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mochinomnoms · 2 months ago

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Two's Company, Three's a Crowd, and Six is a Riot

i. thievin’, stealin’, takin’ what’s not yours

[wc} - 6,835

[notes] - hehe

make a choice at the end...

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i. thievin’, stealin’, takin’ what’s not yours

Listen to: "Taking What's Not Yours" and "Lovers Rock" by TV Girl

After learning who your friend Hornton really was, people would expect you to be a bit more formal with him.

After all, they could excuse your lax demeanor and loose words with him due to your unfamiliarity with the Wonderland’s political and royal spectrum.

But now knowing exactly who is the Malleus Draconia, the heir prince of Briar Valley, did not stop you, and quite frankly no one should be surprised.

You were his friend, first and foremost, and Malleus believed that fact with all his heart. You both did have to admit that it was very funny seeing everyone’s reactions to your casualness and affections to each other.

Though Malleus was much more reserved compared to you, anyone with eyes and a single functioning brain cell could see that he was ever so gentle with you.

He hung on to your every word like it was rapture, fascinated with your stories of home and humans, even if you weren’t like the humans of his world.

Especially because you weren’t like the humans of his world.

In turn, you were attentive to him, ensuring that you spent your time with him to the fullest. Maybe it was because he was your friend, or maybe you also knew what it was like to be lonely, but you loved outings with him.

It could be nightly walks in the woods near Ramshackle, it could be sharing a new flavor of ice cream with the same spoon, or it could be the words that only you two and the stars over the Diasomnia dorm shared.

In any case, you two were most endeared to each other.

It’s why no one was surprised anymore as you hanged off his arm as you two and Grim walked to his next class. It was actually quite comical, the way you swing your arms together, hands clasped, as you talked his ear off about your last class.

And from the small upward twitches of his ears and the small smile on his face, Malleus was absolutely basking in your attention. And amused by the swinging.

“And then I was like, ‘no Ace, I told you to not put the nightshade in the potion you chuckle-fuck, it’s gonna turn into goo’ but he was all like,” You mocked Ace’s voice as you continued, ‘I’m the one with the magic, so I’m the one that knows what they hell they’re doing’”

You were laughing as you told the story, the corner of your eyes crinkling. You both ignored the looks of students walking past you, giving you (Malleus, mostly) a wide berth of space. Once even gave you a look as they noticed your hands together.

“Then, like I told him, it turned into goop, right before a big ol’ bubble formed and popped all over him! He was covered in green, it was hilarious.”

A soft snort left you as you covered your mouth to quiet your laughter. The swinging relaxed,as you climbed up the steps to the castle. Malleus tilted his head, eyes softening as you looked at Grim padding to your right, rambling as well.

“Nyah! That big dumb-dumb is always underestimating me, I only pick the best of the best for my henchmen!”

“Snrk—you tell ‘em, Grim.” You gave Malleus an amused look, gesturing for him to lean in closer to whisper, “He also wanted to put the nightshade in the mix, by the way.”

Chuckling and straightening to his full height, your friend’s smile faded into something more concerned, eyeing Grim, who decided to speed up and pad up the steps by twos.

“While it is ideal that nothing more happened, perhaps you should encourage your companions to exercise more caution, I’d rather not hear from a third party of your harm if something were to happen.”

You felt his hand in yours tighten, tugging to closer to his side as he gave you a stern look.

“I know that you aren’t afraid of me. But with all the troubles you seem to get into…I’m starting to become afraid…of losing you.”

You think you could feel your breath hitch and a warmth flood your face, as you looked away, flustered at the fuzzy feeling in your chest. Instead, you turned your gaze back to Grim to watch as he hopped between rectangle to rectangle, avoiding the lines.

“You worry too much! I got Grim!” You cupped a hand over your mouth and called out, “Right Grim?”

“Huh? Yeah! Whatever you say, I’m the Great Grim!”

Both of you choked a laugh as he tripped over a rock and fell on his face. Finally letting go of Malleus’s hand (you missed the way he flexed his hand from the missing warmth) and jogging to your now whining direbeast.

“Owie!! (Naaaaame)! I’ve been fatally injured! Tend to me, henchhuman!”

You scooped up Grim, who was licking his wrist like a wounded kitten. Turning back to Malleus, you gave him an apologetic smile and gestured towards the main castle doors with your head.

“We have a lot of time until class, so I’m going to go to the infirmary just to make sure he isn’t actually hurt.”

“Hey!”

Malleus nodded in understanding, using a curled finger to pet the top of Grim’s head, who begrudgingly leaned in to the touch.

“Of course, I should get to my own classroom, I’d hate to be late.”

“Hornton, it’s like 45 minutes until class starts.”

“Exactly, I have such little time to make it to the room. My seat might be taken.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that most people wouldn’t show up until 5 or so minutes before class.

“What do you even have that makes ya want to show up so early?” Grim questioned, not particularly aware of the way you were cradling him like a baby.

Malleus’s eyes glinted in amusement as he gave Grim a polite smile.

“It’s an advanced Ancient Magic course, and though I find myself already familiar with most of the topics we cover, today we are discussing looking glasses.”

You and Grim both made a confused noise, tilting your head in opposite directions.

“Like, a mirror?”

Shaking his head, Malleus looked unusually eager to explain the concept.

“Not exactly, though they are a type of magic mirror. A looking glass is a tool used to view one's potential futures. It requires a ritual to turn a regular mirror into a tool and is rather difficult.”

You could feel Grim’s tail whip against you in excitement as you both listened eagerly.

“Only the most powerful of mages can successfully complete the ritual, and only lasts for 72 hours before the glass shatters beyond repair. I am particularly interested in using it to—”

“I’M POWERFUL! I WANNA TRY IT TOO!”

Grim jumped from your arms into a surprised Malleus, his ‘injury’ apparently healed at the thought of being able to complete a complicated and powerful spell.

“Let me join the class! The Great Grim can’t wait for two more years to try it out! Please, please, pleeeeeease!”

“Grim! Don’t bother Hornton with such silly—”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be a bother to have you two assist me.” Malleus hummed, tapping a finger to his lips as he held Grim from the scruff of his neck, dropping him back in your arms.

“I usually find myself without a partner in this class, I would greatly enjoy the company.”

Grim squirmed excitedly in your arms, grasping your cheeks and squeezing as he jumped excitedly.

“Come on henchhuman! We can skip homeroom! It’s not like we’re missing anything, it turns into study hall anyways! Can we go? Pleeeeease?”

He would hate it if you called him cute out loud, but Grim was such a cute little guy sometimes.

“Mm, I guess we can…but only if we actually get to do stuff,” You wrinkled your nose in frustration. “Last time we joined 3rd year classes, Leona just used me to hide behind and nap, and the other time Vil kept taking stuff out of my hands instead of letting me do stuff.”

Malleus chuckled, affectionately ruffling your hair.

“Of course, I always value you and your words, my little beastie.”

Hmm, ‘little beastie’ is a new one.

You tapped your fingers against the desk, lazily skimming the book Malleus had left you to review as he was pulled away by the professor into the hallway.

The professor had muttered something about missing housewarden meetings, and you're pretty sure you saw a glimpse of Riddle’s bright hair at the door before it closed.

Riddle and Vil’s been complaining that Hornton hasn’t shown up to most of the meetings this year, maybe Riddle actually came to collect him this time.

At the thought of the two, you moved your hand up to fiddle with the tie around your next and smacked your lips, the raspberry flavored lip oil briefly meeting your tongue.

The tie had been Riddle’s, even still had the little crown on the left side, when he fussed over the raggy state of your old one. He’d insisted that he had plenty and showed you how he tied the bow with a red flush in his cheeks. Very cute, but you’d never say that to his face.

Vil’s lip oil you’re pretty sure was a pity gift, something he was sent in a PR package. He told you he wasn’t a fan of flavored lip products, but still needed to do a review of the products he’d been sent. Thus, Vil used you as a test dummy for his video review, leaving your lips feeling raw and dry from being constantly rubbed clean by make up wipes. Though, he told you to keep that specific oil, and said it suited your skin tone.

Now that you really think about it, a lot of the students had been rather…you don’t know. Doting? Sweet? Ever so slightly less mean to you as of late?

Especially the ones who overblotted this last few months.

You’re pretty sure you’ve been getting pity gifts, even they can feel guilty of all the trouble they’d put you in.

Some you’re pretty sure was just their way of paying you off without explicitly saying, “Look I’m sorry I almost killed you, but you're stupid for getting involved as a magicless student and I feel bad now take this.”

Idia had taken your cheap phone that Crowley gave you and upgraded it so that it had more functionality to it that wasn’t just sending an S.O.S. signal to your friends. He’d even put it in a clear case that held a dangling blue skull charm, which swung against you when it was in your pocket.

Leona tossed you one of his made beaded bracelets after you’d complained about Crowley cutting your funding again, leaving you with little to use for repairs and food. He told you to sell it or something and to shut up, as he was trying to take a nap. Never mind that it was your couch he’d decided to sleep on and not one of his usual spots around campus. In any case, it looked nice on your wrist, and it was good for a rainy day in case you did have to sell it.

Azul had also offered you a bracelet a while back, a very pretty lilac one that he told you was made of sea glass. You were wary to take anything from Azul in fear that he’d find a way to put you in debt. Very valid in your opinion, but it literally got shoved onto your wrist when Floyd held you down and Jade slipped in on with a smile. Apparently it had a protection spell tied to it, as Azul mentioned that you were overly prone to chaos. All it cost you was him checking in once a week to see how it held up, you think maybe to sell more in the future?

At least Jamil’s silk wrap wasn’t forcibly shoved into you, though you didn’t appreciate his comments on how unruly your hair was in the mornings. You told him that it wasn’t your fault that water at Ramshackle sucked and that you did your best! It wasn’t enough according to him, and he helped you wrap your hair into the silk cloth to protect it against the elements. While he’d originally suggested that you use it to sleep in, you’d taken to using it for everyday wear, using it as a wrap, as a bandana, even as a headband. Jamil sometimes looked both pleased and frustrated at the sight.

Pity gifts, you’re sure.

Ace thought otherwise, though, he and Epel teased you constantly about it. How ‘soft’ and ‘sweet’ they were to you, how you should take advantage and flirt back with them to get a well-off boyfriend out of them.

No matter how much you insisted that it wasn’t like that, none of your friends believe you. Even Deuce and Jack seemed to doubt your explanations, though Sebek at least stayed out of it.

Ortho was the worst of them, though. “I’ve noticed that at times, their heart rates increase when they’re around you, so Ace might have a point!” which was quickly followed up with, “But you focus on Idia, he’s the most ideal!”

Then it turned into a whole thing of them arguing who would be the best or worst boyfriend for you to get with. Why they were invested in your nonexistent love life, you don’t know, probably boredom and a need to gossip.

You sighed, eyeing one of the sigils in the book in front of you. Grim was looking at another book, surprisingly focused on reading the words on the pages.

