#boots don't belong in bed

[lvrsfilm]

contrary to popular belief, Simon Riley does not do casual.

Nothing about him is casual. Nothing about his dedication to his work and his team, the bullets he would disperse and receive for them. Nothing about his routine, the way he shines his boots or folds his uniforms every week like clockwork. He is a cut and dry man, or at least he tries to be.

You, on the other hand, are the opposite of him in so many ways that at a glance people would assume you're the kind of person he hates. (He wishes that was the case, it'd make his life simpler). You bounce around base like a lit firecracker, your fuse sizzling quietly even during missions, never burning out. You never seem to tire, even after the particularly hard ones that leave him mute and holed up in his quarters for hours every day after.

You are casual. Coming to his room whenever you feel like it, knocking in a way that lets him know it's you and no one else. Bringing him tea, or bourbon, the occasional meal if you can convince him. He doesn't see how you can think it's casual. Slipping off your boots, leaving them half laced at his door.

Slipping into his bed. Laying next to him in silence, just so he isn't alone. Bandaging any cuts that aren't severe enough to warrant him going to medical. The soft skin of your hands making practiced movements over his scarred skin that only you've seen. He is not a casual man. And you don't seem to have figured that out yet.

No other man on base interested in you would even entertain the thought of pursuing you, for fear of Simon somehow hearing their thoughts and stringing them up by their necks to show the others what happens if they touch what's his. Everyone else can see the way he looks at you, the way he lets you in.

Everyone except you, apparently.

You don't ask why he lets you in, and he doesn't ask why you keep coming back.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that you’re the first person to make him feel human in a long time. That every soft knock on his door chips away at the walls he’s built, cement crumbling under your touch, a feeling akin to warm liquid gold seeping through the cracks, running over his scar tissue. Like he's a victim of Midas. Exposing him to something he thought he’d buried years ago. You remind him what it’s like to be vulnerable, to crave something more than routine and mission reports.

And it terrifies him.

Because Simon Riley does not do messy, either.

But you? You’re a storm. Chaotic and unpredictable, rushing into his life like you’ve always belonged there. He doesn’t know what to do with you, how to keep you at arm’s length without losing the warmth you bring into his otherwise cold existence. So he lets you in, over and over, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

Tonight is no different.

The knock comes—a rhythm so familiar now that it’s practically a lullaby. He already knows it’s you before he opens the door. You’re standing there, as casual as ever in civvies, with that cheeky grin that makes his chest tighten in ways he refuses to name.

“Thought you could use some company,” you say, holding up a thermos of tea like a peace offering.

He steps aside, wordlessly, because what else is he supposed to do? Tell you to leave? Pretend he doesn’t want you here? He’s not that good a liar, not around you.

You slip past him, kicking off your boots, leaving them next to the doorway as always, and make yourself at home like you belong here. Like you belong with him. And maybe you do.

He watches as you set the thermos on his desk and plop onto his bed, laying on your back and stretching like a cat, looking at him expectantly. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. An invitation. A promise.

He lays down, careful to leave just enough space between you to keep the illusion of distance. But then you lean into him, shoulder brushing his arm, and the illusion shatters. His resolve crumbles.

“You came straight here when we got back,” you say softly, tilting your head to look at him. “skipped dinner, I saved a plate for you from the mess.”

It’s such a simple statement, but it cuts through him like a blade.

He turns his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. He looks at you like you're a puzzle he can't solve. Like he needs to figure put your angle, figure out why you're treating him so softly. For a second, the air between you feels impossibly fragile, as if even breathing too hard might shatter it.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice low, almost gruff, like the admission costs him something.

You tilt your head at him, your lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. “Do what?”

He exhales sharply, as though frustrated, though it’s unclear if it’s with you or himself. “This… whatever it is you’re doing. Looking out for me. Bringing me tea. Sitting here. I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know,” you reply simply, your tone disarming in its honesty. “I do it because I want to.”

The words hang in the air between you, unassuming yet weighty, like they’re daring him to refute them. He doesn’t, because he can’t. You've made up your mind. There’s a stubbornness in your voice that he knows too well—one that he’s realized he has no defense against.

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters after a moment, turning his gaze toward the ceiling. “It’s a waste.”

Your smile falters, just slightly, but it doesn’t vanish. “You’re not a waste.”

He flinches at that, so subtly you might have missed it if you weren’t so attuned to him. His fingers twitch on the mattress, his eyebrows furrowing beneath the mask. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t argue, but his silence says enough. You press your lips together, chewing the bottom corner slightly as you debate whether to push further. You decide to anyway, because that’s what you do.

You grin, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and he knows you’re about to say something cheeky. But instead, you surprise him again by reaching over to touch his hand—just a fleeting brush of your fingers, so brief he almost convinces himself it didn’t happen.

He closes his eyes, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t pull away. That’s something, you think.

You turn onto your side, facing him fully now, your fingers brushing against the back of his hand. He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch this time, so you let your touch linger—gentle, steady, unassuming.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you add quietly, almost as if it’s a promise.

When he finally opens his eyes again, there’s something raw and unguarded in his gaze, something that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t thank you, doesn’t argue—but the way his fingers curl ever so slightly against yours feels like an answer.

[yuujispinkhair]

Cowboy Sukuna (Part 1)

Sukuna became a cowboy so he wouldn't have to let anyone tell him what to do. And because he wanted to put some distance between himself and his little brother so Sukuna wouldn't drag him into his mess. Sukuna is made for the lonesome cowboy life. He doesn't need anyone by his side. He isn't looking for love. At least that's what he thinks until he meets you, a pretty girl in a flowery dress and cowboy boots who somehow knows how to tear Sukuna's walls down.

Cowboy!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Cowboy AU, fluff + smut Word Count: 7.5k Playlist: Cowboy Sukuna Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol, fistfights, blood. Minors don't interact. This story is inspired by @sweetlandspos fanart of Cowboy Sukuna (also this is the selfie he sends Reader). I saw him and fell in love, and I just HAD to write a story about this sexy cowboy. Divider @/benkeibear. The art in the header was used with permission from @/sweetlandspos

Sukuna grew up thinking he belonged nowhere. He can't even remember his dad and his mama didn't want him either. He was raised by his grandpa, but Sukuna was a wild one, a rebel and troublemaker, famous in his small town but for all the wrong reasons. He got all those tattoos when he was far too young, got into all those fistfights, broke all those hearts, and even got into trouble with the cops once. His gramps told Sukuna he was a bad influence on his little brother, so when Sukuna was old enough, he left it all behind and bought this old ranch in the middle of nowhere.

He renovated the old farmhouse all by himself and built his own life out here. A life he could be proud of. It's a lonely life. No wife, no kids, not even a girlfriend. Just Sukuna and his dog and horse and the cows. And lots of hard work. But it's what Sukuna tells himself he wants. The bad boy cowboy never even considered getting married. He doesn't think he is made for love. He isn't even sure he deserves it or is capable of it. Sukuna enjoys life out here in the middle of nowhere and tells himself he doesn't need anyone by his side, anyway.

If he wants to fuck, he can drive to town and flirt his way into some pretty girl's bed. It's never anything serious. Just a few hours of fun and then Sukuna is gone again. No goodbye kiss, no exchange of phone numbers. The only thing he leaves behind are some muddy bootprints on her front porch, and some cigarette ash flicked out of his car window.

Sukuna doesn't expect to ever find love or even want to find it. And he certainly doesn't think that he will meet his future wife on a random Tuesday morning in the shabby old hardware store he has been frequenting for years.

He got into his pickup truck at sunrise, driving several hours to the small town to buy some things in the hardware store, and that's where he runs into you, a sweet little thing in a flowery dress and pretty cowboy boots, wringing your hands nervously when Sukuna has some questions regarding the pond supplies he wants to buy.

He grins at you, taking his cowboy hat off and nodding at you respectfully, all polite because contrary to what he looks like with all his tattoos and the intimidating height and muscular build, he can be a gentleman if he wants to, and you seem like such a sweetheart, Sukuna thinks you deserve his best charming self.

You tell him it's your first day working here and you have to check with your boss. You apologize profusely to Sukuna, and he can't stop the smirk from spreading over his tattooed face because you are so damn cute.

He tells you, "It's okay, ma'am, I have time.", and watches you get all flustered before you hurry to the back of the store.

You return a few minutes later with a warm smile on your face and answer Sukuna's questions, showing him around and also helping him pick some other things he says he needs (which he doesn't, but he likes the way you smile at him and the way your sweet flowery perfume fills his nose anytime you move).

You even insist on helping him load the items into his pickup truck,

"See it as compensation for my earlier lack of fishing pond knowledge."

And Sukuna laughs and thanks you,

"There is nothing you have to compensate for. I am very pleased with your service."

He eyes the nameplate attached to your dress and addresses you by your name, letting it roll off his tongue in his low, velvety voice that he knows girls find sexy. Sukuna can see that you are affected by his charm, and he grins broadly at you when he tips his cowboy hat in a farewell. And you smile so sweetly at him, and Sukuna is pretty sure you really mean it when you tell him to come back again soon.

Sukuna is back in town only a week later, picking up a new saddle he ordered at the local saddler, but he drives past the hardware store on his way back, and something makes him slow down, makes him take one last deep drag from his cigarette and then flick the cigarette butt out the open window before Sukuna pulls into the small parking lot.

Sukuna tells himself it's a good idea to have a little look around when he already made the long drive into town anyway. He could use a new toolbox. The old one is still functioning, but this new one comes with a sweet girl in a cute little skirt and those shiny cowboy boots. Sukuna spends thirty minutes in the little shop until he finally sees you coming out from the back.

Your gaze meets his, and he sees the way your eyes widen just as Sukuna grins at you, tipping his cowboy hat in greeting and casually strolling over to you.

You smile brightly at him, remembering him (Of course you do. Sukuna knows he always leaves an impression), greeting him by his name, and asking him how you can be of help.

Sukuna cocks his head, a lazy smirk spreading over his handsome, tattooed face, letting his gaze travel over your pretty face and cute curves, thinking that he definitely knows some things you could help him with. He is pretty sure he could have you in his truck in no time at all, his calloused hands slipping under your cute little skirt while your pretty mouth moans his name. But something makes him hold back.

It's untypical for Sukuna. He drove all the way to town and will only be here for a few hours. Usually, he makes good use of that time to get his fill of some sweet pussy wrapped around his cock to keep him satisfied for the long lonely nights to come once he is back home again, riding over the plains, herding his cows.

But Sukuna looks at your sweet smile and your genuine kindness, and it doesn't feel right to only fuck you and then leave again to never see you again.

And so Sukuna doesn't try to get under your skirt but instead leans down to grin at you and ask you to help him pick a nice new toolbox.

He walks out of the store an hour later, not just with a new toolbox but also a new BBQ grill, some lawn chairs, and a saddle bag he could have gotten in much better quality at the saddler he just came from. But it's okay because it meant that he could spend a whole hour with you in the shitty little hardware store, letting you show him around, talking to him in your sweet voice with the thick accent, while Sukuna watched your little skirt sway around your knees.

You accompany him to his truck again, and Sukuna smirks at you like the devil that he is, asking in a teasing voice,

"Is this some new service your store offers? Helping every customer load their stuff into their cars? Or is this a special service just for me?"

His smirk grows bigger when he sees how flustered you get once again, and he adds,

"No need to get all shy on me, sweetheart. I like being your favorite customer."

You giggle nervously but smile that bright smile at him again and quickly ask him where he lives and what he's doing for a living. And Sukuna laughs and points at his cowboy hat,

"This is what I'm doing. The hat isn't just a sexy accessory."

"Oh? So you're really a cowboy?"

"Yeah, as real as you can meet one. I have my own ranch a few hours from here. Just me and my animals."

You smile at him, getting a slightly dreamy look in your eyes, telling him,

"That sounds nice."

Sukuna doesn't know why his chest feels so fluttery and warm the whole drive home. He even catches himself humming along softly to one of those stupid, catchy lovesongs playing on the country station on his shitty old car radio.

Cowboy Sukuna doesn't know what it is, but lately, he keeps coming to town more often than usual. It's Friday night, and he's sitting in the small bar with the roses on the wooden sign above the old-fashioned saloon doors.

Sukuna is drinking whiskey with some rancher who wants to buy several cows from him, when Sukuna suddenly sees you. All pretty and sexy without knowing it, in your blue jeans and the cropped blouse, laughing unrestrainedly with your girls after a long work day.

Sukuna can't take his eyes off you. He watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, feeling that strange warmth in his chest again. He's about to put his glass down and walk over to you when he sees a guy bump into you.

The asshole is acting as if it was by accident, but he is far too handsy for Sukuna's taste. Standing much too close to you, his shoulders brushing against yours, his mouth at your ear, saying something to you.

Sukuna grits his teeth.

You smile politely at the guy, laughing awkwardly, not at all like when you laugh with Sukuna. You are uncomfortable. That much is clear to see, but Sukuna can tell you are a good girl who was taught to always be nice and polite, even to that guy with the grabby hands. That pathetic worm puts a hand on your hip, and Sukuna sees red.

He slams his whiskey glass down on the table and crosses the small bar in a few large steps, grabbing that handsy guy and pulling him off you with an angry growl. Sukuna slams him into the wall, glaring at him, his voice low and dangerous,

"Get your dirty hands off her, or I'll fucking kill you!"

Your wide, surprised eyes stare at Sukuna, and that nameless guy screams and tries to punch him, but Sukuna just laughs about the pathetic attempt and drags him further away from you, grabbing him by the collar as Sukuna's right fist connects with the asshole's face.

Sukuna has always been good at fistfights. He is a rough guy, a dirty fighter, sadistic when someone pisses him off. He tried to stay out of trouble those last few years, but tonight, he is not restraining his anger, not when it comes to protecting you.

He smirks devilishly at the guy when that asshole manages to land a hit on Sukuna's face. It just manages to rile Sukuna up even more. He laughs and taunts that loser for hitting like a little boy before Sukuna attacks again and sends the guy tumbling to the floor with the next hard punch.

It's then that your small, soft hands wrap around Sukuna's tattooed biceps, and your sweet voice says his name with so much worry that it makes Sukuna stop going after that guy on the floor. He just jerks his head at the guy, telling him to get lost,

"If you know what's good for you, you better stay a mile away from that sweet lady in the future. Now apologize to her."

And the guy scrambles to his feet, mumbling a sorry before he flees from the bar and from Sukuna.

Sukuna slowly turns around, running a tattooed hand through his pink hair. He wipes his split lip on his sleeve, gives you a lopsided grin, and asks if you are okay.

And you stare at him with big, worried eyes, taking in the blood on his tattooed face, but a small smile plays around your lips as you tell Sukuna,

"Thank you for getting him away from me. I am fine... but what about you? Your lip... let me fix that, please."

You take Sukuna's large hand in your smaller one, tugging gently on it, and Sukuna follows you out of the bar.

You lead him down the road to your small house, inviting him in, not to have sex with him, but to patch him up, and somehow it feels a lot more intimate than all the times combined that Sukuna went home with another girl.

You are so sweet to him, scolding him for getting into a fight and getting himself hurt, but your fingers are so gentle when you wipe the blood off Sukuna's face and put a band-aid on his split lip. You smile softly as you trace the tattoos on Sukuna's jaw with your fingers and whisper a thank you to him.

"Thank you for protecting me from that guy and teaching him a lesson. You're a good guy."

And Sukuna laughs roughly, grinning at you and shaking his head,

"That's a first. Usually, I get called the opposite."

And you laugh with him, your soft fingers still cupping his chin and touching his tattoos oh so gently, insisting that even though he looks like a bad boy, Sukuna seems really nice.

Sukuna is so close to just pulling you on his lap and kissing you, but he refrains from doing it. Because he knows where it would lead, and for once in his life, Sukuna doesn't want a one-night stand. He doesn't want to fuck you and then drive back to his life out on the ranch to never see you again.

He doesn't want that with you. He wants to see you again, and he wants to take things slow. He wants to court you in an old-fashioned way.

Sukuna eats the homemade pie you bring him and drinks the coffee you insist he should drink before he drives back home. He thanks you politely for playing nurse for him and for feeding him, looking at you with the most charming smile he can give you with his split lip. And you tell him he is welcome and that he knows now where to find you if he ever needs someone to patch him up again.

Sukuna returns a week later to the hardware store, not because he needs to buy anything, but for you. He sees you smile when you spot him leaning casually against a wooden fence display, twirling his cowboy hat in his fingers and smirking that lazy grin at you.

You only have eyes for him, forgetting what you want to say to the customers you are serving. Looking at them in confusion and stuttering an excuse before your gaze wanders back to Sukuna. And Sukuna's smirk grows bigger.

He didn't even dress nice. He is just wearing his typical black jeans and cowboy boots, and one of the flannel shirts he always wears on the ranch. But he knows he looks good anyway. Sukuna knows the ladies love his handsome face and his tall and strong body with all those well-defined muscles from all the hard work. And his pink hair and tattoos are very popular with the country girls, too. They all get weak in the knees for a bad boy like Sukuna.

But somehow, he doesn't want to be a bad boy when it comes to you. A strange warmth spreads through Sukuna's chest when you leave the other customers standing and come over to him with that big smile on your pretty face, greeting him and telling him that it's nice to see him again.

No, Sukuna doesn't want to be an asshole or a bad boy when it comes to you. He wants to be a good man for you. He is polite to you, sweet, and respectful. A true cowboy and gentleman.

He grins his boyish grin at you, cocking his head and drawls,

"I thought I should stop by to check on you. Make sure there aren't any weird guys I have to fistfight for you."

Sukuna flirts with you and makes you laugh and giggle until your boss gives you side eyes and informs you that you shouldn't pester customers. But Sukuna turns to the man, towering over him,

"She is just helping me decide which products to buy. You shouldn't berate her but rather give her a raise. This sweet lady is the best thing about this shitty store. The only reason I keep coming back."

You burst out laughing the moment your boss has left and Sukuna thinks his stomach has never felt so fluttery. He asks you when your shift is over and if he can take you out for dinner. He is delighted when you say yes.

Sukuna waits until your shift is over and then leads you to his old pickup truck, holding open the door for you, giving you a hand, and helping you climb into it. His hand rests a bit longer than necessary on the small of your back, but you don't seem to mind.

He takes you to a cozy little restaurant that he has been to several times before. Always alone because Sukuna never went on dates in the past. But the elderly lady who owns the restaurant always tells Sukuna that she knows the type of cowboy Sukuna is from the time when she was still a young girl.

"Oh, I have had several boys like you in my life. Y'all are such handsome devils, but always breaking hearts everywhere you go because you are always running from something, and you don't even know from what. I wish for you to find the right girl one day. And if you do, bring her here."

And now Sukuna is here with you, walking into the restaurant with his arm wrapped lightly around you, catching the knowing gaze of the old lady behind the counter. She leads the two of you to a table on the patio, all romantic with wildflowers in a mason jar and fairy lights overhead.

Sukuna has never been on a real date, but he likes this. He likes to be here with you, chat with you, laugh with you, and hold your hand on the table, watching his long tattooed fingers interlace with your smaller ones, which feel so soft.

The hours slip by without either of you noticing how late it is.

When it is time to bring you home, Sukuna drives you to your house, parks the truck in front of it, and turns to you to say the typical flirty stuff that he usually says to girls, but he stops when he sees your smile, and somehow anything he usually says seems so hollow and fake, and it wouldn't be right to say it to you.

Sukuna closes his mouth again, gulping hard, the bad boy cowboy at a loss for words for the first time in his life.

This feeling is new to Sukuna. All of this is new to him. This warmth in his chest and the fluttery feeling in his stomach. And how he is so damn scared to fuck things up and lose you before you even are his.

How can Sukuna even say anything at all to you when everything he wants to tell you is so fucking raw and loaded with feelings he has never felt before? When it all makes him feel so fucking vulnerable?

Like the fact that Sukuna really enjoys spending time with you and that he wants to see you again. Or that he is pretty sure he gets butterflies when hearing your laugh. Or that he never believed in love, but he thinks he is starting to do it now.

He can't say those things, can he?

In the end, it doesn't need any words from him. You smile at him and thank him for the lovely evening, adding a bit shyly that you aren't used to going on dates, and then stutter because you realize what you said and you are worried that it wasn't really a date and you made a fool of yourself by assuming it was one.

And Sukuna can't help but grin and then do the one thing that will shut you up and hopefully ease your worries:

He kisses you right there in his truck. Cups your chin with his calloused hand and brushes his lips softly over yours. Careful, gentle. Something Sukuna usually isn't, but you bring out some part of him that was dormant until now.

Sukuna wants this kiss to be special. He wants to be gentle with you because you are gentle with him, too. You are sweet and kind. You treat him as if he is deserving of tenderness.

You make a cute, surprised sound, but don't pull away. Instead, your hand lands on Sukuna's neck, caressing the short stubble of his undercut, pulling him closer as your lips begin to move against his, too, and Sukuna can't help but smile into the sweetest kiss he ever had.

