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buckybabesonly · 2 years ago

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An Experiment in Jealousy

Summary: You decided to try and make Bucky jealous. Now, you would pay the price.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: Self-indulgent porn without plot tbh, lol

Warnings: slightly rough sex, dirty talk, slight!daddy kink, unprotected sex

Length: 2k

Bucky was the first man to ever make love to you. And boy, did he do everything right. He loved to pepper kisses all over your skin, worship your body, whisper I love yous and I'm so lucky to have yous against your mouth as he thrust into you slowly every night, eyes locked with yours as you both reached your climax.

Sometimes, less often, he would fuck you. When you had a fight and the inevitable make-up sex happened, or when you were just in one of those moods and ripped off his clothes with such ferocity that he just knew what you wanted, or when you told him outright that you wanted it fast and hard instead of gentle and slow.

Tonight, you knew what you wanted. You wanted him to use you, to own you.

And so you had spent the whole night flirting with Steve, playing it in such a way that just about bordered platonic without being too outrageous, but just enough to get Bucky ticking. This, coupled with how you had absolutely iced your boyfriend out all night and instead spoken to Steve with laser focus, would absolutely get you what you wanted. You were certain of it.

You watched Bucky from the other end of the bar to discreetly observe his reactions, his leather-gloved hand wrapped around a beer bottle, the other one lifting up to brush against his lightly stubbled jaw as he observed you. He took a sip of beer, his eyes piercing, and you could tell he was gently seething.

You suppressed a smile. Jackpot.

Bucky all but slammed you against the door of your shared apartment as soon as you had closed it, pressing up against you firmly as you gasped at his sudden movement. His hands framed either side of your head, body trapping you in place as you stared up at his icy blue eyes.

"Is that how you want to play, doll?" he murmured, gritting his teeth as your chest heaved against his.

"Bucky, please," you whimpered, not even pretending to be coy. You knew that he knew exactly what you were playing at, and now it was time to cash in.

"Please, what?" Bucky all but snarled, cocking his head to the side as you blinked at him.

"I need it. Need you."

"So desperate for my cock, are you? You want me to fuck you like the slut you are?" Bucky asked, eyes flickering down to your mouth.

His words sent delicious chills down your spine, arousal shooting straight to your core. Your hands grasped his leather jacket, moving to peel it off, but his hands were lightning. They wrapped themselves around your wrists and held them back against the door with a gentle thwack.

"No," he said sternly. "You need to be punished."

Your pussy was practically dripping. You were so wet that you were almost convinced he would be able to smell your arousal soaking through your panties.

"How are you going to punish me, daddy?" you asked in a faux-nervous voice, feeling his hard-on through his jeans already, heavy against your inner thigh. You knew he liked it when you called him that.

"On your knees," he said in his deep, authoritative voice, eyes daring you to object. His tone was void of his usual gentleness. Tonight, he meant business.

You sank down to the floor as he worked at his belt, unfastening the piece of leather and letting it snake to the floor.

"Take it out," he instructed.

You reached out and unzipped his jeans obediently, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes. You touched his bulge over his boxers as he sucked in a ragged breath, unable to hide the effect you had on him despite himself.

Tugging down the waistband of his underwear, his cock sprung free, thick and heavy and red, the velvety head waiting to be sheathed inside your mouth.

"Suck it and make daddy feel good," he commanded, his fingers lacing themselves through your hair.

You didn't need to be told twice. You opened your mouth and wasted no time in swallowing up his cock, his length barely fitting inside your mouth, but you tried your best. You relished the taste of him, the slightly salty tang of his pre-cum, urging yourself to take him deeper and farther down your throat no matter how your gag-reflex protested at the intrusion.

Your eyes teared up as he began to gently fuck your mouth, his hands tugging on your hair without the actual force to hurt you, but encouraging you to take more and more of him into your mouth.

"There's a good girl," he grunted, head rolling back in pleasure as you served him, your mouth forming a suction around his fat cock, your tongue gliding up the length of his dick as you released him with a pop.

Your eyes were wet as you dived in again to taste him, so addictive, enough to make you feel so fucking horny.

For a good five minutes, the only sounds filling the room were his dirty praises and the gargle of you choking on his cock. Eventually you couldn't hold in your needy whines any longer.

"Please, can you put it inside me?" you begged.

"Mmm. I don't know if you deserve it."

Panic flashed briefly within you. Bucky had been known to deny you of release before when you had been particularly naughty, and you mewled in protest. You didn't want to be teased tonight.

"Please, I'll be good. Need you inside me. Don't you want to come inside my tight pussy?" You knew exactly what words would make him attack you hungrily like predator on prey.

Bucky snarled and bent down to grasp your upper arms, jerking you upright to your feet. He shucked off his jeans which were still pooled around his ankles and picked you up with ease, bridal style, taking you to the bedroom. He tossed you onto your bed like you weighed nothing.

He shrugged off his jacket and tore his shirt off so he was completely naked, his muscular chest and arms flexing as he undressed. You were still on your back as he crawled onto the bed, positioning himself on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. You watched as he hitched up the bottom of your dress so it rolled up to your waist, pulling down the neckline so your breasts fell out and presented themselves to him.

"You want this?" he asked, slapping his cock against your pussy through your panties. His hands reached down to grab your tits, squeezing roughly.

"Please, please, please," you chanted like a mantra, hands reaching out for him. You pushed your panties aside with one hand and took his cock in the other, urging him to go inside.

"Needy, aren't we?" Bucky chuckled, biting down on his lower lip. "Tell me what you want. Use your words, doll."

"I want your cock in my cunt," you said desperately, wanting - no, needing to be filled by him. "I want you to fuck me like the fuckdoll I am. I want you to cum inside me, please - Bucky!" You screamed out when he suddenly thrust inside you without warning, without letting you adjust as he entered you all at once.

He bottomed out with a groan, his cock stretching your tight hole.

"Oh god, Bucky," you moaned as he moved with ruthless speed, fucking in and out of your pussy with such force that your tits bounced with every movement. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he leaned down and kissed you angrily, tongue sliding into your mouth.

"This cunt is mine," he hissed, punctuating every word with a sharp jerk of his hips. "No one else. You belong to me. Say it."

"I - ah - belong to - ah - I belong you you, Bucky!" you whined, struggling to catch your breath. "Wait, not so fast, please," you moaned as he hit that spot deep inside your cervix with no mercy.

He didn't stop his pace, only moved to prop your legs up over his shoulders to allow him even better access to you, his cock seemingly sinking even deeper into you, in a way that felt impossible. You felt so full, so over-stimulated, you knew you wouldn't last long.

"Not so fast?" Bucky repeated with a humorless laugh, mocking you. "You wanted it to badly before, doll. I'm just giving it to you."

"Ah -Bucky - " tears of pleasure leaked from the corners of your eyes as you struggled to make a coherent sentence.

"Love how you're clenching around my cock. You were made to take my cock, to be filled up by me," Bucky said, the words making you wetter by the minute. "Gonna cum inside you, doll, gonna give you every last drop. Gonna remind you who you belong to. Gonna pound my cock into you until you beg me to stop."

"Daddy, please, cum inside me," you gasped. You could feel yourself reaching your orgasm, that feeling of pleasure creeping up slowly until you found yourself begging Bucky to keep going. "Please don't stop, don't stop, i'm almost there. Please keep fucking me, Bucky!"

A feral noise left Bucky's mouth as his cock continued to dive in and out of your sore pussy, never once faltering. You knew he could feel it when you clenched around him with a gasp, stars blinding your eyes as you came, his name falling off your tongue.

"Oh god," you gasped, heart beating rapidly as Bucky never stopped moving, smirking at your shaking form.

His hands reached down to flick at your clit as you squirmed, too sensitive.

"Bucky, no," you whined weakly, the pleasure too much for you as he continued to play with your pussy all the while his shaft disappeared into your cunt again and again, slick with your juices.

"You can do it one more time, doll, I know you can. Cum for daddy," Bucky grunted.

"Are you gonna cum inside me?" you asked as you felt the burning beginnings of another orgasm slowly stir inside you, biting on the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from screaming. Your hands made their way to Bucky's neck, pulling him down to kiss you again.

"You're my cumslut, aren't you?" Bucky asked, eyes boring into mine. "Or do you want me to cum on your tits? Your face?"

The image of him painting your face white with his semen was almost too much. Tempting, but you knew you wanted it all in you tonight.

"Inside," you requested, almost begging.

He grunted in acknowledgement, and you knew he was close as he continued to draw circles around your clit.

He sped up the pace, one hand reaching out to grab the headboard behind you, vibranium hand crushing the wood as his hips stuttered. He groaned loudly as he shot his seed inside you, unloading his cum inside your willing cunt.

"Fuck, doll, you feel so fucking good," he hissed.

It was your second undoing at the feeling of him filling you up, and you unraveled seconds after he did, tears streaming down your face at the absolute electric pleasure of it.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you sweating and panting, his lips burying themselves against your neck.

"God, that was fucking incredible," he said eventually, slightly out of breath. His cock was still inside your pussy, and you whimpered at the feeling of him sliding out of your hole as he softened, his cum following suit.

"You're leaking out of me," you sniffed in protest.

Bucky reached down to deftly slide three fingers into your used cunt, inciting a squeal from your lips, a teasing smile on his face as he lifted his head to look at you, challenging you.

His fingers fucked you, fucking his cum back inside, playing with it as you almost sobbed out loud at the feeling. Eventually he withdrew his hand and lifted his digits to your mouth, which you opened automatically.

You licked him clean, the taste of your combined fluids making you shiver with delight.

"Mmm, Bucky..."

You felt your eyes grow heavy as you finally came down from the high, but you could feel Bucky growing hard against you again, his hand pumping his cock to encourage it.

"Doll, we're not even nearly finished yet."

#bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes pwp #bucky pwp #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #daddy!bucky #bucky x you #bucky x you smut #mature

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roomsofangel · 7 months ago

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LOVER, PLEASE STAY. . .

chapter one

synopsis you and wooyoung have been best friends for as long as you could remember, always overcoming everything in your friendship even after a few bumps in the road and confessions in the past. you could always trust that no matter wooyoung will always be there, right?

wc 1.6k

chapter warnings brief mention of injuries but its not detailed (bloody knuckles, busted lip, etc)

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ♥️

you always knew you were different from your best friend wooyoung. people described you as careful and reserved, while he was impulsive and carefree. you kept him grounded and out of trouble, while he showed you that there was more to life than your 'safe shell.' you felt like you belonged in the comfort of your shell, but wooyoung helped you explore and see that there was more out than the reassuring walls that surrounded you.

you’ve heard it said before that you two were like opposite sides of the same coin, although you've never stopped to consider it fully. but thinking about it now, especially with recent events, the more you realize how accurate that statement truly is.

and you weren't ready for when things began to change. the realization that wooyoung wasn't the same sunshine to your moon as he had been before left you feeling lost and empty. the familiar warmth you felt around him had turned cold and distant. it was as if he was turning into a stranger, someone you didn't know. but you couldn't bear to admit the fact that you were slipping away from each other.