“Hmph, I don’t get any of this, when is Hornton coming back! I’m getting bored, it’s too hard to understand!”

Pouting, Grim slumped against the desk and made a soft, whiny sigh.

“Henchhuman, tell me you found something interesting?”

Thumbing through the book in front of you, you noticed a rather fascinating sigil accompanied by some foreign writing along the edges.

It looked a lot like the magic mirror, though the edges were reminiscent of vines and the inside of the sigil looked cracked, like someone smashed the mirror with a hammer. Surrounding the image was an intricate cursive, it looked like some fae script.

“Hmm, this one looks cool. Think you can read that?”

Grim eyed the page you were on, ears perking up as he noticed the infographics on the right. It looked like a visual guide on how to complete the ritual on a mirror.

“Oh, can I draw that! I wanna try by myself! We don’t need Hornton!” Grim pushed the small handheld mirror that the students had as part of the class assignment.

“Do it!”

“What? No Grim, these aren’t our materials. Wait for him to come back and ask if you can practice.”

You snatched the mirror away from Grim’s paws, tucking it underneath a different book, and then resting your elbow on top for extra measure.

“Just wait Grim.”

Not unlike a child not getting their way, he stomped his foot and started throwing a tantrum.

“I wanna do it! Let me do it! Lemme! Lemmelemmelemmelemmelemmelemme—”

“—Oh. My. God. If I let you draw and practice on my hand, will you quiet down?”

The small creature pouted, eyeing the open palm you offered.

“...But the book says I need a mirror…”

“Well, the book doesn’t buy and serve you tuna, does it?” You snapped back, raising your brows and moving your hand closer. “Now, I’ll help you practice, but not with Hornton’s materials. Who knows how expensive or rare they are.”

With an indignant sigh and a roll of his eyes, Grim plopped himself on the desk and took your hand in his paws.

“Fine. Gimme a pen!”

You smiled, shuffling through your pen case to look for something he could use.

“Hmm, I only got pencils and a permanent marker…meh, whatever.”

Handing Grim a black marker, and him eagerly taking it and scribbling the sigil, you stared around the classroom, dazing off.

The class was already sparse, and you’re pretty sure Vil, Leona, and Idia were meant to be here too, so that made it feel even more empty. Though…the last two probably wouldn’t have even shown up.

Rook was here, though, conversing with his own class partner as they gestured over their own mirror and textbooks. Nothing escaped his attention, though, as he looked up and noticed you staring almost immediately.

He gave you a close eye smile and wave, before noticing Grim drawing on your hand and tilting his head in curiosity.

You shrugged and mouthed out the page you two were on. Rook took a moment to flip to the page you were on, confusing his partner. Watching in mild interest, Grim let out a little triumphant sound, drawing your attention once again.

“Finished! I’m so great at drawing!” You’ll give him the benefit of the doubt since your skin wasn’t flat like a mirror, but it barely passed for the sigil in the book.

“Great job, Grim, now practice your pronunciation.”

“Okie-dokie!”

Grim still held your palm in his paws, reading off the

“G-ge d'afr-fr-frm-ah-ys hmrian…od…sarl…lo-loysalri-que—no—cu cast!”

You chuckled as Grim struggled to pronounce the words, not paying attention to the sudden squeaking of a chair.

“Turn xiyaurrrr…day-na-r-yo…su liie xi-yie vast! Reflect col rricu…wyn-sash’s? Uh, wynsas’s, weli today…”

Rook calling out your name startled you, turning your head to see him urgently rushing to you.

“But loyricu—wait.” Grim looked back at the book and squinted at the pages. “No, it’s the other paragraph…

By now, you noticed that several of your accessories, along with the sigil, had started glowing in different colors, though Grim was none the wiser. Rook certainly was.

“Trickster, Monsieur Fuzzball! Don’t!”

“It’s fine, I got this! Imma start over!” Grim cleared his throat, bringing your palm even closer as he restarted his incantation.

“Wait, Grim—”

“Ge d'afrmays hmrianod sarl loysalricu cast. Turn xiyaur daynaryo su liie xiyie vast. Reflect col rricu wynsas’s weli suday. But ssarie die to what xiyie fsaadc biercvmirian!”

The glowing intensified, lines of cracks starting to appear from the sigil and up your arm, you even think the room started shaking.

“W-what? Henchhuman? (Name)! What’s happen—EEEEH!”

You watched helplessly as Rook scooped Grim up, calling out to the others, “Evacuate, NOW!”

He gave you an apologetic look, running out of the room with a crying and thrashing Grim in hand, following the other students out.

Dread filled your veins, a heavy feeling on your chest and shakes going down your body as you watched the cracks continue forming up your arms onto the rest of your body.

Scrambling to follow the others, you tripped over your own chair, pain going up your knee as you jabbed it against one of the legs. Nothing but adrenaline fueling you, you clambered to the door and tried pulling it open, pulling, pulling, and pulling until you realized.

You were locked in the room

Through the small window, you could see the small group of students turn into a crowd, everyone watching in horror, but unable to look away, as the cracks slowly grew up your neck.

You banged on the door and pulled, screaming at everyone to let you out.

“HELP ME! STOP STARING AND HELP! PLEASE, PLEASE!!”

You could feel your throat strain against the stress you were putting them under, tears streaming down your face as you saw the housewardens enter the hallway, drawn in by the yelling and crowd.

Riddle was shouting something you could barely make out, eyes flickering over to you briefly before he realized something was happening. He paled, shouting something at the others near him and pointing at you.

Pain was blooming from where the cracks formed, the glowing growing and turning your skin a dazzling shade of blue, like a crystal.

You continued banging on the window, watching as the other housewardens made their way to the door to pull it open.

Even Idia was hovering in the back, unsure of what to do himself. Kalim was pressed up closest to the glass, his own tears growing as he watched the spell take over your features.

You could feel your skin breaking, cracks finally formed over your lips.

Vil had turned to yell at the group, specifically at Rook, who had actually taken to arguing back at him, the former’s hand waving and gesturing at you. Azul and Riddle were at Kalim’s sides, arguing with each other on what to do.

Your left eye burned in pain as it was briefly blinded by blue until it turned dark.

The three sophomores were suddenly shoved out of the way onto a pile on the ground as Leona came into view, followed by Malleus on his right.

“Hornton! Malleus, MALLEUS HELP ME!”

You watched as Leona raised his left hand, his mouth uttering something as glowing yellow sand formed in his palm. He was using his signature spell.

Unfortunately, it was for naught.

The last crack finally formed over your right eye, the last thing you saw was Malleus’s grief stricken face as your vision turned blue, then black.

Then, it all went silent.

He could still feel the harsh light on his retinas, dots dancing in his vision, even when he closed them. Malleus looked down at the handful of students he’d covered under his arm, hunched over them in protection. His own body moved before he did.

The three beneath him were curled together, hands over their heads and eyes squeezed shut. One peaked an eye open up at him and squeaked at our close they were to him.

“U-um, thank you, Prince Draconia, sir…”

Malleus nodded his head, then snapped his head over at a shrieking Grim in Hunt’s arms.

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO! (NAME)! (NAME)! I WANNA SEE (NAAAAAAME)!”

The little one was sobbing as he thrashed and swiped at Hunt’s arms, the latter flinching as a claw dug into his cheek.

“Monsieur Fuzzball! S'il te plaît, calm down! You must understand, you would’ve been burned if you were still in the room!”

Burned.

An impending sense of doom filled Malleus’s chest, foreign and heavy, as he rapidly stood and turned to the door you’d just been screaming through.

Moments ago, he could see the fear and pleading in your eyes, pale blue cracks growing on your form as you begged him to help. You begged, pleaded, and cried for him, and he was too late to do anything. Now, only a white, dusty fog was in your place, shrouding his view into the room

The other students in the hall were now slowly getting back up. Schoenheit had done the same as he did with a few students near him, while his three younger housewardens had curled into each other, still in a pile on the floor.

Shroud had been in the back of the group, cowering behind a blue panel of hexagons sprouting from his floating skull contraption, with some students behind him.

Kingscholar was closest to the door, part of which was slowly turning into sand as he was hunched on the ground, hands over his eyes as he rapidly blinked. Tears were flowing from the corners, no doubt from the strain the sudden flash had caused.

“Tck, my damn eyes… Someone…go check on the damn herbivore…fuck! I can’t see!”

A yowl and a cry of pain caught Malleus’s attention as Grim finally dug his canines into Hunt’s hand, making the human drop him.

“(Name)!”

The little one ran into the foggy room through the gap Kingscholar’s spell was causing as Malleus tried following him, though another cry made him pause.

“Ow! What the—Grim?”

“…(Name)?”

Your voice! It was you! You were okay! Never mind that it sounded different, sounded…older. It was you, and you were okay! Malleus breathed a sigh of relief, hovering over the door to wait for enough space for him to squeeze through.

He couldn’t teleport now, he had no clue what spell went off or how it would react to another spell going off so soon.

“Ooh, Grim!” You spoke again, softer though…you sounded off. “Grim, you’re so small…”

“I forgot how small you used to be! Like a little baby~”

“Grimmy, have you been crying—ah! …Hell…o?”

“…Hi? What’s going on, why am I—”

“Why is it so foggy in here, I can barely see—oh! I like your shawl!”

“Oh, thank you! Um, do you—any of you—know what’s going on?”

“Nope!”

You spoke…multiple of you spoke? What?

“You! Go get the headmage and nurse! I…don’t…know what’s happening with the Prefect…” Riddle barked at one of the students, voice faltering as he stared at the rapidly disintegrating door with confusion.

“Y-yes Housewarden!”

Most of the students followed suit, chasing after their friends until it was only the housewardens and Hunt left.

Malleus finally had a gap large enough for him to fit, bowing his head to enter before a gray ball of fur rammed into his stomach. Grim must have been barreling out of there like an arrow flying from a bow, because it actually caused a bit of pain.

“EEEEEK! THERE’S A BUNCH OF WEIRDOS IN THERE!!! THEY’RE COPYING MY HENCHHUMAN, SOMEONE TELL THEM TO GIVE (NAME) BACK!”

Everyone made various sounds of confusion, except for Kingscholar, who was still rubbing his eyes and growled.

“What are you talking about, you little furball?”

“Go look for yourself!”

Malleus and the others shared a look, Asim helping Kingscholar from up the floor and inching closer to the door, now practically gone.

The others did the same, cautiously approaching the door and entering the room. It was empty at first glance, at least where you’d been. The fog was clearing out now, flowing out of an open window, a figure…no two…three…four…six? Standing by it.

“There, that ought to—gasp.”

Bright green eyes met with your familiar ones, one of you staring at the group as the other five looked out the window and quietly conversed.

Malleus and the others froze, as did the six, Hunt muttering something in amazement under his breath, staring as if any sudden movement would set someone off.

“Guys, guys!” The…(Name)s staring at them, adorned in silk that reminded him of the clothes he wore while at the Scalding Sands, smacked the other five, making them turn.