When the two of you pull apart again, Sukuna smiles at you, a genuine, soft smile, and tells you,

"It was absolutely a date. And I had a lovely evening, too, princess. Let me take you out to dinner again soon."

Sukuna watches you get out of his truck and walk to your front door. He lifts a hand to give you a little wave when you turn around in the open doorway to smile at him once again, whisper-shouting to him that you wish him a safe drive home.

Sukuna stays in his truck outside your house until the light in your living room goes on, and he knows you are safe and sound before he finally pulls out of your driveway and makes his long way home, his thoughts filled with your smile and the taste of your sweet lips and tongue in his mouth.

Sukuna stays true to the promise he made to himself and really takes things slow with you. He has to work anyway, look after his ranch, fix some fences, and ride across the plains, where he meets no other human being for several days. But you are on his mind the whole time.

He sends you pictures from his rides when he is lucky and gets a signal. Selfies of him on horseback, grinning at you with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips. And some pics of some of his cows, smiling when you ask for their names.

"They don't have names. I just numbered them. But you can give them names if you like, sweetheart."

And you do. You send Sukuna the stupidest names you can think of, and he can't stop grinning,

"I sure hope you won't be in charge of naming any kids."

"Well, I will let their daddy help choose the names if he has such a problem with my name-giving skills."

And Sukuna's head spins at the implication. You're a tease in such a sweet way, and it drives him completely insane.

But Sukuna knows he drives you crazy for him, too. He knows that as much as you like the normal pictures he sends you, you also love the thirst traps he blesses you with.

The pictures where he is shirtless, all his tattoos and defined muscles on display for you, sweat glistening on his strong body, his faded, ripped jeans sitting low on his hips and doing nothing to hide the massive bulge throbbing in them.

You send him pictures, too, not as shameless as the thirst traps Sukuna sends you, but enough to drive him crazy. He has never held himself back so long, but damn, he thinks you are worth all the hard-ons he has and only his own hand to take care of them. Sure, Sukuna could drive to the next bar and find a random girl to ease that pressure, but he doesn't want it. There is only one girl he wants.

Sukuna can wait. He knows you are worth it.

And as much as he wants to have you under him, leaving scratches on his back and squealing his name in pleasure, he also wants to just talk to you or maybe take you on a little ride on his horse.

He calls you every night just to hear your voice and ask about your day, laughing about all the rude customers at the hardware store. Sukuna asks you what you had for dinner and listens to all the latest gossip your mama told you. Sometimes, he falls asleep while listening to your sweet voice and sees a text from you in the morning telling him that he sounds cute when he snores.

Maybe that's ruining the bad-boy reputation that Sukuna has all over your small town, but he doesn't give a fuck. You can see this other side of him. You are the exception, and he finds that he likes that.

Sukuna visits the town as often as his ranch duties allow so he can take you on dates. Sometimes, he drives his old pickup truck, but sometimes, he takes his motorcycle, grinning at you when he parks it in front of your house and takes off his helmet, running a hand through his ruffled hair to smooth it down again, and telling you to come hop on so he can take you on a ride. And you raise an eyebrow jokingly,

"When you said you are a cowboy, I pictured a guy on a real horse..."

And there is this happy sparkle in your eyes, and that sweet laugh falling from your lips. And fuck, Sukuna knows he is a lost man.

He grins back at you, leaning down to greet you with a slow, deep kiss before he holds out his helmet to you,

"This cowboy will let you ride his horse soon, too, but for now, let me show you a bit more horsepower."

Sukuna loves the feeling of your body snuggling against his back, your hands wrapped tightly around his waist, your hands caressing his chest and his abs through his shirt, and your loud, excited laugh when Sukuna accelerates his bike and speeds down the dirt road leading to nowhere, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt behind.

Sukuna parks his motorcycle at a pretty pond and spreads out a picnic blanket in the grass. The two of you sit down to eat something, but it only takes a few minutes before the snacks are forgotten, and Sukuna rolls on top of you and kisses you until he feels dizzy, and you sigh into his mouth.

When you look up at him and touch his face, trace his tattoos with your fingertips, and smile at him, Sukuna knows that he has never been this genuinely happy in his life. But at the same time, it scares him. It terrifies him to feel so much.

He strolls down to the pond, smoking a cigarette while looking over the smooth surface of the water, trying to calm down and stop his fears from swallowing him. Trying to stop that voice in his head that whispers to him that this cowboy should do what he is best at and just run and isolate himself and live his life in solitude.

But your sweet laugh carries to Sukuna's ears as you run towards him, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. Your small hand wraps around his tattooed biceps, and you lean against his side,

"Hey cowboy, come back. I have some homemade lemonade and cake in my bag."

Sukuna turns his head to look at you, at the way you tilt your head to smile up at him, eyes full of affection. How could he walk away from this? Yeah, he is scared out of his mind of all those feelings, but he would regret it even more if he ran.

He blows out his cigarette smoke slowly as a lazy grin spreads over his face, and he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead.

"Homemade lemonade? You sure know the way to my heart, huh, princess?"

He lets you take his hand and pull him back to the picnic blanket, sipping your lemonade and letting you climb in his lap and feed him the cake you baked for him, and Sukuna wraps his arms around your waist, capturing your lips in a sweet, sexy kiss, hoping you can understand the silent promises his tongue writes against yours.

All the words he doesn't dare say out loud because they scare him. But Sukuna knows it's you for him. He knows that he wants by his side. He knows you are his girl and hopes he is your boy, too. He hopes he is a man who is deserving of you and your sweetness. Sukuna promises you silently that he will work damn hard to be that man.

It takes weeks before the two of you have sex.

Sukuna takes you on another date with his old truck this time, driving far out to watch the stars with you and lying in the bed of his truck with you in his arms.

He brought you flowers. The wild ones which grow on his ranch because he feels like you enjoy them more than the ones from the flower shops, and it makes him happy to see you with something from his life.

You thanked him with a sweet kiss and put some of the flowers in your hair, laughing when they fell out again, and Sukuna picked them up again and tucked them behind your ear.

And now those flowers are already out of your hair again, strewn all over the truck bed because the two of you are so lost in your deep tongue kisses and the feeling of your bodies grinding against each other.

The flowers are forgotten, just like the stars above. The only thing you know is each other's mouths and hands that tug on each other's clothes, craving more, needing skin-on-skin contact.

Sukuna's shirt has been long gone, and yours too, leaving you only in your lacey bra and the little skirt, driving Sukuna crazy. Your hands explore the naked skin of his broad back and his biceps, and your lips trail sweet kisses down Sukuna's neck, leaving your lipstick marks on him.

And Sukuna licks and kisses the swell of your breasts above your bra, finally pulling the pretty lacey thing down to reveal your even prettier tits. He sucks one nipple into his warm mouth as he looks up at your face, grinning when he sees your eyelashes flutter and hears the cute little noises you make for him.

You straddle Sukuna's lap, smiling at him with desire burning in your eyes while your small hands wander a bit shyly over his tattooed chest, and Sukuna thinks he will lose his mind if he doesn't finally take you.

He flips you over on your back, pushes his head under your skirt, and eats you out until your legs are shaking and your hands tug on his pink hair, and you cry out his name into the night.

You look up at Sukuna with parted lips and heavy-lidded eyes as you unbutton his jeans and get his achingly hard cock out, stroking him lovingly while you tell him to please make you his girl.

Sukuna has held back for so long but cannot do it anymore. Not when you look at him like that and stroke his cock like that and ask him to claim you. He pushes you down on the truck bed, his arms on each side of your head, his heavy body on top of yours, his lips claiming yours in a possessive, hungry kiss at the same time as his cock claims your sweet, warm pussy.

He takes you with hard, rough thrusts, fucking you almost feverishly once he feels your warm pussy around his cock. And for the first time in his life, Sukuna apologizes for the way he fucks. For his roughness, for his strength. But you cling to him and moan his name and tell him it's okay and that you want him exactly like this.

You leave scratches on Sukuna's back, and he fucks his seed into you over and over again. The two of you can't get enough of each other that night, making out and fucking in various positions until the sky becomes pink with the approaching sunrise, and both of you are sated and exhausted, and you slump against Sukuna's body, hugging him, pressing your tits firmly against his tattooed chest as his spent cock softens gradually inside you.

Sukuna lets his head fall back on the truck bed, his large hands lazily caressing your back, and he looks up at the sky that brings a new morning, thinking that it feels like it's a whole new life that is beginning today.

He drives you back to town an hour later, stealing glances at you the whole drive long, one tattooed hand resting on your naked thigh under your skirt, and your small hand lands on top of Sukuna's, caressing the back of his hand while you sing along to the country songs on the radio. Sukuna can't stop grinning the whole time.

But even after you start to have sex with each other, you still take time to get to know each other even better. It's fun and sexy but also deep and meaningful, and Sukuna catches himself being more open with you than he ever was with anyone before.

He tells you the truth when you ask about his family, tells you that it's messy, that he can't even remember his dad, and that his mama didn't want him either. He tells you about his little brother, who he hasn't seen in many years because Sukuna ran from home the moment he was 18. He confesses all the shit he did. All the stupid things a rebellious teenage Sukuna got involved in. All the trouble and pain he caused his family. All the regrets he has, when he looks back at his former life now.

And you take his large hand into both of yours and hold it so gently, and smile that sweet smile at him, telling him that sometimes families simply are like that. A mess.

You tell him that you like him the way he is, with all his rough edges, and that you wish Sukuna had more love in his life when he needed it the most as a child.

"But you have me now, Kuna. And I will make sure you don't feel alone."

You tear down his walls so easily, break him in the most beautiful way, and build him up again, even stronger than before, because now Sukuna knows what it feels like to be loved.

And Sukuna says those famous three words for the first time in his life.

He pulls you to him, holds you in his arms, and rests his chin on your head, swaying you softly from side to side as he murmurs those words into your hair, words he never thought he would say,

"I love you. And I want to be with you. I know it's hard to love a man like me, but I want this to work. I want you. I want us. And I will work hard for it."

He thinks he will melt when you tell him you love him too and that there is nothing hard about loving him at all.

For the first time in his life, Sukuna stays in someone's bed the whole night.

The two of you kiss at your front door, and you gently pull him inside. You kiss and laugh and playfully tease each other all the way to your bedroom, undressing each other on the way, leaving behind a trail of clothes on your floor.

You call him baby, and Sukuna thinks he will go crazy. He picks you up and carries you the rest of the way until he lays you down on your bed, his lips never leaving yours.

You don't fuck that night but make love, nice and slow. You look so beautiful lying under Sukuna, your face so close to his, your small hands caressing his biceps and his muscular back while Sukuna takes you with slow, deep thrusts, unable to tear his gaze away from you and the love in your eyes when you whisper his name.

Sukuna tells you he loves you again when he is about to cum, and it feels more intense than anything else he has ever experienced. Especially when he feels you cum on his cock, too, sobbing his name and returning the "I love you" several times while you shudder in pleasure beneath him.

Sukuna doesn't let go of you the whole night. He lets you use his chest as your pillow, wraps you in his strong arms, and holds you. The wild, freedom-loving cowboy who usually runs, suddenly all tame.

Sukuna thinks he is right where he should be. He wants to stay forever in your bed and in your arms, holding the girl he loves.

Of course, a cowboy like Sukuna has to leave again in the morning. His ranch needs him. There are miles and miles of fences to fix, horses to train, and cattle to herd. But Sukuna promises to call you every night.

"And if I don't have a signal, I want you to know that I will still think of you, okay princess? Let's make a deal. Every night at ten pm, I want you to look at the sky. And I'll do the same, wherever I am, and imagine you are by my side."

And he laughs softly and hugs you to his strong body, adding,

"I will think about you every second of the day anyway. And I am damn sure you can't get me out of your mind either, huh?"

He winks at you and grins his boyish grin, and you chuckle and get on your tiptoes to kiss his grin off him.

Before Sukuna drives off, you give him a leather cord with a small charm in the form of a horseshoe, telling him you saw it on the farmers market last weekend and thought of him.

"I want to give it to you because I hope it will bring you luck and keep you safe out there on all those lonely nights and long rides."

And Sukuna leaves his bandana at your place,

"So you have something to remind you of me while I am away, princess. Wear it around your pretty throat to keep the chilly winds away and to think of your favorite cowboy."

Sukuna calls you every day just like he promised.

But out here on the plains, where Sukuna is on horseback, with only his dog running along beside him, his life still feels lonely. This solitude used to be something Sukuna chose willingly for himself. Something he thought was the only life that was right for a man like him.

But now Sukuna feels this longing inside his chest, and the questions keep filling his mind. Does a cowboy really have to be alone? Does Sukuna really have to be alone?

His ranch and his life out here are the last parts of him, which Sukuna hasn't opened to you yet. It seemed too risky to bring you here, too intimate. This is the place, after all, where Sukuna fled to so he wouldn't hurt his little brother anymore. A place he used to see as some kind of fortress that kept other people safe from Sukuna and also kept him safe from feeling too much. A place where he was free from all the complications of human interactions.

But things have changed, haven't they?

Sukuna visits you as often as he can, and he catches himself telling you more about his everyday life as a cowboy while watching you closely for your reactions. He tells you what he loves about his life on the ranch, tells you that it is a lot of hard work and that it can be tough at times, but that it is also peaceful, and that he likes that he is free out there.

"I like that I am my own boss because I really don't do well with people trying to tell me what to do."

And you laugh and roll your eyes, and Sukuna grins at you with a wink and adds,

"Well, you are the exception, baby."

And as teasing and light-hearted as it sounds, Sukuna knows that he is telling the truth. He doesn't mind if you tell him what to do. He doesn't mind if he has to take responsibility for his actions. Not when it comes to you.

You beam at him and kiss his tattooed cheek and ask in that sweet voice,

"Will you finally show me your ranch, Sukuna?"

And he knows what you are really asking is for Sukuna to finally let you in. To let this last wall tumble to the ground and allow you into his life in every way.

Sukuna feels strangely nervous when driving you to his ranch. But not because he is scared of losing his last refuge. He is nervous because he is worried you won't like the life out here in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but endless miles of uninhabited land around you and only Sukuna and his animals to keep you company.

Sukuna hopes you will like it. Because there is this small voice in his mind that whispers to him, "I want her to stay."

Sukuna watches you carefully while he shows you around his small ranch, showing you the old farmhouse he renovated, the barn he built with his own hands, and the stables he gave a new paint and a modern interior.

Relief floods Sukuna's chest when he sees the genuine smile on your pretty face and the joy when you pet his favorite horse. You turn to him, telling him that you love his ranch and praising him for turning an old abandoned farm into this pretty place.

"You are so passionate about the things you want, Sukuna, and you work hard for them. That's an admirable trait. This place is beautiful."

Sukuna smirks proudly at you, feeling this warmth in his chest again. He wraps a strong, tattooed arm around your waist and pulls you against him. And he knows exactly what he wants.

"This place is even more beautiful with you here. You remember what I said about enjoying my freedom out here? I feel free with you by my side, too. It doesn't feel like I am giving anything up when I am with you. It feels like I am gaining something."

There are happy tears shining in your eyes when you look up at him, and you smile and put a small hand on Sukuna's defined chest, right where his heart is beating strong and fast,

"I would love to live here with you, cowboy. I could help you with the crops and make sure you always have something warm to eat when you come home in the evening. I could even help with the horses and the cows, I think. And I can keep you company out here and keep you warm at night."

Sukuna doesn't believe in a God, but he thinks some kind of higher power or fate or whatever must have finally blessed him. Must have finally allowed a fallen angel like him some sort of heaven, too.

Sukuna smiles at you, a gentle, genuine smile that he never gives to anyone else, and he takes his cowboy hat off and puts it carefully onto your head,

"Then welcome to your new home, cowgirl."

SIGHHHHH, this cowboy makes me swoon 😭😭💗💗 I didn't expect this story to become so long, but I just couldn't stop writing. It was one of those moments where Sukuna took things into his hands and made me tell the whole story, and of course I do what my man wants ;)

I hope you enjoyed falling in love with Cowboy!Sukuna, too 💗

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

There will be a Part 2 in which we see our life on Sukuna's ranch.

And once again: Thank you Émilie @sweetlandspos for drawing your beautiful and sexy Cowboy!Sukuna, who inspired me to write this AU!! I hope you find joy in this story!!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Ma'am: Christmas

Aitana Bonmatí x Royal!Reader

Summary: Christmas in the Ma'am Universe

"Is it worth setting Real Madrid on fire?" You wonder aloud as you lay across three different seats in the friends and family box, throwing a tennis ball up and down thoughtfully.

"I'm afraid that might cause a diplomatic incident, ma'am," Your ever present bodyguard says gruffly," It doesn't belong to you."

You sigh, long and drawn out. "I guess." You think for a moment before sitting up. "Should I buy it? And then set it on fire?"

Your bodyguard, tall and serious and dressed entirely in black and wearing shades you're ninety percent sure means he can't see anything when the sun goes down, doesn't even let his lip twitch. You suppose he's meant to be intimidating with his stocky shoulders and large frame but he's holding your puppy Rufus, fast asleep in his arms, and shivering slightly in the cold air.

"Well?"

He sighs. "Why would you want to do that, ma'am?"

"For a Christmas present. For Aitana. It would make her happy, I think. For Real Madrid not to exist anymore."

"Has Her Royal Highness asked you that?"

"Well...no...but-"

"Then perhaps it's best that you refrain from that, ma'am."

You huff. "I don't think I want you holding the prince anymore."

That manages to get an upwards quirk of the lip from him though as you take poor sleepy Rufus from his arms. "Don't worry, Rufus," You whisper to him as you both watch Aitana walk onto the pitch with the team," We'll find something for your Mami that she'll love for Christmas."

Christmas for you have always involved pomp and ceremony and now that includes Aitana too. The family had their traditions and you were expected to abide by them.

Aitana hadn't really thought about how her life would change by marrying you. A lot of it hadn't. She could stay in Spain and with Barcelona and still play football. She could come home to the apartment you and her lived in with yappy little Rufus where you'll be at the stove, cooking up some monstrosity that she would eventually save you from after showering.

But this was Christmas and you were both expected at the Sandringham Estate to celebrate with the family so it wasn't going to be a quiet, private Christmas spent with just the two of you.

You had your traditions, which is what Aitana assumed this was.

"A present? It's the start of December."

"I can't give my wife a gift?"

No matter how many times you said it, Aitana could never stop the smile appearing on her face at that word.

Wife.

Your wife.

It was the new title that Aitana loved the most.

Because that was what she was.

Your wife.

"I...I haven't gotten you anything extra," She says," Was I meant to?"

You shake your head, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. "I'm the one that's changing Christmas for you. It's going to be different this year so I'm sorry. It's the least I could do."

"You're so sweet."

You grin. "I was planning on setting Real Madrid on fire but I was persuaded not to."

Aitana laughs, another kiss landing on you.

The gifts pile up after that.

For every day leading up to Christmas. Not one day is missed and you're both there to watch her open it, in front of the Christmas tree and happy little Rufus and his silly little puppy smile.

Jewellery, clothes and more practical things like a new pair of boots because her own were getting worn out or a book series she'd only mentioned wanting once in parting.

The gifts piled up and you didn't even seem to care for anything in return except for maybe a kiss.

"Tell me what we're doing later," Aitana says as you both lay back on the bed in the private jet," What should I expect?"

You'd delayed it as long as possible, letting Aitana have that private holiday season she had wanted. But you couldn't delay it forever so early Christmas Eve, had you both (and Rufus) flying back to England to join your family.

Aitana's fingers trace a pattern over the skin of your arm as you relax back into the pillows.

"Well William likes to play a game of football before dinner," You tell her," I expect you to show him how it's done and win. He's so excited to see your skills up close. But he'll be wearing stupid Aston Villa socks so be sure to tell him he looks stupid."

"So win a football match? I can do that."

"We do presents on Christmas Eve too. And then when all the kids go to bed we have a black tie dinner. I checked with Father though and our son can stay up and come."

Aitana laughs. "You don't have to keep referring to Rufus as our son, you know."

You frown. "Why wouldn't I? He is our son."

She laughs again. "What's next? Christmas Day? What do we do then?"

"Well, we usually go to a Christmas service but you don't have to come if you don't want to. After that, we'll have to go back to Buckingham Palace. That's where Father wants to broadcast his speech from this year."

"And we're coming too?"

You grin at her, biting your lip and leaning close to whisper in her ear. "I'm saving up a present for you. But you can't tell anyone."

"I can keep a secret."

And it's a secret Aitana does keep for the next day.

She does end up on a cold, English football pitch against your eldest brother and she does end up humiliating him much to your delight.

She plays circles around everyone like the professional she is and chooses William wearing the Barcelona kit instead of his favoured Aston Villa one as her forfeit.

Her pile of presents is large and not even all of them are from you but the ones that are, are her favourite.

Your own presents range from things you actual enjoy and want (from people like your father and auntie Anne) to gag gifts like one particular shirt planted with Aitana's face from your brother that you wear proudly before being forced to take it off for dinner.

