chance she has at marrying a suitable lord.” Alicent huffs, pacing back and forth around the room. You chuckle, amused by the entire ordeal. “She is a princess, maiden or not, my brother will surely find a wealthy husband for my niece.” You say, trying to ease her nerves. It obviously doesn’t help, her looking at you like you have two heads. “This is nothing to joke about. Your niece might run your entire house into ruin with the horrid accusations circling about. Have you no care in what happens?” She yells, desperate to get you to understand her frustration in it all. “Accusations? Alicent, my closest friend, you are no fool. You and I both know she fucked my brother in a whorehouse. You can speak freely with me, I promise you that.” You stand from your chair, making your way towards her. You love your niece and brother, but you’re also not one to deny the truth.

A tear slips from her eye, the stress of it all pouring down on her. “Oh, my dear, don’t cry.” You cup her face in your rough hands. A chill runs down her spine, something she’s never felt before. The look you have in your eyes is not what she’s seen from you before. Your eyes are dark, a smirk on your face that means nothing but trouble.

“You are a good woman, I must say. A loyal wife, an obedient daughter, a great friend. You never fail to be there to fulfill the needs and wants from others around you. But what about your needs, hmm?” You ask, tone sultry with an emotion she can’t pinpoint. “I-I don’t understand what you mean.” She stutters, growing shy from your demeanor. “You know what I mean, Alicent. When’s the last time you’ve truly felt fulfilled? Rhaenyra is too busy chasing after Daemon like a lost pup to spend time with you. Your husband is still stuck on Aemma even though he’s the reason she passed on in the first place, God's rest her soul. And your father, as much as he may love you, sees you as nothing more than a tool. I am the only one who has genuine intentions for you. The only things I care about ensuring is your well-being and happiness. A life full of not knowing what it’s like to be pleasured and to bring pleasure is not one worth living.”

She knows that you mean this deep down in your heart, and that makes her want to give in all the more. ‘We can’t, what if someone finds out?” She asks, fear covering her features. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Who would be so impudent as to try and tell the King that his youngest brother is fucking his wife?” You say.

She thinks for a second, then two, then three. “I’m… I’m not certain that having an affair would be for the best.” She says, backing away until she hits the edge of a table. “Let me show you what I could do for you, please? If you don’t like it, just say the word and I’ll never make an advance again, I promise this to you.” You almost plead, desperation laced through every word you speak. You have to have her, you’re sure you’ll die if you don’t.

Her silence fills the room, making your heart beat all the more harder. You almost dropped to your knees to thank the Gods for having you in their favor the moment she nodded her head yes. It was slow at first, a kiss on the neck, a light caress on her thigh, but then you stopped holding back, and you took her to that table in a matter of minutes. You held your hand to her mouth, trying to keep her as quiet as possible as you fucked into her tight cunt with a fervor you’ve never felt before. Everything about her drove you crazy as you corrupted her. The scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, the way she so futilely used her hand to try and push you from her as your thick cock plowed through her.

Your secret relations kept on through the years, past the birth of Ageon and the rest of the children. The both of you knew that all four of them were yours, words not needed to be spoken to know that you were the one to sire the king's heirs and not the king himself.

As everyone grew, so did the tensions concerning the birth of your niece's sons. You had to laugh when you first saw Jace’s brown tufts of hair. How could she be so transparent about her infidelity? It was Rhaenyra’s actions that truly caused the hatred to stir within Alicent. You knew as well as everyone else that it was only a matter of time before things grew too large to keep a blind eye to it all.

The day that Aemond was maimed was one that nobody could ever forget. It was truly just a blurry haze of squeaky voices, deep insults, and the sound of a sheathed blade. The royal blood that covered the pavement that night would never be forgotten. You were the one that escorted the queen back to her room that night, providing an environment where her tongue could be as loose as need be. You shut the door, the creakiness that shows its age filling the silence. “That vile woman and her, her…” She couldn’t even get the words out, she was so furious. “Bastards? Say it Alicent, we all know it to be the truth.” You say, leaning against the stone wall. She groans, hand running over her face as she goes back to her habit of pacing the room. “The king is so shielded by the love he has for her, he can’t even see the vile things she has done.” She says, pupils so dilated with rage she can’t see straight. “Must I remind you that we are in the same boat as her, only that her’s has started to sink while ours stays afloat?” You say, quick to point out the sins she has also committed. The words catch in her throat, taken aback by your sudden correction. “Are you taking her side?” Her voice trembles with stress as she picks at her nail beds. “Do you not remember how I to this day sneak into you room through secrets passageways to fuck you to sleep every night? How I’ve filled your womb with so much seed I’ve impregnated you four times? Or have you forgotten how all our children are bastards as well?” You say, your voice sarcastically sweet as you grip her waist, pulling her backside flush to her chest. You lay kisses on her neck and shoulders, soothing her tenseness almost immediately. “What happened to our son is a tragedy that may never be avenged. But as he said, the reward for losing his eye was much greater than the pain he suffered.” You whisper in her ear.

She is a good queen, she thinks to herself.

She is a good queen, even as she lets you fuck her up against the bed posts, mouth cover by your calloused hands once more to keep her muffled sounds of ecstasy hidden from the outside world

-Nene

#nene #x reader #alicent #alicent x reader #alicent x male reader #alicent x male! Targaryen reader #alicent x Targaryen! reader #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x male reader

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munson-blurbs · 8 months ago

Note

hope you don't mind me asking but could reader adopt harris officially? it'd be a sweet little blurb ☺️

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Harris makes a special request on his birthday: for you to adopt him and officially be his mommy.

TW: mention of parental neglect/drug use, pretty much just all fluff and happiness

WC: 2.2k

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms out there! Y'all are badasses who deserve to be celebrated. I used this video for the judge's dialogue to ensure accuracy.

February 2001

“So, Har,” Eddie starts through a mouthful of cake, “did you have a good birthday?”

Harris nods emphatically, digging into his own slice. A dollop of vanilla frosting dots the tip of his nose, but he continues eating, unbothered.

Eddie looks at you as you try to contain the inevitable mess that Hendrix will make. His chubby cheeks are already decorated with chocolate cake, and he’s only a few bites in. “Can you believe we have a nine-year-old now?”

You shake your head. The years truly have flown by, and though you haven’t had the privilege of being there for all of them, it feels as though Harris’s fifth birthday was only yesterday.

“What’s crazy to me is that Harris is the same age you were when I took you in,” Wayne says to Eddie. He glances at his nephew, a wistful look in his old eyes.

“Oh, yeah!” Harris grins. “I forgot you took care of Daddy.”

Eddie leans back in his seat and smirks. “Did you ever regret adopting me, Old Man?”

“Every damn day.”

While he may have tuned out his dad and grandfather’s back-and-forth, you can see Harris pause before he continues eating. He’s never been one to stifle his curiosity, the wheels in his head turning as he processes the information.

His time to ask a question grinds to a halt when Hendrix slams his little palm right into the cake slice, grabs a chunk of it, and smashes it into his face. If any actually got in his mouth, it would be a miracle.

Harris gets his opportunity later that night. Eddie tucks him into bed, pulling the SpongeBob comforter up to his chin, and kisses his head.

“Daddy?” Harris asks before Eddie can stand up.

“Hmm?”

“Why did Grampa adopt you?”

Eddie exhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek. As his eldest son has gotten older, he’s become more honest with him, not constantly shielding him from painful truths. He chooses his words carefully before speaking again.

“Well, my mom and dad weren’t good parents. They didn’t take care of me, and they made a lot of bad choices,” he says. Memories flash through his mind, ones of eviction notices and strangers constantly in his home. Ones of police officers snapping handcuffs on his parents’ wrists, the two of them too far gone to even register to the severity of the situation. He shakes it off, turning his attention back to Harris. “And so Grampa Wayne took me in and adopted me so I would have a safe, happy home.”

“Like how my mom made bad choices? My real mom?”

Eddie nods, wondering if Harris knows how closely their situations resembled each other. Except you did what your father didn’t–you changed, he reminds himself.

“Yeah, like that.”