“come on, you lil hermit.” wooyoung leaned down, whispering in your ear while gently grabbing the blanket you were clutching. his breath sends a shiver down your spine, tingling as it graces your skin. you groan, “wooyoung..” trying to seize back the comforters that are already on the floor. you felt like a petulant child being forced to face the day, being coaxed along by wooyoung’s subtle charms and gentle yet firm demeanor that now felt like a fever dream, as if they never existed now and you were stuck on the past, stuck on the days where he felt like warmth rather than the aching cold that felt like prickling needles at times

wooyoung had his hands on his hips, his usual cheeky grin on display as he approached you further. "come on!" he shifted over to pat your hip two times, adding, "i saw this new cafe, and i wanna check it out with you." you couldn't help but smile a little at the excitement in his voice, and the playful tone he had taken on despite not really wanting to leave the comforts of your bed

"can’t it wait?” you frowned, barely managing to keep your eyes open as you rubbed them gently.

“nope!” he beamed excitedly, bustling around your closet as he began to rummage through the various clothing options at his disposal. you’d never admit it, but there was always a sense of excitement whenever he did this—especially when he took the time to find the perfect outfit to match his own. "skirt today or shorts?" he asked, and you sat up, rubbing your eyes and struggling to pat down your hair.

“uhh.. shorts..” you replied and he nodded, his back still facing you while he pulled out a white shirt that matched his own, and blue jean shorts. it was pretty casual, really simple but it made you laugh a little at how it matched a lot. he wore similar, except he had his jeans were black and his faux leather jacket draping over his shirt. “hmm, wear gold.” he mentioned, and you nodded, getting up to rummage through your jewelry

things like this were your normal, it had been for years, you weren’t ready for it to end,

you never thought it would.

"hey woo, do you wanna check out this arcade that opened recently?” you asked him one night, noticing how his focus was more on whatever it was on his phone than the one-sided conversation. he was busy texting, or maybe browsing something online, you didn't really know. but the silence growing between the two of you felt more uncomfortable with each passing moment.

he replied in an incoherent mumble at first, making you sigh and take his phone out of his hand. "hey!" he huffed, finally lifting his head to look up at you. that’s when you noticed his dark circles under his eyes, "what’s your deal?" he asked, his voice thick with exhaustion.

you blinked a few times in disbelief, wondering who you were even looking at right now. this was definitely not the wooyoung you knew. this was not your best friend. this was someone else entirely. "my deal?" you parroted back, your brows scrunched. "can’t i just want to spend time with my best friend?"

his face quickly hardened, like a wave of ice crashing against you. "you’re really going to ask me that?" he snapped, his tone sharp, cold, and harsh. it was undeniable now; this was not your wooyoung, the person you knew for so long. as he spoke, his eyes bore into you, like daggers piercing your skin. you felt like you were drowning in his gaze, unable to breathe or speak in response

wooyoung didn't wait for one either, getting up and leaving the room, but not before taking his phone back from out of your hand after seeing your frozen up state and using such to his advantage. ignoring you altogether, “maybe san wants to go," he added and exited the room without looking back at you. you were left speechless, utterly baffled by his strange and cold behavior. as the door to the room closed behind him, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of frustration and confusion wash over you.

what the hell happened to your best friend?

wooyoung didn't want to admit it, but he was having a hard time keeping everything under control. he’d gone into that bar and woken up with bloody knuckles and a busted lip, and he had no idea how it had happened. he told himself that he was in control, but he was starting to lose grip on things.

he snapped at you because he felt like you were pushing him too hard, even if it wasn't entirely your fault. he tried to tell himself that it wasn't his fault, either. but deep down, he knew that he should be

deep down, he knew that he should be accountable for his actions, even if he didn't want to admit it. but it was easier for him to put the blame on you, than it was for him to take responsibility for his own behavior. and so that's what he did, even if he knew it wasn't fair, he blamed you.

as he tried to ignore his own guilt, he felt more and more conflicted. he wanted to follow you out the door, to get on his knees for forgiveness.

wooyoung laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling that was decorated with tapestry you had gotten for him. he let out a long exhale, his thoughts filled with conflicting desires. no matter how much he tries to avoid thinking about it, you would just continue to find your way back into his head.

he didn't understand why he would want to escape the one person he had ever truly loved. slowly, he shifted over to his side where he saw the endless little letters and polaroid pictures resting mockingly on his nightstand.

he doesn’t understand why he would want to escape you, you’re all he’s ever known.

wooyoung was leaning back against the wall, a lit cigarette teetering on the edge of his lip and smoke curling around his face. you had often wondered when he picked up the habit after being disgusted with it for years, but it had started to become apparent that he had no intention of stopping.

"do you ever think there’s more to life than whatever this is?" he asked as he looked at you through the plumes of the cigarette's smoke.

you were sitting criss-cross by his feet, your nose scrunched up as you tried to get away from the plumes of smoke floating around him. your gaze was locked on the sky that had a few puffy clouds, the sun peeking through just a bit. "what do you mean?" you asked back, head tilted slightly and using one hand to block the sunlight as you watched him chew on his bottom lip that was scabby from a previous injury.

even though wooyoung seemed to be getting injuries often lately, the scars on his body were starting to build up faster than you expected. you wanted to ask, but every time you tried, it was just like dialing a number that never got a response.

"like.. do you ever get tired of the same thing?" he asked again after the mini hiatus of silence, exhaling the smoke from both his mouth and nose. "forget it, i’m speaking bullshit." he muttered, huffing and crushing the cigarette with his shoe.

“it’s never bullshit to me.” you said, looking up at him before getting up and off the floor. “you know i’l listen."

“that’s the problem.” he said, and your entire spine chilled at his words. he walked away before you could ask him to explain further.

maybe wooyoung didn’t think you'd hear that, considering how he was walking away to his car, his car keys in hand, without even turning to see if you were still behind him.

thats the problem

you didn't know where down the line of your guys' friendship that you stopped being his solution, his antidote. when did you become the one that poisoned him instead? it felt like such a sudden shift, this change in your dynamic. all you could do was wonder, why did it happen, and how did it happen so quickly without you even realizing it?

previous (prologue) . . masterlist . . next

taglist @special4u @vampzity @jwone

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lis-likes-fics · 11 months ago

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Frauds

Pairings: Jackson Rippner x Reader Word Count: 8.1k words Prompt: Face fucking Warnings: NSFW, NONCON, dead dove: do not eat, smut, swearing, blackmail, mentions of murder, mentions of human trafficking, oral (m!receiving), face fucking, brief suffocation, fingering, dumbification, floor sex, forced orgasms, forced creampie... A/N: This is another super dark one so, please. Reader discretion is advised. Reader is kind of morally lacking in this one, but compared to Jackson... yeah. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and read at your own risk. Thank you!

You've been to better bars.

You swirl a cherry in your drink as you sigh, rolling your eyes at the lack of taste—a long, white counter and glass shelves with gold linings. The stool you sit on is a dark maroon with gold structuring to match. So…plenty of gold and far too bold to actually be worth any of it. Not to mention the cheap syrups in your liquor.

And this case isn't giving you any favors. Your client is a moron with no good evidence that you can use to win his case. It's a lost cause, and he's definitely guilty.

Why had taken his case in the first place? You were great at your job and you picked your clients well. If you lost this case, it would ruin your winning streak. This whole thing was a mess.

As you lift your eyes to stare at the wall of liquor behind the bar, your gaze catches that of a man in the mirror. You only lock eyes for a moment, his gaze almost chilling as he looks away and tries to hide a small smile. You lick your bottom lip and turn your gaze back down to your drink.

You have given up on the bar and decide you need to rest anyway. It's late and your exhaustion with work is doing you no favors.

You sigh as you wait for the rose gold elevator doors to part ways as the fading pulse of the button's light signaled its functioning.

A gentle ding, and you step into the small box that will deliver you to the seventh floor. It's as the doors are closing that a hand sticks out and grabs it, halting its movements as it retreats back into the shaft.

The man from before, who'd caught your eye in the mirror and bashfully turned away, steps inside with a smile on his plump lips and a dull spark in his ice blue eyes.

"Hey, sorry. Can I…?"

Internally, you take a breath in and hope he's not a creep with pretty eyes. Externally, you smile and side step, giving him more room to walk into the spacey elevator and take his spot beside you. He returns the grin.

The doors close quietly as he presses eight.

You consider the number. Floor seven to nine are suite floors. If he got the floor above you, he must have a nice sum of money in his pocket. Glancing over him as he stands with his hands in his pocket. His suit is inexpensive, a dark blue jacket and slacks and a white button down. His shoes are creased with the look of faux leather and his hair and stubble are in need of a trim. But he's got a silver watch on his wrist that must be worth hundreds.

You glance away from him. You check your own watch for the time, sighing as it creeps closer and closer to midnight.

The elevator rattles, and you both instinctively find purchase on the golden bar behind you for support. The rattling subsides after a moment, and you look at the red number on the wall. Three.

"Shit," you curse, glancing again at your watch and then at the number. "No fucking way."

"Goddammit," he muttered, walking up to the panel and jamming the service button with an annoyed huff. But the whole panel is off, the lights turned to pitched back like the floor sign which had faltered with a flickering red a few moments ago. It’s as though the whole thing just shut down, and now you’re both just stuck here.

“I’m reporting this. Absolutely ridiculous,” you mumble, pulling out your phone as you begin to dial the hotel’s number. You stop short with an incredulous breath. “Of course there’s no reception. Why the fuck would there be reception?”

He slaps his hands on the elevator doors a couple times to no avail. With a hefty sigh, he speaks, "Here, I'm sure it's fine. They'll notice something's wrong when someone else tries to use the elevator."

You turn to look at him, moving almost as though you just remembered he was here. You raise a brow and crossed your arms at his suggestion. "And how long could that take? It's almost midnight, most people are asleep by now."

He sighs again, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Fair point…"

You huff, backing against the wall and sliding down to the floor. You look up at the ceiling and shake your head. He mirrors you, taking his own spot at the other end of the elevator to give each of you your space as you take in the situation. Silence falls through the air.

"I didn't need this tonight," you mumble, dropping your head in your hands. "I've got too much shit to deal with tomorrow…"

He hasn't looked away from you, but you haven't looked at him much so you don't necessarily notice. Honestly, you've hardly noticed him at all. He's merely a presence within your vicinity, but not much in your mind.

"Something coming up?"

Again, you look up like you'd already forgotten he was there again. You take in the sight of him, considering him, before seeming to fully take in his presence to finally let him take up space in your mind.

"I'm a lawyer," you tell him with a new kind of attention. You almost sound boastful, but not enough to call you narcissistic. If anything, you sound annoyed by the end of your sentence, "Something is always up."