"See," You whisper to Aitana with a grin," Not all English food is bad."

She looks down at her roast thoughtfully and purses her lips, fighting back a smile.

You poke her cheek. "Is that a grin? Is it? I think it is! I knew I would convince you one day!"

Aitana allows a weak smile on her face. "There's outliers in every cuisine," Is all she offers," I stand by what I said. Spanish food is better."

"Yeah," You laugh," That's why you've been eating all the Yorkshire puddings."

"They're nice! You should make these at home."

You kiss her hand with a wink. "As Her Royal Highness commands."

It's not the first time Aitana's been to Buckingham Palace but there's a different feel to it during the holidays. There's a tree in practically every room and festive lights hung up everywhere they can be fit.

You're giggling as you lead her through the halls, a pretty smile on your red cheeked face. You had a bit of liquid courage earlier in the form of a spiked eggnog that Kate had given to you before you and Aitana set off back to London with your father and his wife.

"Where are we going?" Atiana giggles as well," What is it?"

"Okay," You say, finally skidding to a halt in front of a pair of ornate doors," Close your eyes."

"You can't be serious-"

"Please? It'll ruin the surprise!"

"Fine."

Atiana closes her eyes and allows you to lead her into the room.

"Careful," You warn her," We're going up some steps. And then turn...Yeah, like that...And sit."

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"Just give me a moment."

Something is placed on her head and Aitana gets the feeling that she knows where she is.

"Okay," You say," Open."

You're on your knees in front of her, head pillowed on her thigh as you sit between her legs on the little dais.

"Beautiful," You say.

"You know I'm not meant to be sitting on this," Aitana says though she makes no movement to lift herself off the throne.

"But it suits you."

Aitana hums, lips pressed together thoughtfully as you plant a small kiss on the inside of her thigh. "You spoil me."

"Yes."

She frowns. "You'd do anything I asked."

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing," You say, eyes wide earnestly," It's not a bad thing. I'll do anything for you."

"Even now?"

You nod. "Even now."

Aitana grins at you, some of her own liquid courage swirling around her body as she widens her legs and fists her hand in your hair.

"I think you know where I want you."

[mymindcreatedthis]

Enemies to more than friends? 18+

Reader x Alexia Putellas

Warning: Smut, make up sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, multiple Creampies, blowjob, throat pie, anal, cum shot, got job, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, leg trapping, reader doming Alexia, Alexia receiving, positions: Missionary, Doggy and on side

Word count: 2.8k

*Alexia's pov*

9 months ago

Barca vs Arsenal, the game was 1-1, I had scored our goal until Y/n scored the equalizer for Arsenal. I get the ball and run with it up field, I wind up my leg ready to take the shot for our next goal. I feel a boot go into my leg, I immediately scream in pain and drop to the ground. I grabbed my knee in pain, pain is never felt before.

"I'm so sorry, Alexia I slipped." I heard a voice, it was Y/n.

*Y/n's Pov*

Before I knew it I had slipped trying to get the ball from Alexia. My foot rolling through and making contact with her leg.

"I'm so sorry, Alexia I slipped." I said immediately.

I watched Alexia drop to the ground in pain and gripping her leg. The feeling I felt knowing I did that, I was the one who made Alexia feel the pain she was feeling. The feeling of guilt running through me.

*9 months later* Alexia's Pov*

I wrack my weights after I finish my rep. My phone pings letting me know I had a new text message, I was working out in my gym at home. I was working out in just my sports bra and shorts, I grab my phone and check it and see that I have a new text message from my best friend Aitana Bonmati.

Aitana: Hey did you hear that we are getting a new player?

Me: No who is it?

Aitana: you're the captain and haven't been told that we are getting a new player.

Me: I'm the last person to find out about shit.

Aitana: It's a new player from Arsenal... her name is Y/n L/n.

My heart drops as she tells me this. Y/n and I have history, she injured me and fucked up my leg the last game we Played them so I've been in rehab and getting stronger and doing therapy. Finally after 9 months I was getting ready to get back on the field and now she wants to ruin it by joining the club.

Me: You serious? Aitana that's the girl that injured my leg the last time we played Arsenal.

Aitana: I know, I'm just as annoyed as you are. But there's nothing we can do about it, it's done and it's happened.

Aitana was right. The news had broken everywhere, Y/n was no part of Barca. I now had to face the person who caused the pain I've had to carry around everyday for the last 9 months.

*Next Day*

Arriving into camp, my only thought was avoiding Y/n that was until I spotted her making her way over to me from the corner of my eye.

"Alexia I just wanted to sa-"

I cut her off. "Save it Y/n. Just leave me alone." I spat out immediately walking away not wanting to hear anything else she had to say.

We get our assigned rooms, we grab our things and go up to our rooms. Thankfully we lucked out and didn't have roommates this camp so we had a whole room to ourselves for this camp.

It was around 10 pm, I didn't run into Y/n again after she tried to talk to me. I'm interrupted as there's a sudden knock on my door. I open the door to the last person I wanted to see.

"There's been a leak in some of the rooms. Mine had a leak as well. Coach told me that I'm bunking with you the rest of camp, the other rooms are full." Y/n says with her belongings and bag in her hands.

"No, I don't share my room. I only have one bed." I spat out.

"Mhm I'm more annoyed as you. But I've got no choice." Y/n says.

"Don't talk to me or look at me." I say as I move to the side and let her in.

"Trust me, I don't give a fuck. Keep it club related." Y/n says walking past me.

Y/n gets settled in, without another word Y/n lays on the ground on her make shift bed she created as I lay in bed and turn off the light.

*Y/n's Pov*

I lay on the floor, my back hurting not being able to get comfy. "Get in the bed." I hear Alexia say.

"Thought you said there's only one bed? I'm good on the floor." I say as I lay there staring at the ceiling.

"There is only one bed you idiot, get in the bed before you fuck up your back and before I change my mind." Alexia says.

I sigh and give in, I get up and join Alexia in the bed. I lay facing her looking at her body. I could feel myself getting hard as I check out her ass in her panties, her ass slightly swallowing her panties.

"What are you moving around for?" Alexia whispers.

"Sorry just struggling to get comfortable." I say.

Little did I know that Alexia could see the tent in my boxers. "Go to the bathroom." Alexia says.

"Yeah." I huff. "I'll sort it out." I get up and go to the bathroom. 10 minutes passed and nothing was working I was still hard and throbbing even more, I really needed to cum. 10 minutes of jerking off and still nothing.

I groan to myself. "Y/n come here." I hear Alexia say.

I come out of the bathroom and come back into the room. "I'll help you but after that don't talk to me." Alexia says.

"O-Okay." I stutter a bit as I get back in bed. "You know Alexia..." she cuts me off.

"Y/n I don't want to hear it, We're going to do this and then we're not gonna speak again, got it?" Alexia says.

I nod in response, as Alexia slowly pulled down my shorts and boxers. My massive boner springs out, Alexia bites her lip as she checks out my 11 inch boner.

"Shit baby you're huge." Alexia whispered in slight shock as she spits on my dick taking it in her mouth.

She begins to bob her head slowly looking into my eyes. I moan and place my hand on the back of her head as she kept sucking going a bit faster.

"Fuck Alexia your mouth feels so good." I moaned as I lean my head back onto the head board.

She swirls her tongue around my tip as she kept sucking, playing with my balls with her other hand.

"Alexia... baby I really am sorry." I moan as she sped up bobbing her head faster than before.

She let my dick pop out of her mouth as she kissed my inner tight thigh with a smile.

"I know." She whispered as she takes my dick back in her mouth immediately deep throating me, causing me to become a moaning mess.

She looked into my eyes as she hums against my dick seeing the reaction she was getting from me.

"I'm going to cum buckets if you keep doing that baby." I moan and close my eyes.

I gripped the sheets with one hand. The other hand on the back of Alexia's head as she was making me closer and closer to cumming. My balls tighten as my dick hits the back of her throat.

"Fuck Alexia I...."

Throatpie:

I moan gripping Alexia's hair pushing her head further down on my cock as I explode inside her mouth. Sweat dripping down my forehead' my legs buckle and begin to shake. Alexia lifts her head up, swallowing my load.

"I'll forgive you, only on one condition." Alexia says.

"What's that?" I ask.

"You fuck me right now." Alexia says.

"Yes Ma'am." I smile. "I don't have a condom." I added.

"I don't care, I'm on a pill." She says as she climbs on top of me removing her shirt, red bra and panties.

Without saying anything else Alexia lines her entrance up with my dick as she dripping wet. I place my hands on her hips as I guide her down bottoming out inside her. She begins to pick up the pace sliding up and down on my dick. I move my hands from her hips down to her ass, gripping it tightly as I spank it.

"Fuck Alexia, you're gonna make me cum." I moaned as she sped up her tits bouncing up and down.

"Cum inside me daddy." Alexia moans.

Alexia sped up even more, her ass rippling against my thighs. Sweat dripping down her forehead, I couldn't take it anymore.

Creampie #1:

"Fuck Alexia." I shouted as cum begins oozing out of my dick filling her up to the brim.

"I feel so full." She moaned, she climbs off me and Bends over licking up the cum that had dripped onto my stomach.

"Are you still hard?" Alexia whispers.

"Yes, Yes I am. It's getting worse." I huffed.

Alexia lays in her back and lays In missionary, I bite my lip and rub my tip through her folds. Alexia bites her lip and quietly moans as I do this.

"Mmm stop teasing and just put it in." Alexia moans. "Mm I wanna feel you deep inside me."

Fuck Alexia was super wet, I bite my lip and slowly slide my dick inside her. I moan as her walls immediately clench around me, Alexia moans as she takes my length deep inside her.

"Mmm fuck Y/n... Y-You're really deep in there." Alexia moans.

Alexia moans and takes a moment to adjust to my size. "M-Move." She moans in pleasure. "Mmm fuck I thought you were big in my mouth but you feel even bigger inside me."

I smirk, and look at her. Our noses touching, Alexia leans in and kisses me deeply, I'm shocked at first but kiss back. We both moan in the kiss as I thrust in and out of her a bit faster.

We break the kiss when air becomes a problem. I rest my head against hers and look deep into her eyes as I thrust in and out of her faster.

My dick was throbbing, fuck I really needed a release. I moan and bite my lip as my precum leaks inside her letting her know that I'm close.

Alexia giggles. "Close to cumming daddy?" She smirks. "Good cause I'm bet letting you pull out." She wraps her legs around me and leg traps me so I can't pull out.

Alexia moans and watch my dick slide in and out of her. I moan and bite my lip as I feel her walls clench around me letting me know that she was close to cumming.

"Mmm someone close?" I ask seductively.

"I'm close baby, I'm gonna cum." Alexia moans.

"Let go baby, cum for daddy." I say.

Alexia moans in pleasure as I kiss her neck. I moan as I feel myself getting close to cumming. “Mmm I’m gonna squirt.” Alexia moans.

Alexia Moan and squirts all over my abs, my thighs and all over my dick and on the sheets. I smirk and keep going, I go at an angle and start hitting her g spot.

“Mmm fuck so tight and wet.” I moan, fuck her pussy felt like heaven.

My breathing gets heavier letting Alexia know that I was close to cumming. Alexia moans, and bites her lip and locks eyes with me.

“Yes, yes cum in me. Cum in me.” Alexia moans.

Creampie #2:

“Mmm F-Fuck.” I moan in pleasure.

Cum oozes and spurts inside her filling her to the brim. Alexia moans as I unload my massive seed inside her and paint her walls white.

We both moan, I kiss her deeply and slowly pull out of her. Alexia moans and bites her lip as come cum oozes out and onto the sheets.

“Mmm please baby I need more.” Alexia cutely moans.

I giggle and kiss her again. “Get in doggy baby.”

Alexia does as I say, she moves the middle of the bed and gets on all fours. I bite my lip and admire her ass and pussy and smirk as my cum continue to ooze out of her pussy, and drips down her thigh and onto the sheets.

I bite my lip and check out her ass as she shakes it. I smirk, I get up and get behind her. I slap her ass, Alexia moans and jumps as I slap her ass.

I smirk, she moans as I spank her ass again. I rub my dick through her cum glazed folds. We both moan as I slide my dick back inside her.

I place my hand on her hip and pull her hair with my other hand, I slowly thrust in and out of her and pull her hair.

“Mmmm F-Fuck.” Alexia moans.

“Like that baby? Me balls deep inside you stretching you out?” I ask teasing her.

“Mmm I l-love it.” Alexia moans.

Alexia moans and throws her ass back against me as I continue to fuck her going faster. “S-Shit I don’t think I’ll last much longer… f-fuck you have amazing grip.” I moan.

Alexia giggles and moans as she throws her ass back against me sliding back and forth on my dick faster and faster.

I moan as I feel myself getting closer and closer to cumming. “Mmm I’m close.” I moan in pleasure.

“Mmm fuck…. Me too.” Alexia moans.

I moan loudly in pleasure, my balls slap against her skin as our moans fill the room. Alexia screams in pleasure and squirts again, she squirts all over my dick, abs, thighs and all over the sheets.

“ Alexia…Baby I’m really close.” I moan as my pre cum leaks inside her letting her know that I was about to explode and fill her up.

I moan in pleasure as I feel that familiar feeling in my balls.

Creampie #3:

I squeeze her ass and moan, we both moan as I slam my dick inside her, Alexia moans and cums all over my dick. We both moan as cum oozes and spurts inside her painting her walls white and filling her to the brim.

Alexia takes a moment to catch her breath. I smile and told her head back and smash my lips against hers. Once we catch our breaths I slowly pull out of her. Cum immediately oozes out of her and drips down her thighs and onto the sheets.

Alexia lays down on her side. "Put it in my ass." She moaned.

"Are you sure?" I question making sure that she was really okay with this.

"Yes, do it Y/n." Alexia says.

Without another word I slowly lift her leg up and insert my dick inside of her. Letting her get used to it for a second, I slowly thrust in and out of her.

"Fuck your so tight baby." I moan as I start kissing her neck.

"You're so big." Alexia moaned in response.

I sped up my thrusts as I began to spank her ass, gripping it tightly with one hand and began to play with her tits with my other hand.

"You like that baby? My tight ass Around your dick." Alexia moaned as she turns her head kissing me deeply.

I moan in the kiss, we break the kiss when air becomes a problem. "Yes baby, you feel so tight. I'm going to cum soon, I'm close." I moan resting my head on her shoulder.

My thrusts begin to slow down as I felt my balls tighten, getting ready to cum.

"Where should I cum?" I ask.

"On my tits." Alexia moans.

I quickly got up off the bed, picking Alexia up as she gets onto her knees. She wraps her tits around my dick, she spits on my dick the help rub her tits up and down on my dick.

"Fuck this is amazing." I whispered looking into her eyes rubbing my thumb over her lips.

She takes my thumb in her mouth and strokes my dick a bit faster. I moan, after 5 mintues of an amazing tit job. The urge to cum gets stronger and stronger.

"Fuck baby I'm going to cum." I moan.

Cumshot:

I moan as ropes of thick sticky cum shoot all over her lips, face, mouth and tits.

"Fuck baby, you've covered me." Alexia moans as she licks up what she could.

"Painted my baby girl white." I moan looking at the sticky mess I had left all over Alexia's face and chest.

"Your personal coloring book." Alexia Cutely giggles.

Alexia gets off her knees and starts cleaning up, finally my problem was fixed.

"If you're really sorry for what you did." She trails off and smirks. "We're gonna carry on with this since you're here permanently." Alexia bites her lip.

Alexia straddles my knee and plants a long kiss on my lips. She breaks the kiss, I laugh.

"Deal." I smile and reciprocate the kiss.

[littelovelunette]

Hii, could you do a sevika x reader, where reader gets like really injured during a mission of Silco's and Sevika panicks badly? Thank you🫂💗

Shaken

Contains blood, mentions of death

Oh, please hug me anon I need one haha...

The air was thick with smoke, the scent of burning metal and gunpowder clinging to every breath.

The mission had gone sideways, a setup, a trap—whatever it was, it left you sprawled on the cold concrete, vision blurring as crimson pooled beneath you.

Your limbs felt heavy, the pain a dull, distant thing compared to the unbearable weight pressing down on your chest.

"Shit—shit!" Sevika's voice cut through the chaos, rough with something you rarely heard from her; panic.

Heavy boots skidded against the ground as she dropped to her knees beside you, flesh fingers trembling as they hovered over your wound.

"What the fuck happened?"

You tried to speak, but the words barely scraped past your throat, a weak wheeze that did nothing to soothe the wild storm brewing in her grey eyes.

"Stay awake. Don't you dare fucking close your eyes on me."

Sevika wasn’t one to show weakness—never. But now, she looked frantic, her usual controlled expression shattered.

Her hand, the one that wasn’t cold steel, pressed against your side, trying to stem the bleeding. It was a bad wound. Too bad.

"Where the fuck is Jinx? Or anyone?" she snarled and took a wild look around. No response. Just the pounding of her heart in her ears. "Fuck!"

Your fingers twitched, reaching for her, and she caught your hand immediately, squeezing tight, as if she could anchor you here just by touch alone.

"You’re gonna be fine. I’ll carry your ass back myself if I have to." Her tone was all forced confidence, but her breathing was uneven, her muscles taut with barely restrained terror.

You couldn't help smiling a little at the words she just uttered, "I l-love... Y...you..."

The world spun, dark edges creeping in. Sevika shifted, scooping you up as gently as she could, but she was shaking. She never shook.

"Hold on, just—just hold on, okay? I love you too, you fucking dumbass."

For the first time, Sevika wasn’t the unshakable enforcer, the woman who always had control. She was desperate, raw, and fucking terrified. Because if she lost you—

...

She wasn't sure what would be left of her.

When you woke up you were in Sevika's bed, blankets draped around you in a desperate attempt to keep your almost bloodless body warm.

"You're awake." Sevika's voice was low, as she reached around and tucked you in better. "Got me worried back there for a second."

You smiled faintly. "I'm okay."

"Damn right, you are." Sevika averted her gaze. She didn't want you to know she'd been crying. She thought you had died, the mere thought of your death terrified her. Her flesh hand was still resting on your stomach.

You could sense the emotional turmoil she had going on inside her heart. "Sevika." You called out. "Hug me."

Sevika didn't need telling twice, her arms encircled around you and she pressed her body against yours. You didn't care how much your raw yet bandaged wound hurt.

You stayed in her arms. Where you belonged.

[ashwhowrites]

I know I sent in a request a few days ago, but that one was pretty long so I figured I'd also throw in a shorter request while they're still open: smutty Older!Simp!Eddie x reader in which they are basically the Gomez and Morticia of the Stranger Things universe. No plot, just Eddie and the reader being disgustingly (said with affection) OBSESSED with each other.

FUCKING LOVE THE ADDAMS FAMILY. HAVE A TATTOO TO PROVE IT

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Gomez and Morticia

Eddie had a few girlfriends in the past, and well they ended badly. All of Eddie's friends can agree that he was not boyfriend material. He kept to himself and often forgot a relationship takes a lot of work and sacrifice. It was his way or no way.

But then he graduated and became more grown-up. And he fell in love. He fell in love hard.

Her name was Y/N, Eddie met her at a concert. She was dressed to impress with her short shorts and high black boots. Her makeup was angelic and sharp enough to cut him, and he loved it. He loved how she captivated him the whole show. The band faded to nothing as he watched her dance and sing along. He swore he had never seen anything so gorgeous in his life.

She was just as smitten with him. Her claws were always dug into his skin. They were never separated, hand in hand wherever they went. She adored his long hair and how it felt against her skin. She felt breathless whenever she looked at him. The way he dressed, the way he smelled, and the way his voice sounded. Everything about him she was helplessly in love with.

It was impossible to turn either of their heads. They were both young and attractive, and people noticed that. Girls ran after Eddie like a damn ice cream truck. With their small tops and long lashes. They bounced up to their table, ignoring Y/N as she looked unbothered. Neither she nor Eddie acknowledged they were there. Their advances were simply not heard as Eddie stared at the way Y/N licked her ice cream cone. His melting in the small bowl, untouched. Y/N looked up and made eye contact with Eddie, the tease she was she slowly licked the ice cream and swirled her tongue. Her insides burned as he growled. He grabbed her cone and threw it on the table, with no care for the ice cream that now was smashed against the table. He grabbed her hand, and she smirked as he raced them to the nearest bathroom.

If any guy had the nerve to walk up to Y/N, he was quick to regret it. Eddie's deep glare and loud snarl. Eddie gave them a warning to run, if they didn't listen that was their problem. Eddie had no problem decking anyone in the face for coming near what was it. Then of course Y/N would be turned on by his possessiveness. And they would find the nearest place to hook up.

If anyone wanted to have a conversation with one of them, it was nearly impossible. Robin lost count of how many times Eddie would steal Y/N's attention and it would never return. Steve gave up on talking to either of them, he knew he stood no chance.

No one ever experienced a relationship like this. A couple that is so in love with each other, that never fight and would do anything for the other. They would die for each other and no one questioned it.