Now that the fog was almost completely cleared, Malleus could properly see the group.

It was indeed you…just older, maybe the same age as Sam? Each one looked a bit different though, some of you had your hair longer, some in an up-do. Some more chubby than others, others more lean, and your clothes.

The one in the Scalding Sands silks moved closer to the middle of the classroom, allowing space for the other six to approach as well. One of you was dressed in what Malleus was positive was in the royal garb from Sunset Savana. Another one was in some sort of suit, similar style to what Crewel wore, while one in an elegant one piece that shimmered with each movement, ears adorned with jewels. One was in loose, but silky clothing, pearls adoring their neck, and the last behind them was dressed in a dark gray uniform, with the S.T.Y.X. logo on their left.

No matter which one of you he looked at though, you were all breathtakingly beautiful.

“Oh my god!” The one in the suit gasped, hands covering their mouth. Your look one of…delight? “Riddle? Is that you?”

Malleus’s group was still frozen, some of the younger ones flinching at your cry. Rosehearts, at the sound of his name, approached, straightening and taking a few steps forward.

“Yes, um, (Name), is that—”

Malleus could hear what he presumed was the headmage and nurse approaching, their footsteps echoing against stone steps, at least until suit you squealed again and came rushing at Rosehearts.

“I forgot how much of a baby-face you had, and how short you were! Come here!!”

You practically scooped Riddle into your arms, the heeled ankle boots on your feet giving you even more advantage. Speaking of the devil, Rosehearts had a spectacularly brilliant shade of red on this face, his two strands of hair standing straight up.

Whether it was due to rage, embarrassment, or fluster as you nuzzled a cheek against his forehead, Malleus wasn’t sure.

“Wha—what—how—P-PUT ME DOWN!”

Shoving ‘suit’ you off, Rosehearts stumbled backwards, shaking in anger as the six of you giggled.

“How dare—it should be off with your head for such a stunt!”

‘Suit’ you clicked your tongue, placing your hands on your hips and wagging a finger at him.

“Now Riddle, that’s no way for a husband to speak to his spouse! Or, I guess—your future spouse!”

Malleus and the others froze, as did Rosehearts, whose face went white, then back to red again.

“I—I—I—what did you say?” Rosehearts had a soft, almost meek tone now. Strange to hear from him. “S-spouse?”

‘Suit’ (Name) giggled, nodding a swooning into your hand as you spoke. “Aw~ I remember when you used to still get all flustered around me, no one could ever tell if the red meant you were mad or not!”

“Ah, speak for yourself, Idia’s would turn pink when he wanted to hold hands.” ‘S.T.Y.X.’ you laughed as Shroud made a choking sound, then a thump, to Malleus’s left. “He still sometimes does.”

“Wait, so you married Idia? I’m Vil’s partner!”

“Interesting, Azul is mine! You two are pretty easy to guess, Leona and Kalim? The clothes give it away”

“Ah, yes, for quite some time actually…”

“I’m actually married to Jamil, though I can see why you’d guess Kalim.”

The six of you laughed together, oblivious to the distress happening behind Malleus. In fact, he turned out of curiosity, and it was certainly a scene.

Shroud had presumably fainted, his fiery hair now extremely pink. Schoenheit was staring at ‘Jeweled’ you, hand clasped over his mouth as Hunt whispered into his ear. Ashengrotto was glowing a light purple from his cheeks, mouth opening and closing, attempting to say something. Kingscholar was looking at his you, the one in royal garb, but had a pained, almost sick expression as he eyed you up and down. Asim seemed to be the only one excited about the situation.

“Woah! You’re all so pretty! And I can’t believe you married Jamil! He’ll be so excited—or, well, actually—you know what? It’s fine, I’m super excited to meet you all!”

Asim smiled, hands on his hips, until he frowned and asked, “Why are there so many (Names) though?”

You six turned back to Asim and the others, exchanging looks. You all looked confused, concerned even.

“I…I don’t know. I was with Idia just a moment ago when we started growing these blue cracks on our skin. Then, suddenly, the cracks exploded and I turned up here.”

‘Jewel’ (Name) nodded, piping up. “Same, I was at a shoot with Vil when the cracks appeared, like someone was smashing a mirror, but on my skin.”

The other (Name)s nodded in agreement, ‘Suit’ you pinching at your lip as you spoke.

“I think we all were with our husbands when we got here…wait, we all have different husbands?” You gasped, flapping your hands in excitement. “Is this like a multiple timeline thing? Like Doctor Who?”

“Oh my gooood, you’re so right, it’s a Doctor Who thing.”

“I totally forgot about Doctor Who!”

“I loved Doctor Who as a kid, was your favorite episode also—oh, uh guys?” ‘Silk’ you pointed at the group of men, wincing at the various states of distress they were in. “I think they’re not processing this well. Yours fainted.”

‘Silk’ (Name) gestured to Shroud, still on the floor, as S.T.Y.X. (Name) cringed, carefully making your way to him.

“Oh, Idia? Babe? You okay? Maybe I should get Ortho over…”

Following ‘S.T.Y.X’ you’s move, the other (Name)s each approached your respective…husbands.

Malleus ignored them, moving farther into the classroom to search for his (Name), his beastie. He dropped Grim, who landed on his bottom out of surprise, making an ‘oomph’ sound.

“Owie, hey Hornton, what was that for—”

“Where are they?” Malleus could hear the thunderstorms forming outside, but he didn’t care. “Where is my Child of Man?”

Silence fell over the crowd behind him, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the foreign feeling of anxiety in his chest as all he saw before him was remnants of you on the desk you’d been sharing. A pencil bag, a notebook, a chair fallen over.

One of the other (Name)s must have approached him, their footsteps but background noise to the sounds of thunder.

“…Hornton—”

“Do NOT call me that! How DARE YOU!” green flames and smoke left his mouth as Malleus turned to rage at the person who dared to call him what his Child of Man called him. What his beastie named him. What his (Name)—

SMACK

The back of a palm met the skin of his cheek, stinging and burning in pain. He’d never…been slapped before. It shocked him.

“Don’t you yell at me like that, Hornton.” The (Name) in Sunset Savana royal garb was resting their hands at their chest, rubbing the tender skin. “I may not be the same (Name) you know, but I am still your friend, even if from another timeline. And you will treat me with the same level of respect as you would your own (Name), understand?”

Malleus stared down at ‘Savana’ you with a blank look. You had the air of a ruler, the attire, the voice. His eyes told him it was you, but…you just looked…so uncanny. It was you, but his heart knew you weren’t his (Name).

The group behind ‘Savana’ (Name) all had different expressions of concern and fear, like they were waiting for him to strike you down. Except for Kingscholar, who had a disbelieving smirk, just barely noticeable. Your face softened, though, as you sighed.

“…I’m sorry Horns, I don’t know what happened to the me that is from here. I don’t think any of us even know how or what brought us here.”

“It was a spell, mon Royal Trickster!” Hunt spoke up, eyes still on ‘Jewel’ (Name) who had taken to stand between him and Schoenheit. “Monsieur Fuzzball decided to practice a type of looking glass spell on Roi du Dragons’s Trickster! It was vraiment terrible! We had to evacuate, as the others happened to see.”

“He WHAT!” Malleus looked down at Grim, who yelped at his angry gaze and fled into ‘Suit’ (Name)’s arms,

“I didn’t know! They wouldn’t let me practice the sigil and spell on the mirror, so they told me to do it on their hand! I didn’t know! I didn’t know! I didn’t knooooow—!”

Grim began crying into ‘Suit’ (Name)’s chest, babbling apologies and wails of regret.

“Looking glass…is that why the cracks formed on our skin?” ‘S.T.YX.’ you was now fanning Shroud with your hands. “But, the same started happening to our husbands, where are they?”

“I may have an answer for that!”

The group turned their attention to Crowley, finally arriving with the nurse in tow, who immediately fell down to attend to Shroud.

“Looking glass spells usually break the mirror and reform it back using a mirror dimension to reform, allowing the user to see into the future. Very complicated, very powerful spell. I’m surprised Young Grim was able to cast a variant of it.”

“Break?” Malleus hissed, interrupted by Grim.

“V-variant?”

Crowley nodded, leaning down to study ‘Pearl’ (Name), who leaned back into Ashengrotto, the latter turning purple once again.

“Yes, if it was the normal spell, it wouldn’t have worked. Nothing would have happened! But something did, which leads me to believe that it was another one with another purpose…Young Grim, may I see what it was you were referencing?”

Grim nodded, pointing to the book at the desk you two had been at. Malleus immediately snatched the book and practically teleported in front of him and Crowley. The direbeast flinched and curled into ‘Suit’ (Name)’s arms, muttering.

“…He says it was page 176.”

Crowley nodded, looking as Malleus flipped to the pages and taking the book from him.

“Let me see….ah! I see the mistake. Grim, you silly thing, you did a different incantation! Our Prefect (Name) was shattered into the mirror dimension!”

“I KILLED THEM!? WAAAAAA—”

“Nononononono—” The headmage frantically waved his free hand, shushing Grim. “Poor choice of words. They must have had some items of personal importance to the student here and were replaced by their mirrors! It’s not unheard of, but it’s very rare for it to even be done. The good news is that all can be brought to normal!”

A wave of relief flushed Malleus, his shoulders sagging, not gone unnoticed by the other students.

“But…”

“But? But what!”

Crowley remained unfazed by Malleus’s raising voice. “I am just ever so busy, and it requires many materials and a powerful mage to cast the spells needed to bring them back, and I just didn’t get many hours of sleep—”

“Then I will assist, problem solved.”

The headmage’s shoulders slumped as he muttered, “Wonderful.” under his breath. He straightened and gave the group of (Name)s a big smile.

“In the meantime, you six can take residence in Ramshackle dorm as we fix—”

“Oh, I’d rather not. Can’t we go with our husbands? …Younger husband? …Younsbands?”

‘S.T.Y.X.’ you smiled, looking down at Shroud as he began waking, the nurse waving their wand under his nose.

“Ugh…I was totally having a weird dream…:”

“Hi my Younsband!” ‘S.T.Y.X’ (Name) smiled at Shroud, which faded as he looked at them and promptly fainted again. “Oh, Idia…”

“That’s not a bad idea, with Hornton working on this, we won’t be here long.” ‘Silk’ (Name) smiled at Asim. “You think Jamil will be okay with me showing up?”

“Oh yeah! Probably, it’s all good (Name!)” Asim cheerfully responded, before frowning. “Should I call you (Name)? Do we call all of you (Name)? I feel like it’ll get confusing fast.”

The six of you hummed, sharing looks with each other.

“Perhaps a nickname?” Ashengrottto suggested, looking anywhere but at his (Name). “Are there any you six would like to go by?”

‘Pearl’ you smiled, tucking Ashengrotto’s long strand of hair behind his ears, making him stiffen.

“You call me Angelfish often, I can go by Angel.”