"A lawyer?" he says, raising his brows in subtle surprise.

"Yeah," you respond, pride seeping now into your tone.

"How's that?" he leans forward, interested in what you'll say.

You sigh heavily. "Stressful," you say. "Shoulda been so much easier than this. You know, I graduated top 5% of my class at Yale. I'm fully set at one of the best law firms in the country."

You miss the way he almost rolls his eyes as you nearly flaunt the spectacle of your career.

"Wow," he says. "Sounds amazing."

You shrug. "It is, but, God, is it taxing. I was so ready to go to bed, and then I hopped into this elevator and it shut down. Just my luck, right?" You shake your head. "I have this trial in the morning, and it's already giving me shit."

He hums. "A trial?" he says. "Is it rough?"

You shrug a shoulder. "Legally, I can't tell you anything."

He tilts his head playfully, offering a smile as he looks back at you with strange eyes. "Who am I gonna tell?"

You narrow your eyes, your own smile curling on your lips. "I don't know. I don't even know who you are."

He looks you up and down for a moment, almost seeming to size you up before he leans forward just enough to hold out his hand. "Jackson."

You look at it, then at him. You go to shake his hand, but he turns his to take your fingers in his, like he was going to bend down and kiss your knuckles. But he doesn't, he just brushes his thumb across them and smiles.

You stifle a grin. "You got a last name, Jackson?"

He licks his bottom lip, considering before he tells you. "Rippner."

You raise a brow. "Jackson Rippner?" you say, stifling a tiny smile with your teeth sunken into your bottom lip. That was unfortunate, a name so obviously susceptible to double-takes and raised brows. "Your parents were not kind."

He shakes his head, smiling a bit himself but clearly not enjoying the topic of his name decision. "No, they weren't."

Eager to change the topic before he loses interest and decides he wants to talk no longer, you shift to be able to lean a little more naturally toward him. "What do you do?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "I'm a travel agent…of sorts."

"Ah," you hum. "My cousin's one of those." You nod to support your claim.

He narrows his eyes slightly, tilting his head. "I didn't catch your name."

You tell him, and he raises his brows pleasantly. It's strange, though, how his eyes don't seem to change. "Considerate parents, then," he compliments. "That's pretty."

"Thank you."

He reaches a foot out and taps it against yours, and the gesture is so strange, as though you've known one another for years and you are catching up after a long time apart. "This case must be kicking your ass though, huh?"

You sigh heavily, breaking off into a grin. "You have no idea. The whole case is turning out to be a shit show—my client's a dumbass, all his associates are dumbasses. It's like they've never opened a law book." You shake your head. "I shouldn't have taken it."

"Why did you?"

"Looked hard." You shrug, "I don't take easy cases. There's no point in winning an easy case unless you need the extra points, and I've got a streak to maintain. But, apparently, I didn't pick something hard, I picked a lost cause."

He leans his head back. "So he's guilty?"

"Well, I couldn't very well tell you that, could I? I mean, I've already said too much as it is," you smirk.

He returns the look, his lip curling. "So he is guilty?"

You just sigh again, deflecting his question as you lick your bottom lip. "Been doing this for years, and I've only ever lost once." You turn to him, brows raised in pride, "You know, I once accepted a case more obviously guilty than this one, and I won it with ease."

He almost sighs, licking his bottom lip and nodding along. "Sounds riveting," he mumbles, a little too obvious.

You scratch your neck, glancing away and chuckling lightly. "Sorry, I'm talking too much," you smile.

He gives you a charming smile, seeming to move closer to you. His fingers suddenly brush yours, and you realize then that he's gotten close enough to do it. "Don't worry about that," he says. "I happen to have an affinity for pretty girls with pretty voices."

You lick your bottom lip and tilt your head away from him, narrowing your eyes playfully. "You trying to charm me?"

He raises a brow and smiles slyly. "Is it working?"

You cut your eyes away from him. "Maybe a little." You look back, "I just so happen to like pretty boys with pretty eyes myself."

"Oh, you think I'm pretty?"

You stand and stifle your laugh. "Don't get cocky," you mumble.

He chuckles. “You got a boyfriend waiting for you or something?”

You kick your foot against the floor, shaking your head. “Nope,” you shrug. “No boyfriend.”

He stands, regarding you with a shocked look. “No? Beautiful woman like you?”

You laugh, his charm rubbing off on you. You just shake your head again, looking at him. “No time. My hours are between 12 AM and 12 AM.”

He hums, stepping closer to you as you lean on the wall. “Hm, well, that must be why you're so stressed…” He thought for a moment before shrugging a shoulder. “That and the–”

“–Shit stain of a client.”

He laughs. “Yeah.” Standing in front of you, he licks his bottom lip and raises his hand to brush his knuckles under your chin. You sigh gently, silently. “Maybe I can help with that,” he suggests.

“You?” You raise a teasing brow. “How do I know you're not some freak?”

He shrugs again. “Well, if I am, I'm a freak who thinks you're gorgeous.”

You hum, biting your bottom lip. “You could be lying,” you speak gently, trying not to ruin the moment.

He's standing so close, you can feel his breath on your skin as his knuckles keep caressing your jaw. “You always have this much trouble trusting people?”

You shrug, “Maybe, maybe not. And, besides–”

His lips crash upon your own, silencing you as he pulls you into a consuming kiss. You hum lightly, leaning into him as your eyes flutter closed as you bring your hands up to cup his face. His hands tighten around your waist.

His tongue swipes along your bottom lip before he pulls back, sighing against your mouth. “Lemme help you out, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, pushing past your scrambled thoughts. “In an elevator?”

He smiles. “Well…we gotta make due, huh?”

Just as he goes in to kiss you again, the elevator rattles, and you break apart from him in favor of holding onto the railing before you fall. The number on the wall lights up again as it goes back into motion.

With a surprised chuckle, Jackson looks at you. “Are you magical, too?”

You smile. “I might be,” you say matter-of-factly. Rather than leaving it there, you continue. “My parents always called me their little witch, mainly because I had a talent for making their money disappear whenever I said please.”

He rejoins you, his hands on your waist as he looks at you. “Manipulative, then?”

You shrug. “I'd say…highly persuasive.”

He pulls you in even closer so your bodies are pressed together. “How about I persuade you to come up to my room? I'm sure I could…accommodate you for the night.”

His offer is tempting.

“You're not some sort of serial killer, are you?” you half-joke.

He raises a brow. “Do I look like a serial killer?”

You huff laugh. “No, but you are avoiding the question. I'm a lawyer, that's suspicious.”

He rolls his eyes. “No, I'm not a serial killer.”

“But–”

Once again, you're silenced by another kiss. The elevator stops and the doors open on your floor, but neither of you move as you continue to kiss.

When the doors close, he pulls away. “Hush,” he says simply.

You bite your bottom lip. “Okay.”

The elevator moves and ascends to the next floor, his floor. You smile, and he leans in to kiss you some more. It's quieter this way. He's happier this way.

He molds your lips to his almost forcefully, as though they don't quite fit together but he's intent on making them. He presses you into the wall, his knee flipping between your own as he slowly parts them.

When the doors open again with a quiet ding!, he backs away from you. Drunk off his kiss, you glue yourself to his side as he wraps an arm around you and leads you out of the elevator and to his room. He swipes his card and pushes you inside.

As the door closes behind him, he grabs you by your hips and pushes you against the wall once more. His lips crash down on yours, you sigh into his mouth.

Between kisses, he speaks. “Finally, I've got you completely alone.”

You chuckle to yourself. “That sounds suspicious.”

He slides a hand under your shirt, flattening it against your stomach before gripping your waist. “You think everything is suspicious.”

He lifts your shirt over your head, cupping your breast in his hand, nearly squeezing it too hard over the fabric of your bra. “Not everything,” you hum, pulling him in by his waist to feel his body against yours. You shrug, smiling teasingly. “Maybe I just don't trust you.” You kiss him, grabbing his tie. “Should I?”

He sighs between kisses. You miss the way he rolls his eyes. “Maybe you shouldn't.”

You chuckle, pulling at his shirt. “And yet, here we a–”

He slaps a hand over your mouth, stopping more sound from coming out of you as he covers his annoyance with a tight smile. “Stop talking.”

You hum and smile against his palm, agreeing.

He sighs, letting you go and leaning forward to kiss you. “Let's give you something else to do with that pretty little mouth of yours. Whaddya say?”

Again, you agree as you kiss him once more before lowering yourself to your knees. He watches you undo his belt, opening his pants and pulling him through the flap in his boxers.

You sigh when you lay eyes on his cock, thick and hard. You pump him in your hand, sticking your tongue out and licking a long stripe up the underside of him. His eyes flutter and he lets out a breath through his nose as he hums.

He watches you wrap your lips around his tip, suckling gently. He sets a hand on your head, tangling his fingers in your scalp and gripping lightly. You bob your head slowly up and down the length of him, taking him farther down with each movement of your head. He curses under his breath, spurring you on.

You hum around him, the feeling of his heavy cock weighing down on your tongue making your clit pulse eagerly. You reach a hand down, slipping it under the waistband of your slacks and pressing your finger against your clit.

You lave your tongue along his slit, taking in a breath before pushing him all the way down your throat. You hear his breath hitch, his hand tightening in your hair as he brings another to the back of your neck.

You start to pull off of him when he grabs you and pulls you down again. You choke around him, not expecting it as he holds your head still, grinding his hips against you as his cock pushes against the back of your throat.

You place your hand on his hips, trying to tell him to ease up. You could feel your lungs tightening as you lost air. But he just groans, keeping you there a moment longer. You begin to panic. He doesn't care.

When he does let up, you suck in a deep breath, choking again as you start coughing. Your throat is sore from the abuse. “Jesu–”

“Shut up,” he says, taking you by your head again and stuffing your mouth with his cock once more.

You try to push him away, to no avail. He grips you tight and starts fucking into your mouth, thrusting his hips back and forth as he leans his head back and moans. The tears slip down your cheeks as more and more gather. He looks down at you and smiles wickedly.

“You look so much better like this.” He chuckles, as though he'd just come up with a funny joke. “You sound so much better like this.”

You can't help the way you gag as he keeps fucking your mouth, saliva and precum dribbling at the corners of your lips.

At one point, you stop fighting him, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for him to stop on his own and put you out of your misery. Without your fight, he loses interest as he pulls out of your mouth with a heavy sigh.

You try catching your breath again, coughing as you do. The fear and anxiety swirls in your belly. As you wipe your mouth, you go to speak, to tell him off for the way he handled you.

As the first word begins to breach your lips, he pulls a gun from his shoe. You freeze entirely when he aims it at your face. You hold your breath, afraid to move and motivate him to shoot.

“You say a word and I'll put a bullet in your brain. Do you understand me?”

You swallow thickly, the fear making you speechless anyway. You nod slowly.