Eddie worshipped her like the queen she was. He lived to please her and happily do anything she asked. She was on the highest pedestal in his eyes and that's where she belonged.

They belonged together and only together.

~~~

"How was your day?" Eddie asked, his lips leaving kisses down Y/N's neck. She sighed at the feeling, the tension in her body from the day melting away with every kiss.

She dropped her head to the side, giving him more room as he nuzzled against her neck. His teeth lightly bit into her skin.

"Tiring. I hate work." She moaned out, she could feel his head body sitting behind her. The comfy bed underneath them.

"Yeah? I hate work too. Why don't you lay down and I'll help you out." His whispers were setting her body on fire. Her thighs clenched as she panted.

She stood up, slipping out of his grip. His eyes were on her, obviously. He licked his lips as she stripped down, her naked skin calling to him as he dropped off the bed and onto his knees.

He kissed her knees, then up her thighs. His soft lips kissed every inch of her skin as he made his way up to his feet, landing a kiss on her lips. As he kissed her, he turned them around and softly landed them on the bed.

The kiss grew hungrier as Eddie's hands grazed her skin, moving his body in between her thighs. He swallowed her moans and shivered as she tugged on his hair.

She whined as he pulled away, but was satisfied when he kissed back down her body. He whispered compliments against her skin, everything he loved about her falling from his lips as he landed on his knees again.

He grabbed her legs and put them on his shoulders, dragging her body to the very edge of the bed. She propped herself on her elbows as she looked down at him.

His dark eyes eating her...as well as his mouth

She arched her back once his tongue touched her aching clit. The simple touch had her shivering and gripping the sheets. All the aches from the day washed away as his tongue swirled in circles.

She barely made a sound, just cracks from her throat as she dropped against the mattress. Her hands moved to his hair as she greedily moved her hips. Eddie always obeyed, leaving his hands behind him as he let her ride his tongue. His eyes open as he watched her rock against his mouth, she was enchanting in every which way.

"Eddie?" she panted, softly tugging his head to get his attention

"Yes, love?"

"make love to me" she moaned

Eddie smiled like a man who won the lottery. Stripping out of his clothes and eagerly laying on the bed. She climbed on top of him, sinking her wet cunt onto his hard cock. He moaned the second she was around him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, lips on her chest as she began to bounce on him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, their bodies pressed against one another. Not even room for air between them. His tongue teased her nipples, and she shivered against him as she rode him faster.

She rolled her hips in the way he loved. Watching with bliss as he let go of her nipple to moan out. His head was thrown back as he let all his sounds go. She leaned forward and used her tongue to lick up his neck and into his mouth.

The sound of their heavy breathing and skin connecting echoed around the room. Her hands were flat on his shoulders as she used the leverage to feel him deeper.

She released the kiss as she felt herself getting close. His hands on her ass as he helped her move her hips.

"Fuck Eddie yes" she moaned

Eddie growled like an animal as he lay back, bringing her body with his. Her chest was flat against his as he used the new position to fuck his hips up into her. The feeling made her eyes roll in the back of her head. Her forehead pressed against his as she looked into his eyes.

"Cum for me, baby. Want that pretty pussy to cum." He said, his eyes staring into hers as she nodded.

She bit her lip as she concentrated, the feeling in her stomach burned and burned then it snapped.

"EDDIEEEE" she screamed as she felt herself cum all over him. Her whines and moans hit his lips as he watched her fall apart for him

"God, I love you," he said before he smashed his lips onto hers.

She cupped his face and slowed down her hips. But she kept moving to help him chase his orgasm. He pulled back from the kiss as he felt the need to cum. Her hands stayed on his face as she smirked and raised her eyebrows. She had so much power over him, she knew the way his body felt when he approached an orgasm.

He moaned as he kept his eyes on hers as he emptied himself inside of her. He loved how she already knew everything to do. She moved her hips to help him ride it out before gently lifting herself off of him.

But she stayed on his lap as he gently kissed her face

They belonged to each other

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 1

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: Well, well, well, if it isn't another bad decision.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

The spectrum of city lights gleam through the window casting a soft glow over the lofty condo. Spacious and pristine, everything in exactly its place, even the shadows seem to assemble in orderly fashion along the pale wall. A fine contrast to your chaotic existence on the peripheral.  

You sit, staring down the treacherous drop. A single pane between you and the end. Your phone dims as it rests against the thumb grip, wires still woven from the port into the palm sized box. You can find anything on the dark web if you go deep enough. 

The alarm was easy enough to override with the device, you still feel a sliver of adrenaline. How your heart beats thunderously as you watch the screen race through columns of numbers. You expect a blaring siren, instead the door clicks and a low beep grants your entry. 

It's nothing bad. Not really. You’re tired of watching, of waiting, for what? You're not sure. It’s not as if you want him to notice you, you do your best to make sure he doesn't. Maybe one day when you're ready. Whatever that means. 

You shut the lights off once you get the photos, each room from every angle. So you have a reference to make sure everything's where it belongs when you go. Unlike you. 

You don’t belong here. Or anywhere. So you have no issue crossing those lines, because no matter where you step, you’re out of place. 

If anyone knew, they might think you've done this before. You’ve dreamed of it. Maybe, a bit too often. 

It's the online boards that make you so thorough, checking things you never even considered. Of course, those neckbeards are looking to scare some skinny blonde they don't have a chance with. You don't want to scare Steve, you just want to know him, if even from a distance. 

You always just watch. Is that so bad? You don't get in his way, you don't try anything, you just follow. 

Well, it's about time you came inside. You don't get much of a view from the outside. The reflection of the other buildings tend to make the distance further. A whole year and you don't know why you’ve waited so long. It’s not like he’ll know. 

You stand up and unplug your phone, turning on the flashlight as you point it ahead if you. You stop to admire the pictures framed and hung of him and his comrades, both old and new, dead and alive. You continue down the hall, back to the bedroom and peer around. 

You spread out on the bed. You can smell him, his sweat and the soap he uses. You know from his receipts. From skulking around behind him at the grocery stores you can’t afford to shop at.  

You close your eyes and imagine he's there with you. Watching you too. The two of you, peaceful, comfortable, like you've never been with anyone in your life. An indolent complicity. 

It’s lies. You know that’s not how it goes. If he knew about you, he’d be just as repulsed as any other guy. And you’re not the type for the sappy shit. You don’t want love, you just want a thrill. 

You put the phone down, the light glowing on the other side of your eyelids as it shines on the ceiling. You feel along your dark jeans and slide your fingers under your fly. You sigh as you feel yourself getting wet.  

You flick your clit and moan. You say his name and do it again, a steady motion as you wish he was there, hand down your pants as he fucks you with his fingers, reading a book as if he isn't rock hard over it. It must be extraordinary to have someone else touching you. It’s getting boring, just you. 

You cum quickly, surprised as usually you need your toys. More reliable than any man, you scoff and free your hands from the denim. 

You sit up slowly and wipe your cum on his pillow. Maybe he'll smell it, will he know what it is? Would he like it? 

You get up and stretch. You take your phone and check the time. You should go. He'll be home soon, you know he met his pal for drinks at seven. Funny, you were under the impression beer didn't affect enhanced beings. 

You go back to the living room and pack up. You plug in the cipher once more and head for the door. You re-arm the alarm and carry on down the hall. 

You stop at the elevator and wait. It opens and you suppress your surprise. Well, you’re not that shocked as his timing is always precise. Not to mention, he lives here. Steve Rogers hesitates before he gets off the elevator, blanching as he sees you.  

“Sorry,” he smiles at you. 

It’s not a real smile. It’s just his surprise. It’s courtesy. Steve fucking Rogers is high and above you. 

“It’s fine,” you say snidely as you stare at him dully. 

He only thinks to get off when his companion, Bucky Barnes, does first. You wait for them to pass you, the second man meeting your eyes as he passes. You see a spark of curiosity in his eye but it quickly dies. You’re not that interesting, especially at first glance. You rely on that. 

You step onto the elevator, nearly caught in the doors as you do. You turn to watch them walk down the hallway. They have no idea, you're just another faceless New Yorker. 

📷

It's weird, you think. Anyone else would be jealous to see the scene. They would crumple at the burning envy in their gut but you feel something much more intense. You're fucking horny. 

Your perch on the roof of the building a block from Steve's is bitter and blustery. You have the scope set up, cell phone in the holder, to align the lens. The red dot flashes to show that it's recording. 

You adjust the angle and zoom in on the screen. The set-up is simple enough once it's set up, if the app isn't a bit tedious. You take another drink from your thermos and huddle beneath your hoodie. 

You wish you could hear it. The slapping of flesh, the groans in his constricted throat, even the woman's airy breaths as she grips the back of the couch, teeth bared as Steve ruts from behind. America's golden boy getting his kicks from some bimbo he met down at the bar. Again. 

You want to be in her place. Or even just a bit closer. If it was you, it’d be a lot less predictable. He’ll finish, slap her ass, and send her off.  

You yawn as he grabs onto her shoulders, pulling her back gruffly as he rams into her hard. The aggression is what surprises. Steve Rogers is all smiles and sweet words for the cameras he knows are there, but behind closed doors, he’s brutal. The woman’s face contorts as the pain wracks her body.  

She doesn’t stop, lets him use her. Just like you would. If you even had a chance in hell, you’d lick his cum off the shield. Fuck, if he wasn’t obsessed with those barbie dolls, he might actually try something new. 

You don't hate her, don't feel an ounce of anger. She's doing you a favour, putting on a show just for you. An image you’ll never forget, that you’ll cherish on lonely nights. 

You shiver as heat nestles in your core. Your hand falls to your jeans, lingering just beneath your heavy parka. It’s too cold to do that now. You retract your arm and sigh. When you get home you’ll have to rewatch it with your favourite toy. 

Before your mind wanders too far, there’s a metal click and the loud clang of the bar across the other side of the door. Shit. You quickly grab your phone and collapse the tripod. You take down the lens and shove it all into the duffel, twisting the lid of your thermos tight and tossing it in before scooping up the unzipped bag. 

Footsteps scuff across the concrete roof as you scurry behind one of the wide chimneys and lean against the cinder block. You hold your breath as a man calls out, “hello?” he paces around, “someone out here?” 

Fuck! You put your head back. You won’t be coming back here again. It took you weeks to find the place and get the right angle, a good distance to keep from alerting Steve but not too far either. 

A flashlight casts a yellow light back and forth but doesn’t come close to you as you stay still. The man grunts and grumbles as his soles pad away and the door slams heavily. You wonder what gave you away. You disarmed the alarm on the door before you came up and no one passed you on the stairs. 

Maybe just a regular sweep by the building. You shrug and check the bag before zipping it up. You wait ten more minutes before going to the door and picking the lock. You assure yourself as you descend, you got more than enough to tide you over at least a couple weeks. 

📷

The cafe is busy enough to compound your insignificance. You’re hard to notice on a good day. A hoodie, jeans, just another body in the overcrowded city. You sit with a bottle of water and cookie you won’t eat, pretending to read as others are more obvious in their observation. 

Steve Rogers sits by the window, as if he wants to be seen, chatting over a steaming mug with the stalwart Bucky Barnes. Their conversation seems to frustrate the latter as several patrons interrupt them, asking for a picture or autograph to accompany their lattes and creamy frappucinos. As Steve acquiesces, Bucky leans back and crosses his arms, scowling as he refuses to engage. 

You grin. You kind of get the dude. You hate people, hate the city and the pedants looking for their fifteen minutes or living the delusion that their New York adventure is destined for greatness. You glance back at the page but your eyes don’t focus on the words. 

It’s why you can’t be with Steve. Why you don’t want to be. You just want to watch. You don’t like being noticed. Hate the idea of being watched. You’re not a part of the show, you like being just another faceless figure in the audience. 

Your eyes flick back up. Steve is back to leaning over his cup, an Americano, how fitting. His large hand punctuates whatever point he’s making as you admire the vein in his neck, just above his collar. 

You’re startled as Bucky rests his chin in his hand and you meet his gaze. You don’t react and hide behind the book again. Maybe a bit too obvious. 

You pretend to read for a few minutes then reach for your phone, checking the time. You should leave first. You close the book without marking the page and take your water and cookie and put it in your bag, the patched messenger showing its years. 

It rests against your hip as you stroll out, ignoring the super soldiers until you’re outside. You peek back as you pass the window and Bucky squints at you. What the fuck is his problem? You tuck your head down and continue down the sidewalk. You’ll have to be careful about him. 

📷

You close your journal and tuck it under your mattress. The bed takes up much of your bachelor apartment. You don’t mind the lack of space, it’s just you. It’s preferable to your previous roommates who assured you cohabitation is little more than a form of torture. 

You climb off the twin mattress and stretch as you go to the corner which constitutes your kitchen; a microwave above a compact stove, a fridge that looks straight out of the 60s, and a foot long countertop under a single cupboard. Not much but you often forget to eat as your mind overshadows any physical needs. 

You tear open a package of ramen and add water, shoving it in the nuke as you turn to lean against the counter. Your tall dresser holds most of your possessions, clothes, the pictures, your equipment, and a few toys. Nothing special, just like you. 

The microwave beeps and you put the bowl on the counter. You grab your phone and return, eating at the kitchenette as you slouch to keep from dribbling. You scroll through your phone, several alerts for Steve Rogers in the news. 

‘Cap’s UN Mission: Can he restore America’s repute on the international stage?’ You browse the article and a smile slowly forms as you forget your food and stand, lifting the phone as you search for more.  

The media really is dangerous, you muse. There are exact dates for the conference and Cap’s appearances. That means his place will be empty. It means you’ll be living it up, at least for a few days. 

📷

It’s been more than a month since your first visit to Steve’s apartment. Nothing’s changed and you feel a little less restless there. You know he won’t be back anytime soon so there’s no rush to do much more than bask in the remnants of his presence. 

You can still smell him on the bed sheets and his dirty clothes are still in the hamper. You sort through them, feeling them, sniffing a few shirts. You push the basket back into the corner and search the drawers of his nightstand. Lube, some porn magazines, relics really, and some random odds and ends.  

You go out to the front room and lay on the couch, flicking on the television. The Smithsonian channel. Predictable. You leave it there and watch the hour-long program on clockmaking. Riveting. 

You don’t pay much attention as you stare at the ceiling and think about him. It was that couch where he fucked her. On her knees, clinging to the back as he let loose his strength, not a care for her. You haven’t seen her since. She must’ve expected something different; maybe to be doted on. Pathetic. 

Your hand wanders along the edge of the cushion. Your fingertips brush fabric in the crease of the cushions and you sit up as you pull out the lacy thong. You hold it up and stand, looking down as you hang them against your jeans as if you were wearing them. For him. 

You scoff and bunch them up, tossing them behind the couch. Yeah right. You’re not some leggy blonde, you’re just you. You’d look stupid in something like that. 

Men always looked past you, through you. It’s why you didn’t bother. High school was a farce; shoved into lockers or chased out of school dances. And college, just an extension of the crushing social norms and ridiculous expectations.  

You kissed one guy in your sophomore year but he was worse off than you. You never saw him again after he came in pants just from having your tongue on his. Why would you want some dweeb like that? You’d rather settle for being alone than some freak. 

You sigh as you cross your arms and flop back on the couch. You think too much. This is supposed to be fun, so why does it make you feel so… alone? 

Reality splinters as your heart lurches. Shit. You hear a key in the lock and the sharp turn of the mechanism. Shit! You stand and panic as the door opens, too stunned to react as you trip over the leg of the chair as you try to hide too late. You hit your knees and look up at the figure in the entryway. 

“What the fuck?” the deep voice cuts through you. “Who the fuck are you?” 

Bucky comes into the room and stops short. He tilts his head as you stand, putting your palms out defensively, “look, I was just leav–” 

He’s barreling towards you and you stumble back frantically. He grabs the front of your hoodie and takes you off your feet as he shakes you, like a rat in the gutter. You grasp his thick wrists as you gape at him, speechless. 

“I know you,” he says as recognition wrinkles in his forehead, “I knew you were up to something.” 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you say. 

“Me? I’m watering the plants,” he spits, “what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Please, I swear, I wasn’t going to do anything–” 

“Shut up!” he snaps and shoves you into the leather chair, looming over you as he clenches the front of your sweater. 

“Let me go and I’ll never come back,” you beg and round your eyes and make your voice higher, just like you’ve seen other women do. You always looked younger than your age. “Please–” 

He scoffs and shakes his head, “I said, shut up.” 

His tone keeps any further plea muted. He glares at you, nostrils flaring as his thoughts swirl in his deep blue irises. He unfurls his fingers and draws his hands away rigidly as he stands straight. 

“Don’t fucking move,” he warns as he combs his fingers through his hair. He watches you for a moment before he looks around and grumbles under his breath, “don’t have the fucking time for this.” 

[baby-tini]

hi, I have a request!! what about Mikey(different versions) and his innocent girlfriend. that is, he has already fucked her several times, but she is so inexperienced that she can’t even jerk herself off, and the only one who satisfies her sexually is Mikey

Toman\OG Timeline- He loves taking care of you, so when he figures out that you can't cum on your own, after you come to him with a pout on your lips, tugging at his Toman jacket, pleading with him. He takes you too the bed, laying you on the bed as he hikes both of your legs over his shoulders, pulling your panties down as he leaves soft kisses on your thighs, before making out with your cunt. Digging the tip of his tongue into your clit as he makes you keep eye-contact with him. Laying his head on your thigh, looking up at you as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Manila- Oh he fucking loves this, he loves everything about this actually. It's a big fucking ego boost, that he uses against you. His pretty girl can't get off by herself? That's so cute, it's okay, he'll help you. You don't even have too do anything, just lay on the bed and spread your legs for him, he'll do it himself. He will mock you while he slips his fingers in your cunt, whispering the meanest things in your ear as he fucks you with just the tip of his cock. Chuckling as you whine for him too properly fuck you, but he just pulls away. Only too spread the lips of your cunt so he can spit on your slit, using the head of his cock too spread it all over your cunt. It's gonna be a very long night for you.

Kanto- He doesn't want you touching yourself anyway, you belong to him entirely, that's his pussy now, not yours. He's the only one allowed too get you off, no toys, not yourself and especially not another person. Sometimes he just likes too see how much he can get you too cum, he kinda becomes very competitive with himself, wanting too see if he can make you cum in a specific time amount or how many times he can make you cum in that time. He's got "a bit" of a sadistic streak and he thinks it's so cute that you've cum so much that you try and squirm away from him. But, he's a lot stronger then you so he has no problem holding you down and continuing too make you cum.

Bonten- He knows you can't, that's why he always has you sat on his lap, with his fingers playing with you clit as he does paperwork. He's pretty unbothered when you look at him with big eager eyes as he moves his chair back and gestures you over towards his lap. Sometimes if he is really busy, he'll let you just ride his thigh, or if you've pissed him off, he'll make you hump his boots. A hand fisting in your hair as he makes you look up at him. Dead empty eyes staring you down as your eyes well up with tears, little pleas leaving your pouty lips as he just stares at you, not moving or even helping. If you wanna get off so bad, you'll have too work for it.

Street Racer- The nicest one about it, he's pretty understanding that you need help getting off. He prioritizes your pleasure over his, wanting you too cum multiple times before he thinks about cumming himself. He likes having soft, slow sex with you. Sucking on your tits as he fucks you, one of his hands playing with your clit. In his opinion, overstimulation is much better then under-stimulation. He's likes too talk you through it, making sure everything he's doing feels good for, asking if you want him too fuck you faster or if you're satisfied. He likes too bury his face into your neck as he pants in your ear, leaving messy kisses on your temple, one of your legs bent and pushed to your chest as the other is hiked over his waist.

[daimus]

looking for Heaven, found the devil in me

In the beginning of your marriage, Kaiser never touches you. He only tells Ness how to do it.

wc — 1.6k

tags — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, fingering, medieval au I guess, Lord! Kaiser, Knight! Ness, title from shake it out by Florence and the Machine

You had not known you were leaving home for the last time when you said goodbye. You suspect this was intentional. They knew you wouldn’t have gone otherwise. 

The woods are eerily silent around you. Patches of old snow, half melted into pools of crystalline and liquid silver, dot the still landscape. Turn itself feels sluggish and frozen. 

They have sent you to the very edge of the world. 

You jolt when quick, nimble fingers do the laces of your cloak tighter. He chucks you under the chin briskly when he’s finished, a flash of affection, there and then gone. 

“It’s cold, miss,” Ness says. “You need to wear your furs.” 

You didn’t even notice him behind you. He’s like another creature of the woods. His eerily quiet footsteps are a sign he belongs. You, on the other hand, are an outsider, and nature wants you to know it. 

“Maybe we should head back inside,” Ness muses. “Kaiser will be home soon.” 

You say nothing, but let him guide you back to the castle. His arm is warm around you, a shelter from the storm. 

Ness feeds you soup in the kitchen while you wait for your husband. You hadn’t expected him, this sweet, bubbly knight, more like a handmaiden than a manservant. He spoons broth into your waiting mouth and dabs at your mouth with a napkin, cooing at you to “be careful, it’s hot.” 