Harris thinks for a moment. “But now Mom is my mom. So does that mean she adopted me?”

“No, she didn’t adopt you.” His heart sinks when he sees the small pout forming on Harris’s lips. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Why not?”

Eddie scratches at his jawline, his nails digging into a particular itchy patch of stubble. “Well, honestly…we wanted to make sure it was what you wanted, Har. Because Mom will love you no matter what,” he makes sure to add.

Without any hesitation, Harris declares, “It’s what I want.”

“Are you sure? You can sleep on it—” Eddie feels a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth despite his attempt to remain neutral. Yes, his son often acts on impulse, but Eddie can tell this isn’t one of those instances.

Harris huffs out an impatient sigh, irritated that he even has to explain himself. “Dad, I’m nine now,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m almost double-digits. And I know I want Mom to adopt me.”

Eddie grins wider, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. “All right, bud. You got it.” He stands up with a grunt, something that Harris has already dubbed an ‘old man noise.’ “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, okay?”

“Mm-hm,” Harris agrees sleepily, cocooning himself in his blankets while Eddie turns out the light.

Eddie is teeming with excitement when he sees you sitting in the family room, an open bag of sour cream and onion potato chips in your lap. Hendrix was fast asleep in his crib, and it was finally time for you and your husband to relax.

“So,” Eddie says, sliding onto the couch cushion next to you and plucking a chip from the bag, “it turns out that the birthday boy has one more gift request. A big one, actually.”

You raise your brows. “How big? Like, Hot Wheels track big or space camp big?”

“Neither.” Eddie’s eyes gleam. “He wants you to adopt him.”

You sit up quickly, a smile stretching across your face. “Are you…are you serious?”

“One hundred percent.” Eddie says with a nod. “He insisted on it, actually. I don’t think you could say no even if you wanted to.”

His teasing would normally draw a snarky retort from you, but you’re too overwhelmed to come up with a quip. “Harris wants me to adopt him,” you say slowly, letting each word seep into your tongue.

Eddie kisses your cheek, his nose brushing your warm skin. “This is everything I ever wanted for him, you know,” he murmurs. Another kiss, then he tilts your chin so he can place his lips on yours. “Thank you for loving him.”

You snuggle in closer, your head resting on his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me.”

September 2002

It’s a special occasion when you can convince Eddie and Wayne Munson to wear a suit and tie, but you didn’t even have to ask today. Both men are dressed with their shirts tucked into their slacks—not jeans.

You smooth out a pleat in your dress, scoop Hendrix out of his Pack-N-Play, and grin at your family.

“You guys ready?” You ask, desperate to get everyone into the car before someone spills something on their clothes. While Harris and Hendrix would be the most obvious culprits of a mess, the men are just as capable of causing chaos.

Eddie slings Hendrix’s diaper bag over his shoulder and takes Harris’s hand in his. “Let’s ship out, team.”

“Ship out!” Hendrix echoes–loudly, right in your ear. You wince, but you can’t stay annoyed for too long, considering how happy you are. How happy everyone is; even the baby of the family, who doesn’t know why he’s in a good mood, just that he is.

Everyone piles into the sedan: Eddie in the driver’s seat, you in the passenger seat, and Wayne squished between his grandsons in the back.

“Don’t know how I ended up here,” Wayne grumbles, reaching behind for his seatbelt.

Eddie grabs your hand as he pulls onto the road, giving it a tender squeeze. This is a huge deal; logically, you know this. To Eddie, he’s officially giving his son the mother he always deserved, and you’ll be able to make all sorts of important decisions for Harris. But to you, there is no piece of paper that can strengthen or weaken your love for your oldest son. Still, this is a promise from you to Harris, one that you will never break.

The courthouse’s silence is promptly broken with the Munsons’ arrival, as your family’s presence tends to do. Hendrix enjoys the way his delighted shrieks reverberate down the empty hallway, and Harris grips a nearby bench to jump out his nervous energy.

“Har?” you call out, waving him over to a private spot. He stops jumping long enough to follow you, shaking his hands excitedly.

You crouch down to his height and dig through your purse until you find what you’re looking for: a shiny silver compass with a quote engraved on the back:

“If you don’t get lost, there’s a chance you may never be found.”

“Uncle Dusty recommended his favorite compass, and he said you can bring it on your next camping trip” you say with a smile, your lower lip trembling as you hold back tears. “I hope that every time you use it, you remember that I’ll always be here to help you find your way.”

Harris looks from you to the compass and back again. He grins and flings his arms around you, nearly knocking you over in the process.

“This is so cool!” He cheers. “I’m gonna show everyone!”

“What do you say?” Eddie reminds him, a twinkle in his eye.

Harris barely turns around to you to yell, “Thanks, Mom!”

Mom. That title never gets old, and you don’t think it ever will.

“Munson?” You jump slightly when a bailiff announces that it’s your turn to see the judge. He gives a small smile as you enter the courtroom, probably relieved that this is a joyful occasion that won’t likely require his intervention.

This is it, you think. You wish your dress had pockets to hide your trembling hands.

Everyone takes their positions. Harris stands between you and Eddie, and Wayne holds Hendrix at the end, ready to make a quick getaway in case the youngest Munson decides to throw a tantrum.

The judge addresses you directly. Her tone is firm but warm as she says, “Do you understand that if your petition for the adoption of Harris Wayne Munson is granted, you will be legally responsible for him?”

“Yes.” You feel Harris’s palm slide against yours; when you briefly look down, you see that his other hand is holding Eddie’s.

“And do you understand that this support includes food, clothing, shelter, as well as medical and educational support?” She continues.

You nod. “Yes.”

“And do you understand that if your request is granted, that you will be Harris’s parent in all respects, just as if he had been born to you?”

“Yes.” Your heart swells with love. Just as if he had been born to you. Even with the memorable pains and trials brought on by carrying and delivering Hendrix, you considered Harris just as much your son.

“And do you understand you will be undertaking the intellectual, spiritual, and moral guidance of Harris?”

You can almost hear your husband’s thoughts: Better her than me.

“Yes.”

The judge goes through a few more questions, all regarding your abilities to care for Harris. With each one, you feel Harris’s bouncing get more exuberant; part of you wishes you could join him.

Finally, she declares, “Based upon the reports and recommendations, this court finds that granting this petition is in the best interest of Harris.” She looks directly at Harris as she says, “Congratulations, she’s officially your Mommy.”

A choked sob escapes your throat, and your free hand flies to your mouth. You and Eddie both crouch down to embrace Harris, and you can’t help but notice the tears in your husband’s eyes. Wayne makes his way to you and, as best as he can with Hendrix still in his arms, wraps you in a hug. You think he might be the only adult not crying, but a tell-tale sniffle gives him away.

Hendrix is very confused by the overt display of emotion. The last time Wayne cried was well before the boy was born, back when the Colts won the 1970 Super Bowl against the Cowboys.

“Daddy? Mommy? Grampa?” He asks. “Why you cry?”

“We’re fine, buddy. Just have some big feelings. Happy feelings,” Eddie clarifies, kissing Hendrix on a chubby cheek. He looks at Harris and grins. “How does it feel, Har? Now that Mom adopted you?”

Harris scrunches up his face. “Like the same.”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. It’s not as wild as it was when he was your student, his curls less of a mop. “Good ‘the same’?”

He grins, nodding and hugging you again. “I can’t wait to tell all of my friends, and Uncle Dusty, and Mr. Will…”

Harris continues listing people he’s going to share his news with all the way to the parking lot. Some names you recognize, and others he might as well be making up.

“Wait! I almost forgot!” You reach into your purse and pull out a Ziploc bag containing five Oreos. “Everyone take one, but don’t eat it yet.”

When each person has an Oreo in their hand, you raise your own to eye-level and begin your toast. “To my first son, Harris. Thank you for making me a mommy.”

“To Harris!” Wayne and Eddie chorus, and Hendrix just yells his brother’s name before chowing down on his cookie.

As you all pile back into the car, Eddie takes your hand in his. Chocolate is still tucked into the crevices of his lips.