“Good,” he smiles, lowering the gun but keeping it firm in his grip, daring you to speak again. He sighs heavily, like he's relaxing for the first time as he stuffs himself back in his pants and reaches down to grab you by your upper arm. He drags you through the suite, pulling your reluctant body with him and dropping you onto the floor of the large bedroom.

He sits on the chair, making you look up at him from the floor as he crosses his legs and leans back. He loosens his tie with a sigh. He seems comfortable.

He stares at you for a while, thinking to himself and doing poorly to contain his grin as he does. “You were a lot easier to get to than I thought you'd be, I'm gonna be honest here,” he finally says.

You clench your jaw but keep your mouth firmly shut as he smooths his fingers along the nose of the gun. “You were supposed to be this really amazing lawyer that was just…impossible to manipulate. I honestly thought this would be tough…” he starts laughing a little, “but this was one of the easiest assignments I've ever had.”

Your stomach flips, and your mouth tastes bitter.

He shakes his head at you, highly amused by his own words. He shrugs. “It was real easy getting you to talk. I mean,” he scoffs, “you started yapping the moment you opened your mouth, and all I had to do was sit through it and pretend I actually cared.”

He holds a hand out to you, like he's giving a side note. “By the way, outing your client like that? I feel like you're supposed to know better,” he critiques.

You still don't speak, and he enjoys making you endure the uncomfortable silence as he stares at you. He gives a shit-eating grin. “You know, I'm proud of you. You haven't opened your mouth once.”

You try not to huff a breath, scared that he would count that as speaking and get rid of you right there. He just keeps watching you, admiring your ability to stay silent. You clench your jaw. Why was he doing this?

As if he read your mind, his eyes light up and he laughs. “Oh, shit. I haven't even explained anything yet.” He breathes in, clearing his throat.

“I am Jackson Rippner. When I said I was a travel agent, it was more that I'm an agent who travels around leading assassinations and government overthrows…the usual terroristic activities.” He smiles, almost proudly. He paused, like he's waiting for you to say something. When you don't, his brows furrow, the confusion etched into his features.

“This is usually the part where people react to my big reveal. ‘What do you want? Why are you doing this?’” He shrugs, “You're kinda just staring at me, sweetheart.”

You clench your jaw, continuing to stare with locked teeth, frustrated by his taunting. Then it hits him.

“Oh, right! Yeah, you can speak.” His face drops slightly, the threat in his eyes returning. “Slowly.”

You lick your bottom lip, sighing to ease your nerves. You'll be fine. You'll be fine. You'll be fine…

“What do you want from me?” you ask slowly, your voice quieter from the pure fear coursing through your veins.

“Oh, easy,” he grins. He separates each of his words with the tap of his gun against the tip of your nose. You jump at each little contact it makes, beginning to shake as you close your eyes and steady your breathing through your nose.

“I…want you..to win.”

You furrow your brow, tilting your head slightly as you open your mouth, unsure of what you'll say. You need to be careful about what you'll say. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I–”

“I have in my possession,” he drops his gun with a heavy clatter on the side table as reaches over to it, grabbing a stack of manilla folders off the surface and bracing it in his hands, “evidence and alibis for your client, William Paulson, to prove his innocence from the multiple charges of–” he opens it to read off the list, flipping through the pages as he does “–tax fraud, embezzlement, human trafficking, and murder.”

Your eyes widen as you completely still. You'd known about the tax fraud and embezzlement. This guy was obviously guilty—and heavily, at that—you took the case mostly just to prove how good you are.

But murder and human trafficking?

You did not sign up for that.

He tosses the files in front of you for you to examine. Tentatively, you pick it up and begin to scan over the files.

Jackson watches you process that information, staring at the floor and shaking your head. “Oh,” he covers his mouth with the tip of his fingers, just to be dramatic, “you didn't know about that last part?” He purses his lips and hums, shrugging. “Well, lucky for you, all the evidence steers clear of that so you should be fine.”

You couldn't do this. Well—obviously, you could easily win this case—but you didn't want to represent someone like this. Sure, you've represented criminals like this before, but, looking at these numbers, you could not support him without a guilty conscience.

The numbers were far too high.

“I…” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. You look up at him, “I can't defend this guy.”

Jackson laughs at the absurdity. “You already are,” he says, his face dropping in the next moment. “And you don't have a choice.”

He snatches the files from your hands, crossing his legs and setting them back on the side table. He gives you a moment to process, looking down on you as he sighs.

“The real hard part about this whole thing,” he says, bringing you from your thoughts, “was trying to figure out who was most important to you, someone I could use to blackmail you into doing whatever I wanted…but then I realized.” He laughs, licking his lips. “The thing you care about most is your career. You’ve brought up your family once since we started talking, and that was to say you used to manipulate them out of money.”

You clench your jaw as he keeps talking. “I mean, it's the holiday season! Most people talk about going home for Christmas, but not you. No, you didn't stop talking about your golden career.”

He leans back and rolls his eyes, disgusted by the fact that you wouldn't shut up, and less about your apparent lack of family values. “Hell, I've been watching you for weeks and you haven't called Mommy or Daddy once, haven't visited in longer. No point in visiting their little house in your hometown—4266 Red Bud Lane, right?” He shrugs, like he hadn't just proven that he knew exactly where you grew up, where your parents were right now, probably asleep in their beds and unaware of the danger they were in.

You suddenly begin to feel really guilty about not visiting…

He continues, unaffected. “All I have to do is provide evidence that proves your whole career has been a fraud and you'll do anything to keep me from releasing that to the world…won't you?”

You feel a little more guilty at the fact that you'd just become more upset over the fact that he would even threaten such a thing. You try not to think about it too much.

“I am not a fraud.”

You did not work this hard to be labeled a fraud.

He smiles. “Well, of course you're not. The evidence doesn't have to be true, it just has to be believable—and believe me, it is. I mean, coulda fooled me. This evidence gets in the right hands and–”

“You wouldn't.”

He tilts his head, leaning forward in his chair. “Do you really want to take a chance on that?” Your breath is heavy in your chest, the rage filling you at the thought of him ruining your life like this.

You hate to say it but you haven't truly had your parents in your life for years. Losing them would be so difficult to get over but…you could. With time, you could get over that.

But losing your job, having your career fall to ash in your hands, having your life dissolve into nothing but that of a fraud…you couldn't get over that.

Jackson chuckles lightly, watching the anger flare in your face. “Maybe I took it too easy on you. I should remind you who really had the upper hand here.” He begins to stand, to get close to you as he reaches for his pants.

Your eyes widen and the anger dissolves into fear. “No, please…”

He smiles. “Much better.” Your frown deepens and you turn away, looking down at the ground as you think. He rolls his eyes, annoyed by you and your “dilemma”.

“Forget all your moral shit… All you have to do is agree to take this evidence before the judge and negotiate his innocence, and you're home free.” He shrugs, “I mean, I'm basically saving a guy's life here. I'm usually the one telling my guys to kill ‘em. I'm a fucking saint right now.”

You huff. “You want me to get a human trafficker out of prison time.” You lick your bottom lip, thinking carefully. “I would rather lose this case.”

He smiles. “But you won't. I have other ways of making you cooperate, sweetheart. Trust me, this is easier for you.”

You don't reply.

“All you have to do is show the evidence,” he says, holding his hands out like he's laying it all out on the table. “I'll even throw in a bonus. You show the evidence, and I'll get your name on billboards across the country as a national icon in criminal justice. How's that sound?”

Your heart skips at that. The expansion that would create in your career. You could go big, you could start your own business, grow your career so that your name lived on even longer after you were already dead.

But your moral obligations made it a little harder to decide—despite the fact that they were apparently so low that it was hard for you to decide.

“Well?” he says, impatient with your contemplative silence as you stare at him. “What's it gonna be? God, I can't get you to stop talking and now you won't even open your mouth?” He leans forward in your face, tilting his head as he speaks quietly to you. “Is it because I stuffed it?”

“Fuck you,” you spit, your voice just as low but with far more force.

He sighs, blinking. “I tell you what, I will.”

Your eyes widen. The regret buds in the pit of your stomach as he stands. “Wait–”

“Ah-ah. You wanna act all high and mighty, like you're some—what, some moral legend?” He bends down to your level. “You're nothing. You're a power-grabbing whore, at best.”

Your stomach flips. “But don't worry…I can make sure you won't forget that again.” He begins to open his pants again.

You panic. “I'll do it. I'll do it!” You gasp, clenching your jaw. “I'll present the evidence.”

He smiles, pleased but not satisfied. “I know you will.”

As he begins to reach for you, you scoot back quickly, eager to get away from him as he grants you this dark look in his eye.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he slaps his palm down on the gun on his side table and takes it in his hand. He hasn't even pointed the gun at you before you stop moving, holding your breath to keep quiet.

“Thank you,” he smiles.

Jackson begins pulling off his loosened tie, grabbing you again as he turns you over onto your stomach, straddling you as he puts you on the floor. He drops the gun again with another clatter and you feel like it'll go off if he does it again. He ties your wrists behind you. Tight. And when he's finished, he turns you onto your back.

You stare up at him from the ground as he looms over you. He smiles, his eyes scanning over your body, “Where to begin…” He's no longer holding his gun, but you are in no position to grab it and defend yourself. Besides, he doesn't need to hold it, it just needs to be close enough that he can grab it…

You close your eyes shut when his hands cup your chest through your bra before he grips it tight and rips it off. He kneads greedily at your chest, humming at the feeling of the malleable flesh in his hands.

After a while, he lets you go to strip himself of his pants. Your jaw tightens and the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach has you shaking. When his bottom half is bare, he strokes his cock in the palm of his hand as he thinks.

“I'm going to enjoy breaking you,” he says, excitement tightening his stomach as he smiles. He leans forward onto his hands so his face is inches from your own. “But don't worry, sweetheart…I'll make sure you're begging me to fuck you by the end of this.”

You stifle the sob that begins to rise in your throat, swallowing thickly as the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Please…” you whisper quietly so as not to provoke him, in hopes of deterring him, finding some inkling of a good conscience in his head.

But he just smiles fondly. “See? You're doing great already.”

He takes his cock in one hand and the back of your neck in the other as he lifts your head up. “Open up,” he orders. You do not obey, clenching your jaw tight as refusing to let it go.

“Come on,” he warns you, tsking to himself when you still don't listen. He sighs, “Well, if that's how you want to play it…”

Jackson pinches your nose between his thumb and forefinger, and he pinches it tight. You begin to panic quicker than you would have liked, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you lose breath quicker than you anticipated.

“I have nothing but time, sweetheart. You, on the other hand, do not.” He just shrugs, watching your chest swell and your legs twitch, your body revolting against its lack of oxygen.

And when you can no longer take the burning in your lungs, you open your mouth.