The fire is roaring and you’re sleepy from nothing. Ever since you got to Kaiser’s manor, you’ve had a shortage of work to do. Lesser nobles like you are only separated from peasants in name. That’s why your family was so delighted when the offer for your hand came from the North, even though it meant you would be going so far away. 

You still don’t know why it was you. 

The door bangs open. 

Ness runs over to help Kaiser shed his coats and boots, running a familiar hand over him with a quickness. You still don’t understand their relationship, their strange closeness. They haven’t taken the oath of blood brothers, but they seem closer than even the knights that are sworn to each other. Despite his lordship, Kaiser seems content to let Ness handle everything: his property, his taxes, even his wife. 

There’s a level of trust you’re not sure you could ever achieve with another human being, but Ness makes it so easy you can almost imagine it. Yes, if it was anyone, it would be Ness. 

“Wife,” Kaiser beckons. “You won’t welcome me?” 

You push your chair back hurriedly and follow in Ness’s eager footsteps. He laughs, gentle, and strokes a hand over your hair - quick, as he does everything. You barely notice it. 

Fleet-footed, your grandmother would call him. He moves like a startled fawn, always with a jolting start, yet he doesn’t seem like prey. Or at the very least, you know he’s not the bottom of the food chain. 

You are. 

You keep your chin tucked down, face turned away. You’re not attempting to be demure, you really don’t know how to act. No one trained you in your duties before they sent you up here to be buried by snow. The only teacher you have is Ness. 

He would be a better wife than you are, and he’s close to Kaiser - you don’t know why your husband didn’t just marry him instead. It would be so much less work than procuring you and dragging you back to the North, just for Ness to explain how to cook and budget to you in the solarium during daylight hours. 

And at night, he teaches you something else. 

“Don’t be scared,” Ness coos, nudging your legs apart. 

He’s nestled with you in the sheets. It's almost like being in a cocoon, tucked in those thick blankets and soft wool. The North doesn't use silks. They don't trap heat well enough.

You clutch at his arms for support, frightened but trusting. Kaiser sits in an armchair at the foot of the bed. There's a watchfulness to his waiting that makes it seem purposeful.

You suspect your husband isn’t of as few words as he makes it seem. Rather, he wants to frighten you. His reticence makes him hard to predict. You can’t tell what will please him, relying on Ness for clues. 

Ness presses a kiss to your cheek, peppering you all over with soft, butterfly brushes of his nose, before he tucks you under his chin. You like the way he touches you. It’s soothing, skin to skin. And he’s warm. 

You’re always cold in this freezing, bitter land. It’s inhospitable. 

Ness arranges you so that your legs are hooked over his. Your fingers release their death grip on his biceps so you can shove your skirt, which has gotten rucked up, down. 

You hold it there in place, trembling from embarrassment. It feels like you’re a zoo animal on display. There are too many eyes on you, and Kaiser is still silent. 

Ness rubs his cheek against yours. “Shh, shh,” he hums. “Don’t be scared. Would I hurt you, pretty? My liege lord’s wife? Would I?” 

You shake your head, bumping into his nose. He’s too close, all tangled up in you. Your limbs are strung out against him. 

Reluctantly, you let go of your skirt, drawing your hands back up. You don’t know what else to hold on to now. 

“Good girl,” Kaiser finally says, watching you retreat. “Let Ness take care of you.” 

You squirm at his words, feeling something thicken in your stomach. You want to press your thighs together, but Ness’s legs are holding you open. 

They talk, for a moment, over your head like you’re not there. They’re discussing what to do with you, while you grow meeker and meeker in Ness’s grip. He pets your hair idly while Kaiser makes dirty suggestions involving tongue and teeth. 

Ness’s hand slips under your skirt.

You jolt up against him, but it doesn’t seem to hurt him. He toys with the white lace of your undergarments while Kaiser switches the topic to, unbelievably, farming. You’re not quite following the thread of the conversation. 

“Yes,” Ness says agreeably as his fingers slip under the soft white fabric. “I’ll look into it.” 

The first graze along your clit could almost be an accident. He acts like it too, shushing you with soft kisses against your temple when you make a complaining noise, an apology murmured against your hair. But then he keeps doing it, purposefully drilling his fingers against your clit, watching you whimper and whine helplessly in his lap. 

“What is it?” Kaiser asks you, a smile playing on his lips. “What do you want, my wife?” 

You shake your head. 

“Nothing?” He shrugs. “You heard her, Ness.” 

The conversations turns away from you again. You bury your face in Ness’s shoulder and shut your eyes as he keeps playing with you, his fingers slipping through now wet folds as he tap-tap-taps at you insistently, the sensation too little to get you anywhere, but too much to ignore. 

He dips below, gathering slick from where you’re leaking, and returns to trace tight little circles on your clit. You gasp, your core tightening as your legs kick out. 

Ness stops talking to adjust you once more. “Behave,” he chided you lightly, amused. “A lady doesn’t interrupt conversations.” 

“Yes, my lord,” you whisper.

“I’m not-“

“Very good,” Kaiser says. “You should address Ness as you address me. He is, like you, mine after all.” 

Ness kisses your cheek. “Look what a gift you are,” he murmurs, his voice darkening. “Look what you do for me. Can I reward her, Kaiser?” 

Kaiser frowns. 

Ness revokes it immediately. “Of course, of course. I’m sorry. I’ll wait for your permission.” 

Your head drops back against Ness’s chest, trying to control yourself, trying to breathe evenly through bursts of pleasure. It’s not enough. There’s a hot itch under your skin. Something in you clamors for more like a trapped animal, gnawing and biting and unwilling to give you a moment of respite. 

“Ness,” you start. He shakes his head. 

“Kaiser, please.” He looks like a predator and a king and your lord, the master of all that dwells within this manor, including you. “Please, I’m so-“ 

“So?” He says smoothly, laying a heavy hand on your ankle. 

“So-“ 

You choke on it, your face burning with embarrassment. You can’t say it. You weren’t raised with their refined manners but you were still raised in a noble lady’s house. 

“Mercy, my lord,” Ness intercedes for you. “Look at the poor thing, she’s trembling.” 

“She needs to learn to ask for what she wants,” Kaiser says hungrily. 

“Listen,” Ness says, and they both fall silent. The squelch of Ness’s fingers is audible. He toys with you, slipping one inside. Your spine seizes, stiffening instantly as you clench down on him. “She’s so wet,” he hisses. 

“Fine,” Kaiser says. “What do you say, my sweet?” 

“Thank you, my lord, Kaiser-“ your words break on a moan. “Ness! Thank you!” 

Your voice turns garbled as Ness presses a second finger into you. His thumb applies steady pressure to your clit as he pumps his hand slowly. Something is building inside of you. 

You cling to him, the shelter in the storm. In desperation, your animal brain remembers that he is safety and harbor and fire, everything comforting. 

“Cum for me, dear one,” Ness says, watching your face hungrily. “I want to see it.” 

Kaiser says nothing, but you can feel his hand tightening around your leg. 

You break against him, shaking through it. It feels like fear, if fear was addictive. Heat courses through your veins, desire pools between your legs, and Ness works you through your orgasm on steady fingers until you’re keening, but you never tell him to stop. 

Only Kaiser can call him off. 

“Enough,” Kaiser says, rising from his seat. “My turn.” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Floyd Leech: Cinderella Step

GOOD GOD, FLOYD 😭 Put your grippers AWAY, I don’t wanna see those… (flashbacks to the horror of Dorm Uniform Jade groovy)

P.S. You should listen to Cinderella Step by Daoko :)) I enjoy it a lot, and it’s also the song that I named this ficlet after. I feel like that first full line (“Though you are the worst, I can’t help but love you”) is very evocative of the NRC boys 😂

Rise and Shine!

It was easy to tell which side of the room was Floyd's. It always looked like a hurricane had run through, scattering clothes all over every avaliable surface. Snack crumbs are sprinkled like a generous garnish on his desk and shelf. His belongings—interesting odds and ends he had collected over the weeks—were similarly strewn haphazardly, wherever there was free space to be occupied.

There was only one thing that the storm seemed to have missed.

His shoes.

A glossy black--patent leather. Large yet sleek, tapering into pointed toes. It was the same pair he wore every day with his school uniform, yet there was not so much as a scratch or a speck of dirt on them.

Pristine.

The one thing he takes good care of, you thought. Must be magic.

Other shoes sat in neat rows on a rack. Boots, sneakers, sandals, in shapes and colors you've never even imagined. The variety astounded you.

Floyd bounded about the room collecting his things. He hopped around on one leg, slipping on a sock, then alternated to the other leg. Next he slung his blazer, still slightly wrinkled from having been crumpled and tossed over a chair last night, on over his prim grey-lilac vest. His striped tie was forgotten, left forlorn on his bed as he yoinked the patent leather shoes and slipped them on.

“‘K, I’m ready," Floyd announced cheerily. "Let’s get going, koebi-chan~"

You stared at his messy room. "You're not going to tidy up a little before heading out?"

He blinked. "Hmm? Why would I? Stuff's gonna shift around anyway, so there's no point in doing that."

Floyd strolled out, hands casually tucked in his pockets. You followed after him, falling in time with his footsteps. Today, they were long and languid, like waves lazily combing the beach.

You knew what that meant; good mood, best to not disturb it.

"... Right." You offered a small, reassuring smile. “Hey, I noticed that you have a lot of shoes—and you take such good care of them.”

“Yeah. Cuz we don’t really have’m where I come from. Gotta make the most of my human experience and all.”

"You don't exactly dress in a shirt and pants under the sea either," you pointed out with a shrug.

“Shoes are special.” He said it with surprisingly conviction, an uncharacteristic seriousness set in his eyes. "You kinda need them to do the things humans do every day, least without getting nagged at. Jumping, dancing, strolling down the street."

“All this talk about footwear… You sound like Cinderella.”

“Ehh… Do I give you those vibes?” There was a crackle entangled with his words.

“You’re the kind of guy that would sneak out if Azul told you to stay put.” You paused, then added, “just to prove a point.”

He gave a razor-sharp grin in response. “Touché.”

Floyd glanced down at his feet. His eyes barely lingered there for half a second before they flicked to yours. “Glass slippers sound cool though.”

“Glass slippers? Really? You’re not scared they’d break…? I thought you’d be into more durable shoes. Something easy to move around in.”

“I’d try’m on at least once, as long as it’s not lame lookin’. I’ll try anything at least once. Glass slippers, a puss’s boots, ballet flats from twelve dancing princesses, shoes made by elves…”

“Even cursed shoes?” you asked. “Professor Trein was telling us about them the other day. Put them on, and you’re cursed to dance forever and ever—or at least until you collapse from exhaustion.”

Floyd made a face. “Nah. Dancing’s fun, but not if you do it all the time. I’d get sick of it.”

"There’s more than one way of dancing.”

“Duh. I know that. But it’ll still get pretty boring after a while.”

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head, your feet coming to a stop. “Dancing’s a lot like having a conversation, except your mouth doesn’t ever need to move. You just let your body do the talking.”

Your legs criss-crossed in a quick jig. "This is being excited." Standing on your toes, you carefully elevated yourself. "This is whispering." Putting all your weight into your feet, you stomped. "And this is shouting!"

Floyd watched your demonstration in silence. Gold, right. Olive, left. Together, mysterious and mirthful.

“Sounds fun,” he piped up at last. “I want in on this."

Before you had the chance to respond, Floyd's had had already latched onto yours. The other wrapped around your waist, tugging you against his chest. You lurched against him, and the sound of his raspy laughter filling your eardrums.

“You wanna dance? Let’s dance. Then you tell me what my dancing says to you.”

“W-Wait, Floyd…!”

He didn’t.

Floyd strung you along and down the street, swinging you erratically in his arms. With his long limbs swaying, he moved as naturally as a fish amid coral. For a creature of the sea, he had such grace on land that you could never tell his true origins.

He was the wind, a water current, a wayward traveler. Constantly changing and never truly contained.

Your panic and surprise easily melted into light-hearted laughter. And your feet, too, began to weave freely, as if wading on the shoreline, drawing indiscriminate shapes in the sand.

Realization struck you when you looked at him again. Your heart went thump-thump-thump, in a frantic little dance of its own.

What he’s trying to convey is…

Floyd met your gaze, sparks flying. His fingers interlocked with yours, he leaned in and grinned. Cheeks ruddy, eyes shining with exhibition.

“We don’t need words. Just our dancin’ shoes and each other!”

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 4/?)

Suffocating slowly, you can't tell if it's the gas enveloping you or Silco's grip tightening around your throat. The choice is yours to make.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 4,8K

Warnings: use of sedative gas, slight hints of reader's past, emotional manipulation, death of secondary characters being referenced, attempted murder, possessive behavior, you work in the brothel. Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Hear me out: Silco wearing a gas mask just like Jinx in episode 6 of the first season… just keep that in mind. Heavily inspired by episodes 6 and 7 btw. Just to be clear, don't romanticize his lines, at this point Silco still has a distorted and obsessive vision. No smut today because we need to develop some good old angst, but don't worry we'll get back to normal programming in the next chapter. And yes, the protagonist, in this case you readers, has a past. But you will only find out as the story progresses.

You were a woman on a mission.

Your footsteps echoed rhythmically through Zaun's narrow, filthy alleys. The sound of your boots striking the ground reverberated in your head like a war drum, announcing your arrival. You moved forward without hesitation, without asking for permission, without sparing a single glance at the faces around you. They stared, and you knew it. You could feel their curious, distrustful eyes glued to you, murmuring among themselves, but it didn't matter. Not this time.

You never liked drawing attention. You always preferred to stay in the shadows, invisible, and that was one of your mottos: "don't be seen." It always worked well—until now. But in that moment, it felt as though every step was a shout, every movement a challenge, and you had no intention of hiding today.

Between the moment you fell to your knees in front of that bloodied necklace and the early hours of the morning when you collapsed into bed, exhausted from reliving your last conversation with Kate—a conversation you didn't know would be the last—something inside you broke. It wasn't a simple break. It was a tear, a deep cut in your very essence. The pain of loss, mingled with raw fury, was a burning fire consuming any rationality.

Grief didn't bring tears. You felt its weight like a stone crushing your chest, but no tears came. There was no room for them. Only a deadly silence that now transformed into something stronger, something uncontrollable.

In the stages of grief, denial had given way to anger, and it was driving you.

Your face was set, neutral, but your mind could be likened to a grenade pin about to be pulled. Your fists clenched, your shoulders tense under the weight of the coat you wore—a coat that wasn't yours but carried the scent of something now fueling your courage.

Silco's coat.

It wasn't made for you; it hung loosely on your shoulders and the sleeves were too long. But, strangely, it felt like it belonged to you now. Every fold, every detail, as if the fabric itself had been shaped to herald your arrival. It didn't matter that it was misaligned or drew attention. You wore it as a statement.

If Vander could see you, he'd probably give you the biggest lecture of your life. He'd accuse you of being reckless, of acting without thinking, of repeating the mistakes he'd spent years trying to correct. You could almost hear his voice, firm and grave, echoing in the Last Drop as he placed a glass of that sweet drink he always made in front of you. But Vander was dead, and the dead don't get disappointed.

Your stride was interrupted when your shoulder collided with a burly man standing by a stall of questionably sourced weapons. He stopped abruptly, glaring at you with an irritated expression. He made a move to grab your arm, but the motion froze halfway through. His eyes landed on the coat.

And then he hesitated.

It wasn't just him. It felt as though Zaun's alleys themselves had paused to observe you. The symbol you bore on your shoulders—the symbol that coat represented—spoke for itself. Everyone knew to whom that garment belonged. And everyone knew that no one, absolutely no one, wore something of Silco's without a clear reason.

The man stepped back. Others averted their gaze, some whispered among themselves. But you pressed forward, ignoring them.

Your destination finally came into view, each step bringing you closer to the entrance of the Last Drop. The place, once so inviting and familiar, now seemed more menacing than ever. The green lights pulsed on the façade as if trying to scorch your retinas—far too extravagant for your taste. You rolled your eyes. It was as if the very place needed to shout Silco's name through its décor.

"Egotistical." you muttered to yourself, feeling a smirk of derision tug at the corners of your mouth. He didn't even need all that ostentation; after all, no one would dare question his power or accuse him of compensating for some insecurity. Silco didn't seem to have those kinds of apparent weaknesses, and that was exactly what made him so dangerous.

As you stopped in front of the door, one of the guards immediately blocked your path. The man raised his arm in a sharp gesture, enough to make any ordinary person step back. He was massive, twice your size, with muscles that seemed to strain the fabric of his shirt. But you weren't the restrained version of yourself anymore, the one who would hesitate or retreat before any intimidating figure to avoid drawing attention to herself. No. Dealing with Silco had taught you one thing: no matter the size of the predator, you need to learn how to bite back. You needed to be as dangerous as him. Or at least pretend to be.

"We're closed." the tattooed man declared, his voice deep and loaded with menace.

You sighed, theatrical, as if he had just bored you to death. "If you hadn't warned me..." your voice dripped with sarcasm. As you spoke, your eyes assessed him carefully. Something about him seemed... familiar.

The guard frowned, impatient. "Then get lost!" the sharpness in his voice might have been intimidating, but there was something else there. A hint of hesitation that didn't escape your notice.

"Oh, I think I remember you..." you tilted your head slightly, letting a sly smile curve your lips. "Yes, I do. You were one of Silco's men sent to the brothel, weren't you?"

The man stiffened, exchanging glances with his companion beside him. You stepped forward, closing the distance even more. He backed off slightly, which only increased your satisfaction. Being associated with Silco had its advantages, after all.

"Well, as you might know, he and I are... quite close." your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried weight and intention. "And even if I can't see him today, it's only a matter of time before he comes to me."

You pretended to examine your nails as if he were beneath your full attention. Every movement was calculated, a meticulous performance designed to fray his nerves. "Now, I can't help but wonder how he'd react knowing one of his men stopped me from paying a surprise visit... He'd be so... disappointed."

You raised your eyes slowly, peering at him through your lashes. The smile on your lips was sadistic, almost cruel. It wasn't the real you—not even close—but the mask you wore seemed to do the trick. The tattooed man swallowed hard, visibly shaken.

"You know, right? It's not wise to disappoint men like Silco," you continued, letting each word hang in the air like a veiled threat. "The consequences tend to be... unpleasant."

The man hesitated, his gaze flickering from you to the coat you wore and then to his companion beside him. The tension was palpable, and the silence that followed was almost as satisfying as the victory that came next.

"Take the stairs to the second floor," he finally relented, his voice slightly unsteady. "He's in the office, last door down the hall."

"Good," you replied with disdain, already turning to walk through the entrance. Before continuing, though, you paused and glanced back over your shoulder. "Oh, and make sure no one interrupts us."

Your voice was cold, imbued with an authority that wasn't yours by right but one you stole with the ease of someone who had learned to survive among wolves. The guard nodded, still hesitant, but stepped aside and shut the door behind you.

You let your gaze wander through the bar, a creeping discomfort snaking up your spine like a sly serpent. Everything felt out of place despite being right where it belonged. As if someone had stripped the soul from the space, leaving only an empty shell devoid of warmth or life. The Last Drop had once buzzed with the communal energy of Zaun—now, every corner seemed consumed by shadows that whispered how misplaced you were here. You were a puzzle piece left over, trying to fit where there was no longer space.

Still, your eyes searched for echoes of the past. The turntable, the pool table in the center, the spot where Vander's gauntlets used to hang near the bar. But those details were now distant memories, almost unreal. It was hard to believe that the last time you'd been here was three years ago, when you said goodbye to him. Vander, with that warm smile and his damned bear hug, had made you promise you'd come back to Zaun. What a bitter irony. You'd returned. But he wasn't here anymore.

When a pang of sadness threatened to surface, you clenched your teeth and forced your legs to move. You climbed the stairs quickly, refusing to let your thoughts drown you. The place was empty, perhaps because of the time of day, you thought. Everyone knew criminals preferred the cover of night, and the morning silence made each step you took echo louder than it should.

You stopped in front of Silco's door. For the first time, you hesitated before knocking. This was a point of no return; whatever happened in that room would alter the course of your life forever, though you couldn't tell if it would be for better or worse. Like everything in your life, it was a risky gamble you were willing to take.

Two knocks, followed by a muffled "Enter," were the last sounds you heard before pushing the door open and stepping directly into Silco's lair.

Silco's office was a flawless extension of his personality: stylish, shadowy, decadent, and steeped in a subtle theatricality that seemed to bury old traumas beneath layers of sophistication. The walls, painted in dark tones, absorbed more light than they reflected, and the few points of brightness came from meticulously arranged objects on his desk or trinkets scattered throughout the room. It was as if every piece had been chosen to construct a personal fortress, a space where he could simultaneously conceal his scars and display his power.

The greenish light streaming from the window behind his desk served as the main source of illumination, casting the room in a cold, almost icy atmosphere, with hues that seemed to seep into your very bones.

You found him at the heart of his domain, seated in his chair like a king upon his throne. His posture was impeccable—his back pressed against the chair, one arm resting casually at his side, while the other held a set of files. He seemed completely absorbed in the documents, but as soon as he registered your presence, he lifted his gaze with a calmness that was almost insulting. What truly caught your attention, however, was how his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every detail like a collector assessing a prized piece. He was subtle, as always, but you knew that look all too well. Beneath the mask of indifference, there was something deeper, more intense: the fire of his possessiveness burning behind those irises.

"You made quite a scene coming here." his voice reverberated off the walls, low and controlled, but with a weight that made your skin prickle. There was no overt irritation in his tone—just an observation he seemed to find almost amusing. "Especially dressed like that." he gestured vaguely toward the oversized coat you wore, the heavy fabric hanging awkwardly off your frame. "If your intention was to draw attention, congratulations. You succeeded."