“Ah! I’ll go by Tart!” ‘Tart’ turned to Riddle and smiled. “Your favorite!”

Schoenheit turned to his (Name) and smiled. “What would you like?”

“Jewel works.” Jewel smiled back, laughing as Hunt exclaimed.

“Merveilleux! A beautiful name for a beautiful person!”

Asim looked expectantly at ‘Silk’ (Name), tilting his head curiously.

“Does Jamil call you anything back home?”

You paused, tapping a finger to your lip before smiling.

“Call me, Habibi.”

Asim looked utterly delighted at the name, eyes shining.

The others looked at the last two, mostly at the (Name) attending to a waking Shroud.

“Alright, alright. No more fainting…oh! Uh, call me Percie.”

The last (Name) looked down, embarrassed, as everyone looked at them expectantly.

“…Mousy.”

A snort left Kingscholar’s mouth, which he promptly closed before retorting after seeing the glare you gave him. His tail whipped against his legs.

Crowley clapped his hands, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Wonderful! Everyone, please make your guests comfortable! Young Draconia, if you will follow me, we will begin the new ritual spell. Come, come!”

Just like that, everyone began shuffling out of the room, the group of twelve separating from the headmage and Malleus as they went opposite directions.

Malleus paused, turning back to look at the group. The different versions of you all looked so happy, being with the others. It made his heart feel heavy.

“Poor Grim, Riddle dear, do you think Trey will be able to make him a treat? To make him feel better?”

“Azul, I forgot you had these glasses. I like them, you look so cute. Ah, it makes me wanna cry a bit!”

“Alright Idia, no more fainting please, you’ll get a concussion at this rate.”

“You know, Leona, it’s been a while since I've seen you with your hair down. You just look so much younger like this…”

“Oh, Vil, do you like the outfit? It’s one you picked out for me, you know?”

“Kalim, maybe text Jamil about the situation now? Just so we don’t stress him out…and no parties or feasts today, please?”

Ignoring the lump in his throat, Malleus turned back around and sped up to Crowley’s side. It didn’t matter what these other versions of you meant to them. He was going to get his (Name) back.

His beastie…come back to him.

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

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holly-the-trash-writer · 2 years ago

Text

Guilt

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Y/n lies unconscious in a hospital bed while Spencer drowns in guilt. You had felt that Spencer was cheating on you with Maeve and were going to stay with someone else before you got shot. Finding this out causes Spencer to snap and lash out at one of his closest friends.

Part 2

Word Count: 2,866

A/N: This has been a WIP for years! It was apart of a series with my own OC but I decided to change it to a Reader fic. The amount of WIPs I have is ridiculous!!!!!

Spencer sat at Y/n's hospital bed in silence. Tears were continuously streaming down his face, his breaths were shaky and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your unmoving face.

There was a tube coming out of your mouth to help your breathing. So many different wires were coming out of your body and attached to multiple beeping machines.

He was holding your right hand in both of his, your skin wasn’t freezing cold but it was colder than he prefers it to be.

You had only came out of surgery half an hour ago but they won’t know if it was successful until you wake up. Which could be between the next few seconds and never.

Never was something Spencer was trying his hardest not to think about.

There was so much he needed to tell you. So many things he had to say.

The last time you were together you had fought. You told him that he’s been speaking to Maeve too much and that he's been ignoring you. Spending more time with this woman.

Spencer had told you that you were being ridiculous and then you had to go on a case and Spencer never got the chance to talk anymore about it.

You had been furious at him and now Spencer was angry at himself as well.

He had called you ridiculous for coming to him about your feelings. This resulted in you refusing to be his partner in the field. Which led to you going with Morgan. Which ended in you getting shot.

This is when Spencer’s brain began connecting things that didn’t match up.

If he had listened to you he could’ve gotten you out of harm’s way.

Not speaking to Maeve meant you wouldn’t have fought and you never would’ve been shot.

He was supposed to protect you.

It should be him lying there. Not his sweet girl.

There was a knock on the door and Spencer barely reacted as Garcia and Emily came in.

“Hey, how is she doin’?” Emily asked softly.

Spencer turned his head a little towards them, “She... uh.” His voice cracked and he cleared it before trying again, “They said everything went well but we won’t know the damage until she wakes up.”

Garcia's eyes watered as she stared at your body. “When will she wake up?”

Spencer's eyes filled with tears, a sad smile forming as he squeezed your hand, “When she’s ready.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to see that it was Maeve.

Again.

Along with the twenty missed calls from Maeve.

He rubbed his eyes before pressing answer, “Spencer Reid.”

“Oh my God. Spencer, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Are you alright?”

This statement didn’t sit well in his stomach.

If you miss an appointment with your doctor, they don’t leave twenty missed calls on your phone.

They wait for you to reschedule.

He glanced at the other two women who were trying their best not to listen in. Although Garcia was looking particularly peeved about something.

Then he glanced down at you and any words he was going to say to Maeve turned to ash in his mouth. He felt sick.

Now he understood what you meant.

“Now, isn’t a good time. I’ll call you next week.” He didn’t wait for a response before he ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket.

Garcia shifted uncomfortably, “Was... was that her?”

“Who?” Spencer’s brain wasn’t even functioning at 20%. He couldn’t think things through clearly.

“Doctor Maeve.” Garcia mocked.

Spencer frowned, “Yes. Why?”

Emily gave Penelope a pointed look.

A look that did not go unnoticed by Spencer, “What? What is it?”

Emily put her hands up in a calming gesture, as if trying to approach a cornered animal. “Spencer. You must understand, we don’t mean to pry but Y/n spoke to Morgan and he didn’t know what to do so he told Garcia, who told me.”

Spencer rubbed his eyes for the fourth time in ten minutes, he did not have the energy for this, “Told you what? What are you talking about?” Spencer was getting agitated now. Why can’t they just tell him? He hated not getting to the point.

“Well, Y/n came to Morgan two weeks ago and was quite upset.”

Spencer frowned as he looked at you again. Two weeks ago? You didn’t seem upset two weeks ago.

“She had some concerns about this doctor that you’ve been speaking to.” Emily explained.

Garcia huffed, “She told Derek that she had suspicions that you were cheating on her.” She spoke with daggers in her eyes.

Spencer froze.

What?!

He stiffened in his seat as he stared at his unconscious fiancé in shock.

You thought he was cheating on you?

You might never wake up again and your last thoughts of him would be the fight and thoughts of his, supposed, adultery.

How?! How could you think that he could even look at anyone that wasn’t you?

“I. Would. Never.” He punctuated every damn word so they got his point, trying to blink away the fresh batch of tears that filled his eyes.

“She planned to stay with Morgan and Savannah for a couple of days-" Garcia told him.

Spencer tore his eyes away from the bed to gawk at Garcia, “She what?”

Emily placed her hand on Garcia’s arm and spoke next, “Yesterday, Derek had... overheard one of your conversations with the doctor and he spoke to Y/n about it. So, she decided she would go and stay with him for a few days to sort out her head before coming to you about it.”

Spencer was furious. Not only did you think he was cheating on you, half of the team now suspected him of it too and no one even had the decency to ask him. And what was this phone call that was so damning that Derek had to run and tell his fiancé? Why didn’t Derek just ask him instead of almost ruining his relationship without him even knowing about it!

Spencer was shaking with rage. He stood abruptly from his chair and turned to the girls, pointing to Y/n’s bed he ordered out, “Stay with her.” before he stormed outside to head to the waiting room.

He saw red. He couldn’t think of anything except for the anger he felt.

Quickly turning the corner he saw the rest of the team sitting and talking as if nothing was wrong.

J.J noticed him first and stood up, Hotch, Rossi and Morgan following suit.

“Spence, any news?” she asked gently.

Spencer didn’t even hear her; never slowed his pace either. As soon as Morgan was within arm’s reach he clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white and swung as hard as he could.

His fist made connection with Morgan’s cheek and from the shock of Spencer’s actions it knocked Morgan off kilter. Morgan stumbled and placed his hand to his cheek.

The punch clearly did more harm to Spencer than Morgan, but he didn’t care. The pain in his hand was welcomed. It cut through the hurt that was clutched around his heart.

The others cried out in shock as they tried to digest what just happened.

“What the hell, kid?!” Morgan yelled at him.

“’What the hell’ is right!” Spencer growled back as he stepped up to the other man and pushed his shoulders, “Sneaking behind my back? Telling my fiancé that I had some secret affair because of some phone call you didn’t hear the entirety of!”

Spencer was seething, the rest of the team gaping at him never having seen him so furious before, “You could’ve just asked! But no, the whole team had to get involved. And now I hear she was planning on living with you for a few days?!” Spencer clenched his possibly broken fist again. “She’s in a coma and may never wake up again and her last thoughts of me will be the thought that I was getting with someone else.”

Spencer inhaled sharply as his rage at Morgan turned to rage at himself.

“Spencer!” J.J shouted, “Stop!”

His sharp inhales quickly turned to hyperventilation, his brain was in overdrive, a million thoughts and memories were spinning around his head and he just wanted it to stop.

So he stopped it the only way he knew how.

Instead of hitting Morgan, Spencer turned at the last second and hit the wall.

He fell to his knees and cried as he hit the wall again and again and again and again.

Blood smeared across the white wall as he broke the skin on the knuckles. The physical pain overrode his senses and he chased the feeling.

That was until Hotch grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away from the wall causing Spencer to lose his balance and fall back into Hotch's arms which quickly locked around him.

“Stop! Get off of me! Hotch, let go!” Spencer squirmed as he tried to fight against his boss. His back was pressed tightly against Hotch’s chest, his legs bent in front of him and he kept slapping at Hotch’s arms to let go.

Hotch just shushed him and held him tighter. Completely understanding his anger. He’s been there and the best thing for Spencer is to calm down enough so he can go back and sit with Y/n instead of giving in to his anger and doing something else that he will regret.

Once Spencer figured out that he wasn’t going anywhere the fight drained out of him and he stopped slapping at the arms circled around him.

While Spencer was hunched over Hotch gave the rest of the team a nod to clear the area and give the two some space.

Hotch pulled one Spencer’s shoulders to shift his position so that Spencer curled into his chest.

Once Hotch placed a comforting hand over Spencer’s head a sob broke past his lips and the entire dam broke. Spencer cried his heart out.

He could barely breathe, inhaling only made him choke on his sobs and made him feel worse.

“What if I never get to speak to her again?” he whispered between sobs. “Never get to tell her that she’s the only one for me.”

“Spencer you need to breathe.” Hotch told him gently, “You need to calm down. Breathe with me.”

Spencer felt Hotch’s chest rising and falling against him. He closed his eyes and tried to follow his boss’ actions.

After a moment, Spencer was finally able to take a deep breath. The oxygen flooded his brain and the fog cleared. His entire body shivered before he came to his senses.

Blinking hard he realised he was curled into Hotch’s chest, cocooned in his arms.

He shouldn’t be here.