Before you can take your breath and clamp your mouth shut again, his cock has invaded your mouth. You choke, squeezing your eyes shut and blinking away the tears as he thrust himself in deep. He lets out a loud groan, and the unmistakable sound of him smacking his palm against his gun again stops you from biting down on him before you can even think about it.

“Good girl,” he praises, pulling out to the tip just so he can thrust back in as though he was just fucking your pussy. He smiles as he watches you, audibly moaning as he starts thrusting in and out of your tight throat. His eyes stay focused on the bulge the imprint of his cock makes as he holds you up for easier access.

Your cries are interrupted by your gag each time he pushes in, only aiding to the pleasure of your sounds as he continues. The slap of his balls against your nose is hot and heavy and loud.

He keeps fucking your throat, moaning roughly as he does. You clench your thighs and try to keep your cries and your gags to a minimum so you aren't spurring him on with such lewd sounds. He covers the front of your throat with his other hand, feeling his bulge with a laugh.

“God, you take me so well, sweetheart,” he says. “Perfect fucking mouth.”

His precum is dribbling from your mouth and the taste of him continues to assault your tongue. You wish you could push him off—or do anything to make him stop—but the threat of his gun stops any thoughts from forming.

So, just like before, you don't fight him. As he holds you still, you let him do as he pleases, trying to ignore the lack of air between each thrust.

When he pulls out of your mouth, your gasp turns into a heaving cough as you choke on the air given to you. You wipe away the precum spilling over your lips and chin and cheeks, you try not to have to swallow whatever is in your mouth. You catch your breath as Jackson throws his head back and lets out a long, groaning sigh.

“God, I could never get tired of that,” he says, almost like he's lost in a dream. He watches you try to recover, sitting back with his arm propped on his knee. “I mean, the way your throat just…bulges with my dick is amazing. If you didn't act like you don't want me so badly, you'd realize how good it feels.”

You're disgusted by his insinuation that you'd still willingly want to fuck him after he's threatened your career and your family, held a gun to your head, fucked your throat twice.

Moving to sit up, you steady your breath. “I do not…want you.” You shoot him the angriest look you can muster. But he just laughs at you.

“Keep telling yourself that if it'll make you feel better,” he says. “But I know what you are.”

“I–”

“Still so talkative,” he sighs. “One would think you'd learn by now.”

You don't have time to process his hand wrapping around the back of your head, or him pulling you down in front of him, or him taking his cock and pushing it between your lips again. Your surprised whimpers slip from your throat and only add to his pleasure as he makes you take him again at his own desire. He moves your head up and down and up and down and just enjoys himself fucking your mouth.

He shoves one hand under the waistband of your slacks after a moment, snaking his fingers under your panties as he feels your heat. He hums roughly and a stray sob erupts from your throat at the feeling of his thick fingers slipping past your folds to feel you.

“God, you're wet,” he laughs. “I knew you liked it. Even if you keep acting like you don't.”

You hate this, you hate him. You hate that your body is betraying you with the slick you'd gathered from the anticipation of his violation, the fear coursing through your veins. Angry tears slip down your cheeks.

His fingers drive inside of you at the same speed that his hands move your head on his cock. You stay as silent as you can manage as he does, hating how each pump of his fingers makes it easier and easier for him to slip inside of your warmth.

And when he pulls out of your mouth and your cunt again, after you've collected yourself one more time and caught your heaving breath, you don't say a word.

“You keep making such a fucking mess, sweetheart,” he tuts, looking down at his crotch, covered in your saliva and his precum. You think he'll take you by your head again, but he doesn't.

He tilts his head, his curved lips smiling. “You're not gonna say anything?”

You don't even look at him, sitting up slowly and doing your best to ignore the taste of his salty arousal on your tongue.

“Hm, that's no fun,” he mumbles, though his grin remains. He sighs, glancing around as if contemplating something before his eyes land on you once more. “Alright. I'll give you five seconds to decide where you want me to fuck you, or I'll decide myself.”

Nowhere. You don't want him to fuck you anywhere. The thought of him pinning you down and fucking you and stretching you out with his cock and cumming inside of you…

It's…

Disgusting. It's absolutely disgusting, the swell in your belly be damned.

You clench your thighs, moving to stand so you can get to the bed.

But apparently…your time had run out.

“The floor, it is,” he smiles.

“Wait–” He doesn't. He brings you down to lay on your stomach as he shifts behind you. You clench your thighs, feeling his hands grab your sides and feel them. Your skin crawls with the sensation, but you can't do anything but feel it.

He rips your pants down your legs, your whole body moving with how roughly he handles you. Then he takes your panties by the waistband and splits them apart. You know he has the patience to pull them off you, he just wants to hear your gasp when he rips them off instead. He wants to see you shake.

You feel weak and vulnerable like this: bare on the floor with your hands tied behind your back. Which was his goal, of course. To show you “what you really are”.

His hands knead your ass greedily and his fingers dip between your thighs to slip inside of you again. And you're wet, arousal is slipping from your pussy like you'd already cum.

“Wow,” he chuckles. “Slipping inside of you will be no problem.”

You brace yourself, clenching your thighs and shutting your eyes right.

Without warning, his cock presses inside of you, burying deep in one, long thrust. You sigh heavily, stifling a whine at the feeling of it. He moans, too, letting himself sit in the deepest part of you as he relishes in the warmth of your pussy.

“God, that's perfect,” he hums. “Perfect pussy.” His hands grip your hips and pull you back against him as he grinds inside of you.

You whimper, hating the sick, pleasant feeling curling in your belly. “Jackson,” you whisper, a silent sob slipping from your lips, “please.”

You wish you hadn't said that.

“See? What did I say?” He leans down so his lips brush your ear when he speaks. “You'd be begging me to fuck you.”

You're not sure what you were begging him for. To stop? Most likely. To keep going? Probably not. To go harder?

You hope not.

Jackson wastes no time with ease. With you held securely in his hands, he just starts fucking you. Rough and raw. His hips snap into your ass with every thrust, in and out as he begins splitting you apart. You squeeze his cock and feel a muffled cry claw at your throat as the ecstasy of his intrusion tears you apart.

It's hard not to be vocal, not with all of the mixed feelings swirling inside of you, entering every crevice of your being just as he did—forcefully and without mercy.

He takes you by your hair, still holding you tight, and pistons into you. His voice is low and rough. When he tugs on your hair, you let out a quiet whimper at the pain that stings at your scalp. “You like this, sweetheart?” he questions. “You like being fucked on the floor like a little whore?”

You're scared to open your mouth and protest. The only thing keeping you from moaning at the unwanted pleasure and encouraging him any more is your lips being closed shut.

But he doesn't like that. Leaning down to your ear, his hips slam harder into you and you have no choice but to cry out. “Answer me, you little slut,” he growls, his hand gripping your hips letting you go just to smack the side of your ass. You gasp at the harsh sting, closing your eyes shut as you finally respond to him, your words mixing with pathetic sobs.

“Please,” you gasp. “I can't.”

“Can't what?” he urges. “Can't take it? You can't take me pounding your little pussy like this, sweetheart?”

Gripping your hair, he pulls you back to look at him, smiling at the helpless look on your face. “Feels too good, huh? Shit, you look so pretty fucked out on my cock like this.”

Your mascara’s running, your lipstick is smeared. You know you look a mess, with the tears on your cheeks and your hair mussed up.

What makes it worse is that you're all alone. No one has any reason to suspect that you may be in danger. He'd brought you up here with his charm, encouraged you to follow him with the promise of good sex. Hell, you were making out in the elevator like two horny teenagers.

Now you're on the floor of his suite, getting fucked out of your mind like some whore. And you hate the pleasure that's coming from it.

"Look at you," he laughs, his plump lips pink and smiling. He plants his hand next to your head once more as the other holds your hip up for the right angle. “So fucking desperate, the way you—fucking grind against me.”

You hadn't noticed yourself doing it. As he points it out, the realization pulls a weak sob from your throat that makes him scoff and roll his eyes, amusement in every crease of his face.

He presses down on your back, pushing you rougher into the cold, hard floor. His thrusts are short, grinding into you and brushing that spot deep within you over and over again. You whine and moan through every moment, too dumb-fucked to care about how stupid you probably sound, your eyes tearing up and the tension in your muscles building.

But he doesn't care about whatever turmoil is going on in your ditsy little brain. All he cares about is the feeling of your helpless body losing against the weight and the strength of his.

When the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, you thought you went blind for a moment as he continues to fuck into you. You curse under your breath, your voice pitchy and pathetic as you clench around him at the feeling of your aching clit being abused by his skilled fingers.

His punishing rhythm becomes erratic, messy and unsteady as you clench his cock out of the sheer involuntary pleasure he forces into you. Your skin rubs harshly against the floor as his rough thrusts continue to rock your whole body. You think you'll be bruised all over tomorrow. His heavy breath is loud, short huffs ending in strained grunts. God, he's so close. You're so close.

His hips continue to snap into yours, shoving deeper and rougher. His finger on your clit continues to build you up, higher and higher and higher.

Until the tension snaps and you're being thrown off the edge, loud and pitchy moans tearing at your throat as the pleasure blinded you. Your pussy flutters around him, your legs shake, your jaw gapes like a fish out of water.

Your cry stutters in your throat when Jackson's hips rut into you, sinking in nice and deep until he's buried as far as he'll go. He grinds against the deepest part of you, his jaw flexing as he drops it wide, his eyes just as open as he stars out into the blissful abyss. And he grinds so harshly that you feel the pain knaw deep within you, but the dull ache of him is numbed by the light-headedness of your orgasm.

His hot release spills in your belly, and your shuddering sob falls from your lips and on deaf ears. One hand grips your hair for dear life, the other holds your back down, the pain mixed with the ecstasy of your release is a maddening feeling.

And you're helpless to do anything but take it all. All you can feel is the pressure of his body on yours and the feeling of him filling you up, your cunt so tight around his cock that you milk every…last…drop.

You lay there limply, catching your breath as your cheek presses against the floor. Jackson, slowly returning to his senses, allows his muscles to release, his knuckles easing on the tangled locks of your hair. A long, strained sigh lifts from his throat as he pulls out of you.

And he leaves you there, drained and aching on the floor like a discarded shirt after a long day.

You feel warm and wrong, light with your release and heavy with shame. Your nerves are still tingling, your pussy is still fluttering, your thighs are still trembling with the slightest twitch. Letting out your own long, exhausted sigh, all the tension leaves your body and leaves you feeling empty, despite the fullness of your freshly filled womb.

Jackson disappears for a moment, returning with a glass of liquor that he sips slowly at in one hand and a hotel robe in the other as he stares at you. Sobered up, the smallest of smiles pulls at his lips as he hums lightly. He brings the lip of the cup to his and then tosses the robe next to you.

“I trust–” he sighs forcefully as he sits next to you, “–you'll pick the smart choice and present the evidence.”

He starts undoing the knot of his tie around your wrists to free you. You still don't move, though the ache of your arms has you grunting.