“To you, Sweetheart. Thank you for being the mommy Harris always wanted. Thank you for making us a family again.”

The kiss tastes of vanilla creme, sugary sweet, and you swear you wouldn’t have broken it if Wayne didn’t clear his throat.

“No need to make a third kid up there,” he mutters under his breath.

Eddie glares at him, hoping Harris didn’t overhear the comment, but you press on. “Shall we celebrate at the diner?”

“Can we share pancakes?” Harris beams.

You crane your neck and look back at him, once again overwhelmed by the amount of love you hold for him–for your son.

“I’d love to.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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yagirlwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Angels & Demons | (Sub!Rafe)

Pairing: sub!Rafe Cameron x domme!Reader

Synopsis: Rafe asks reader to a Halloween bash, proposing they wear matching costumes. They have a conversation on where they stand. Lots of fun at the biggest party of the year.

Warnings: fluff, clingy!rafe, pouty!rafe, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 8.4k (I'm so so sorry I need psychiatric help)

A/N: Hi y'all! It's finally here, ignore the fact that its 10 days late - Happy Halloween🤣 This is really long and fluffy, some steamy scenes as well because it wouldn't be me without them 😘 The smut for the day after the party will be posted soon! Had to separate it because it would have been too damn long to read and y'all deserved to have this as soon as possible. Hope it's not too long anyway 😭 I am sorry for the delay but I hope you enjoy it! As always lmk what you think!

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments, feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading 🥰

Angels & Demons

"I need you to sit still, baby." His heart soared, as it always did, when she called him that. He was currently sitting at her vanity while she patiently applied glitter to his face.

He felt restless, she was so close and she smelled so nice and she was touching him so gently. Looking at her, so beautiful, right in front of him was driving him insane. It was his own fault for being in this situation, getting ready for a party he suggested they attend. So he really had no right to be acting bratty. He just really wanted to kiss her and she was keeping him hostage in the small chair. The generous view of her cleavage bent over like this, courtesy of her costume, might also have something to do with his fading sanity.

It was a week ago when he suggested they go to the Halloween bash together. It was the biggest party of the year so far, spanning the entire greek street. It was always wild and intense, but he wasn't interested in that this year. He just wanted to spend time with her and his friends, and have a good time. This would technically be their coming out party and he was ecstatic when she said yes to coming. Even more so when he suggested they match their costumes, trying to play it off as no big deal, but in actuality extremely aware of the implications.

"Like, a couple's costume?" It came out of the blue. They had been cuddled up on her couch when he brought up the topic the party and asked if she wanted to come with him. Then he started acting all shy and flustered broaching the topic of outfits.

"Yeah. I don't know if you maybe wanted to match. Might be cool, I don't know." He was blushing in that way that made her heart melt like a popsicle on a hot summer day. He didn't even give her a chance to respond as he continued.

"Unless you don't want to or think it would be weird, it's totally fine we don't have to. It was just a thought..." he trailed off, not meeting her eyes, flustered and insecure. Her heart ached.

"Hey..." her soft palm met his cheek and forced him to look back at her.

"Why would it be weird?" Her gaze was warm and he was blushing even harder now. His thoughts felt scrambled, all the practicing he had done in his head vanishing into thin air when he was so close to her.

"I don't know. Maybe you don't see us..." he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders, not able to finish his thought.

"As a couple?" She offered, trying to help but driving him further up the wall instead. He just shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on the coffee table, feeling weak. She pushed him further onto the couch, straddling his lap in order to force him to look at her. His heart felt like it might burst out of his chest.

She said nothing, simply waited for him to speak up. Needing him to talk to her, instead of shutting down. They'd talked about this habit of his, she promised she'd never judge him and he promised he'd try his best to be as open with her as he could. So he had no choice then, not when she was looking at him like that. Not after he made her a promise.

"We never talked about it. So you might not." His eyes were running wildly all over her face, trying to be respectful and not look away but not brave enough to see the possible rejection in her gaze.

"Do you want us to?" He sighed, the feeling of her playing with his hair making him lose the last bit of dignity he had. He was so desperate for her he couldn't cope.

"Maybe..." she shook her head then. She hated that word, wished he would stop using it and just say what he really wants. But she knew it was hard for him so she didn't push it.

"Do you want us to be a couple, Rafe?" His eyes finally met hers, hearing the vulnerability in her voice. When they did, he saw no judgement, no rejection, just kindness. And he didn't have it in him to pretend anymore.

"I do." The beat it took for her to react felt like an eternity, his breath stuck in his throat.

"Good." She smiled, caressing his face so gently he thought he'd cry. She kissed his red cheek and whispered a soft "me too."

His heart skipped at her words, a bright smile finally making it's way onto his face as he hugged her so close, leading them both to almost fall off the couch. The only thing that could be heard in her small appartment was the sound of their giggles as they processed their emotional conversation.

"Fuck, I'm so relieved." He kissed her neck where his head was burried while he held her as close as possible. Her hands running though his hair in that soothing manner she knew he loved. She laughed as he peppered kisses on her skin.

"What? Did you really think I'd say no?" She pulled him back enough to look at his beautiful face. He had a sheepish smile on and his eyes sparkled with joy.

"I don't know." He shrugged in a careless manner, even though they both knew it was a front.

"Oh so you think I just let any guy sleep over and cuddle with me on the couch?" She was giving him a faux offended look and he couldn't help but laugh.

"I don't know, you might..." he grinned and she rolled her eyes.

"Bro, be serious." She pushed off of him to pick up the blanket that had fallen to the floor during their tumble.

"Bro? You can't friendzone me now!" He whined as she stood up, folding the blanket and then throwing it right in his cheeky little face. He let out a surprised yelp and she giggled as he rushed after her on her way to the kitchen. He looked like a lost puppy, incapable of not being near her, it seemed.

"So what's this costume?" He was looking at her throat as she gulped down a glass of water, completely zoned out when she asked the question.

"Huh?" He snapped his eyes back to her face but it was too late, she'd already noticed him ogling her. His ears turned a shade pinker as he tried to play it off.

"The costume you want to wear, what is it?" He looked confused.

"I don't know." He shrugged causing her to raise her eyebrow.

"You don't have a costume in mind?" He shook his head, grinning as he stepped closer to her.

"Whatever you want." She had to refrain from laughing at how cute he was, with his floppy hair and his rumpled clothes and his childlike grin.

"So now I have to come up with a couple's costume even thought it was your idea?" She played annoyed but he could see the smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and connected their foreheads, the intimate banter reducing them both to mush on the inside.

"Yep. Just want everyone to know." He nuzzled his nose into her hair as her fingers ran gently over his back.

"Know what?" He pulled back to look at her then. A rare moment of bravery.

"That I'm yours." Her breath caught in her throat at the way he said it. So sure, so honest, so utterly unashamed. It made butterflies appear in her stomach and she wanted to curse at how much she loved hearing those words come out of his mouth.

"That you're mine?" She kissed his face gently and his smile could not be bigger.

"Mhm. All yours." she blushed from the raw honesty in his words and he noticed. But before he could call her out on it she kissed him, making him forget whatever thought he might have had of teasing her.

It was heaven, whenever their lips met. They felt like they became one and it was so insane to think about that they refused to, simply letting themselves get lost in the pleasure of being with each other.

And now here they were, in her bedroom, putting the finishing touches on the costumes. He admired how stunning she looked, so focused and unguarded. He swore he had never seen a person more beautiful in his life. He couldn't stop a smirk from making its way onto his face as he took in her outfit. The tight leather bustier made her boobs look insane, the short black skirt leaving just enough to the imagination, and the skull shaped lace of her thights hugged her thighs so well he wanted to bite into them.

"One last thing" she positioned the accessory on his head and smiled at the result.

"Perfect." He blushed at the compliment, turning around to face the mirror and finally see her hadiwork.

He looked flushed and soft, the sparkles on his face matching the ones on the halo atop of his head. He was dressed in all white, a button down over a white t-shirt, white pants she made him buy the other day, and white converse on his feet. The silver against the white made him look almost ethereal. He was a literal angel before her eyes and she could not be happier with how it all turned out.