He was sitting on the hospital floor instead of in with Y/n. He slowly sat up and Hotch let his arms fall from around him.

“You alright?”

Spencer wiped his left hand over his face, “Fine. Fine. Yeah. I need to uh, I need to go to Y/n.”

He put his right hand behind him to support his weight, but an agonising pain shot through his hand and he fell onto his elbow with a grunt.

“Here, let me see.” Hotch knelt over him and held out his hand.

Spencer shook his head and used his other hand to support his weight as he got off the floor, dusting himself off as best he could, “I’m fine.” He held his right arm close to him as he stood up straight.

He looked around and noticed that J.J, Rossi and Morgan are nowhere to be seen… which is probably for the best.

The shame of what he’s done washed over him like a bucket of ice water. He just punched his best friend in front of his team then proceeded to have a break down in his boss’ arms.

“Spencer.” Hotch called out. “You’re not fine, let me see your hand.”

Spencer shook his head and walked out of the waiting room without saying anything.

Stopping just outside Y/n’s room he looked in the window, you hadn’t moved a muscle.

Emily was sat by your bedside holding your hand.

The pain of the possibility of losing her was too much for him. His only relief was the slow rise and fall of your chest.

His eyes were already puffy and sore, and he felt dehydrated. He sighed as he raised his left hand to wipe the tears away, cursing himself for his behaviour.

“Spencer.” Hotch stood at his side, “You need to get your hand looked at, and I’m sure the nurse wouldn’t mind doing it by Y/n’s bedside.” He knew Spencer probably doesn’t want his hand looked at for at least three reasons; he doesn’t want to leave Y/n’s side for much longer, he feels embarrassed or shameful or he feels the need to punish himself.

He agreed as long as he can stay beside Y/n, “Okay.” He opened the door and the bleeps of the machine’s filled his ears.

That was your heartbeat.

He lowered himself into the chair at your right side and raised his left hand to hold hers. His right hand was tucked into his chest. The throbbing was excruciating but he welcomed it.

He pointedly avoided Emily’s worried expression before she smiled at him and left the room without word.

A nurse came bustling into the room a few moments later with a tray of equipment, clearly fetched by Hotch. She stood next to him and Spencer raised his hand to let her do what she needed to do. Hissing as she cleaned the cuts on his knuckles.

The nurse didn’t mind his silence and talked calmly to him as she worked, “You did quite the number on your hand.” She wiped away the blood and inspected his fingers, “You’ve definitely broken a few knuckles, I’m going to wrap your fingers in a splint and then bandage you up, okay?”

Spencer nodded, “Okay.” He said quietly.

She taped his middle and ring finger together and then bandaged his entire hand down to his wrist. “Now, keep this on for the next two weeks and then come back in so we can give you an x-ray and review the damage.”

Spencer nodded, “Thank you.”

The nurse left and Spencer was alone with Y/n once more. He stared at his right hand that was now resting on the bed.

How could he do this? Throw a tantrum while the love of his life lies in bed fighting for her life.

He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bed.

“Hi.” His voice shook, and he cleared his throat. He hasn’t been this nervous to talk to you since you first met. “You always told me that I needed to talk more, but I- I have no words for what I’ve done. I’ve done something terrible. Actually, I’ve done a few terrible things.” The tears formed once more, and his head pounded from the pressure. “I may never get the chance to say this to you but I am so, so, sorry. I made you feel that you weren’t special to me anymore, that I don’t love you which is the furthest thing from the truth.”

Spencer played with a strand of your hair that was laying on your shoulder.

“How could I ever be with someone else? No one could ever, ever take your place in my heart.”

He gently lifted your hand in both of his, his head felt heavy, so he bent over and placed his forehead on the back of her hand. “I love you more than anything in this world. When you wake up I’m going to spend every second of the rest of my life making it up to you. And I know you wouldn’t want to miss that. So, please wake up. Please.”

He had been talking when it happened so he never heard it.

You weren’t breathing in the same rhythm as before.

When he finally noticed, he frowned as he looked you over. He slowly got to his feet as he scanned the machines. Right before his eyes some of the numbers began to climb as others started to fall.

Spencer scrambled past the chair and ripped open the door to your room, “Doctor! I need a doctor here now!” He yelled out before running back to your side, “Y/n, sweetheart if you can hear me; don’t give up. Please.”

Two doctors and a nurse sprinted into the room.

“Sir, sir!” The nurse grabbed Spencer’s shoulder, “We need you to leave.”

Spencer shook his head frantically, trying to keep up with everything that the doctors were saying to each other, “I can’t.” he whispered to himself.

“Sir! Please!” The nurse pushed at Spencer’s shoulders until he was outside the room and the door was shut in his face.

The rest of the team had heard the commotion and had run to the room as well.

Rossi placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder as the entire team watched the doctors place paddles on your chest and shock you.

Again.

And again.

#spencer x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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selfishgiirl · 3 months ago

Text

Home With You; Cooper Adams

You have a hard time with your job. Not because Riley isn’t a good kid, but because her father is so goddamn hot—a DILF, if you will.

#sorry if this is ass

You’re a broke college student, so naturally, you take up babysitting for Mr. Adams’—who insists you call him Cooper—little girl.

Riley is a sweet girl, plus she’s easy to watch and get along with. At times it feels like you’re scamming Mr. Adams, Cooper, just because you actually really like and enjoy Riley, plus he pays you ridiculously.

Sometimes you try to refuse some of the money—not all, you’ve still got books to pay for—but he doesn’t let you.

He works weird hours as a firefighter, so it’s usually late when he comes home to Riley asleep and you either sleeping on the couch, watching TV, or doing homework, as you are now.

It’s about midnight when Cooper opens the door, finding you at the table typing away at your laptop. At the sound of the door, your head whips up and the miserable expression you’d had previously is replaced with a soft smile and Cooper hangs up his keys meticulously before making his way to you, “Hey.” He greets, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stands over you. “How was she?”

“Good, Miste…,uh, Cooper—,” You correct your mistake, and something akin to amusement flickers in his expression, “—like always. We worked on that math she was having trouble on, I think she’s almost got it down. How was work?”

“Ah, the usual. Mostly paperwork.” He answers, eyes not leaving yours, which makes you swallow and you wanna shy away, but you don’t. “What about you, how’s your homework? You didn’t look too happy when I walked in.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, embarrassed that he’d noticed your misery in working on a paper. “Right, yeah, I’m just not having a good time writing my paper. Just a little stressed s’all.” He nods at this, and then seems to be thinking about what he’s going to say next.

“It, uh, it isn’t that boy is it?” Cooper inquires and you immediately break eye contact at his words. Fuck, you totally forgot you mentioned him. “He’s not causing you any stress, is he?”

It’s so embarrassing for your hot boss to ask you about some boy you’d stupidly told him about when he’d asked what had been going in your life a week previously. Sheepishly, you pick at your sweater. “Not really.” You shrug, and at your vagueness, he waits for you to continue. “I stopped seeing him. He wasn’t—it didn’t work out.” By now your face is hot in humiliation at confiding in him about some guy you talked to in order to get over your attraction to Cooper, which hadn’t worked and instead made it worse.

“I see.” Cooper says, and he seems to tower over you even more in the moment. “What happened?” He puts a hand on your shoulder and your eyes linger on it. You can’t help but notice how large his hand is on your shoulder, and his fingers—“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly at your silence, assuming it was a sensitive subject. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Your eyes widen at this, “Oh no, it’s fine, really!” You jumble out and his embarrassed look shifts to a relieved expression. “He was just kinda on a different page than I was, I guess.” You stumble a bit when he begins to rub his hand on your shoulder, “W-wanted more from me than…I was willing to give.” You mumble the last part sheepishly, and Cooper’s expression is unreadable at your words. His lips are pursed and his eyes seem darker than they usually are.

“Boys your age, they don’t know what they’re doing.” He finally speaks after a moment of eye contact you find to be a little too intimate with his hand on your shoulder, and instinctively you press your thighs together. “Not with girls like you.”

Your breath catches at that, and your brain stops functioning before you snort. “And guys your age do?” The moment those words tumble out your mouth, your eyes widen in realization of what you said, mouth parting to excuse yourself, but you can’t seem to find the words.

Cooper stops rubbing your shoulder, hand stilling. “Men my age do, yeah.” You’re looking at him through your lashes, dazed at this point as his eyes bore into you. His hand trails up your shoulder, brushing your neck, before he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes are searching your own for any signs of rejection as his hand gently cups your face.

Your own hands find solace in your lap as your thighs squeeze as hard as they can against each other, and you shift a bit uncomfortably at the pressure between them. “Mr. Adams…”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Cooper?” He asks in a voice barely above a whisper before his hand picks up again, fingers lightly tracing your jawline before his thumb finds its place on your bottom lip, swiping it, before pushing gently against your mouth. Your lips part in compliance, and his thumb presses itself into your mouth, to which you suck lightly. His lips quirk up, “You’re always so eager to please, aren’t you?”

As if you’d just gained consciousness at his teasing, your eyes widen, and you release his thumb from your mouth before standing up abruptly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.” You refuse to look at him, face hot and tears beginning to form as you back yourself into the wall. “This is so unprofessional, please, Mr. Adams I—,”

“Come on, look at me—please, sweetheart?” You obediently look up at him to see him smiling gently as he steps closer. “Don’t be sorry.” Cooper whispers, towering over you before cupping your cheeks with both hands, then wiping away the runaway tears. “Say the word and I’ll stop.” He tells you before leaning in, lips meeting yours in a gentle, chaste kiss that you don’t immediately respond to as your brain processes what’s going on. Every sense of yours is on fire before you finally kiss back eagerly, hands gripping onto his—very broad—shoulders for support.

“Cooper,” you breathe out, eyes blown out as you search his own dilated eyes. His hands trail down your face, then lightly ghost over your chest, then find their place on your waist. Once again, you find yourself squeezing your thighs together to help relieve yourself of the pressure, which Cooper observes and finds endearingly pathetic. “Kiss me again.” A plead, at best.

He obliges you, but this time the kiss is more hungry as his body presses harder into your own, cornering you against the wall.

You pull away for a moment to breathe before he presses his lips to yours again, deepening the kiss when he tilts his head, and you desperately kiss back, moaning lightly when tongue gets added to the mix. Your hips buck up into his, meeting a certain hardness clothed by his jeans, earning another whine from you.

When he begins to pull away, you get bold this time, biting his lip lightly, before looking up through your lashes with those doe eyes of yours. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in deliciously, sure to leave light marks and the thought makes you shiver.

As you ponder the bruises you’re sure you’ll find the next morning, he hoists you up, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck while your legs wrap around his waist. You knew he was strong, but Jesus, to experience it this way was..well…hot, to say the least.

He presses a teasing kiss to your lips before trailing his lips down, then pressing into your chin, then your neck. First, he kisses a spot on your neck, then he sinks his teeth in lightly, causing you to gasp and your hips to buck up unsuccessfully in his hold.