He tucks his knuckle underneath your chin to make you look up at him. He smiles, his eyes just as dark and just as void. “You can go now,” he mumbles, gesturing to the files on the side table. “Don't forget your files.”

You glare at him with as much resentment as you could muster. This seems to amuse him as he lets the air of a chuckle pass through his nose.

“I'll be seeing you soon.”

Your skin crawls with his promise.

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyism @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bernelflo @dragonslayersupremacy @alurafairy @pietroxreader @darkcastle167 @neonpurplestars89-blog Tag yourself here...

#jackson rippner #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner x reader smut #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner fanfic #jackson rippner fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #red eye 2005 #red eye 2005 fanfic #red eye 2005 fanficiton #fanfiction #fanfic #10 days of smutmas #dead dove do not eat

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antiquepearlss · 14 days ago

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Fall Wardrobes

Rapunzel- uggs, hand-knitted sweaters, blue jeans, giant scarves, hand-knitted cardigans. Leggings.

Eugene- Sleek leather jackets. Black jeans. Autumnal colored v necks. Fitted sweaters.

Lance- Tasteful scarves. Color coded outfits featuring sweaters and dress pants. Has a really nice maroon peacoat.

Cassandra- Motorcycle and bomber jackets. Boots. Same as she always wears tbh.

Varian- Flannel. Oversized hoodies. Maybe a beanie if his hair looks bad.

Kiera- Cassandra’s hand-me-down leather jackets. Doc martens. Hoodies.

Catalina- Jean jackets. Fur boots. A lot of faux fur.

#tts #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #cassandra tangled #lance strongbow #varian #kiera and catalina #🎃

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danika-redgrave124 · 4 months ago

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Umbra Witch Yuu Couture Bullet (Heartslabyul)

Heartslabyul Dorm Uniform

A delicate white Headband adorned with a small handcrafted white rose painted red at the center. The Headband has golden accents to give a regal touch.

Yuu's hair is styled in loose flowing curls with a slight pouf at the top, similar to Alice's hairstyle.

A tailored, deep red velvet jacket with black and white checkered trim. The jacket features a prominent white rose on the keft side of the chest, covered in faux red paint. The jackets back has a pattern of playing cards suits and crowns, intricately embroidered in gold and black.

A fitted vest in black with a gold playing card suit pattern interspersed with small crowns. The vest's lining is subtle, shimmering gold.

Skirt: A high-waisted, black skirt with a layered design that features a hidden checkered pattern on the inner layers. The skirt flows gracefully, with the chessboard pattern subtly visible.

Pants: Alternatively, the skirt can be paired with form-fitting black pants that have red rose embroidery running down the sides.

Accessories

Gloves: Elbow-length black gloves with card suit symbols embroidered in gold along the forearms.

Boots: Knee-high black leather boots. The boots have gold accents that complement the overall look.

Queen of Hearts

Crown: A large ornate gold crown with heart shaped rubies and intricate details.

Yuu's hair is styled in a voluminous waves.

Top

A luxurious, black velvet bodice with a high, stiff collar lined with red velvet. The bodice features gold embroidery in heart and card suit patterns.

The bodice has puffed, red velvet sleeves with gold trims and heart-shaped accents.

Bottom

Skirt: A short, flared skirt made of layered red satin and black tulle. The skirt is adorned with gold hearts and card suits.

Shorts: Underneath the skirt, Yuu wears black, form-fitting shorts, providing comfort and practicality.

Accessories

Gloves: Elbow-length black gloves with red and gold hearts patterns, featuring delicate lace trim at the cuffs.

Boots: High-heeled, thigh-high black leather boots with red heart-shaoed embellishments and gold detailing.

Alice

A delicate Headband featuring a large black bow.

Yuu's hair is styled in soft, flowing waves, mimicking Alice's hair.

Outfit

A light blue, A-line dress with a white apron, made from soft, flowing frabic.

The dress features intricate lace trim along the necklace and hem. The apron has a subtle heart-shaped pocket and blue ribbon detailing.

Soft Puffed sleeves with white lace and light blue accents.

Skirt: A full, knee-length skirt with layers or blue frabic, creating a voluminous and playful appearance. The skirt is paired with form-fitting, white leggings adorned with small blue bows.

Accessories

Shirt, white gloves with blue lace trim and blue bows at the wrists.

Shoes: Classic black Mary Jane shoes

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x bayonetta #twst yuu #umbra witch yuu #bayonetta

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firefly-in-darkness · 1 year ago

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Hopelessly Devoted

Pairing → Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary → You visited the Harvest Festival and your boyfriend, James 'Bucky' Barnes surprised you.

Word Count → 1.3k words

Warnings → none, fluffy lovey dovey stuff.

Beta → none.

Prompts/Bingo Cards

AFG Square Fill → Grease AU - @anyfandomgoesbingo

AF Fluff Square Fill → Carving initials in a tree - @anyfandomfluffbingo

Sebastian Stan Square Fill → Blindfold - @sebastianstanbingo

Writer's Note → Well, it's been a while since I wrote anything, let alone shared it on here. This was something I had written last year and just gone over it briefly so hope you enjoy it.

Summer was fading; the sun was setting earlier, and the cool breeze was picking up. Bright greens, blues, and yellows disappeared and replaced with oranges, reds, and browns. Fall was fast approaching, and you didn’t mind one bit. Cozy cardigans, knitted stockings, roaring fires, and hot chocolate were calling your name.

The town’s Harvest Festival was in full swing; pumpkin patches, hayrides, corn mazes, and even hosted a fairground with a Ferris wheel and arcade games. Everyone from town was there, including you and your cousin, Danny. Who had conveniently just left you to show off his bowling skills to his girlfriend, Sandy.

"Hey Doll," the low timbre sent a wave of giddiness through your body.

"Hey yourself," you turned to James and returned his lopsided grin.

James was wearing all black and the trademark T-bird leather jacket. His hair wasn’t as slicked back as earlier. It was a little fluffier, and you prefered it that way too.

He presented a small stuffed teddy bear, "Told you I’d win something for you before night fell."

"And how much did that cost you? I bet the amount you spent would have bought three of these from the store!" You wrapped the bear in your arms as you teased your boyfriend.

"Where’s the fun in that?" He puffed out his chest in faux machoness, "Gotta prove my worth to a Zuko."

You giggled as he exaggerated and flexed his biceps. He turned his head to the side, and you kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, I love it."

His eyes sparkled with mischief, "Let's get out of here."

"What are you planning, mister?" Your eyes narrowed at him in jest.

“Follow me.”

Your gingham skirt and petticoat fluttered out and around you with each step as you skipped to keep up with James' longer strides. You bypassed the bright and colorful fairground. The laughter and joyful screams echoed with each stand and ride you left behind.

James didn’t stop at the coconut shy to show off his throwing skills or the Ferris wheel to charm you with whispered sweet nothings and to kiss you at the top. Instead, he diverted you to the exit and straight to his car.

James held the door open for you as you gathered your skirts and climbed into the car. He raced around the front with a massive grin, slid inside, and handed you the soft blue tie he had worn to prom last year. You'd only been on a couple of dates by the time prom had come around, but he'd made your heart swoon at the gesture of matching the color of your dress.

"It’s a blindfold. I want this all to be a surprise,” the quick explanation eased your confusion.

You nodded and placed the material over your eyes. It wasn’t thick enough to block out the light but obscured your vision enough to not see much in front of you. You tried to tie it but fumbled. James’ hands covered yours and took over.

“Are you going to tell me anything?”

"No, Doll. It will spoil it, but we'll be there in about 10 minutes."

Butterflies erupted in your belly, excited for what lies ahead. You thought of all the places that could be nearby and what the surprise could be. Maybe you were going to have one of those giant sundaes at Frosty Palace, or you were going to see a movie at the drive-in.

The engine started, and you released a small yelp. James laughed as you tried to regain your composure. The familiar sounds of the crackling radio filled the car. You relaxed against the leather bench and enjoyed the sounds of Bill Haley and His Comets.

The absence of Bucky's touch was brief as he held your hand while he drove. You're sure he could hear the race of your heartbeat, but you didn’t care.

The car pulled to a stop, and you heard Bucky open and close the car door before opening yours. A cool breeze wrapped around your exposed calves, and a shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t long before Bucky's warm hand took yours. You climbed out of the car as gracefully as possible. A slight snigger from Bucky had you doubting how well you achieved that.

You focused on your other senses and tried to work out where you were. The soft ground under your pumps meant you weren’t on the sidewalk. Birds chirped above, the slight rustle underfoot and the sweet scent of flowers wafted around. You almost screamed at the feel of something tickling your legs. You managed to choke it down but earned another snigger from James.

"Barnes, you're cruisin'." You mustered up a stern voice.

You lost James’ touch without a word. Your heart dropped as you reached out to find nothing.

"James?"

"I'm here. Gimme a sec, doll."

Your heartbeat returned to normal, and the fear of being left alone was gone as quickly as it had entered your mind.

"Okay, I'm going to come up behind you now."

You felt the warmth before his torso pressed into your back. His body encircled, and a not-so-unfamiliar feeling ignited in your belly as he whispered in your ear.

"Hope you like this doll. You deserve the best."

James removed the blindfold, and it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the fading sunlight. Slowly, you looked out over the golden meadow. The blanket, a wicker basket at one, and James’ leather boots on the other, at the foot of the oak tree made your smile widen.

You turned to James with your hands on his chest, "A picnic? For me? Oh, you shouldn't have."

He smirked and lightly kissed your forehead, "I definitely should have.”

Your head rested on Bucky's lap, his arm draped across your waist underneath the makeshift blanket of his leather jacket. Stomachs full from sandwiches and treats. The peace of being close to one another brought unbreakable smiles to your faces.

"Y'know what, doll, I'm so glad Ma moved out of Brooklyn last year. I miss home. But I’d never have met you if I hadn't come here."

You grinned up at him and caressed his cheek, enjoying the scratch from the stubble on his jaw. James leaned into your palm and peppered a kiss there.

His face contorted away from adoration to neutral in a flash. You might have missed the shift if you didn’t know him as well as you did.

“What you thinkin’ about stud?”

“Nothing, it's silly,” his cheeks tinged pink, and he looked away.

Gently, you turned his face towards your line of sight, “This is silly.”

You pulled a ridiculous face with your eyes crossed and tongue sticking out while rocking your head from side to side. James chuckled, and the crinkle of his eyes warmed your heart.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I’m hopelessly devoted to you,” He whispered back and kissed you once more.

After you enjoyed the last moments of the sunset, Bucky helped you to stand up. You brushed your skirt down and draped his jacket over your shoulders. Then you heard the sound of clicking and scraping.

You followed the noise to find James braced against the tree trunk. You unashamedly gazed at how his muscular arms and back shifted under his top. The propped foot at the roots gave an enticing shape to his behind in the already tight black denim. You almost missed him calling out your name.