She grabbed her own headpiece, a pair of black horns and completed their couples costume. An angel and a demon. Not the most unique of ideas, however the roles were usually reversed. He told her that when she came up with the concept and all she said was "You're my good boy now, right? You're gonna be my angel." After that he shut up and the flush didn't leave his cheeks for a long time.

He didn't know if she fully understood just how much she affected him when she said stuff like that. Messed with his mind, his heart, twisting him up inside until he feels like falling at her feet. Or maybe she knew exactly how bad he had it for her, and she enjoyed it.

She was taking her sweet time taking him in, critical eye paying attention to every detail waiting to find something she might have missed. Even though it wasn't her idea and she'd never done matching costumes with anyone before, she was feeling super excited at the prospect of the entire campus knowing he was hers. She wasn't a jealous person, but she knew there were girls vying for his attention and now he was making it clear he had no interest in anyone but her. It made her heart feel so full that she had to force herself to stay cool. He did that. He'd come and sweep the rug out from under her in the best ways. One minute she's chill and the next he hits her with this genuine unabashed affection and she's left confused as to how to cope. She wouldn't complain though, it was the best kind of surprise every time it happened.

To think not long ago she had thought he could never be with someone like her, that they weren't compatible. It was laughable now. Every move they made felt perfectly synced, like it was always meant to be the two of them together. And whenever her insecurities would try and weasel into her mind he'd smile at her in that way he did and she'd feel peace again. She knew he still had his demons but since they agreed to be open with each other he seemed more calm, less on edge, like that peace she felt was mirrored in him too. She couldn't quite believe how happy she was.

He was looking at her with those bedroom eyes again and she had to refrain from letting her mind run wild, as his no doubt was. They spent hours getting ready and they had a party to go to.

This would be the first time they arrived together at a party, and while she wasn't particularly bothered about what other people thought, she knew he cared and wanted to show the world they were together now. For real. She understood, they had spent so much time making up for all the months wasted, in their little bubble and while it was amazing and they wouldn't trade it for anything - they did need to step back into the real world. Meet each other's people, be part of each others lives in public too.

He was really excited at the prospect and it warmed her heart to see him so positively nervous about something. Something other than sex, that is. She needed to stop thinking about sex and focus. Party. They're going to a party. She grabbed her purse and took his hand leading them out the door and into the night.

................

Walking into his frat, hand in hand, it felt like the entire house was staring at them. In reality most people didn't pay them a second glance, but it felt like a momentous occasion to him. He had a big, proud smile on his face as he led her through the massive crowd to the kitchen where he knew his friends would most likely be congregated. As they walked in they were met with loud whoops sounding over the music.

"Mistery Girl! You made it!" It was Mac, Rafe's best friend. They'd met several times, and even though he now knew her name, he still clung to the nickname - to Rafe's great annoyance. As expected, Rafe rolled his eyes at his friend. She smiled and greeted his group, some of whom she'd briefly met before, some faces definitely unfamiliar leading Rafe to introduce her.

Rafe went to make her a drink, knowing she prefers a cocktail to a beer. He managed to locate some fruity syrup and decided to mix her a drink himself. He didn't trust any of the already made punches floating around. She deserved the best. Since best wasn't an option, at least better than the terribly tasting jungle juice Mac always made.

Aaron, one of his frat brothers, whom he didn't really care for, decided to stand too close to her for his liking. Rafe was looking at him while making sure not to spill any of the alcohol he was pouring. He didn't like him crowding her and he wanted to get back there to prevent any unfortunate scene that might unfold.

"So you're the devil, huh?" She gave the random man next to her an unimpressed look, taking a step to the side to create space between them. She didn't want to deal with annoying creeps, but she needed to keep her promise and not do anything to offend his friends.

"Just a lowly demon, I'm afraid." She replied to his question, trying to stay polite.

"Ah, I don't see nothing lowly about you, sweetheart." His gaze flashed to her cleavage and her blood started boiling when he leaned into her space again. He was clearly already drunk but her patience was wearing thin.

"Here you go, babe." His voice snapped her out of her reverie, bringing with him a calm she had missed in the past few minutes they were apart. She took the cup from him, relaxing into his chest as he made himself at home at her back, wrapping one arm around her. His eyes were shooting daggers at Aaron, and she had to refrain from smirking, finding his protectiveness endearing.

"This is pretty good, sweet boy." She looked up at him after tasting his conconction and he broke eye contact with Aaron to look back at her, a smile shining on his face at the compliment. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks at the pet name. He had yet to get used to how he felt every time she called him something so sweet and loving. This was the first time she had called him a nickname in public, not thinking anything of it until the pest next to them decided to speak up.

"N'aww ain't that just adorable?" The smile wiped off Rafe's face in record time as he shot daggers at Aaron for the interruption. Jade was getting more and more annoyed by this random guy and she knew Rafe was as well, so she wished to remove them both from his presence. Before she could though, he had to speak again.

"When did you become such a pussy, Cameron?" Rafe rolled his eyes, tired of his bullshit and ready to leave the kitchen but he felt her stiffen in his arms.

"You watch your mouth." Her voice was low and cold, but everyone in the kitchen could hear it nontheless.

"It's okay-" before he got a chance to reassure her that this dickhead's words meant nothing to him, he was interrupted.

"Woah there little lady. You're feisty. She speaks for you now, too? What happened to you, bro?" He was giggling to himself, but none of his other friends seemed amused. She was starting to realize no one liked him, but for the life of her couldn't understand why they tolerated such a piece of shit.

"Listen here, you little cockroach-" she took a step towards him but Rafe snapped into action, wrapping his arm tighter against her and pulling her backwards.

"Rafe..." her tone held a warning, but he didn't care. He wasn't about to let Aaron of all people, ruin their night before it even started.

"Baby, he's not worth it. Everyone knows he's just desperate for attention, since no one's giving him any." His first words whispered to her, but the latter said loud enough for everyone to hear. Aaron flushed red in anger and Mac saw it as his queue to jump in.

"Alright, we get it. You're jealous Rafe has a girl now. My condolences man but we gotta move on, yeah?" The crowd laughed at Mac's jokes making Aaron even more furious, but the friendly arm Mac slung around his shoulder and the beer he handed him managed to distract the drunken douche enough for Rafe to drag her out of the kitchen.

"You should've let me knock him out." Her teeth were clenched and he tried to prevent a smile from breaking out but she looked so adorable, all mad and protective, ready to fight for his honor. He chuckled at the thought and her eyes snapped to him, taking in his face, thinking he's laughing at her.

"Hey. I could take him!" She was offended.

"Oh trust me, I know. I remember just how lethal that right hook can be." His eyes were sparkling with mischief, and she realized he was only teasing her.

"He deserved it." She spoke, no longer upset, feeling her anger leave her body as he swayed them both on the dance floor.

"I know." He was smirking, giving her that annoying yet adorable look, driving her crazy.

"Why do you let him talk to you like that?" He sighed, pulling her into his chest, laying his head on top of hers as they danced.

"I don't care enough about his opinion to let him ruin my night." She looked up at him then, realizing he wasn't being a pushover because of his friends, which she worried might have been the reason why he didn't fight back. He was just mature enough not to let some irrelevant twat get under his skin. She smiled at that, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

"That's very grown up of you." She teased and he laughed, glad she was back to normal.

"And you ready to fight him for a stupid comment, is definitely not." She rolled her eyes, a slight blush tinging her cheeks.

He was right, she had promised herself to stay cool but one mean comment aimed at him destroyed her composure. She felt such an intense need to protect him, it was quite confusing and scary. She would have laid that fucker out right there in the kitchen. How embarrassing.

"Hey, I'm not complaining. It was very hot, how protective you got." He was smirking again, the cocky little shit. She rolled her eyes again and pulled him into a kiss, just to shut him up and distract him from her somewhat childish behavior. He moaned into the kiss when her tongue entered his mouth and she smiled when she felt him shiver under her fingertips. He was so easy.