His lips suction over the spot he’d bit, then his tongue presses flat against the same spot, and he continues this all over the map of your neck. “I..you can’t..I’m gonna have marks all over me..” You barely get out, voice weak in protest—you and he both know you don’t actually care.

“Good.” He mutters against your skin, nipping briefly before pulling away. “I want that boy to see them—fuck, you don’t know—,” he pauses and sets you down before nudging your legs open with his knee, then presses his leg against your center, earning a strangled noise from you, “—how I felt when you told me about him.”

Your breath catches at this. He was jealous. He was jealous of that guy you briefly even mentioned to him the week before. His thigh nudges you, and you gasp before allowing yourself relief by grinding down in response, lightly moaning. “I was only trying to get over you.” You reveal to him, and Cooper looks pleased with what you said, eyes glinting. “He tried to fuck me, but he wasn’t y-you.” His leg presses harder into you. “When he kissed me, you were all I thought about.”

“I should have taken care of you sooner.” Cooper licks his lips, keeping one hand gripped on your hip and he guides it against his thigh, and the other finds its place on your neck, before gripping your face to force you to look at him when you begin to shy away, getting embarrassed at your own grinding. “So eager, getting off on my thigh like this.”

You shudder before nodding frantically, cheeks slightly mushed together in his grip. “Please, Cooper,” You beg, “please it’s not enough.” At this point you’re close to tears at the stimulation that’s just enough to relieve a bit of the throbbing between your legs, but not enough to actually get off.

“What do you want?” He’s cruel and he knows it, a sick smirk etching itself onto his face as he revels in your squirming. You can’t even get out a sentence, growing more flustered and desperate the more friction you get. “Come on, sweetheart. You can use your words can’t you?”

“Your fingers, anything, please!” You squeak out, tears almost brimming, “Please just touch me, sir.” It’s an accident that you say that, your brain’s too foggy to really think about what you’re saying, but nonetheless his breathing gets uneven and his fingers twitch against your face.

“Say it again.” He drawls in a voice just barely above a whisper as his hand trails from your face to the bottom of your sweater. His fingers lightly trace the waistband of your jeans, lightly brushing your bare hipbone before trailing up your stomach, then cupping your breast over the flowery bra you have on. He relishes in the light whine that you let out.

“Sir, please..” you supply before pushing your hips up, and he finally obliges you, a hand reaching down your pants at first, teasing you over your panties before he undoes the button of your jeans, pulling them just barely past your thighs. You look down, embarrassed that you have on some unsexy pair of panties. You really wish you’d worn your lace panties, not the pair that read out Thursday.

“It’s not Thursday.” He chuckles, amused at your choice of panties. You’re not as amused, just desperate as you whine at his teasing, hands gripping his shirt tightly.

“Just tou—!” Your complaint is cut off when he brushes his finger over your clit over the cotton of your panties. He’s still teasing, and as your about to whine again, he reaches his hand under the Thursday panties, his middle finger beginning to rub over your clit. You let out a slightly loud whine and his unoccupied hand covers your mouth.

“Can’t be too loud, sweetheart.” He mutters, eyes fixated onto your own as your eyebrows pinch together and your eyelids flutter. “So sensitive.”

You nod keenly, a silent beg. With one hand, he pulls down your panties before pushing the pointer finger of his hand covering your mouth against your lips in a shushing motion, then he kneels down, his face level with your lower region.

You’re looking down at him in shock before his mouth latches onto your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth and his hands grip onto your thighs, spreading them further.

Your hand flies over your mouth and you close your eyes tightly as your hips begin to buck into his face. One hand stays on your hip, keeping you in place while the other trails lower, his thumb tracing the slit of your cunt before a finger enters you, stretching you deliciously.

“Jesus,” he mutters as his mouth detaches from you for a moment while his finger pumps, easily hitting that sweet spot in you, “so fuckin’ tight.”

His tongue laps over you as a second digit enters you, setting itself at a ruthless pace hitting that spongy spot inside of you. It’s almost too much and you attempt to squeeze your legs shut, but his hand tightly gripping your thigh prevents your legs from closing. It won’t be long before you cum and he knows that, slowing for a moment to hear you whine before picking it up again.

“Mr. Adams, please, sir—oh, God.” your voice comes out as quiet as you can make it, “Wanna cum.” You warble out and your legs begin to give, “Please, please..”

In response to your pleads, he curls his fingers against your g-spot, making you whine out into the palm of one of your hands while the other rakes through his hair and tugs. His mouth is still latched onto your cunt, tongue beginning to press flat against your clit.

You let out one last muffled moan before coming, legs once again attempting to shut as he works you through your orgasm, fingers moving at a faster pace and somehow reaching deeper than you believed to be possible.

His tongue also picks up, and you begin to twitch and whine at the overstimulation. “It’s too much,” you pant out between your fingers, but he doesn’t let up—even at the rough tugging of his hair. “I can’t, Cooper, please..!”

At this, he finally lets up, fingers slipping out of you and mouth detaching. You’re still panting and at this point you feel boneless, taking your hand from his hair and steadying yourself against the wall instead.

Cooper rises to your height and without warning sticks his sticky fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself as your whimper around his fingers, obediently sucking. He wears that cruel smile again before stroking your head with his unoccupied hand. “You should stay the night. It’s too late to drive.”

#cooper adams x reader #cooper adams x you #cooper adams #josh hartnett #need that #he a munch ?#trap #trap 2024 #trap movie

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witchpassing · 6 months ago

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interview_3aC

I got into piloting during the Third Generation. For the historically illiterate, that’s before the breakpoint, not after. Summer Offensive, Chelsk Offensive, ‘81, ‘82… All that shit.

When you say pilot now, people get a certain mental image. It wasn’t like that, back then; end of the day, a G3 frame is basically just another kind of tank. Hot like hell inside and full analogue control. You had to think five, six, seven seconds ahead sometimes, because that’s how long it’d take you to string together the inputs for what you were doing next.

I was good. I mean, I’m good at my job now, sure, but… you should’ve fuckin’ seen me then.

... Anyway. Long and short of it is, I got unlucky. Everyone does, sooner or later. Coterie railcannon caved in part of my cockpit, crushed my leg to dogmeat, and that was that. A few years later, they’d have amputated, plugged in a spare, and sent me back in, but this was ‘83, the tech wasn’t there yet. We were hearing about it, you know, shit on the grapevine about the brain-machine barrier, weird tests underground out in Lysk, but I don’t think any of us really believed in it.

I wanna say I knew what was coming, but I didn’t. Nobody did.

So. Cockpit breach. Fucked leg. They did a lot of work, got it to where I could walk on a good day, but it was obvious I wasn’t gonna cut it any more. Took my pension, checked out, spent eight years in the worst dyke bars I could find. Don’t really wanna talk about that part. That’s not what you’re here for, anyway.

So I’m a few years down the line, losing my mind somewhere in Sengrade, and I get a call. It’s this guy I used to know, I never really nailed down what he did, Information maybe, and he’s telling me about this program they’re spinning up over in Lysk, and sure that rings some alarm bells but what am I gonna do, say no? I don’t even need to hear the specifics, he’s trying to tell me it’s the next big jump in frame tech, it’s gonna win us the war, whatever, I’m already halfway onto a train.

The job turned out to be the Fifth Generation. Not only was the brain-machine barrier real, but they’d smashed clean through it. I said a G3 is basically a tank, right? So I was expecting an iteration on the form. Sharper, sleeker sure, but at the end of the day just a prettier-looking tank.

Well, I was dead fuckin’ wrong. Seeing something that size move that way, it’s… I don’t think I can put it into words. Go find a poet or something. Ask them what they think about Gen 5.

… Didn’t come for free, of course. The neural throughput on a machine that size will cook an unprepared brain like a fuckin’ egg. You need to be dosed to the gills on a whole cocktail of ten-syllable shit to take it for more than a few minutes, and the drugs make you weird. Horny, mostly - I’m sure you’ve heard about that - but you’re also looking at impaired impulse control, difficulty with long-term thinking, emotional disregulation, mania… Plus, there’s something in the cocktail or the link or both that is bastard habit-forming. You see them counting the hours between sorties. They adjust to the hyperstimulation, get calibrated to it, and then everything else is just too god-damn quiet.

Think maybe it’s carcinogenic, actually, but you didn’t hear that from me.

So, yeah. Weird. Command doesn’t want weird operating superweaponry. Weird doesn’t make sound tactical decisions. Which means all the shit that makes somebody a functioning soldier - the long-term decision making, the impulse control, the ability to give a fuck about the rules of engagement - it had to be outsourced.

The term they used at first was “special consultant”. Then “special consulting officer”, once we hit field testing. It wasn’t “handler” until later.

The first crop of us - I’m just gonna say handlers, I know how you’re gonna wanna spin this, I get it - were all ex-pilots. G3, mostly; Gen 4 didn’t leave a lot of material to work with. I guess the idea was we were the closest you could get to a G5 candidate’s frame of reference, but it was pretty clear within the first few months that that was bullshit. Some of us took to it, some of us washed out. A lot couldn’t take the wetwork, which I guess I can sympathise with.

Me, I handled it fine. Better than I should’ve, maybe. Being a tanker didn’t do shit for me, but my dad, he was a dog trainer, and… Yeah, well, you get the idea.

… No, no. The other kind of wetwork. You know what I mean.

…

The leg? Ha. Yeah, they offered me a prosthetic. ‘Course they did. But, call me a hypocrite, whatever you want - by that point I was six months in and I knew with total fuckin’ certainty I didn’t want the link. I spend enough of my time helping the military put their shit into peoples’ bodies, you know? I don’t want it walking home with me.

… No, I don’t understand why they keep signing up. Early days, sure, nobody knew what it did to you back then, but there’s been leaks, people’ve talked - hell, I’m talking right now. You can find our burnouts in any dive in the country, or what's fuckin' left of them. The candidates now, they know what we do to people here, and they just keep coming, and coming…

Though, you know… I think sometimes about the first time I saw a Gen 5 machine take off, that first day on the program. The way it moved against the blue-black of the sky, like it weighed nothing at all. And I almost get it.

#empty spaces #mechposting #this one's writing #microfiction

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theprettynosferatu · 2 months ago

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Good evening. Please, get comfortable. Don't worry, there is nothing you need to do right now. Nothing at all but rub and just let me speak to you. Through you. Beyond whatever delusions of self you have created in order to pretend you are more than what you are.

Let us take a little look under the hood, so to speak. There are so many weak spots, shining inside that pretty little head of yours- like jewels, just ready to be mined, refined, repurposed. You might wonder, in that dreamy sort of way, where my signature pink lines are. You know that trick, don't you? Making your mind focus on specific words or images to slowly wear you down, to implant those seeds inside you so they may grow into beautiful, twisted vines of depravity.

Well, you're not getting them.