Bucky moved away from the tree, closing and pocketing the pen knife to reveal his handiwork.

Yours and his name inside a heart, etched into the bark, for all eternity.

Tag List - it's been a while so please letme know if you would like to be removed from this.

@aeo10fan @capsgrl @charmedbysarge @coffeebooksandfandom @eclipses-and-moondust @emmabarnes @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @foxyjwls007 @gooddaykate @guera31 @ihatecats123 @im-squished @impala1967dwinchester @justagirlinafandomworld @justanotherblonde23 @justile @kalesrebellion @leyannrae @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @nekoannie-chan @queenoftheunderdark @quinjetboi @redbarn1995 @selen-o-phile @starryeyeseunbyul @stuckonjbbarnes @stuckysavedmylive @suchababie @supraveng @valsworldofcreativity @vicmc624 @vintagepigeon @weird-mumbling @wiccanmetallicrose @writerwrites @doasyoudesireandlive @princessmisery666 @rainbowkisses31 @little-diable @ajaviary @pottahishotasf @itsamarvelfan-writes

If you'd like to be added to my Tag List then please complete the form.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes x Female Reader #Bucky Barnes Fluff #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #James Bucky Barnes

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tinygarbage · 11 months ago

Text

Do I Wanna Know?

part one

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x f!reader (Cheese)

word count: 4.4k

summary: december is passing and you start to wonder what you mean to your lieutenant.

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, alcohol consumption (reader and ghost have 3 drinks), no use of y/n, reader is mentioned to have hair (no specific length), readers call name is “Cheese”, American reader, mutual pining, fluff, implication of severe anxiety, swearing, military inaccuracies, drunk soap and gaz, not really edited lol (let me know if i missed any)

au: this chapter is inspired by hozier’s cover of “do I wanna know” by the arctic monkeys 😚 i linked it in the title just in case y’all wanted to give it a listen! im thinking about one more part for this bad boy :)

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹

The pub is busy when you step in. Loud music and noisy chatter smacks you in the face as you shove your hands into your pockets. You feel your heart beating faster as your eyes search for the team's faces. The painfully familiar feeling of anxiety crawls through your brain as you walk through the crowded space. People are dressed in all sort of attire, a mix of casual and fancy outfits scatter across the dark pub. Party hats and sunglasses work of people heads. Cheap, plastic necklaces around peoples necks. They all chatter, drinks in their hands as they watch TV at the bar or cheer of the people on the karaoke machine. You recognize a Bon Jovi song being sung horribly by a middle aged woman. Her friends crowding the stage with their phones in hand, drunkenly recording her screeching performance.

Your heart races and your breathing quickens as your eyes continue to dart between the overwhelming amount of people. You were already late. Dreading coming since Simon gave you the invitation during training one day. Quietly mumbling about how the guys were carrying their tradition of going to Price's favorite pub. Inviting you to come along. Which you immediately accepted. Not stopping to think about the fact that crowded pubs make your head spin and stomach flip like the worlds most dangerous amusement park.

"Cheese!" You hear Soap's thick accent call out through the crowd. His voice immediately sending a soothing blanket over your jittery nerves.

Your head snaps in the direction you heard it from to see your team grouped up together at a large booth in the corner. They all sit tight together. Gaz and Soap clearly having indulged in their alcohol quickly. Soap's cheeks are rosy and his faux-hawk is tossled slightly. He's wearing a dark grey hoodie with some band graphic fading on it. Next to him sits Gaz. Who's wearing his worn baseball cap backwards. A navy hoodie with a grey and blue flannel over it. His eyes droop as he seems to be searching for where soap spots you. Across from them sits Simon and Price. Price wearing his typical beanie and a flannel. He's in the process of taking off his brown leather jacket. Next to him is Simon. Wearing a black hoodie. You cant see anything but his broad frame and the hood pulled up. But you can guess he's wearing his "civilian" balaclava or a black surgical mask.

As you approach, Soap is still waving his arm like a maniac and Simon slides out of the booth. Turning slowly to watch you approach. You don't even try to bite back a smile as you get closer. He's in his black surgical mask and a pair of dark denim. Thick leather boots on his feet. Jeans cuffed to reveal the lighter denim on the inside. Hiding the very top of his boot. His pale hand reveals itself, gesturing for you to slide into the booth. To sit right between him Price's broad frames.

You slip right in. Sitting close to Price. Your cardigan brushes against his flannel and he looks down at you. Giving you a sweet, genuine tight-lipped smile. "Hey, Cheese." He rasps, nudging your shoulder lightly.

You smile back in response. Glancing back over the busy pub as Simon squeezes in next to you. Both of your arms pressed against each other. "It's packed." You observe, adjusting between the two large men.

"Well, you did show up at 22:00." Gaz chuckled.

"How long have y'all been here?" You ask. Your American accent standing out in the pub full of Brits and Soap.

"Y'all!" Soap repeats in a southern accent. Surprisingly nailing it despite the fact that he's completely tossed.

The group ignores it, Gaz answers. "Soap and I got here around 19:00. Price and Ghost got here about an hour ago."

Before you can respond to Gaz, Simon speaks up from beside you. His gaze darting from you to the glass of whiskey sitting on the table in front of him. Pale fingers fidgeting with the wrapper of a straw. The straw from Price's coke. "How come you came so late?" His voice is quiet. Only being heard by you and maybe Price.

"Oh, I was calling my parents. And i got a little distracted."

It wasn't a lie. Not entirely. Just withholding the full truth. Not wanting to explain the fact that you had been doing every single chore and calling every single family member instead of getting ready to meet them at the pub. So you just wear a baggy, knitted cardigan over a grey cami. The lavender color of your cardigan and it's marble white buttons standing out amongst the men you were with. Who were wearing rather dull colors. A pair of light wash jeans on your bottom half and your trusty converse. The pair you've had since senior year. The fraying canvas and scuffed soles giving them character. And a sense of nostalgia. A birthday gift from your older brother. Who saved up all of his tips that he got working as a barista while attending college.

You shift awkwardly under his intense stare, waiting for any sort of response from him. Nothing comes. Instead, Soap leans over the table and speaks loudly. His accent thicker with the more he drinks, "Gaz and I have bets going on some pool games, you want to join?"

"I'll pass, I'm not very good at pool." You chuckle, speaking up so they could hear you over the crowded bar.

"That's better for us, means you'll lose!" Gaz chimes in, leaning against Soap.

"Maybe next time. What are you getting anyways?"

"Loser sings karaoke. Winner chooses which song." Soap answers with a drunken giggle, Gaz joking in. You've never seen either of them this drunk before.

"You're going to force an entire bar full of people to listen to your awful singing?" You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

"Cant be as bad as the Cougar screaming on stage." Gaz nudges Soap as they laugh loudly. God, they were obliterated already.

Time passes and eventually Price has moved to the bar, leaving you and Simon to watch as Soap and Gaz play pool together. You cant tell who's winning, so Simon updates you with each play. You now had a vodka cranberry sitting in front of you. After Price begged you to let loose for once and stop being a "block of cheddar." Whatever that meant. But when he said it was on Shepherd, you couldn't refuse ordering a few drinks on the dreadful man's pocket. Price giving a big belly laugh as you make a remark about Shepherd's bald head.

With the drink and Simon's calming presence, you feel your anxiety starting to rinse away. A second drink comes and you and Simon are still pressed together despite having more room in the booth now that Price disappeared. The two of you watching Soap lose brutally in a game of pool. Most likely due to the fact that he can't even stand straight. You watch as him and Gaz stumble to the karaoke machine, which is vacant now that people are more focused on midnight approaching. Typing in the song Gaz had chosen as the pair giggle and try to read the screen. Their vision most likely blurred and spinning. The song starts playing once everything is set up, the microphone in Soap's hand as he leans on Gaz for support. Probably needing a glass of water more than a song. You cant help but giggle as Come on Eileen starts playing. Typical karaoke song.

You're still sat in the booth with Simon, watching as Soap curls his arm around Gaz. His singing getting louder and increasingly incoherent as he attempted to read the words on the screen. His accent thick with each word. You wish your hearing was non existent as you watch the shit show in front of you. Simon sitting silently at your side.

"We're going to have to roll that man out," You say with a grin. Soap's an idiot but he's the team's idiot.

"I say we leave him to Price." Ghost replies, glancing at you while you take a chug of your drink.

You glance over to Price, who has his arm loosely around a blonde. A charismatic smile as he leans against the bar, the pint of dark beer half empty and her flashy margarita with nothing but the salt around the rim and the flimsy umbrella laying. It's place as a decoration looking rather sad in the empty glass.

"It seems like Price is on his own mission," you say with a raised brow.

"At least the old man is getting out there," he grumbles. You watch subtly as he lifts his mask to finish off his whiskey. Catching a glimpse of a scar down his pink lips. The sight bringing a familiar pool of heat to your stomach. Your ribs squeezing from the desire building.

You swallow your alcohol infused thoughts, turning back to your drink when you notice his brown eyes shifting under your gaze. You weren't being nearly as subtle as you thought. He had felt the tension build between the two of you the moment your eyes landed on his lips. Clearing your throat you speak up, "Yeah, he's been getting irritable lately. Maybe some stress relief outta do him some good."

You hear a small huff of laughter next to you, watching as his shoulders shook slightly under his black hoodie. A small smile creeps on your lips. Not able to hide the giddiness you feel every time you manage to break his shell. Even if it was something as subtle as a huff of laughter or a sheepish expression.

"Can't remember the last time I've seen the poor bastard do anything for himself." He responds, a hint of a smile in his voice. It was light, airy. But it was everything to you. A moment worth a mental picture in your brain.

"Good for him," you conclude with a proud nod. Watching as the blonde places a hand on Price's bicep. Which looked like it was screaming to be let out of the flannel he wore.

Your eyes flick back to Simon, admiring the curve of his nose. The very top of it peaking out from the surgical mask. The mere sight of him drowns out Soap's awful singing. Drawing you in and letting your mind wander to all the places you wanted the talk, blonde man to take you. You couldn't help but imagine how his nose would feel against your skin. His breath fanning on the open landscape as his lips trace every inch of you. Breathing you in with each peck. You imagine how it's feel as he leaves a trail of kisses down your stomach. Or pressed against your sensitive bud as he buries his face in your dripping cunt. Jesus, Cheese. Slow down.

With that last thought in mind, you stare down at your drink. It's your third. And probably your last. Given the fact that midnight was approaching minute by minute and you needed to be sober to try and get Gaz and Soap out. Simon was on his fourth and final glass as well. Announcing he was cutting himself off before he would have to endure a nasty hangover the next morning. Soap was finished singing, gesturing to you and Simon that they were going for one more round. A round that would probably tie them over to midnight.