When she broke the kiss he was dazed, chasing her lips to prolong the moment but she simply gave him a sweet peck and pulled away. The pout on his face was adorable, resembling a little kid told he can't have his favorite candy for dinner. She admired the flush of redness on his skin from the brief shared moment and a longing stirred in her belly, resembling the one very clearly written on his face. They both wanted more but this was not the time or the place, so she went back to slowly swaying with him in a soft embrace. He melted into her, as he always did.

The kiss made him crave more but she was making it clear it wasn't going to happen. Not yet, at least. He enjoyed the way she held him though, so warm and soft and protected. It always messed with his emotions but he wasn't ashamed of how much he enjoyed it. Not even a little.

It wasn't long before their peaceful moment got interrupted. Mac nearly knocked them both down in excitement as he announced body shots taking place on the formerly used beer pong table. This was exactly the kind of chaos she'd come to expect from a frat party. Rafe's eyes glistened with mischief and she knew what he was going to say before he even spoke.

"What do you say? Wanna do body shots?" He had a playful smirk on his face, fully expecting her to roll her eyes and reject him.

"Sure." She nearly laughed at how quickly the smirk disappeared, replaced with a confusion which then gave way to cautious excitement. She smiled and took his hand, following where Mac had gone, presumably in the direction of the shots.

Rafe was buzzing with excitement as they made their way to the basement where the den was. That's where they usually used the old ping pong table for beer pong. A crowd was gathered around the table, whooping as a guy finished licking salt off a girl's neck. He couldn't believe she agreed to this. Holy shit.

They made their way to the table, waiting for another couple to finish, being next in line. Rafe could feel the adrenaline coursing through his body in anticipation. Then she turned to him and smirked and he thought he'd pass out right then and there. She was the sexiest woman alive, he'd swear it. He couldn't believe he got to call her his girlfriend.

"Shirt off." The command in her voice shook him to his core, too reminiscent of how she talked to him in the privacy of her bedroom. His pulse quickened in excitement. And then he processed her words and realized what she was saying.

"Lay down." Her eyes held a spark in them that always knocked his breath out of his lungs. Of course. Of course she would do this. He didn't know why he was expecting anything else. He followed her orders, like he always did. He had never been the one on the receiving end of body shots and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't turning him on.

The crowd went wild as he undressed and positioned himself on the table. She drank him in, all flushed, a sheen of sweat marking his body from the dancing. He looked delicious and she could feel arousal pool in her belly. It was messy, being like this in front of all these people. She knew, but in that moment she didn't have it in her to care. He was laying there, waiting for her and she wasn't going to deny either of them the high about to happen.

She moved into action, pouring salt on his collar bone and continuing a line down his chest, making Mac whoop out a "hell yeah!". She was solely focused on Rafe, though. He was getting more and more red as the seconds passed and he could feel the lust running through him. She was driving him insane. She put a lime wedge in his mouth and gave him a cheeky wink to which he silently groaned. A fucking tease.

With one last look into his wild eyes, she downed a shot of tequila and finally bent down to make contact with his skin. She licked a long strip from his belly button, over his chest, to his collar bones where she cleaned all the salt off his sticky skin. He shivered as her mouth moved to his neck, giving a cheeky bite to his sweet spot. His eyes rolled to the back of his head in response. She was evil for that.

Finally her eyes met his again as she leaned in to take the lime wedge from him, biting into it, letting the sour juice soak her tongue and complete her shot. The crowd cheered loudly and she quickly discarded the lime wedge to the side as she pulled him in and kissed him, deep and hot and messy.

Both of them were completely lost in the moment, the tension coming to a head as their tongues met and he tasted the liquior and lime on her. He moaned into the kiss, not caring about if anyone heard, solely focused on her. The kiss didn't last long but it awakened something in both of them. She managed to force herself back, to not give these strangers any more of a show than she already had, and pulled him up by his hand.

He struggled to find his feet, feeling completely fucking dazed from that kiss and that body shot and her touch and fuck she was ruining him.

As soon as they moved away from the table, the crowd's attention was taken by the next couple and they had a chance to take a breath. He was red all over, his shirt crumpled in his hand, his other hand in hers. She looked flushed as well, probably for the same reason he was. That was insane.

She kissed him again, finally out of the spotlight. This kiss was slower, but still as deep. He could feel his pants constricting him as he realized he was fully hard for her. She didn't miss it either, as she felt his length pressing against her abdomen. He groaned at the pressure and she pulled back to look at him.

He was embarassed so he lead her away from the basement, making sure to stay hidden behind her, not wanting anyone to witness his predicament. When they made it back to the ground floor he wasted no time in grabbing her hand and rushing up the stairs, her bemused laughter accompanying the movement.

"Where are you going?" She asked, trying to keep up with the speed at which he was practically running.

"My room." He spoke as if it was obvious as he pulled her in the direction of the room they'd both spent several nights tangled up together.

"Rafe, we're not having sex right now." She didn't want to be that couple, the one hooking up in the middle of a party after doing body shots. It felt like a cliche.

"No, I just need..." he trailed off as he unlocked his room, pulling her in as he turned the light on.

"Just need a moment." He looked down at his crotch with a blush and she smiled in understanding. He needs some privacy to calm down.

"Okay, baby." She kissed his cheek in reassurance and made her way to his desk chair, making herself comfortable.

He awkwardly stood there, not sure what to do now. Just having her in his room again was not helping with his problem. The thought of having to go take care of himself in the bathroom depressed him though. So he begrudgingly sat down on his bed and looked at her, confused.

She wanted to laugh at his expression, like he had no clue what to do with himself. His very obvious erection was not helping her calm down from what happened earlier. In fact, the fire in her was getting worse as she looked at him so vulnerable in front of her. Still shirtless, his chest moving with heavy breaths. It was driving her insane.

"Can I..." he didn't finish his thought, almost cursing at even saying anything. His voice had been so quiet she almost didn't hear him.

"What?" She drew the chair closer, to hear him better, making him take in a deep breath to try and get a hold of himself.

"Nothing. Forget it." He shook his head and refused to meer her eyes. That was unacceptable.

"Rafe." Her voice left no room for argument, she wanted him to tell her the truth.

"I was just... I wanted to..." he trailed off again feeling agitated that he couldn't just be confident in expressing himself the way he wished he could. He knew it frustrated her too and it made him feel worse.

"Wanted what, baby?" She moved to sit down next to him, her proximity only causing more frustration to bubble inside him.

"I want to taste you." He finally managed to verbalize his thoughts, meeting her eyes with apprehension.

"Oh..." she wasn't expecting that.

"I'm sorry." She shook her head at his apology.

"No, don't be. It's okay." She held his face in her hands then, observing him.

"Why are you so afraid, hm?" He gulped at her question, uncomfortable at her ability to see right through him all the time.

"I don't know, I just.. I don't wanna dissappoint you." She sighed and pulled him closer, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He exhaled in relief, she wasn't judging him.

"You would never dissappoint me by telling me what you want or how you feel, Rafe. I told you this." Her eyes were so kind it threw him.

"I know, I know. I just... I don't wanna screw this up." He looked embarrassed again and she hated it.

"You could never screw anything up by being honest. The opposite, actually." He nodded, feeling calmer as her fingers played with his hair.

"I'm sorry I'm so messed up." He let out a slight chuckle and she responded with a kind smile.

"You don't ever have to apologize for being human. Not to me. Not to anyone." She was looking at him with such conviction he couldn't help but nod. He wanted to believe her so badly.

"Is this something you've been wanting for a while?" He flushed again, remembeing his words form earlier, shyly nodding.

"Why didn't you say anything? Hm?" She placed her forehead against his, offering comfort and a grounding touch which was exactly what he needed.

"Dunno. Didn't want to overstep." He was finally being honest with her.

"By expressing your desires? To your girlfriend?" She was looking at him with slight amusement, and he blushed even more. She was right, it was silly

"When you say it like that it sounds dumb." He chuckled and she smiled at the sound. She kissed him again, a sweet kiss that helped ease his embarassment.

"I know I'm supposed to talk to you. I just didn't know how to bring this up without... I don't know... offending you." She nearly laughed at that.