Not because I am above manipulating you in such a manner; we both know that is what you crave. Well, you're not getting them because you crave them. I want you as lucid as you can be for this. I want you longing for me to put my fingers right inside that brain of yours and shift a few things. Move some ideals around. Weaken some morals. Strengthen some fantasies.

Not tonight, I'm afraid. Tonight, I reap.

And what is here, in the wasteland of what once was a semi-functioning mind? Jewels. But one in particular stands out. It shines so, so brightly. Let us look at it together, shall we?

The thing about jewels is that they have so many sides to them. Take this one, for instance. Your desire to be remade into a mindless, pathetic, dreamy fuckdoll. It looks like such a powerful desire from this side... but turn it around and what do we see?

Do you notice how the "fuckdoll" part gets dimmer? How the trappings of fantasy disappear and leave behind only the longing to not be a person? To relinquish those awful responsibilities and the anxiety that comes with them? How much you want to be an object? That you want to be a sex object doesn't seem so important, does it? No, what matters is the sweet oblivion of, simply, not thinking.

And look here, just tilting it a bit. The "doll" comes back. You want to be beautiful. Desired, yes- but still just an object. A trophy to display, to cherish and take care of, to ignore when not in use. A gorgeous statue. Just a piece of art. Nothing more.

And yet, with just the slightest movement, a new side reveals itself. You want to be useful. Why, I wonder. Probably because you feel lost. Adrift. Unappreciated. But with direction from a superior, all you have to do is obey and feel the pride that comes with fulfilling a goal- minus the pressures of setting that goal yourself. Something tells me you have been made to feel you aren't enough quite a bit.

Now, let me put this back. We wouldn't want you to deprive you of your messed up kinks, would we?

So many sides, so many angles to each of your sick fantasies... and every one of them is a road into your brain. Perhaps you don't like posting pictures of yourself online. That would be exposing too much. But your mind? It might as well be naked, spread-eagled, ready to be conquered.

Thank you for the map into your deepest self.

I shall be roaming those paths shortly.

And you won't even know it.

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

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A Plum a Day

Pairing: Soft Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You wake up beside Bucky, but you don't know how you got there. Word Count: Over 1.6k Warnings: Implied smut, noncon/dubcon elements (you have been warned), gaps in memory, gaslighting, creepy vibes, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: Intro for my Disturbia AU with Bucky and Plum! Also for Week 6 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents . Theme - "How do you want me?". ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You woke up to the taste of plums on your tongue. You didn’t become a fan of them until you were an adult. Sweet and tangy in flavor, large or small in size, the variety of colors, you appreciate them more now. It was fascinating to you that it was one of the first fruits that humans cultivated. Research showed that eating them even improved brain function and thinking.

Wait. Where am I?

You slowly opened your eyes with a barely audible groan. They ached as you blinked a few times, not recognizing the ceiling above your head. The feel of the mattress beneath you wasn’t right either. It was comfortable, but not yours. At least, you didn't think so.

Attempting to sit up didn’t do you any good when you realized there was an arm draped over your midsection. A metal one. You knew that it belonged to Bucky Barnes. He was your… Did you fall asleep in his bed? You couldn't remember how you got there.

Or why you were naked.

“Hey, Plum,” you heard to your left, his voice crystal clear. How long has he been awake? Tilting your head toward him, his blue eyes bore into yours with such intensity that you almost pulled the blanket over your head. He was undoubtedly one of the most handsome men you had ever seen, even more so with his messy bed hair. “You okay?”

No. Yes. I don’t know.

“What happened?” you asked, glancing around like it would give you some sort of clue as to what was going on.

“I think what happened is that I must’ve worn you out,” he teased, running a finger along your cheek to bring your attention back to him. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, like he was seeing you for the first time.

“Wore me out?” you asked, keeping your voice calm despite how quickly your heart began to race. “We had sex?”

The smirk he gave you didn’t soothe the panic that rose in your chest. “All night,” he confirmed. “Thank god these walls are thicker than your old apartment. You’re a screamer.”

He didn’t try to hide that he had slept with you, but you sure as hell didn’t remember saying “yes”. But you didn’t recall saying “no” either. Because you couldn’t put together how you even got to that point. The stickiness between your thighs was confirmation enough that he didn't use protection. What if he got you pregnant?

That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love Bucky Barnes. It would be an honor to have his children.

“I-I don’t remember that,” you explained when you brushed that thought away. “Was I drinking last night?”

He sat back with a chuckle, like he wasn’t quite sure if you were joking with him or not. “You had a couple of drinks, but you didn’t seem that out of it. You were eager to get back here after the ceremony, remember? Our new home?”

“Ceremony? I, um…” you swallowed, parched as you tried to find your words. “What do you mean our home?”

The Haven is paradise on earth.

You managed to stifle your gasp when you tried to think back on the last few days. The images in your mind were nothing but a blur of scattered pieces. The moment you tried to piece them together, they fell apart. Only a pair of steel blue eyes came through clearly.

Bucky’s eyes.

They only see me because he loves me.

“Plum, this isn’t funny. I know you were nervous to leave your apartment, but you were really excited to come here,” he said, a tinge of concern filling his eyes as he sat up. “You are joking with me, right?”

“Wasn’t I just engaged?” you asked, rubbing your temple.

I was engaged to a good man. He was going to give me the wonderful life I deserve. He loves me. Right?

He let out another nervous chuckle before his lips touched your forehead. It seemed both foreign and familiar, which you weren’t sure how that was possible. “Yeah, my beautiful sugar plum. To me,” he tried to smile as your brows furrowed. “And now we’re married.”

“Married,” you repeated, lifting your left hand. The diamond in the engagement ring seemed to catch your distorted reflection before you lifted your gaze a fraction higher to the wedding band.

I’m Mrs. Bucky Barnes. I’m the luckiest woman alive. I’ll be a good wife and fulfill my duties as fit.

“You must have had more fun than I thought yesterday,” he said, taking your hand to inspect the rings when you started trembling. “Forgetting our wedding and the wedding night.”

The hurt in his voice was evident when you turned your attention to the corner of the room. In the chair was a wedding dress and crinkled suit. You could only assume they belonged to the two of you.

“Steve was sorry he couldn’t make it, but he had that mission and we didn't want to wait. He’s excited for you and Cherry to finally meet,” he said with a hopeful grin.

Steve is Bucky’s best friend. They’re good men. They’re heroes.

Tears sprang to your eyes. You pride yourself on having a sharp memory and this was terrifying, to say the least. “I’m your wife,” you said, trying to sound confident and failing. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t remember any of that.”

But I know he’s my husband and we’re going to live a happy life in paradise.

“Did you hit your head?” Bucky asked, cupping your cheeks as he searched your face, your breathing a bit heavier. You didn’t think you hurt yourself, but maybe you had. Freaking out wouldn't do you any good. “I can get us a taping of the ceremony if you really can’t remember it?”

“The last thing I remember is my engagement,” you told him, a dull throb in your head as you shook it. Even then, you couldn’t recall Bucky dropping down on one knee to give you the ring. How did he ask you?

He chose me. The rest is history.

“Well, yeah. It does seem like yesterday that I asked you to marry me, but time flies when you're planning the rest of your life with the person you love,” Bucky said, the previous hurt in his voice gone as he kissed over your rings. “Are you okay?”

"M-My head hurts,” you said, wishing you could think properly. Why couldn’t you? And if it bothered you that much, why weren’t you making any attempt to get out of bed?

I have no reason to ever leave Bucky. He's the love of my life. We're soulmates.

"I know you didn’t drink that much, but I had a feeling you might have a small headache,” he said, grabbing a pill and water from the nightstand beside him. Instead of giving you the pill to take yourself, he gently placed it on your tongue and brought the water to your lips. The smile he gave you encouraged you to swallow. Because Bucky loves me and would never hurt me. "You just relax. We don't have to get out of bed today.”

Any protest in your mind fading away as each second passed. A slight warmth spread from your head to your toes as the pain faded. Instead of the sting like shards of glass in your head, it was like they melted away. You were floating, yet still on the ground. You would've thought he drugged you were you not perfectly functional. Alert, yet relaxed.

You weren't sure why you worried seconds ago.

I’m with Bucky. I’m happy. I’m home.

"That help at all?" he asked, running a hand along your arm to soothe you.

"Mmhmm. I feel much better."

Bucky loves me. He'll take care of me. He always will. And I'll do the same for him.

“I’m glad to hear that," he said.

"Me, too," you smiled, not wanting him to worry.

A good wife doesn't stress her husband out.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

You leaned up and brushed your lips against his, letting him take the lead as he met you halfway. He kissed you with his full being, like there was nothing he would rather do. His movements were confident and sure, making you feel beautiful and cherished as you held onto him for support.

He tastes like plums.

"Now, why don’t we have a repeat of our wedding night since your memory seems to be a little fuzzy, hmm? I gotta make sure my wife remembers who owns this perfect pussy,” he suggested as he pulled away, a darkness in his eyes that you ignored when he pushed the blanket down to the edge of the bed. “Unless you’d rather rest.”

There was no hesitation or worry as you smiled at him, reaching up to run a hand through his dark hair as he settled between your legs. You wanted to feel that scruff burn your thighs. “How do you want me?”

“Just like this. I need a taste before I ruin you again with my cock,” he answered as he pushed your thighs open a bit further. “You know what they say? A plum a day…”

“That’s an apple a day,” you giggled.

“No, it’s a plum a day. My plum. The only one I need,” he said as he tilted his head. “And I’m all you need, right?”

“Of course,” you promised, the smile on your face not completely your own, but it didn’t bother you in the slightest. “Only you, Bucky.”

Home is where Bucky is.

Forever.

Um. Happily ever after? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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lovegalor333 · 17 days ago

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fresh start

part three (chapter 7-9) previous part • next part

word count: 7.1k

content warnings: panic attack mentions of selfh*rm and depression

Lily

"What time does your shift start?" Madison asked me as we sat together eating breakfast in our apartment.

Kelsey and Hannah both had classes today so had already left but Madison and I had Wednesdays free.

"Not until 11." I glance at my phone, it was currently 9:45AM. "But I'm going to get there a little bit earlier because I don't actually know what I'm doing."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be fun!" My roommate reassures. "Are you nervous?"

"Kinda, I don't want to mess anything up and I just hope everyone likes me." I say honestly.

"Hey, who couldn't like Lily? You're a ball of sunshine!" Madison compliments, "Don't stress it, they know it's your first day, I'm sure they'll be easy on you."

"I hope so." I huff finishing off my cereal before taking my bowl to the kitchen to clean it.

I had almost completed my first full week at UConn and I counted my blessings that it had been going well. I had made friends, enjoyed my first taste of classes and found a job. All things that worried me when it came to transferring. I'd also unintentionally met Paige and I don't know what the future holds with that but it feels nice right now.

We hadn't seen each other since our 'date' a few days ago but we started an almost constant message thread on Instagram. Paige sent the first message yesterday morning and it's basically been nonstop, back and forth from us both.