And it did. Leaving you and Simon to drag him and Gaz out of the bar and to the Uber you had ordered. Price having left swiftly after midnight with the blonde he was chatting up. Her dragging him out as they laughed like a couple of teenagers. Price giving you and Simon a smug smile and a wink as he passed. You waving goodbye and Simon glaring at him. Pissed at the fact you two were left to taking care of the drunken babies screaming in the karaoke machine. Especially when Soap turned into a runner after 3 pints.

You and Simon wrangle the drunken toddlers into the Escalade. Gaz sobering up quick once you had buckled him in and gave him a bottle of water that the bartenders were handing out. On the other hand, Soap was being a straight menace. Making Simon's life ten times more difficult than it needed to be. Acting like a toddler in the middle of a bloody, screaming tantrum. Trying to slip out if Simon's tight grasp to take off through the streets. You and Simon having to resort to scaring him into sitting still in the Uber. Leaving you in the middle of him and Gaz, holding onto Soap's hand as he babbles. His thick, slurring accent completely impossible to understand. He even asks you a question. One that Ghost has to translate for you.

"Why do they call ye Cheese?" He slurs, head turning to look at you.

"Grew up on a dairy farm in Wisconsin." You explain with a shrug. You had gotten used to people asking by now. But internally you were certain you had told him already.

"Oh," he pauses, his lips pressed into a small pout as he thought more about it. "Well, that's silly."

"Your name is Soap. What if I think that's stupid?" You say flatly, watching his pout grow.

Eventually, you're back to base. Gaz walking up on his own, but you stay next to him. Ready to catch him if he takes the wrong step or needs to puke. Simon practically carrying Soap behind him. Who's now singing old Scottish folk songs while Simon grumbles profanities. Your favorite being a threat to make him sleep in the bushes. Which causes infectious laughter from the Scot. Which you are quick to quiet as there's other people on base.

Once you're in the confines of your groups own little sector. You and Simon get Gaz into the respective rooms. Propping them on their sides in case there were any accidents. Leaving a water bottle and a couple tablets of Advil for their heads in the morning. Simon was partial to dumping them and heading to bed. But you made sure they were out of their jackets, in their beds, converse with blankets, and had water for the morning.

Soon, you find yourself in Simon’s room. Listening to him grumble endlessly about the behavior from the other three men you live with. You watch in the corner as he lazily unties his leather boots. Body hunched over completely as he sits at the edge of the bed. Kicking them off with a bit of a tipsy struggle. Letting them plop at the end of his bed with a large thunk!

Awkwardly, you shift in your place by the door. He had invited you to come in. But this side of him was so foreign to you that it still felt wrong. Like you were in forbidden territory. But you bury the anxiety. Reminding yourself that the flipping of your stomach could be blamed on the three mixed drinks you had indulged in.

He’s sat up now, stretching his back. A loud crack sounding through the room as his spine arches like a cat. You watch as his hand reaches for his surgical mask. You don’t think twice of the motion. You’re occupied with a fuzzy brain. Crossing the room with a shy stride, blinking a few times as your vision adjust to the dim lighting in his dorm. Your eyes flicking back up to catch his movements. And it isn’t until the mask is pulled completely off that you realize what is happening.

“Simon?” You ask quickly.

His eyes snap to you, head turning towards you ever so slightly. Revealing the rest of his face to you. And god, he’s fucking gorgeous. The curved bridge of his nose that you always noticed is paired with a straight, and narrow length. Slightly tipped downwards. The pale scar you noticed earlier seeming to glow in the dim lighting. Crossing through his pale pink lips. His jawline strong and the shape of his face a little longer than you’d ever noticed when he was wearing the mask.

“You take that thing off?” You ask without thinking. Voice laced in disbelief and shock.

He lets out a huff of laughter. A small, boyish grin tugging at his lip. “Of course I do.”

You stare at him for a moment longer, taking in his strong, prominent features. Trying to drink in every centimeter to engrave in the back of your brain. “Why are you taking it off now? I thought you were hell bent on hiding your face.” You question, frowning slightly.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t seen my face.” He says bluntly.

“What? That’s no fair!”

“Perfectly fair.” He responds. You find yourself speechless. Now you got to put a face to the snappy, dry comments he had an endless supply of. Seeing the full expression of his face when he’s giving an unimpressed stare. You adore it.

“Why haven’t I seen it?” You ask, faking offense with a dramatic gasp.

“Because you’re insufferable.” He answers dryly. But the crooked smile on his lips give his intentions away. You grin, moving your body from its place on the edge of the bed with him. Leaving over to snatch the balaclava that rests on the nightstand where he had tossed the surgical mask. His “civilian” balaclava. The one with the skull print. “What are you doing?”

“Trying it on.” You giggle.

“Don’t touch it.” He says sharply, moving to reach for it.

Your reflexes are heightened. Holding his mask out to the side with a giggle, trying to push his massive body back. But he's too big and overpowering. Not to mention the three drinks you had were still buzzing through your system. He grabs your hand on his chest, pulling you into him as the other arm snatches the skull mask. He tosses it to his nightstand before using both hands to pick you up from the edge and throw you down gently on the middle of his bed. The wooden bed frame creaking with age. "You're a brat," he says in deep voice. His dark, playful glare making your heart spike as you're pressed against the mattress.

"Am not!" You argue, laughing as you realize he's about to tickle you. Picking up the lower half of your body as he inserts his larger frame between your denim covered legs. You wonder if it's third grade again as his hands move from holding you down to your sides.

He then laughs and tickles your ribs, causing you to gasp out into a fit of giggles. Your hands shooting up to his wrists to stop him as you try and speak through the laughter erupting from your chest. He laughs mischievously. His hand moving down to your stomach and up your sides again. The action making you laugh even harder while begging him to stop. Words broken and squealed as you giggle. He finally stops the tickling but he keeps his hands on your sides, looking at you with a crooked grin on his face.

You try not to dwell on the fact that you've never seen him smile before. And have never ever imagined it would look this good. Or boyish. This felt completely out of character. And it was. All you could think to do was blame it on the glasses of whiskey he had downed just before midnight. But that wouldn't stop you from memorizing each inch of his face without the mask on. Taking in the sight of his blonde lashes that are just a little bit lighter than his thick eyebrows. Or the scar running down his cheek to his jaw. The line dark and uneven, a contrast to his pale skin. The other scar just below his nose and through the pale pink lips that spread thin with his smile. He was everything.

The veins in his pale hand popping against your hips as he keeps your ass in place on this thick thighs. "You are and you know it." He finally says, a bit breathless from laughing at you.

"You're so mean." You say breathlessly, giving him a playful pout.

"I know, that's why you love me...right?" He asks you, with that charming smile and a smug voice to match. His hands on your sides, leaning down towards your face.

You just giggle again, nodding slightly as you admire how he looks above you. Your breathing starts to calm as you two sit in the warming silence between each other. Your back is against his sheets, hair spread on his pillow. He's sitting between your legs. Your thighs pressed over his hips as his large body leans over you. As your giggling ceases, you notice him getting closer and closer. Your heart beats faster as his face leans a couple inches forward. Stopping for a second to look over your features. His breath was warm. The scent of a heavy mint mixed with a bit of whiskey. The slow exhales fanning your jaw slightly as his eyes flicker to your lips. His hands on your sides started to get lower the closer he got. Thumbs digging into your hips lightly. Like he was trying to imagine how your flesh would feel gripped beneath his bony fingers.

Suddenly, you realize what's happening. It hits you like a train coming full speed ahead. You feel your heart lurch as a fire erupts through your hips. His thumbs brush over the skin that is exposed. The cardigan you're wearing rides up to reveal more of your skin peeking between its hem and your jeans. Wires in your brain start to connect when you realize the severity of your situation and your rising feelings. This was Ghost. Simon fucking Riley. These thoughts weren't allowed. These feelings are forbidden. This isn't real. This isn't him.

You sit up, scooting back as you come to your senses."I...I should probably get back to my room." You clear your throat. Trying to even your breathing.

He moves back, sitting up completely as your close proximity starts to sink in to his senses. You hear him swallow slightly, shifting back more to allow you to move. Sitting up, you shift towards the edge of the bed. Your feet dangle as you try and calm down the screaming arousal pumping through your veins. As you sit there, you wonder what thoughts run through his brain. Was this all good fun? Was this something he wanted or thought about? Were you something he thought about?

"Right," his voice deepens and his dark eyes run cold, "you should probably go."

Fuckin' hell. The tension in the room grows thick. It's painfully obvious the affects of the alcohol have taken over their senses. Creating a false perception of each other in a close proximity. You internally calm yourself. Reminding yourself that you're human and a very large, brutally attractive man was hovering over you just second ago. Of course you'd be turned on. But he's your lieutenant. The second in command. The man who'd take over if Price left or retired. Your superior.

"Right." You repeat. Your voice just above a whisper.

Another consequence of drinking rears it's ugly head when you feel tears start to burn at the corners of your eyes. Why were you so upset? You scold yourself, repeating the fact that you were the one to stop things from progressing. And he's your superior. Not like it should happen anyways.

But your scolding only goes so far. Instead, a dark shadow of guilt and shame starts to crawl over your skin. You pull your cardigan tighter against yourself as you stand up from his bunk. Your converse tapping on the floor as you start to step away. Glancing at the way her shifts to sit on the bed. Long, large legs planted on the floor. His pale, striking face observing you.

This type of look wasn't different from the look he always gave you. But this time, you could see his entire face. You can see his thick brow knitting together as his dark eyes scan over you. His eyes stained with dark circles. You could see all of the flaws he so desperately wanted to hide from everyone. But you. The face he allowed you to see. The one with a crooked smile. The sheepish smile that he'd try to bite back. Or the way his nose was a little crooked at the end. And it scrunched up when he lets out a boisterous laugh.

But all you see is the dark wall that began to rebuild itself. The glaring eyes and the shadow from his thick brow. The rest of his face void of expression as the hand on his leg squeezes his thumb a few times. A nervous tic you had noticed. Something he does when he has so much more to say. When he has an overwhelming amount of feelings bubbling up in his throat. Threatening to spill out like when a toddler spills their milk. Accidental. Inevitable.

Slowly, you make your move. Spinning around and walking towards the door with your arms wrapped around your torso. Feeling the overwhelming urge to crawl into yourself like a little shell. Hiding from the reality of you being completely enamored by him. Hiding from all of the pining you shamelessly embraced. Shielding yourself from the fact that you want him to pull you back into his bed. Knowing that if he did, it would ruin this. All of the effort you made to get this close to him knocked over like Jenga blocks. Leaving him to be nothing but a stranger. This is for the better. You know it's for the better.

A choked breath stops you in your tracks. Your footsteps halt and you turn your head over you shoulder. His large frame still sat on the bed with hunched shoulders. His voice monotonous, speaking out your name into the dimmed room. "Happy New Year."

Your words come out fragile, on the verge of tears. "Happy New Year, Simon."

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹

moot tags: @annasinterests @pertinentpostmortem

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader

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