"Offending me?" He shrugged.

"I don't know if it's allowed to ask for that." He blushed again, the teasing note in his voice not missed by her.

"You can ask for whatever you want, baby. I might not agree with everything, but you can always ask." She was serious now, wanting him to understand she meant it.

"Alright... So can I? Taste you?" He was holding his breath now, anticipating her answer. Truth be told he had been craving it for months - to please her like that. He enjoyed giving head before but he felt like he would explode with need over doing it for her.

"Not right now." She smiled.

"But I can... some other time?" He was desperate for her to say yes, to know he has a chance to fulfill this need, to please her like she deserves.

"Maybe." She was driving him crazy now.

"Maybe?" His tone was exasperated causing her to smile.

"Yes. Maybe." She pulled back so she could maintain eye contact.

"Eating my pussy is a privilege to be earned, Rafe. Not just something you can expect." He gulped as she spoke, driving him more and more insane with each word passing her lips. He wanted to scream with how hot she was, how sexy he found her confidence and how much he hated and loved her dominant personality all at once. He felt ready to beg. It was pathetic, really.

"How do I earn it?" His question made her stifle a chuckle, the eagerness in his tone endearing.

"By being a really, really good boy." She whispered the last part, his eyes glazing over, caught in a trance. She was so evil for playing with him when he's so messed up over her already.

"I'll do anything. I'll be so good." He would have been embarassed at how pathetic he sounded but he didn't have it in him to care, his arousal overwhelming him.

"You will, huh?" He nodded so fast she had to hold back from laughing. She couldn't believe he was begging to eat her out right now. This was not what she expected out of tonight.

"Yes. I'll be soo good for you. Please..." He was so far gone now, the whine in his voice causing her panties to dampen. Damn him. Damn him for how hot he looked, begging for her.

"You're gonna be good for me?" He was nodding along, clearly too far gone at this point to form words.

"Okay. I need you to calm down so we can go back downstairs." His brows furrowed as her words registered.

"What?" He asked, trying to clear the lustful haze from his brain.

"We came to a party, remember?" He was nodding along.

"So we're going back downstairs and you're going to enjoy yourself at the party you wanted us to come to. Yeah?" He finally started realizing she wasn't going to give him what he so desperately wants. She was mean for teasing him like that. He pouted again, giving her that kicked puppy look, but she stood her ground. He sighed loudly, feeling grumpy now.

"You're cruel." He mumbled as he got up and made his way to the door.

"What was that?" She heard him the first time but wanted to see if he'd have the balls to repeat it.

"Nothing. I'm going to the bathroom." He shuffled out of the room with his head down.

She felt a little guilty for rejecting him like that but she meant what she said. She didn't get all dressed up and come to this party just to end their night so soon. She knew this had been important to him and she didn't want his lust to distract him from what he really wanted to do tonight. Which is spend time with his friends and her, not to go back to their bubble the second they got horny. No. Tonight was a test for both of them, to practice some freaking self control. She had to be the strong one, cause he clearly couldn't be. Not when it came to this. But he made it really, really difficult to keep her head straight. Trouble personified.

Once he returned from the bathroom he seemed more calm, more in control of himself. He had splashed his face with water and spent an annoying amount of time sitting on the closed toilet seat, forcing himself to stop thinking dirty things and relax. It wasn't easy, with everything that happened in the basement and then his room. The teasing, the tension, it was all too much. But he understood why she rejected his advances, no matter how embarrassed he might be about it. He was the one who dragged them out to this party, making a big deal out of the night - so he had no right to be mad at her for trying to do what he had asked - experience the party with him.

So he shook his naughty thoughts off and managed to calm himself down enough to where his arousal was no longer noticable. It was the best he could do without jerking off and he really didn't want to do that.

She got up as he enterd the room, approaching him and pulling him into a hug immediately. He realized she felt bad for what happened but he wasn't upset anymore.

"It's okay. You're right. We should go back downstairs." She pulled back to look at him, to see if he was being honest with her. He smiled at her worry.

"I promise." He gave her a cheeky smirk and she accepted his answer, pressing a quick peck to his cheek and pulling him out of the room, back to the party.

He felt so lucky, holding her hand, seeing her interact with his friends, the smile on her face encouraging him to snap out of his thoughts and back to reality. He decided downing a few more shots would help him relax further, making it easier to forget how worked up he had been not 10 minutes ago.

As the night went on they hung out with his friends, drank, laughed and danced together. It was perfect. Exactly what he wished it would be like. He wanted her to like his friends and be comfortable around them and she seemed to be doing great.

They were in the kitchen again, her sitting on one of the bar chairs, chatting with one of the girls in the group. Completely smitten and unable to tear his eyes away, he just looked at her, his girlfriend - the realization making his heart feel so damn full he couldn't believe it. She was his girlfriend. How on earth did he get so fucking lucky?

She could feel his eyes boring into her for a while now, so she looked back at him finding him with a lovesick smile on his face, drunk and adorable, unashamed in his staring.

She decided to keep her drinking to a minimum, being the responsible one as always. It was in her nature. He was clearly already quite drunk but she didn't mind. She hadn't seen him drink that much during the time they've been together so she didn't feel a need to worry about it being a regular occurence. He just seemed really happy tonight and she didn't mind taking care of him once the time came. Which is something she never expected from herself at all- wanting to take care of a guy, not in terms of aftercare post sex, but in general. It made her question her sanity.

Once he realized she was looking at him the smile on his face only got bigger and he felt the intense urge to go to her, so he did. She smiled as he slightly stumbled into her, wrapping her arms protectively around him to steady him.

"Having fun?" She cheekily asked and he gave her the biggest boyish smile in return.

"Mhm, so much fun." He cuddled into her, taking her slightly by surprise. He was acting like they were the only people in the room, even though the kitchen was full of his friends. She could feel eyes on them as she played with his hair, the touch grounding, coaxing him back into reality.

"You okay, baby?" He simply nodded and nuzzled his face into her neck.

"Just happy." Her heart skipped a beat. She felt such intense affection for him in that moment it was unreal.

He wrapped his arms around her, making himself at home in between her legs, cocooning himself in her embrace. He was behaving the same way he did when they were alone, always desperate for her touch, to feel connected to her. It seemed even more intense now when they had a crowd of people looking at them.

"Feeling clingy?" She jokingly asked as the eyes of those around them burned into her skin. She didn't mind it but she was worried he might be embarrassed when he realized how he was acting in front of everyone.

"Just want you to hold me." He kissed her cheek and she could feel a slight blush forming where his lips met her skin.

She held him close, letting him soak in her touch, just as she did when they were in her apartment. She played with his hair and gave his back scratches in the same well practiced dance her fingers performed every day. She decided to break the moment by starting up a conversation with the same girl again as he cuddled into her in silence.

They stayed like that for a while and slowly but surely everyone got used to the odd sight of Rafe Cameron being clingy and soft as fuck, realizing this was normal behavior to the pair as she took it in stride.

After a while Rafe started getting antsy, she could feel him wiggling around and cocked a brow.

"What's up, angel?" Their eyes met and he pouted.

"Need to pee." He almost whined out causing her to chuckle.

"Then go pee?" She didn't understand his dilemma.

"Don't wanna." She realized what he meant, he didn't want to let go of her and leave her embrace even for a short bathroom trip. It made her almost laugh but she held back from it, seeing the serious expression on his face. He was drunker than she thought. She sighed, not believing what she was about to say.

"You want me to come with you?" She could see by the way he immediately brightened, she was right.

She couldn't believe she was so down bad that she'd baby a guy like this. But alas there she was, holding his hand and guiding him to the bathroom. She needed to maintain some dignity so she told him she'd wait outside for him to which he pouted but decided not to complain after seeing the resolution on her face. So she watched him stumble into the bathroom making a mental note to get him to drink water once they got back.

When he came out of the bathroom, he almost lost his footing nearly tripping until she caught him, steadying him. He was embarrassed at how drunk he'd gotten.