"As if you care..." the retort slipped out effortlessly, polished but devoid of any humor. You remained standing, still debating whether the moment called for a direct attack or if you should continue with the dance of provocations. "People were already whispering about the 'whore' you took for yourself. I just gave the rumors a face."

Silco's eyes glinted with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. He tilted his head slightly, like a predator sizing up its prey. "It was reckless."

"I don't deny it." you shrugged with the nonchalance of someone who couldn't care less, taking a few steps forward over the carpet that seemed to swallow the sound of your movements. "But in the end, nothing would've happened to me, right? I know you sent your men to escort me. They're not exactly subtle."

It was pure bluff. You had no proof that Silco had actually assigned bodyguards to shadow your every move without your knowledge, but it was a safe bet. He seemed intent on maintaining absolute control over every aspect of your life, directly or indirectly. And even if you were wrong, it didn't matter.

For a moment, his eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition passing across his face. He knew you were bluffing—of course, he knew. Unraveling lies was an art he had mastered. But, curiously, he didn't challenge you. He allowed you to keep that advantage, perhaps more intrigued by your audacity than inclined to argue.

"I take precautions," he finally said, his voice as firm as the steel that held Zaun together. "Zaun is no place for recklessness. Especially for someone who insists on testing the limits."

You crossed your arms, feigning indifference to the implicit threat. "And don't you live by testing limits, Silco? Seems a bit... hypocritical, coming from you."

The provocation had the desired effect. Silco rose slowly, every movement calculated, as though pondering the best way to deal with your defiance. The chair swiveled slightly behind him as he made his way toward you, circling the desk with the grace of a predatory feline. Leaning against its edge, right in front of you, his proximity made the air thicker. Without even touching you, his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room. Your heart pounded in your chest—perhaps from fear, perhaps from expectation, or something else you refused to acknowledge.

"I know my limits." his voice was barely above a whisper but carried the weight of an unspoken threat. He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly while keeping his gaze locked on yours. "And I assure you, I know exactly how to hold them. The question, dove, is: do you know yours?"

You rolled your eyes in disdain.

"Don't lecture me about limits, Silco. Not after the damage you caused." your voice lashed out, brimming with restrained fury, though the subtle tremor in your hands betrayed you. Every fiber of your being screamed to close the distance between you, to make him feel at least a fragment of the pain that consumed your chest. "You killed her."

"I did." the response came so simple, so direct, that it seemed to rip the air from your lungs. There wasn't a trace of regret in his voice, no shadow of remorse in his eyes. It was as if he had admitted something trivial, like the day being overcast.

"You're not even going to deny it?"

"I gain nothing by denying something you already know." Silco seemed disinterested, even bored, as though the entire scene was just another interruption in his meticulously planned day. He studied you, but not cautiously. "I gave her a chance."

You laughed, but the sound was hollow, cruel—a desperate attempt to mock his words. "A chance? Let me guess: you gave her the privilege of choosing how to die, right? The options: crushed by your brute or burned alive in the fire you started yourself."

Silco remained impassive, as though your words had slipped off him without leaving a mark. If anything affected him, it was well hidden. In fact, he seemed... satisfied. Satisfied to see you unravel, to witness the internal war you were waging against yourself. "I gave her a chance," he repeated, his voice low, as if explaining something simple to an impatient child. "I would have killed her that day, but I respected what you said. If she had let go of you, I would have left her alone. I am not the irrational monster you imagine me to be."

He uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, the sound of his shoes echoing in the silent room. The proximity made your heart race, but it wasn't fear. It was something more visceral—hatred, perhaps. Your gaze burned, but his was pure ice, an impenetrable force that seemed to crush any opposition. "I don't control the feelings others have for you." he continued, his voice laden with an almost suffocating intensity, "But I can control who gets close. Your friend, Kate, made a choice."

You stood firm, but the weight of his words pressed down on you. "She chose you." His declaration was final, a verdict. "And that was her mistake."

Silco stared at you with the same resolute expression you had learned to despise and, in some ways, admire. He wasn't lying—not this time. It was hard to accept, but you knew that beneath the layers of manipulation and cruelty, Silco possessed a brutally objective honesty. He spoke the truth not because he cared to be honest but because it gave him an advantage. He knew the impact his words would have.

The ache in your chest intensified. The conclusion was bitter: Kate had died because she chose you. She chose to trust, to love, or perhaps just to believe there was something in you worth the sacrifice. And that choice destroyed her.

"Don't blame yourself." Silco's voice was lower now, almost as if he were trying to offer some form of comfort. But his words, no matter how carefully chosen, found no place to settle within you. "Eventually, you'll understand this was for the best. It was for your own good."

You stared at him, your breathing heavy, your chest rising and falling in a rhythm that betrayed your effort to stay in control. He didn't see the error in what he had done. To him, everything was calculated, justified, as if the ends always justified the means.

"For my own good?" Your voice came out incredulous, even shocked if you analyzed its tone. Silco didn't respond. He only looked at you, as though daring you to continue. The silence was unbearable, and you felt anger rise like a wave ready to break. "You destroy everything you touch, Silco. No matter how much you try to mask it with promises of control or security. In the end, you leave nothing but ruins behind."

He didn't blink, didn't look away, maintaining that glacial indifference that seemed so natural to him. It was as though your words were just a distant hum, insignificant, incapable of penetrating the fortress of his composure. But you knew. Deep down, something had been struck. You saw it in the way his gaze hardened, if only for a moment, like a slight crack in a marble surface. You didn't know exactly what your words had touched, but you knew they had left a mark. And even so, he remained unshaken, fixed, silent, as he stared at you with that overwhelming intensity.

"Just like you."

His words shattered the silence with an almost tangible weight. They sounded vague, but you understood. Oh, God, how you understood.

You instinctively stepped back, as if distance could soften the blow you'd just received. Your heels hit the coffee table, causing something to fall and shatter on the floor. The sound of breaking glass reverberated through the room, but it felt like a distant echo, unimportant. If he had slapped you across the face, it would have hurt less than that. Because they weren't just words—they carried a knowledge you had forced yourself to forget long ago.

The question escaped before you could stop it, almost a whisper filled with disbelief: "How do you...?"

He didn't answer immediately. He only tilted his head slightly, his eyes analyzing every nuance of your reaction. Finally, he responded, with that infamous tone of casualness that made your blood boil. "I have my ways."

It was a deliberately vague answer, and the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips confirmed it. A small smile, almost imperceptible, but laden with satisfaction. He knew exactly what he had done. He saw the impact of his words, saw how they carved a hole inside you, and he savored it. Just as you had wounded him moments before, he now returned the attack. And worse, he relished your reaction.

"I know more about you than you think, dove."

Silco took a step closer, shortening the distance with the precision of a meticulous predator cornering its prey. There was something predatory about his movements—calculated, yet fluid—as though he had all the time in the world to ensnare you. Your body froze, rooted to the spot. It was as if the floor had turned to cement and you had become a statue. Your mind screamed frantic commands for your legs to move, but no muscle obeyed. You were trapped there, staring into the headlights of an oncoming train.

"Out there, it's full of people who would use you and discard you without a second thought." His voice was low, almost a whisper, yet each word carried a weight that seemed to crush the air around you. He tilted his head slightly, his narrowed eyes studying every nuance of your reaction. "You know that. You've been discarded before."

He spoke your name slowly, every syllable laden with an unsettling intimacy. It wasn't the nickname he usually used but your true name—and it hit like a weapon in his hands. For some reason, it felt even more intimidating, more personal, as though he were dismantling any layer of defense you might have had.

"I am the only one who has truly protected you so far," he continued, taking another step toward you. The greenish glow from the window fell across his broad shoulders, outlining his silhouette in a way that made him seem even more imposing. The interplay of light and shadow obscured parts of his expression but highlighted that piercing orange iris like a beacon drawing you toward the abyss—dangerous and yet irresistibly captivating. "The only one who sees your worth. Who understands what you're capable of."

He stood directly in front of you now. The greenish light enveloped him fully, casting a distorted halo around him. The sight should have made you shudder, but instead, you found yourself mesmerized by the corrupted celestial image before you.

"I am the only one who knows exactly what you need."

Silco was a serpent, sinuous and treacherous, slithering gently around you while tightening his coils, slowly and methodically squeezing the breath out of you. You knew you needed to break free, to shatter this venomous cycle, but something always held you captive. It wasn't love, nor any twisted imitation of the feeling. It was something darker—a torment intertwined with obsession. A bond that consumed you, toxic and painful like a razor's edge slicing through your skin. And yet, you allowed yourself to be cut, drawn to the danger, to the chaos.

To him.

"Why me?" Your voice broke the silence, taut with tension, like a rope ready to snap. "You could have anyone else."

Your gaze flicked downward for a moment, and then you saw it. Silco's gun, resting within reach in its holster—a solution gleaming like a beacon through the fog of conflicting emotions. Your mind screamed that this was your chance. One movement. One shot. And it would all be over.

Silco tilted his head slightly, following your gaze. "You've already answered your question, dove."

His smile was dangerous, filled with certainty and malice, yet he made no move to push the gun away. He seemed perfectly aware of where your eyes had landed, but as always, he played the game on his own terms. Then he raised his hands, placing them around your face with a disturbingly gentle touch. It was an intimate gesture, almost reverent, but laced with power.

"Anyone but you." his voice was low, a whisper laden with a disconcerting truth. You didn't know whether to believe him or to run. Silco's gaze locked onto yours, hungry, as if he could strip your soul bare and devour whatever he found. There was something primal in his eyes, a raw desire that threatened to consume everything around him.

"You have it in you." the statement came out almost like a prayer, but there was something darker beneath the words. His eyes roamed over your face, attuned to every flicker of emotion, as his thumb traced a slow path across your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine. "No one challenges me the way you do. No one makes me feel alive the way you do."

The world seemed to shrink until only the two of you remained. He leaned in, close enough that your lips almost touched, but not quite. The proximity was suffocating, his every breath mingling with yours.

"You wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger on me, would you?" his words were low, tinged with a dark amusement, while his eyes gleamed with a twisted delight. "So, tell me..." he tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely curious about your answer. "Where would you aim? The chest, or the head?"

It was those words that triggered something in you—a switch that should never have been flipped.

The world slowed, as if time had been captured in a slow-motion sequence unfolding right before your eyes. A fragment of reason, and something else you hadn't felt in ages, broke through the chaos in your mind, commanding your body for one fleeting second—the single second of adrenaline you needed to act. Instinct took over, focusing solely on eliminating the threat in front of you. That familiar tingling sensation sparked in your eyes, a sensation you hadn't felt in years. There was no stopping it now.

With one hand, you shoved Silco hard, pushing those burning hands away from your skin, while the other reached for the gun strapped to his holster. You barely registered the sound of him hitting the wooden table—that was all you needed to aim precisely where he stood.

Silco was right, after all.

You didn't hesitate.

The sound of the gunshot exploded in the room, loud and deafening. The recoil jolted your arms, and the echo reverberated like thunder in your head. For a moment, everything was silent except for the sharp ringing in your ears. Your fingers loosened, and the gun slipped from your hand, clattering to the floor with a metallic clang.

You felt your nose begin to bleed, the sensation of the recoil never pleasant, but it wasn't until the tingling in your eyes subsided that you realized they had closed. An involuntary reaction, an attempt to refuse to face what was about to happen. As if shutting your eyes could somehow erase the consequences.

Slowly, almost as if afraid of what you'd see, you opened your eyes. But what you found wasn't blood or a fallen body. It was a thick green smoke hanging in the air, swirling ominously. Before you could react, the substance invaded your nostrils, burning your lungs with a heavy, suffocating sensation. You tried to cover your face with your hands, but it was already too late.

Whatever the smoke was, it acted almost instantly.

A violent cough overtook you. Your body convulsed, your lungs ablaze as you desperately tried not to breathe in more of the noxious fumes. Your knees gave out, and you collapsed to the floor, your legs unable to support your weight. Everything around you began to spin, and a crushing sensation engulfed every fiber of your being. Your vision started to darken, the world around you fading as you fought futilely against the creeping unconsciousness.

"A shot to the head. Quick and merciful..." Silco's voice echoed distantly, muffled, as though it was coming from a dream. "How fascinating."

You thought you were hallucinating. Maybe it was just the smoke, warping your perception, but then you saw him. Silco's imposing figure emerged from the green haze. He walked slowly, each step resonating like a drumbeat in your head. The gas mask covering his face was confirmation of what you should have suspected: he had planned everything. From the very beginning—every word, every provocation, the gun most likely tampered with—it had all been calculated to lead you to this exact moment. You had fallen into his trap.

He crouched in front of you, observing in silence. When your body finally gave out, unable to resist any longer, and your mind faltered, your resistance shattering like broken glass, his eyes were the last thing you saw before slipping into unconsciousness.

Even on the brink of oblivion, you were aware when he pulled you close. Silco's arms, surprisingly warm and firm, enveloped your limp body with a strength that was both possessive and oddly comforting. There was something cruelly gentle in the gesture, as if he were cradling a precious object that was rightfully his. You felt the faint touch of his fingers gliding through your hair—a distorted, profoundly wrong caress, yet somehow... familiar.

"You're safe now, dove."

Part 5

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[challenger-fan-club]

fwb Art who's absolutely in love with you and obsessed with you and who asked to be your boyfriend many times and taking you on many dates but you kept rejecting until one day he gets to know that you're going on a date with someone else so he tries to stop thay date from happening and showing you who you belong to by having the most passionate sex and finally convincing you to accept you as your boyfriend

you can say you don't want this to be Stanford Art but it is.

You've turned him down so many times. But you can't stay away from him. The way he kisses you, the way he touches you. You're needy for him but you know that you can't be in a relationship with him. He's not good for you, not good for you to be distracted. You're not exactly the dating type and Art is almost ready to be a husband. All your friends think you're insane, you know that they're ready to settle down but we're too young and you want to be carefree for just a while. Art is also so very nice, and sweet and kind and you don't want to hurt him when you inevitable self destruct. You rationalise it to protect yourself, it would be like torturing a puppy. You don't want to waste his time and effort. You're doing this for him.

But you can't keep yourself away from Art. You always end up at his door at the end of the night, and he's so obsessed with you, he'll never tell you no. He just makes you cups of tea and cuddles you and keeps you warm. Giving you everything that you want, whenever you want it. "We're just friends with benefits." You tell him and repeat to yourself and Art nods his head as if to say "i know." He invites you to the bar with him, says Patrick and his new girlfriend will be there but they always seem to mysteriously cancel. Patrick was either the worst friend or just didn't exist. "This is not a date Art." He gets you both drinks. He gives you the "i know" nod, slightly hurt, given you a face, slightly like you've stood on a puppys paw. Art asks to be your boyfriend a lot. And you know that you should cut him off and let him go but you can't help yourself. It's like you and Art are magnets or somehow cosmetically intertwined.

Art walks up to you and your friends standing talking. It kills him because he wants to wrap his hands around you like he did in his bed last night. But because you're just fuck buddies, he can't kiss you. He's not even sure if your friends know that you've been seeing each other for the last while. You try to ignore him as you're continuing the conversation as one of your friends starts speaking to him. "Do you know where youre going? and more importantly, what are you wearing?"

Art's ears perk up at the conversation and you try and ignore him again. "I think we're just going for drinks, nothing special." You say softly. "and then back to his? I'm so jealous, he's so fucking hot. I can't believe he just asked you out." You tried to hold back a wince when she said it. You didn't mean for Art to find out about it, at all. Definitely didn't want him to find out like this. He didn't say anything. You didn't want to look at him and you didn't know when he was looking at you. "You should wear that black dress you wore a few weeks ago... and those boots, you'd look so hot!" Your friend continued but you had already withdrawn from the conversation. You knew that outfit worked because Art wanted to take you to the nearest empty room when he saw you wearing it. "I'll text you later, let you know how it goes." You left the conversation. Art stood, making small talk with your friends.

It was around half past 8 when you were getting ready. You were stupidly nervous. You didn't really go on dates, especially with people you didn't know. And you hadn't heard from Art all day long which made you nervous. You didn't want to hurt Art, you didn't know if Art was hurt. He was sensitive so you could only assume that he was sulking in his room. There was a knock at your door as finished fixing your make up. You looked at yourself in the mirror before answering the door. "Hi Art, what are you doing here?" He looked at your face for a moment before letting your eyes gaze over your body. Your curvy hips and cleavage was on show, dress hitting just above your thighs. Art thought you looked perfect. "Are you not going to invite me in?" Art smiled at you. "uhh... actually I'm just getting ready to go out." You were confused. Had he not heard the conversation earlier? You watched him as he followed you into your room. "Yeah, I know... I just thought I could convince you to stay here." He was being very confident, somewhat dominant which he normally isn't it. "Art, cmon." He sat on the bed as he watched you putting your earring in. "Cmon what?" You stood in front of him as he ran his hands on the outside of your thigh. "tell me, you don't want to cancel on him and stay here with me." You were biting your lip as he touched your thighs. "Art..." His hands rubbed up your body to your hips as he pulled you closer, separating his legs, allowing you to stand in between them.

He starts by kissing your stomach. He looks up at you as he pulls your dress up your thighs slowly, his kiss moving slowly down your body. "You know he can't make you feel as good as I can..." he continued to kiss down your body before placing his kiss on your underwear. Your hands were in his hair, rubbing his head, encouragingly. He started to pull you down your underwear as he guided you to the bed. "Art, he's going to be here soon." He just smiled as he started kissing your neck and his hands started rubbing your clit, dipping his fingers into you as you moan against him. "Good, he can hear how good I make you feel." He started to bite at your collar bone, trying to leave a mark. "Artttt..." you almost moaned. "Thats it, say my name, say who you belong to." He moved his fingers faster until you were begging for him to fuck you. Art was really playing a very good game, making you moan, making you a mess underneath him. "You're so good." He swiftly moved his boxers down and allowed his cock to bounce free as he rubbed it against your wetness. He started to push himself inside of you, inch by inch as you moaned. He kissed your mouth, passionately before moving his kiss back to your neck, down to your chest where he pulled your dress down so your breasts were exposed. He started sucking, licking and biting on your nipples as he slammed into you. "Art, fuck I'm gonna cum." You moaned as he quickened his pace. "That's it, good girl, cum on my cock, cum for me, you're all mines." He moaned as he switched between kissing you and playing with your nipples. "you're so good, fuck, you feel so good." He couldn't stop as he started to fill you the second you let your orgasm go. He continued to kiss you and move the hair out of your face. "You're literally so gorgeous." He whispered in your ear as he held his cock inside of you. "when are you finally going to admit that you were made for me?" he kissed your neck. You sighed. "Art, you know..." Art kissed you again. "Don't do this, whatever your worries are about me, we can do it, together. I want you. All of you and you want me, very clearly." He kept your gaze as he held you. "It's all of me or none of me, I'm not playing seconds." The words hurt you and you got a brief moment to think about this being the last time, that the other option was no Art in your life. "I'm happy to wait." He pulled himself away and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You were alone for just a moment. You didn't want you and Art to be over. But you thought you knew how you felt, what you wanted but everything Art said and did, just made your heart hurt. You wanted him. You needed him. When you thought he was mad at you, you felt weak and now he's here. Saying it's him or nothing. You thought you had the power, always telling him no to a relationship but being faced without Art, you didn't want to do it. The thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Shit. Your date. This was your sink of swim moment.

Art popped his head out of the bathroom. "should i hide in the bathroom or tell him to go away?" Art was topless looking down at you with just his boxer shorts on. "Tell him to go away, then take your shorts back off?" His face almost lit up. "So you're finally gonna be my girl?" You smirked at him and rolled your eyes. "I'm all yours Donaldson."

[mabelstone]

Imagine Being Loved by Me

hozier x f! reader

part three of lullabies <3 | part two | masterlist

cw: 18+, nothing too serious but a bit teeeny bit of smut

word count: 3.2k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure

Three weeks have gone by since I walked in on Joe piledriving another woman in my bed.

Three weeks ago after a beautiful morning of jazz music, pancakes, and instant coffee, Andrew drove me back to my house to pick up my car. I sent him away with an earnest hug, putting on my bravest face as I let myself inside. No shit, there were rose petals on nearly every inch of floor board. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, instead, tiptoed upstairs into my room. Joe was asleep in bed, and I nearly tasted my breakfast for a second time that morning. Instantly, I felt nauseated, the type that makes you hot and dizzy and want to run away and never come back.

I pushed the feeling back down, determined to grab all my shit and forget this tainted cell of a house I once loved more than anything. Furiously, I began stuffing all of my clothes into a suitcase. Then in another bag, I took everything that belonged to me; sheets, towels, everything down to the last teabag. I was fuelled with rage, huffing and puffing my way around the house, lugging my bags out to my car. Oh, fuck. My keys.

Where are my car keys?

I searched the house like a mad woman, tearing apart the couches, looking in every cupboard and under every piece of furniture. Nothing. I called Andrew, asking if I'd had them at the bar, as if he'd know the answer if I didn't. "Ehm... just your house keys? I tink..."

"I tink you're no help," I mocked, hanging up with the briefest of smiles before I was playing detective again. I searched for nearly an hour before caving in and waking Joe.

I shook his shoulder roughly, standing back with my arms crossed once he finally stirred awake.

"Mmm..." He groaned, and I waited patiently with a scowl for him to realise it was me and not some broad off the street. "Oh, you're finally home."

"Where are my keys?" I deadpanned, fuse shorter than ever. I wasn't in the mood for the slightest conversation with him.

"I missed you so much, babe," he sighed, pulling my stiff body into a hug. I peeled myself away from him, repeating myself.

"Where are my keys, Joe? I left them in the fruit bowl, and now they are gone."

"Let's talk first before we make any hasty decisions," he coaxed, pulling me by my wrists onto the bed beside him. "I can't explain how sorry I am."

"Joe, please."

"I've been up all night crying, my heart is broken," he sighed emphatically, taking my hand into his. Oh, you're the heartbroken one? "I can't imagine a life without you."

"You weren't thinking that way when you were fucking the girl you met at my show."

"You hadn't had sex with me in weeks! I was getting desperate-"

"Just stop," I barked, throwing his hand off of me. "Give me my car keys so I can leave. This doesn't need to be any harder than you've already made it."

After minutes of brutally painful back and forth, he gave me the keys to his safe. I unlocked it to find my keys and an open jewellery box with a sparkling engagement ring. He was sitting on the bed, eyes filled with optimism, and I almost fell for it.

My phone buzzed and I saw a message from Andy.

You haven't crashed your car have you? X

I took my keys and closed the safe, turning on my heels out of the bedroom.

"Um, what the fuck?" Joe called out as he followed close behind me, roughly grabbing at my arm when I was halfway out the front door. "I just proposed to you, and you don't even have the decency to say no?"

"No," I replied, unlocking my car and tossing my bags into the boot.

"What? Babe, don't throw this away," he began to cry, clearly panicked.

"I haven't thrown anything away. You have." I shoved him away by his chest, just about ready to boil over with anger. "You have destroyed any shred of trust I had in you. It's over, Joe."

My tough act began to slip as my voice shook, climbing into my car and slamming the door shut before he could see how hard this really was on me. He screamed something inaudible at me as I drove away, and I watched him sob into his hands from the rearview mirror.

I cried the entire drive to my mums, ignoring the hundreds of calls I missed from him.

Andrew and I continued to spend time together. I spent many nights at my mums place while I tried to look for a house. I didn't have rental history as Joe wouldn't put me on the lease... because I didn't have rental history. "Babe, it'll just make everything harder," was once his excuse.

When my step dad would get unbearable, Andrew would invite me to spend the night. These nights would frequently begin with me sobbing about how broken hearted I was, and end with him and I snuggling on the couch to a movie. Innocent enough, sure. But after weeks of abstinence following six years of frequent sex, I was pent up. So pent up to the point where I would have to excuse myself for some time alone with his retractable shower head. Many of my thoughts of Andrew were so explicit, you'd think they were from the brain of a teenage boy who'd plough through two boxes of tissues a day. This of course left me feeling inexplicably guilty and beyond confused.

Tonight, we drank wine and sang cheesy duets together. We clumsily danced and laughed until we cried. He had the coordination of a newborn giraffe, and though I'd never admit it to him, I wasn't much better. He drunkenly rambled about how in a perfect world, he'd own a cottage in Wicklow and keep bees. I told him how I'd be a florist who sold my Irish friends' honey.

As if routine now, we'd share a blanket on the couch and watch a movie. Last night was Superbad, tonight was Inception. Andrew mindlessly carded his fingers through my hair, and with the comfort that brought me mixed with the wine, I was out to it within minutes.

His beard tickled the inside of my thigh as he continued to bite and suck at the sensitive skin, eyes boring holes into mine with a devilish grin.

"C'mon, Andy," I whined, throwing my head back in frustration. I closed my legs over his head, desperate to feel his mouth on me where I needed it viscerally.

"Patience, darlin'," he tsked at me, spreading my legs wide before him again. "Look so fuckin' gorgeous right now."

"Please, just touch me," I begged, reaching a new peak of arousal that was actually causing me pain. "Anything, just fucking touch me!"

He just chuckled, locking his arms around my thighs, pulling me closer to his face. He continued to place hot, wet opened mouthed kisses along my thighs, his beard scratching over my clit for a split second, and I swore I was on the brink of orgasm immediately. I grabbed a fistful of his hair, impatience taking full control of my autonomy.

He licked a languid stripe up my clit, causing me to let out a guttural moan, arching my back beneath him. He pushed me back down by my hips, one hand easily reaching my breast as he toyed with my nipple.

"Fuck, Andy," I cried, eyes screwing shut as every single nerve ending of mine came alive.

"Look at me," he ordered, the low rumble of his voice vibrating against my core. Without warning, my orgasm rippled through me, each nerve erupting like fireworks as I chanted his name.

I woke up panting, taking a moment to realise I was laying with Andrew on the couch. And processing the fact that I actually just orgasmed in my sleep.

"What's a'matter?" His voice was soft and concerned as he turned his head to face me.

"Weird dream," I laughed breathlessly, heart still pounding in my chest. This happened far too often. I almost wanted to spill my guts and confess everything he made me feel.

"Dreamin' of me, huh?" He grinned down at me, and I felt my cheeks burn.

A moment's silence.

"What?" Please tell me I wasn't moaning his name in my sleep.

"I'm jokin'," he laughed, averting his eyes back to the TV. "Unless you were."

I laughed along too, though in my head I was screaming. 'Unless you were,' what the fuck does that mean?

The credits rolled over the screen and like routine, we got off the couch and went to our separate rooms. Except this time, my heart didn't settle, and I didn't get much sleep.

We went about our days as usual, as if I didn’t fantasise about him every waking moment. I worried that I was catching feelings, and catching them far too fast for someone who'd only just gotten out of a 6 year relationship.

I couldn’t help it. I was infatuated. Infatuated was an understatement. I was completely and utterly enamoured by Andrew. I wanted to be in his presence every moment I could. I often told little white lies so I could spend the night, even though our we remained within a strictly friends only basis.

He was kinder than any man I’d ever met, insisting on having to open every door for me, sending me off to bed with a glass of water each night, and waking me with coffee just how I liked. He was gentle and tentative, always fast at identifying cues when I was upset.

But that’s all we were - just friends.

I began to crave his touch, desperate for any opportunity to feel his skin on mine. He’d often play me a new song he’d written, and I’d watch on with hearts for eyes as his skilled fingers worked his guitar effortlessly.

I saw it in his eyes too, sure he wanted me how I wanted him. I dreamt of climbing into his lap, kissing him until my lips were swollen or until he couldn’t take it anymore and we’d need to take off our clothes to satiate our desires.

But I couldn’t.

When it felt like we were moving in that direction, I’d turn ice cold. Though my heart was begging me to love him how he deserved, my brain knew this was probably just a rebound. And someone with a heart as golden as Andy's didn’t deserve the hell grief I’d cause him.

So I brushed off each pet name as if hearing them didn’t cause my stomach to do acrobats. I treated each night on the couch as if we were simply best friends who enjoyed each others' company. As though there was no other option than spooning on the couch where his scent became hardwired into my brain. I’d act as if I couldn’t feel his hard on pressing into the small of my back most nights. I’d pretend I’d have no idea what he was really doing when he’d have to excuse himself halfway through the movie to ‘make a call.’ It’s just how it worked for us.

And often, I wondered if it was torturing him as much as it was me.

We pulled up at the venue, Andrew of course opening my door for me, offering me his hand as I stepped out onto the kerb. I thanked him and we headed in together, turning a few heads as we did so. Not that this was unusual, he was 6’6” and painfully handsome, after all. He’d also given himself quite the name, rumours of a few producers attending tonight in hopes of setting him a deal.

“Remember me when you’re famous and touring the world without me,” I fake pouted, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

“Well obviously, nobody forgets their muse,” he bumped his shoulder into mine, that cheeky grin stretched across his face. “Besides, I owe you that much for giving me something to write about.”

I nearly choked on my drink, raising my eyebrows at him. “And what songs are written about me, hm?”

“The monster mash?” He kept a straight face, giving me that duh look at the same time.

“Oh, shut up, Andrew.” I laughed, acutely aware of the man who just sat beside me. “I’m being serious! It'd make me happy to know.”

“You’ll know when you hear ‘em, baby,” he grinned, throwing back his glass of champagne. Baby. My heart leapt from me, and in that moment I was grateful that he wouldn’t have noticed the deep blush splattered across my cheeks. He was too busy claiming another round of free drinks for us.

“Please tell me that’s your brother or something,” the man sat beside me spoke up, chocolate brown eyes so endearing, thick American accent on his lips.

"I sure hope not," I joked. His face fell, and I realise how that could've been misconstrued. "No- he's not my boyfriend either. We just sing together."

He put his hands together in prayer, looking up to the roof, mouthing, 'thank you, God.' I laughed at him, shaking my head. He had dark brown curls similar to Andy's, his were just more tame and much shorter. Full lips that twisted into a dopey smile, and if I weren't so confused with my emotions, I'd have jumped into a cab and gone home with him without a second thought. "I'm Will," he introduced himself, shaking my hand.

"Y/N," I blushed when he kissed my knuckles, wondering where the hell Andy had run off to. "Where are you from?" I attempted to avert the conversation, regaining ownership of my hand.

"Colorado," he smiled, signalling to the bartender that he wanted to order another round. "And you're a singer?"

"Uh... well I sing, yes," I giggled, the three prior glasses of bubbles gone to my head. "I wouldn't label myself a singer as such."

"Well aren't you just the cutest thing," he grinned, slipping his hand onto my thigh.

"I uh," I stammered, struggling to find the words. "That's very kind," my eyes searched the room for Andy. He towered over mostly everybody wherever we were, standing out like a sore thumb. But for some reason, he was nowhere to be found right when I needed him.

"I'm only in town for the night," he leaned in close to me, his breath hot in my ear, and his hand only getting warmer on my thigh. "Once you're done your little performance, why don't you come back to my hotel and give me an encore?"

Like the Gods had intervened, a familiar calloused hand was grabbing my arm. "C'mon, we gotta go backstage." I looked up to Andy, his expression rigid, bordering on disgust and anger.

"Oh, okay," I nodded, hopping up from my stool, Will's hand quickly retracted. "Uh, see you," I smiled awkwardly, Andrew's grip still around my arm.

"Here's your drink," he let me go, handing my glass to me.

"You saved me, Andy," I laughed, glancing back at the man who'd already moved onto his next victim. "Total wanker."

"Mhm," he hummed, not even looking at me as we made our way backstage.

"Everything alright?" I prodded, his expression unchanging. He didn't reply, instead opened the door to the green room for me. We weren't at our usual bar tonight. We'd been invited to perform at a decently size theatre that just so happened to be full of producers, offering free drinks for the performers. Maybe not the best combination.

The green room was alive with seven or so other musicians, all mingling amongst each other as they awaited their turns. There was a table lined with finger food, and a minibar with premixed drinks. Andrew had made a beeline straight for the snacks table. Typical.

"Um, hello?" I whisper shouted to him, trailing behind him like a lost puppy. "Is there a reason you're ignoring me? Is it because of that bloke? Because I-"

"Yes," was all he replied, taking his food to one of the couches with him.

"Okay," I was surprised with how forward he was, sitting down beside him, honestly perplexed by his rigidity. "...Why?"

"I didn't like the way he was talking to you," he shrugged, still avoiding my eye contact. "He was disrespectful."

"So... why are you icing me out, exactly?"

"I will say the wrong things, better to say nothin'."

This was unlike any way I'd seen him act before. Cold, annoyed... jealous? Surely not.

"Well, I'm sorry I- or he made you feel this way."

"Andrew Hozier-Byrne? You're on in two minutes," one of the stage hands announced, nursing his clipboard on his hip like a baby. "And we're still going ahead with the song change?"

Andy nodded, having a quick drink of water and tossing his rubbish away.

"Song change?" I questioned, following behind him. I made sure to watch every performance of his, even if it meant being amongst the audience when I wasn't also performing.

"Oh, yeah. When I went to get you a drink, I quickly changed my song. No biggie," he shrugged, tying his hair back into a bun, slipping his cap over the top. Jesus Christ, he looked fucking edible.

"What's the song?" I pressed further, still adamant despite the backstage timer ticking '30 seconds.'

"Haven't named it," he shrugged his guitar strap over his shoulders, giving me a wry smile. "It's about you, though."

I blushed deep, unable to form words. There was no space for talking anyway; he headed out onto the stage, leaving me dumbfounded as I watched on.

He awkwardly introduced himself, as he did each night.

And then followed my undoing.

I'd be the voice who urged Orpheus when her body was found.

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around.

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice.

Imagine being loved by me.

Suddenly, there was not nearly enough air behind this curtain as I watched on, awestruck.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do.

So I try to talk refined in fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you.

I'd be the last shred of truth lost in the myth of true love.

I'd be the sweet feeling of release mankind now dreams of.

That's found in the last witness before the wave hits, marvelling at God.

Before he feels alone one time and marries the sea.

Imagine being loved by me.

Fuck.

My knees felt weak, sure my ears were deceiving me. Imagine being loved by me. Oh, but I do.

Sure enough, producers from many labels were flagging him down from the minute his set finished, flooding the backstage where I was waiting for him.

I ended up having to go on straight after Andrew, thankfully. I couldn't think of any words to say, and the ones I could think of were highly inappropriate. Not that he would mind, clearly.

I hung around after my set, making eye contact with Andy here and there, waving him off when he looked like he might leave the conversations for me. I was happy for him. Ecstatic. And the craving for his touch only multiplied tenfold with his subtle admission that he felt the same.

tricked ya!! i am physically incapable of writing slow burn lol i hope u enjoy what i have for u in the next chapter xx it'll be very juicy (and hopefully longer)

i've also added a taglist as per a request, lmk if you wanna be added xo

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 59 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With your wedding on the horizon, it wasn't the best time for you to question your place with Bradley. But he's always patient, and Noah is perfect, and it doesn't take you long to realize that your husband-to-be is always going to see you in a different way than you see yourself. 

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, blowjob smut, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Now that you were looking at your wedding dress all spread out on the bed, you were afraid to try it on. It looked too perfect. Pristine and white. It was exactly how you imagined it would be when Natasha convinced you to order it, and it looked like it would fit like a glove over your belly which was starting to grow. But right now, you were feeling so overwhelmed. 

With your reduced work hours, you were home alone until Bradley and Noah got back in another hour or so. You had the whole place to yourself to do as you pleased. Plenty of time to try this thing on and send some photos to Natasha for her opinion. Then you could unwind with a glass of juice and a nice shower. But today was starting to feel like one of those days where Bradley's perfect bungalow on the perfect street in Coronado wasn't really where you belonged.

When you felt like you were in control of things, this was your castle. You were Bradley's Princess. You were Noah's Mommy. But today you felt like a fraud. Part of you was missing your little rental house where you could feel small and insignificant. Where you only had to take care of yourself. Were you really going to marry a man over a decade older than you? Were you really capable of raising not just Noah but a baby as well?

Mortification and embarrassment flooded your body as the dress mocked you from its place on the bed. You would never be deserving of anything as perfect as this soft fabric. Or this perfect life. Why did Bradley even want you?

"Princess?"

You didn't hear him come in, but now you heard his heavy footfalls as his boots met the hallway floor. He was headed for the bedroom, and you were in tears, staring at the dress. You managed to throw the bedding and pillows on top of it as Bradley entered the room. 

"There you are. I was calling your name," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you from behind and letting his hands rest on your belly.

His touch was everything you always wanted, and he hadn't seen your tears yet. You tried to pull it together as you whispered, "Actually, you were calling my nickname."

"Same thing," he whispered, his nose pressed to your neck.

"You're home early," you said, wiping your eyes. "Did you pick Noah up?"

"Not yet," he said, trying to spin you around to face him. "I thought I'd pick you up first and see if you wanted to go out to dinner after we get him. And maybe we can hit the mall so you can help me choose something to wear for that minor, little occasion that's just around the corner also known as our wedding."

You tried to fight against his grasp on your shoulders, but he spun you easily in place. You'd been too slow to remove all traces of your tears and worry, and his face fell when he looked at you. "Sorry," you whispered. "I'm just having a weird day."

"What's wrong?" he demanded softly, his grip on your hips tightening as his eyes dipped down to your belly.

"We're fine," you whispered, wishing you could convince him that was true.

"Something's bothering you," he said, his brown eyes meeting yours. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Then you started crying as he collected you against his rough flight suit. "You didn't do anything wrong. I don't even know what's wrong! I just don't belong here."

You felt his body go rigid as he held you impossibly tighter. This time he did use your actual first name, and you had to force yourself to meet his eyes. He looked concerned as he asked, "You don't think you belong here? With me? I love you."

But you just shook as tears streamed down your face. You didn't know how to say what you were feeling, so you just started talking through your sobs. "It's perfect though. You know that, right?" you asked, gasping for air as he looked at you in silence. "Your house and your son, and all of it. Everything here is perfect, Bradley. And the wedding dress arrived," you sobbed, gesturing to where there was some white fabric peeking out from the bedding. "And even it's perfect, and I just feel like a fraud. Like I'm inserting myself where I don't even belong. And I don't know how to be a mom."

You had your face buried against his chest, and he let you cry. He didn't say a word, and you weren't sure if that was better or worse right now. He just rubbed his hands in slow circles along your back until you were able to swallow and take some deep breaths. Then he guided you back so you were sitting on the edge of the bed next to the messy bedding, and he knelt down in front of you. His big hand came up to your cheek, and he swiped away some of your tears as he spoke.

"If anything here seems perfect, I can assure you it's because you're here now. It feels perfect to me, too, but it didn't always."

You swallowed hard, letting him trace your bottom lip with his thumb as you whispered, "It didn't?"

Bradley shook his head, his brown eyes wide and sincere. "No. It never felt like this before I met you. You showed up and made everything better until it was perfect. It happened slowly, but I could feel something shift right from the start. Each day got better after Noah fell in love with having you here. And after I'd known you for just a few weeks, I never wanted you to leave."

"After just a few weeks?" you asked as his hands and voice soothed you.

"Yeah," he replied softly. "I knew it. I'm sorry you had to put up with so much shit before we got to the point where it felt perfect, but I knew I wanted you with us. And then I needed you with us. And now I need you to understand that you belong here as much as Noah and I do."

"And Skittles."

The pup popped out of her bed and ran over as soon as you said her name, but Bradley kept his eyes on your face. "Always Skittles. And I hate to break it to you, Princess, but you already are a mom. So stop lying and saying you don't know how to be one. You are Noah's mom, and he's happier than I've ever seen him."

You closed your eyes and let all of his words fade into you. "But the baby will be different," you whispered even as you understood that you did know what to do. You handled kids and babies all day long at work, and you did it with care even though they weren't your own. And you did love Noah like he was yours. "But I think I can do it."

When you slipped off the bed and into Bradley's arms, he cupped your face in those hands and examined you closely. "You're not gonna be doing anything alone, Princess. I'm right here."

You nodded and breathed him in, and you already felt better knowing that this house and Bradley and Noah weren't as perfect unless you were here with them. "Can we go pick Noah up and just come back here for the night? I think I feel better, but I just want to relax."

"Anything you want," Bradley promised, and you let your arms go around his neck so he could help you to your feet. "We can come right back here, where everything feels perfect thanks to you."

------------------------

Bradley wasn't sure exactly what upset you so much earlier, but after you took a shower and ate dinner, he sent you and Noah to the couch to watch Mickey Mouse cartoons. When you paused in the doorway, you reached for him, and he went right to you with a soft kiss. You were wearing his sweatpants and an old tee shirt, and you belonged here. He didn't know how else to make you see that. But you seemed to understand it deep down where it mattered.

"I feel better," you whispered as he kissed your cheek. "My hormones are all over the place, and I'm always tired, but I do feel better. Thank you for being patient."

He was about to tell you that you didn't have to thank him for that when Noah called out. "Mommy? Are you coming?" 

A beautiful smile found your lips as Bradley said, "You belong here."