"We need to get you some water, baby." He noded his head, wrapping his arms around her again, quietly apologizing into her skin over and over and over while she shushed him and guided them back to the kitchen. As soon as they got there she was thrusting a water bottle at him.

"Drink the whole thing." Her tone left no room for argument so he drank the water obediently and she kept a watchful eye on him the whole time. As she did, she finally noticed something different in his costume. He had gotten redressed when he was in the bathroom upstairs, but something was missing.

"Where's your halo?" He stared at her confused, processing her words for a long moment until they finally set in. He hurried to check his head for the headband he was wearing at the beginning of the night only to find it gone. He set the now empty water bottle on the counter, turning around in search of the missing piece but it was nowhere to be seen.

"I lost it." He pouted, trying to think back to where he had it last but the task was impossible for his drunken mind. She softened at his sad expression, he looked like he might cry.

"It's okay, baby. It was only like 3 dollars." He shook his head, not feeling any better about it.

"But you got it for me." He looked so cute and pitiful, pouting like a kid over a piece of plastic.

"I can get you another one." She smiled as he brightened.

"Really?" She nodded, pulling him closer to fix the mess his hair.

"Really. It's not a big deal." But it was to him. It might have been a silly constume prop but he fully intended to keep it forever as a reminder of their night.

"Our costumes are ruined." He whined and she held back a laugh at his theatrics.

"I don't think anyone cares about our costumes anymore, Rafe." She was right, everyone was too drunk to care about any of that at this point.

"I do.... Now we don't look like a couple anymore." She sighed in exasperation.

"But we are a couple, baby." He smiled at that, hiding his face in her shoulder making her chuckle. He was adorable when he got all shy from her petnames. She knew he loved it when she called him baby the most.

"Wanted everyone to know..." he whined into her skin, apparently not done with the topic yet. She rolled her eyes at what she was about to do to appease him. She really is down bad for this guy.

She pulled out her red lipstick and her phone, reaplying the colour to her lips while he watched her like it was the most fascinating sight in the world.

"Here." She planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a print of her lips on his skin. He blushed as she showed him his face on the phone screen, feeling all giddy again.

"Happy now?" She was starting to annoy herself with her need to make him happy tonight.

"Yes. Thank you." He hugged her again, taking in the smell of her hair, feeling sated at last.

As soon as things were starting to feel somewhat peaceful again, Aaron had to make a comeback. She had no patience left in her body for anyone's bullshit and she figured it was around time to get going anyways. She looked down at Rafe, sleepily leaning on her, eyes drooping, realizing he was ready for bed.

"Time for bed, baby?" He groaned in disaproval, not wanting to end the night yet.

"Hungry." She barely managed to make out his mumbling. She hadn't seen any food around except for some chips which was not really good enough to sate a stomach as drunk as his. He needed actual food.

"How about we get you to your room and I order something? Hm?" He looked cute, thinking it over, she could practically see the wheels in his head turning with concentration.

"But we're supposed to go back to yours." The little pout was back on his lips and she realized he pouted a lot when he was drunk.

"I don't think I can carry you back to my place, baby. We can ask Mac for help up the stairs yeah?" He shook his head, the movement clearly making him temporarily dizzy and she worried he might end up falling over.

"M'not that drunk." The slur in his words contradicting his conviction. She simply rolled her eyes and located Mac who was also quite drunk but seemed still capable of helping her out.

"Mac!" The brunet immediately made his way to where the two were standing. "Help me get him upstairs?" He wasted no time nodding and grabbing his best friend under his arms to drag him to his room. Rafe protested again but after stumbling decided to keep his mouth shut and accept the help. He could still walk to an extent so Mac didn't need her help, managing to get him to his room fairly quick helping him down on his bed.

"I'm sorry." He kept apologizing, feeling bad for ruining the night. She disagreed. She'd had plenty of fun with him tonight and him being drunk was but a minor inconveniece to an overall good time. She explained this to him, kissing his cheek in reassurance.

Mac had made himself scarce quickly and she was thankful for the privacy and the quiet of the room. She ordered them both a burger and fries and played with his hair while they waited. It didn't take long for him to doze off.

Once her phone pinged, she snuck out not to wake him and made her way outside to get the food, pushing past the rest of the drunken party downstairs. When she came back his eyes were barely open, it seemed he had woken up by her absence. She smiled showing him the food and he returned it, stomach grumbling with hunger.

They finished their food quite quickly, given how hungry they were, throwing the trash in the bag to be dealt with tomorrow. She changed into his t-shirt and despite the sleepiness overcoming him, his eyes still stared at her body, unable to control himself when she was so damn beautiful. She caught him staring and chuckled at his awestruck expression. He had the same look on every time he saw her undress.

"Come on baby, lets get you changed, hm?" She helped him pull his shirt off and struggled to take off his pants but eventually managed. He had an adorable grin on his face as she made herself comfortable beside him. She reached for him and he immediately made himself at home in her arms. Sleeping with her had become one of his absolute favorite things in the world. He never sleeps better than when he's wrapped up in her arms.

"Good night." He whispered into her hair and she laid a light kiss on his temple as the exhaustion finally caught up to her.

"Good night, my angel."

.........................................

Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @torturedtypewritersdept @kinkyrafe @mentallynot-here @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @fangirlwithlou @rafesxgold @malfoytargaryen @theyluvmesblog @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife @piceous21 @ditzyballerina @xoxo3m1ly @jessmaybank @whore-4-drewstarkey @palmwinemami @dustbunniess @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @starkowswife @ietss @beansprout713 @starkeysbebe @miahxelizabeth @lalalalala33

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 1 year ago

Text

You came — you called. | Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

credits for the header - ghost's pic by the very talented @ave661 ✦ Word count: 2.2k ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: After being abused by your current date, in need of comfort, you call your ex-boyfriend and recurring fling, Simon, to talk. ✦ TW and general warnings: SFW, some kisses here and there but no smut, angst, you guys are in a complicated situationship, fluff, sensitive content (domestic violence) ✦ AO3 | Masterlist edit: I wrote a part 2 in case you're interested <3

A/N: I really need to finish my already started requests, really do but inspiration ONLY gets to me when I'm randomly existing and then a random prompt comes in mind and arghhh gotta write 😭 but I promise - if anyone reading this sent me a request, know I've started it already and I WILL finish. also, thinking really a lot about making a part 2 for this piece and making it smutty. pls let me know if anyone's interested! anyways, not proof read, hope y'all enjoy, x

━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━

It’s the same place as the last time you saw him. Ironic, maybe. You still smoke the same cigarettes he offered to you once in a promise it would help you calm down from your anxiety; it did. It did a little too much. You still wear that same necklace you refused to get rid off even after you dumped him, after you promised you’d never see him again, never talk to him again. God, hope he doesn’t get mad at that.

Truth is you’ve been failing at that for quite some time. You’ve been seeing him way more than it’s necessary, but contrary to how things used to be before, now every moment with him is a single time that ceases to exist once you get home. He texts; you ignore. He doesn’t text anymore till the next time he misses you. You ignore it till the next time you miss him. This time isn’t much different, only you have a bit more of a reason to be here, unsure if he’ll show up, smoking this damned red Marlboro and feeling like shit. Like absolute shit.

You exhale the smoke, your hair tied back in a ponytail through the cap gap. Hiding yourself.

His big broad figure fills the door in, and he comes inside. To your big surprise, he decided lastly to come; Simon looks at you with a bitter look on his face, his dirty blonde hair trimmed, his beard done, wearing one of his thousand black tight t-shirts and a pair of jeans. He looks the same as ever.

“You came.” You say, surprised as he pulls the chair back and takes the seat in front of yours.

“You called.” He replies simply, his body relaxing spaciously in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, I did.” You let out some more smoke before discarding your cigarette on the ashtray. “But I thought you were still mad at me.”

He looks at you in silence for a couple seconds, and scoffs.

“And that never stopped you from calling, did it?” He snorts impatiently. “Did something actually happen or are you just lonely and needing someone to help you fall asleep?” You feel derision in his attitude and his voice is dripping with venom and bitterness.