You nodded and turned toward the living room, leaving him in the kitchen to clean up. But he didn't want to have it any other way. He promised you he'd take care of everything around here, and that included wedding planning and decorating for Christmas. One problem was the fact that he barely had any decorations, because he barely had time to do anything before you. The other problem was that you were clearly worn out this week after Disneyland, but he needed your input for the rest of the planning.

After loading the dishwasher, Bradley paused and decided to make you some decaffeinated coffee in his Aviators Look Down on Others mug with an extra dollop of French vanilla creamer. He let it cool on the counter for a few minutes while he wiped down the table, and then he took a sip for himself before heading into the living room. Noah was curled up on your lap, and your fingers were gliding gently in his hair as the two of you watched your show together. 

"This is where you belong," he whispered, and you turned to look at him. 

"I know," you said with a soft smile.

Bradley snuggled in carefully next to you and handed you the mug, and soon Noah started to fall asleep. When your head came to rest on his shoulder, Bradley said, "How do you feel about me asking Amelia if she can babysit Noah on Saturday so I can take you on a date?"

"A date?" you asked softly. 

"Mmmm," he hummed. "Maybe go old school and do dinner and a movie. Something other than pizza and an animated classic. Actually leave the house and stay out past eight o'clock."

You laughed softly as Bradley pushed Noah's soft curls back from his forehead. "You do like to go old school, Daddy."

He rolled his eyes but smiled. "So is that a yes?"

"That's a hell yes," you replied. "A date with my hot baby dad sounds nice. And thanks for letting me have a freak out earlier." You looked up at him with his mug in your hands and his son sprawled halfway across your lap. "I love you, too. And I'm totally ready to get married." 

He let your words settle in his mind. There was so much to do. The extra bedroom still needed some work if it was to become the nursery. There were still a few things to finalize for the wedding. But he wanted to do all of it, and that included enjoying every moment with you. 

"Well that's good, because I'm totally ready to get married to you, Baby." He kissed your forehead and said, "I'll carry Noah to bed, and then I'll text Amelia and Penny."

When he stood with Noah curled up against his chest, you got to your feet as well, and Bradley's heart leapt as you told him, "I think I feel like trying on my wedding dress now."

"Yeah? You need any help with that?"

You shook your head and stretched, and the soft swell of all your curves was accentuated by your bump. You kissed him softly like he wasn't completely entranced by you. Like he wasn't aching to tuck Noah in and follow you to the bedroom.

"I think I'll keep it a surprise. You can see it on me in a few weeks," you said with a little smirk as he started following you toward the bedrooms.

Every mention of the wedding left him throbbing for you. When you started to close the bedroom door behind you, Bradley said, "As soon as you're undressed again and in bed, you let me know, and I'll be right in."

"Yes, Daddy."

----------------------------------

As Bradley pulled the Bronco out of the driveway, you waved to Noah and Amelia on the porch. Bradley let you pick the spot for dinner, but he said he was in charge of the movie. Then he mentioned something special that he wanted to get on the way there.

"What's the special surprise?" you asked several times as he drove. "You're just teasing me at this point."

He gave you side eye and reached for your hand. "Thought you liked that sort of thing."

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing and encouraging him. "I like it when you do it in bed a lot more."

He hummed like he was mulling over your words. "Then consider this some quality foreplay: you'll learn what the special surprise is when we get there, and not a moment before."

You moaned like you were in pleasure, and you felt the Bronco jerk a little to the right as Bradley's hand tightened around your fingers. You burst out laughing and looked over at him. "I love it when you talk Daddy to me. Oops, I mean talk dirty."

"You keep moaning like that, and I'll drive off the damn road," he muttered, checking the mirrors and changing lanes.

When he turned right and drove a block, you saw Sweet Dreams Bakery. "Oh, wait," you said, pointing out the window. "That's where you got the princess crown donuts!"

Bradley pulled past and found a spot where he could parallel park. "Yeah, and we can stop later after we buy the special items."

"Oh, we're shopping now?" you asked, happy you brought your credit card along to keep teasing him.

"We are," he confirmed, and when he helped you down from the Bronco, you realized he parked right outside a jewelry store. He led you inside and said, "Shopping for our wedding bands."

You wrapped your arms around his waist, and bounced up and down a bit. You had been making yourself giddy over the idea of Bradley wearing a ring. He was literally letting you stake your claim with something visible, and if your moan in the Bronco was intended to wind him up, the one that just escaped you was one hundred percent authentic.

"Daddy."

His dark eyes were locked onto your lips as he whispered, "Behave." 

A sales clerk with a bright smile was headed your way, and Bradley squeezed your hip in warning when she said, "Hi, Mr. Bradshaw."

You looked at Bradley with raised brows. How many times had he been here that they remembered him. "Are you here to pickup your special order?"

"Special order?" you asked as Bradley's cheeks grew pink.

"Uh, we're here to pick out weddings bands," he said, avoiding your eyes.

"Perfect," said the sales clerk, and she was immediately leading the way over to a display case. You were ready to dig your feet in and demand more information about Bradley's special order and why they knew him by name here, but he took you by the hand and tugged you gently along.

You pressed your lips together to keep quiet as you remembered that Casey lived in this neighborhood; you were really starting to dislike the idea of Bradley hanging around here when your eyes settled on a tray of men's wedding rings. "Oh," you said softly.

Bradley kissed your temple and whispered, "Tell me which ones you want me to try on for you, Princess." 

You pointed to the plain band right in the middle, and you knew before he even put it on that it was going to be perfect. He picked it up with his right hand and slid it onto his left ring finger. It was a little thicker than a traditional band, and once he had it on, he held his hand up for your inspection. 

"It's perfect," you told him, your voice a little breathless. 

"You want me to try on any others?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips. 

You kissed the edge of his mustache, letting your body clench at the rough feel of it. "No."

"You sure?" he whispered.

"Yes."

He removed the ring and handed it to the woman who worked there. "This one," he told her while he kept his eyes on you. "It's perfect."

When it was your turn to try some on, Bradley stood behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder. You started to reach for the plain bands that would match with your enormous diamond ring, but Bradley said, "What about one like that? With the little diamonds that go all the way around?"

It was gorgeous. You should have known he'd point out something spectacular looking when you considered how pretty your engagement ring was. "Bradley, it probably costs ten times more than the plain one. Besides, the plain one kind of looks like yours."

When you glanced at him over your shoulder, you were met with those Bradshaw brown eyes that you couldn't seem to say no to. "Humor me?"

So you slid it on with a soft sigh, because it was incredible. "I do like it," you told him, trying to take it off again, but he stopped you with both of his hands. 

"Then we should get it."

You tore your gaze away from him and asked the woman, "What's the price difference?"

"Please don't tell her that." You turned back to Bradley to glare at him, but of course you didn't get an answer about the price. He had the upper hand in this store. "If the price didn't matter, would you want this one?" he asked you, tapping the ring where it was still sitting on your finger.

"Maybe," you whispered. "But the plain one is just as-"

"You're not plain. You're a Princess."

The kiss you gave him was a little indecent, but you didn't really care. He slid the ring from your finger as you tasted his mouth, and you assumed he gave it to the saleswoman so he could buy it for you. You just didn't want to let go of him as his big hands moved down your sides to your belly, and then he broke the kids.

"I would get you anything you want," he whispered, his lips ghosting along yours. "Same goes for both of my kids. Now let's get dinner before we miss the movie."

You tried to pay with your credit card, but this time he shook his head and told you to put it away. The woman was discreet when she ran his card, and then she handed Bradley a bag way bigger than was necessary for two, small rings.

"Is there something for me in the bag besides the wedding band?" you asked, trying to grab it when he led you back outside.

"Maybe," he muttered. "How about you stop asking about it, and I'll buy you some donuts."

Your stomach growled pleasantly at the thought. "Great idea. We can have dessert before dinner and the movie."

Bradley smirked. "And then after the movie, we can have another round of dessert."

-------------------------------

Bradley couldn't get enough of watching you eat your dinner with your hand occasionally pressed to your belly as you chatted away. He wasn't too concerned about the way you'd been overwhelmed to the point of tears a few days ago. You were tired and pregnant and working and busy being a Mom to Noah. Your hormones were changing again after the progesterone shots ended, and he knew it was a lot. Honestly, it was a lot for him to process, too.

But tonight you looked like you always did. Young and perfect and vibrant as you told him a story about something that happened at work. You ate and ate, picking up another piece of garlic bread after you told him you were getting full.

"If you're still hungry, we can always skip the movie," he mused, and you paused as you ran the last bit of bread through the sauce on your plate.

"Oh my goodness," you said, eyes wide. "I didn't know I was basically inhaling my food."

He just shrugged as he said, "Well, you are gaining weight."

A smile found your lips, and then they were twitching before you started laughing. "Wow, Bradley. You got all the smooth lines. It's a wonder none of your app dates were successful."

He hooked your feet with his under the table as you tried to stop laughing. "That was entirely your fault. It had nothing to do with my lines, because I wasn't trying very hard. And you're supposed to be gaining weight."

You were still grinning as you said, "Once again, coming in hot with the seduction."

You were still teasing him when he signed the credit card receipt and stood. He helped you to your feet and said, "Maybe I was just saving all my worst lines to use on you. Make sure you really love me. You ever think of that, Princess?" 

"It worked," you told him. "I actually do love you. And I especially can't wait for you to start wearing your wedding band." You gasped as he held the restaurant door open for you. "What are we going to do for music for the wedding? We don't have a wedding band."

"Oh," he said with a laugh. "I made a playlist." 

 "You made a playlist?"

"Yeah, you wanna hear it while I drive to the movie theater?"

He handed you his phone and let you start up the playlist. The first song was okay. So was the second one. You skipped along a few more songs, and then you looked at him while he drove and said, "It's all your old people music."

"Damn. Who's being rude now?" he laughed. 

"It's just that it's all from the '80s!"

"So am I."

"Bradley! Be so serious!"

"What? You know how old I am."

"I'm adding some things to the playlist, and if I find the Electric Slide in here, I'm deleting it."

Bradley ran his palm across his mouth and said, "There's my little brat."

You sat up straighter in your seat, clearly proud of yourself as you tapped away on his phone screen. It was so hard to surprise you; the way you reasoned through things was exquisite. He should have known you'd call him out on the extra item from the jewelry store, and now you were glancing out the window as he pulled past the movie theater.

"Throwback '80s night?" you said, reading the marquee out loud. "Bradley Bradshaw!"

"Okay, fine," he said, parking and killing the engine. "I'm old, and I like old shit. But really, the movie selection was just for you, Princess."

You turned and looked at the marquee again as it changed to show the retro film of the night. "Adventures in Babysitting!"

-----------------------------

Bradley pulled some of the cash from the spot behind the TV and gave it to Amelia as she collected her belongings. She and Noah made some art projects together which she said were drying on the kitchen table, and once again, she offered to watch him anytime.

"He's the sweetest little guy," she promised as her eyes dipped down to your belly. "But you'll have to pay me more to watch two."

"We can negotiate your rate when the time comes," Bradley said with a laugh while he opened the front door.

"Deal." 

She walked along the path to her parked car, and Bradley made sure it started up before he shut the door. He was turning the lock as he asked, "Did you like the movie?" But then his hand froze when he realized where your fingers were.

"I did," you promised, pulling his jeans zipper down over his considerable bulge. He wasn't even hard yet, but you were already so turned on. "Wanna go on your own adventure? With your former babysitter?"

You weren't subtle as you looked up at him and licked your lips, tugging him gently toward the couch. "If I ever say no to you, then there's something seriously wrong with me," he groaned, letting you pull his jeans and underwear down so his soft length hung out from beneath his shirt. 

When he dropped down onto the cushion, you dragged his jeans down to his calves so he could spread his legs open a little wider. You kissed his tip and he made a soft sound at the back of his throat as he started to get hard. You dragged your hands up and back down his full length, keeping your eyes locked on his. "Hi, Daddy," you whispered before dragging your tongue along the pretty bead of his precum, enjoying the way he throbbed.

"Hi, Princess," he managed as you smiled up at him. His voice sounded strained as you moved slowly and meticulously, stroking him until he was rock hard.

Right before you took him between your lips, you said, "We're getting married." You smiled around his length as he whined your name, and you let him thrust until he tapped the back of your throat. Then you sucked along his length, inch by inch, until he popped free from your lips, and you whispered, "And we're having a baby."

His fingers found your cheek, his skin a little rough against your face as you rested your head on his thigh. Bradley's eyes were glued to yours, watching you with wide pupils as you lazily kitten licked his cock and stroked his balls with your thumb. "You look so pretty like this," he rasped, and you kissed him before continuing with your little licks. "You're gorgeous when you're driving me out of my mind."

You giggled softly, and his cock throbbed against your lips. "I like teasing you."

Bradley grunted, his fingers tipping your chin up as he said, "I can fucking tell. And you can tease me all you want as long as you suck me off in the living room for the rest of my life."

You licked his length and whispered, "I'll put it in my wedding vows." Then he guided your parted lips around his cock again, and he moaned in satisfaction as you took him deep. 

His stamina was commendable like always. You gagged yourself on him over and over until your saliva was dripping down your chin and his balls. You gripped at his thighs as he thrust up to meet you with his fingers gentle on your face. And all the while, he words were sweet in comparison to the rough hairs rubbing your lip and the tears burning your eyes. 

"You're perfect, Baby. Can't get enough. Gonna marry you... my beautiful Princess."

When he finally came, you were sputtering and practically in tears before scrambling up onto his lap as he told you he loved you. Bradley's hands found your belly as you kissed him. 

"I love you too, Daddy," you whispered before he dipped his tongue between your lips to taste himself. Soon you and he would be married. You were pregnant and exhausted and letting him do most of the planning, but it would be great. No matter what happened on your wedding day, it would be perfect. You'd have Bradley and Noah as your family. The baby was healthy. You didn't want to overthink how you belonged here and fit with them. You knew that you did, even when it was hard to see yourself the way Bradley always seemed to. You snuggled against him and said, "I think you're perfect, too."

-------------------------

I love this family. The next chapter was originally going to be their wedding, but I got some asks about Bradley's bachelor party, and well now I'm intrigued. So there may be one more chapter than I anticipated! If you have DILF Bradley bachelor party thoughts, please let me know. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 60

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[bunnyreaper]

johnny is the wolf plushie that watches over your bed—but is he something more?

(18+/MDNI, plushophilia, wolf!shifter, mild a/b/o, mentions of blood.

part of my plushie-verse, and definitely with @iciclesses in mind <3)

it was a random tuesday in june when he turned up on your doorstep—the most precious little wolf puppy plushie that probably has ever existed, at least in your eyes.

his brown-gray fur is silky smooth, with the journey in the post smoothing the hair atop his head into a perfect peak, you don't have the heart to smooth it down, as he just looks so precious with it. his sapphire eyes sparkle brightly and his mouth is stitched into a little smile. there's a note in the package detailing his journey and the coincidences that led him to you. How your dear friend had got invited to a car boot sale at the last minute, had happened upon the wolf plushie as they bought something else and the seller had passed him over with "free to a good home".

your friend immediately knew he belonged with you, and the bond you formed was instant. you rushed out to get him his own collar after just a few days, officially making him your pup.

the wolf was the loyal guard dog of your bed and your dreams, always there watching you and the other plushies that lived in your bed. some nights he was never out of your clutches, cuddled close to you all warm and cosy—other nights he kept watching over the bed, his presence making you feel safe despite the fact he was decidedly not real.

one night, for the first time since getting your pup, you spend the night away from home. you'd felt so bad leaving him behind while you went for your sleepover, but knew you couldn't bring him with you. so you'd kissed him on the forehead, set him on your pillow, and headed out for your night of fun, trying to cast him from your mind—after all, you shouldn't feel so attached to a plushie, right?

that night your rest was fitful, plagued by nightmares. vague figures chased you down, and the only relief you found was when a wolf came to your rescue. you recognise its sparkling blue eyes and familiar fur, yet its form is so different. no longer a sweet-faced pup, but a giant, protective beast—snarling and attacking those who chased you.

the wolf ravaged each attacker and yet… once you were safe, its aggression melted, as it stalked towards you, head bowed making it look respectful, despite the blood dripping from its maw. you know you should be scared of such a beast, and yet you know him—he's your wolf.

he nuzzles into you, surrounding you in his soft fur and warm embrace—covering you in his scent and marking you as his. your body can't help but react to the closeness, the intimacy, as you shiver with need. as both you and the wolf begin to calm, you feel his body shift, back to a man. all thick muscles littered with scars and dark hair—you feel his naked body pressed against yours, and yet as you're about to turn, you wake.

the dream leaves you more hot and bothered than your sleepover, and you find it hard to face your plushie when you return home, knowing the dream has twisted your innocent little plushie into an object of desire and lust. you nuzzle him to your neck, just as he had in the dream, and imagine what kind of mark he would leave on your neck.

over the coming weeks and months, the dreams continue. your wolf protects you, defends you, follows you, and keeps you safe. he's a constant, and you find yourself growing mentally and physically closer to him whether it's in wolf or man form.

the man behind the wolf slowly reveals himself, and he has the same blue eyes and protective stare, with a wicked grin and the same tuft of hair. you grow addicted to his touch, to the feeling of his strong body curled into yours, the feeling of his teeth on your skin, and the sublime stretch when he finally mounts you.

your waking moments grow a little emptier, as you find yourself lost to the feeling that comes with your dreams.

you find yourself distracted and forlorn one night, having been dragged from the comfort of your bed to a bar in town—one that's far too busy and far too loud, and filled with people that make you feel unsafe. you try to dance in peace with your friends, but find it hard to let loose with strangers grinding into you and trying to make a move—it's tiring trying to shoo off each new body that appears and tries to get close to you.

and then relief comes, in the form of a booming scottish voice fighting for your honour, asserting that they need to get out of your personal space. calm floods you instantly, and you turn to face your protector—only to sparkling blue eyes and a face you most definitely recognise.

[humiliatemeplesse]

You went to one of the gay bars in the city to meet the guy you had been chatting with online. You already thought he was good looking, smart, and he was definitely dominant. And you knew from your exchanges that he was definitely a little kinky too. So you were excited to finally meet him, and of course nervous. When he actually showed up you were a little surprised. You hear so many stories of guys meeting online and one never shows when the two of you set something up. After a little talking and a few beers, the conversation started to turn sexual. Being a little buzzed, at one point you told him that you had a fetish for guy's sweaty smelly socked feet. He didn't laugh or act like you you were a freak, he just looked you straight in the eye with a little intensity and took about swig of his beer. Then, all of a sudden he sat down on one of the few chairs near the two of you. He slipped off his boot exposing his big, white athletic socked foot. "Get down and kiss it" he said. You started to get a hard on but you also got nervous, you were right out in front of everyone. "I said get down and kiss it" he said and from the look on his face and his tone of voice you knew he was serious. But you still just stood there, afraid to do it in front of all the guys in the bar. "Look, if you don't get down now and kiss my sweaty dirty smelly socked foot, I'm outta here. Do you know how many guys would beg me to do this to them? I can leave here and get on Grindr and find ten in ten minutes, so make up your mind fast boy." You didn't want to lose this guy, especially because he was into satisfying your fetish, so you got down on your knees in front of the whole bar and kissed his socked foot. It smelled pretty strong having been sweating in his leather boots and like he hadn't changed them for a couple of days. "Keep going boy, one fucking kiss isn't going to cut it, keep going, show me how bad you want it." So you started kissing them intensely. You forgot about everyone looking at you. You were rock hard. "Sniff 'em." You started sniffing hard and deep. He started rubbing them all over your face. You heard some guys thinking you were disgusting, that you were a freak. You heard others just laughing at you. Part of you was embarrassed but the other part of you was so satisfied, felt exactly where you belonged. You just kept kissing and sniffing his sweaty socked feet as he watched and drank his beer. It went on like this for probably half an hour. Then he took his foot away and put his boot back on. "Good boy. Next time, don't hesitate one fucking second when I tell you to do something or I'll be gone so fast it'll make your head spin." You heard yourself say "Yes Sir " He got up and said "I'll contact you when I'm available, we'll do this again. Maybe at a restaurant I'm thinking. Who knows. It depends how I'm feeling at the moment. Now after I leave you stay here for one hour. One hour. I want you to have to stand here alone with all these guys looking at you for what you are, a little faggot sock sniffer, so desperate to sniff a man's sweaty socked feet that you'll humiliate yourself in public." And then he walked out. You waited the hour he told you to and you got a lot of dirty and weird looks and a few guys even called you a freak and fucked up and told you to leave the bar. When you got home you laid on your bed and relived the entire scene in your mind as you jerked off and came in just a few minutes. The next day you were looking at your phone every fifteen minutes at work, desperately waiting for him to contact you again. You realized you were his bitch now. He knew your passion, your deep need, and all he had to do was stick his sweaty socked feet in your face and you'd do anything for him. And you knew he knew it too.