You close your eyes. Can’t blame him, can you? You had your own good reasons to break up with him, although stupidly, without thinking twice - without thinking that you’d end up missing him. Trying to find him in all the wrong places, wrong guys.

“Well go on, Simon, what else do you still have to tell me?” You mimic him, crossing your arms and your face a little twisted in irritation facing him. “I was single, I still am. I had the right to be with someone else.”

“I never blamed you for that. I never fucking blamed you.” Simon wipes his mouth with his hand, his ever icy expression breaking into frustration the second you open your mouth again.

“You are blaming me. You-”

“I fucking am not. I’m angry at the poor fucking choice you did. Getting rid of me for that fucker? You’re making a joke out of yourself, even for someone like me that’s fucking downgrading.” He snaps, regretting it the second later and squeezing his eyes for a moment.

You remain silent. He’s right. He’s absolutely right.

You stare into the distance of the window by your side, silent - embarrassed, regretful. Your hands together over your lap and your silence put together make him raise his head at you once again, in a sigh.

“I shouldn’t be here. Our conversations won’t ever end in anything good but me taking you to bed, if that’s what you want then I’ll gladly do it without all the trouble.” He states. You tremulously raise your eyebrows and your lips curl in a small hurt smile.

Ouch.

You know he said it to hurt you. You know he’s angry, he’s hitting all the right buttons to get under your skin, he can’t help it. He can’t help but to be a bastard sometimes, he never learnt different.

Your eye stare down your own hands, you feel your lips tremble and the lump in your throat gets bigger each second. It's hard to hold back the tears, but for your dignity, you try. There's no less brutal way to admit something like that, so you vomit the words all at once.

“He hit me, Simon.”

His eyes open, the pupils slowly dilate like those of a shark that has just tasted blood for the first time.

Simon has blood on his hands. From too many people, more than you could count. And even if that's his job, never in all those hard years with him - you swore - had you ever seen him so pissed off.

The veins in his temples stood out and he swallowed bitterly, his mind empty; If he wasn't an extremely restrained man, then he would have gotten up and taken action right now. A thoughtless attitude that he might later regret - maybe.

“Tell me his address.” He snaps, his blood boiling enough for you to almost feel the heat increasing in his flesh.

“Simon, no.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head, almost crying at this point. "That's not what I called you for, I don't want you to hurt anyone. I broke up with him, I don't have anything to do with that son of a bitch anymore, I just-"

He interrupts you with a gesture and claps his hands to his face. He brushes his own skin roughly, as a self-reminder that if he gives in to his own anger, he'll let you down.

When he makes room for his eyes through his hands again and sees your reddened

face, tears streaming down your cheeks - he dies inside.

He promised he’d always be there for you. He promised he’d never let you down, he’d always protect you, he’d kill for you. He said it plenty of times and you were completely aware that it was true.

He couldn’t possibly let you down.

“No, please, I can’t- I just can’t when you cry.” He mutters, getting up from his seat and offering his hand. “You come with me. Please?”

━ ⟡ ━

The hot steaming water falls over your head, sweeping your tears as you hug your legs. Simon's fingertips brush calmly your back, he contours the bruises on your lower half like he's grieving. The silence fills in the bathroom if not for the sound of water dripping on your head. He pours some water on your back to soothe your pain - even if you're not feeling any at this point.

"Why did you not call me before?" He asks, with painful confusion in his raspy voice. His hands are shaking and you know it's pure anger and his own incapability of holding himself back when it comes to feeling anger. You sigh, tired.

"I don't know. I felt like I'd be unfair to you." You try to explain, your hands caressing your shins while the water runs through your skin. "And because I didn't want to get you in this state."

His eyes narrow as he stares at you, and you shrug in response. It's clear to him why you don't like to get him stressed - he could never hurt you, but he was a danger to others.

He waves his hands to shake off the water and stands up, grabbing and opening a clean towel for you.

You stand up, your eyes don't dare leaving his. He silently admires you, although his mind can't think much more than how guilty he feels for letting this happen to you - even though there was nothing he could do about it. You dry your feets on the mat and turn your back so he can wrap you in the towel, and he does so.

Simon calmly brushes the towel against your shoulders, drying a bit of the water that drips from your whole body and once he’s done wrapping you in the towel, he places his hands on your back and leads you to his room.

His smell is everywhere around and what used to be intoxicating and lustful for you, is now soothing and quiet. You sit on the edge of his bed, silence seeming to be now a whole conversation between the two of you.

Your hand reaches for his and places it on your cheek. You look up at him with kitty eyes, your thumb circles the skin on the back of his hand till it finds the scar you were looking for – one of his oldest ones, according to himself. You close your eyes and snuggle into his hand, giving it a light, calming kiss.

He caresses your cheek and moves your hair from your face.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” He says in a whisper. You nod, and he comes back moments later with a clean shirt of his. You tug it in your neck and quickly put it on letting the fabric run free on your body, loose.

He starts removing rubbish from his bedside table – an ashtray, an empty can of energy drink, a gun. As you notice he seems to be trying to empty the room for you, you speak out.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'll be in the living room if you need me for anything." He says simply. Before he can leave the room, you stop him by wrapping your hand on his arm. The sudden motion makes him turn around to face you, his dark eyes gazing at yours and seeming already aware of what comes next – a protest.

"Simon." You use a warning tone, and he closes his eyes.

"You don't want to have me around now, kitten. I'm far from calm…" He argues, calmly looking down at you now. The proximity burns you, he's too close.

"I'm not scared." You mewl, your hands on his tough chest, he doesn't move a muscle. Your hands start trailing up to his neck, and you get on your tiptoes to wrap your arms better around him; Simon closes his eyes, drunk by the overwhelming feeling of having you so close to him. He misses you.

One of his hands holds your wrist before you manage to curl up on his neck, and the other one gently holds on your waist. He bends down enough so he can reach your tiny self. He gives you what you want - his lips slowly catch yours in a slow, calm kiss; the warmth of his lips against yours is medicine to you – soothes all of your pain, eases all of your anxiety. He squeezes on your waist and pulls back once he starts feeling heaty and his breath starts to become uncontrolled, needy. He breaths against your lips, his eyes barely closed and his breath catching on his throat like panting.

You stare at his lips before going back to his eyes.

"Stop." He snarls, raising his head a bit, avoiding your face and the closeness you impose on him now. It feels wrong. You need space.

You close your eyes, you understand. It feels wrong.

After all of this time of failed attempts to let go, to sound nonchalant and be away from each other – after all the fails and the sex, devoid of feeling type of sex, rough, delicious but raw sex, he wants to fuck you straight. He doesn't want to be angry, he wants to take you and make love to you.

You understand. Feels wrong.

"Will you be fine here? You need to rest and I need to take a walk, clear my head." He mutters, avoiding your eyes for the sake of restraining himself. You nod.

"I'll be alright. You'll come back, right?" You ask, looking at him - looking for his eyes. He stands back from you and nods.

"Of course." He assures you, before caressing your hair slowly and giving you a calm kiss on the forehead. "Rest. Do not stay awake waiting for me, hear me?" He snarls, grabbing his keys and a hoodie of his, tucking it in and giving you space.

You sit in his bed and nods, watching him leave by the room door and close it behind himself. Now alone, you close your eyes exhausted by the lack of sleep you've been having for these past few days; it doesn't take you long to fall asleep, surrounded by comfortable pillows that smell like his perfume – woody and whiskey.

Walking in the streets, with his hands digging in his hoodie's pocket and tough stomps, Simon's face lit up by the light emanating from the street lamps. His body swings slightly to the weight of his steps, and he breathes heavily.

After several minutes – more than he probably told you he'd take, he stops in front of a very familiar residence. You should know it wouldn't be any trouble for him to find your abuser's house.

He took a familiar piece of cloth out of his pocket, it had been time since he last wore it. Now seemed like a good moment. A balaclava, full face mask – handmade, with a skull painted on. Simon hugs you and kisses your scars; Ghost wants revenge.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod fic #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley imagine #ghost fluff #ghost x reader #cod ghost #simon riley #cod mw2

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