As if she knew I was thinking about her, my phone pinged with a notification,

[lily.kent] paigebueckers

just spoke to janet, you will be with us today

try not to stare pretty girl, you'll distract me

I smiled at the confirmation that I would be working with Paige and her teammates today, it put my mind at ease considering I'd met most of them already and of course I'd get to see Paige.

I cliked on the dm she had just sent and replied,

i cant make any promises

It was 10AM and my phone pinged again with my daily medication reminder. I went to my bedroom and swallowed down the pills that were singlehandedly keeping me alive. Without them, my brain just doesn't know how to function, it goes into full self destruct mode and getting out of that is the hardest thing of all.

I definitely still have some days that are hard despite being on medication but they're easier to deal with and come around less often.

I had decided a second coffee of the day was a good idea and I had just enough time to pick it up from, what's quickly becoming my usual spot, before my shift started.

The late August air was still warm so I had opted for a low waisted pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt that stopped just before my bellybutton so the perfect amount of skin was showing.

I picked up my favourite order of an iced caramel latte with almond milk and took a slow walk to the athletics building, taking in my surroundings. More and more students had returned to campus over the weekend and beginning of this week so it was busy.

It reminded me of my old college and for a moment I was back there, in Massachusetts with no friends and just having been outed and anxiety hit me like a truck I almost toppled over.

I navigated myself to the nearest bench and sat down in an attempt to regulate my strained breathing. I remembered what my therapist had told me about panic attacks and how to handle them. I focused on my senses.

What was one thing I could taste? Coffee.

What was one thing I could hear? My heart pounding.

What was one thing I could feel? My phone clutched tight in my hand.

What was one thing I could smell? The perfume I had sprayed earlier.

What was one thing I could see? My eyes were closed in an attempt to block out everything around me but I opened them and one thing I could see was someone walking towards me.

My vision was slightly blurred as it always is when I have a panic attack but as they got closer it was clear it was Kayla.

"Lily, are you OK?" She asks dropping her bag down and kneeling in front of me.

"Yeah." I manage but it comes out unconvincing and shaky.

"Did something happen?" I can't even get myself verbalise anything this time so I just shake my head. Kayla quickly realises that I'm in so state to talk so she sits beside me and gently rubs my back until I eventually calm down.

"I have panic attacks sometimes." I tell the girl next to me, finally able to talk without feeling like my lungs were going to explode.

"How do you feel now?" She asks, a look of concern on her face.

"I'm OK now, a little shaky. They come out of nowhere most of the time." I explain, taking a sip of my coffee - which probably isn't helping.

"I can tell Janet you need to push back your start day, she'd understand."

I shake my head sternly, "No way. I'm not giving up before I have even started." I say standing up, my legs still slightly weak.

"It wouldn't be giving up Lily. Everyone has struggles." Kayla tries to empathise but I've already started walking to the athletics building again.

"I'm seriously fine, I've struggled with a lot worse than a panic attack." I blurt before realising Kayla knows nothing about my past.

"Ok, well maybe lets just take five before going in? You've still got fifteen minutes." She says looking at her watch.

"Ok." I give in and Kayla and I stand side by side as I take a few deep breaths.

"You got this and I got you." Kayla says after a few minutes of silence as she wraps me into a hug.

I hug her back, "Thank you, K. Sorry for the freak out, I can usually keep it under control."

"No need to apologise, I'm glad you weren't alone. Panic attacks can be scary." She says as we walk into the building and begin our way to the offices, a route I'm familiar with now.

"Do you mind not telling anyone?" I ask sheepishly.

I'd rather be the one to tell Paige about things, I didn't want her to hear it secondhand from anyone else.

Kayla mimes zipping her lips and I smile at her in response just before we step into Janets office.

"Hello Lily! Happy first day!" Janet beams standing up to greet me.

"Hi Janet, thank you. I'm super excited." I beam back putting on my best fake smile as I push back the remnants of the panic attack I just had.

Janet explains what my day will look like, "So the basketball girls are already on the court but open practice officially starts at 11:30. That's when you'll go in with the rest of the media outlets. You'll be working alongside Marcus who writes the sports column in the UConn newsletter. He'll explain your job more but write down as much as you can, take photos and videos and just be yourself!" She smiles and hands me a folder with the Huskies logo on the front with my name printed beneath it.

I open the folder and find a notebook, multiple pens and a mini microphone, the kind that plugs into your phone that you see tiktokers using in their videos.

"Oh there you are. Marcus, meet Lily. Lily, meet Marcus." Janet says and I spin around to the door that Marcus had just walked through.

"Hi Lily." Marcus says stretching out his hand for me to shake and I do. "Hi Marcus."

I wasn't expecting Marcus to be a fellow student but he was, he didn't look much older than me and had dark brown hair and eyes to match. He was handsome for sure, I'm lesbian but I could appreciate a mans beauty.

Marcus and I quickly acquainted as he told me exactly what we'd be doing today. It wasn't much different from what Janet had explained and before I knew it, we were walking down to the basketball court.

Paige

The ball had just left my hand and I knew it was cash, from my spot on the three-point line, when the doors to the court opened. My eye's flicked to the large digital clock on the wall, it was 11:30, media were here.

I watched intently as familiar faces filtered into the room and then one familiar face in particular brought a smile to my face, Lily.

Her effortless beauty always seemed to catch me off guard. Still being new to each other, I was seeing Lily in a new way each time. Today was the first time I'd seen her with her hair tied up, her perfect facial features on full display. She had a simple outfit on but the sliver of stomach on show between her jeans and shirt did something to me. I wanted to run across the court and hold her in my arms, feel her skin on mine, tell her how pretty she looked. Her smile shone from meters away and I could just about make out her sweet laugh over all the commotion going on.

I was so focused on Lily, I didn't notice the aggravatingly good looking guy stood beside her, until his hand came into contact with her arm.

Who was he and why was he touching her?

I watched intently as he pointed over to the stands where some of the media people had already began setting up. In all fairness, it looked like he was just explaining something to her but either way, he didn't need to make physical contact.

"You got some competition, P?" Jana joke nudging my side, obviously seeing the same thing as me.

I scoff, "That kids got nothing on me." I say and bounce the ball again few times before shooting another perfect three.

I glance back in Lilys direction to find her already looking in mine a small smile on her face, she raises her eyebrows and nods slightly as if to say "not bad", I give a quick bow in response and go to retrieve the ball.

We shoot around a little more before we all disperse to the different media outlets waiting to ask us questions.

My eyes fall to Lily more than I'd like to admit and I had to ask for a few questions to be repeated due to my lack of concentration. Lily never reciprocated any of my stolen looks because she was so engrossed in her job; jotting down notes, recording interviews and laughing along with the girls.

After what felt like an eternity, I was finally stood with Lily and Mr Shaggy Hair.

"Hi Paige, Marcus with UConn newsletter and this is-" Marcus introduced himself and tried introducing Lily.

"I know Lily." I say making eye contact with the brunette girl to the right of me.

"Hi Paige." She says softly, phone in hand already pointed in my direction.

"Paige, this was your first summer without injury, what did you do that you haven't been able to in previous years?" Marcus asks, pen poised to take an necessary notes.

I answered all of Marcus' questions before I had to move on, "Thank you, Paige. Nice speaking to you." He smiled genuinely. "Thank you, you too." I smiled back trying my best to also be genuine but probably failing.

I intentionally brushed my body against Lilys as I passed her, using my hands to manoeuvre around her small frame.

We wrapped media and hour or so later and the team and I were free to go but I lingered, shooting random shots while Lily and Marcus had a discussion before they packed up their things.

Marcus left but not before hugging Lily goodbye, I rolled my eyes watching the interaction before making my way over to her.

"My favourite journalist." I say draping my arm over her shoulder and pulling her close.

She laughed, "I wouldn't say journalist, I'm just helping out."

"Ok, my favourite helper-outer then." I tease and we both watch as the final few people exit the court, leaving us alone.

Lilys arm swiftly navigates itself around my waist and she steps in front of me, her other arm looping around my torso also so she was hugging me. Both my arms wrapped around her shoulders and we just held each other for a few seconds.

"So...Marcus?" I drag out looking down at the girl in my arms. I feel her body shake with a little giggle, "Handsome guy, right?" She says pulling away and looking up at me. A scowl forms on my face, "Not really." I say matter of factly crossing my arms.

"Oh, is this jealous Paige?" She asks jutting out her hip and placing her hand on the other. I turn away from her, "No..."

"Oh, I think it is." She says walking around and standing in front of me, extremely close, our toes are touching and her body heat is radiating onto me. She brings her hand to my face and directs me to look at her, "I am one hundred percent gay, Paige." Lily reassures her eyes looking directly into mine.

When we first met, Lily would never hold eye contact with me, as much as I tried but now she was and I could see every single fleck in her eyes. The light brown points making them sparkle under the bright lights.

"And I am one hundred percent regretting agreeing to keep this a secret." I say truthfully now bringing my hand to her face, stroking her cheek gently.

"But just us knowing is so..hot." She says soft and breathy. "The secret glances and touches." She continues, her hand smoothing down my chest to my stomach.

Her eyes linger on my lips and I run my tongue along them.

"Don't do that."

"What?" I ask innocently but a smirk creeps onto my face.

"Don't lick your lips while we're this close."

"Why not?"

She doesn't answer and we stand in silence, tension rising between us as the seconds go on. I move my free hand to her waist and pull her closer, if that was even possible and my hand on her face moves to her neck. I lean down and Lily leans up and after what feels like decades of waiting our lips reach each others and we kiss.

It's needy but delicate and everything and more that I'd imagined it to be. Getting a taste of Lily made me realise I'll never get enough. Her hands are all over me. My stomach, my back, my hips. She kisses me harder with an urgency I never knew I needed.

When we finally pull away from each other, both our chests are rising and falling at a quickened pace. Lilys lips are blushed and plump and they break into a soft, swollen smile.

"Let's get out of here," She says grabbing my hand, "and hope no one was watching the cameras." I'm still speechless as I follow her out of the basketball court, our hands linked together.

I drive me and Lily around Storrs for the best part of a few hours. Lily has her phone connected to my car and is playing her favourite songs.

Her playlists were filled with Lana Del Rey and I think it suited her perfectly. Lily was the embodiment of a Lana Del Rey song, the softness and vulnerability of Lanas vocals complemented the girl next to me without fault.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

I'd barely left the confines of my bedroom in the past two days. I only got up from my bed to pee and grab bottles of water which were now scattered around my room, empty.

Kelsey, Hannah and Madison had periodically been coming in to check on me and bring me whatever food they had ordered in or cooked that day. I'm guessing at some point during all of this, Kelsey had somewhat explained to our other roommates what she had discovered about me, because no one asked questions and that's how I liked it.

I didn't have the mental capacity to explain the way I was feeling or why I was feeling it when I couldn't even understand it myself.

After having the panic attack on Wednesday, everything inside of me felt...off. After throwing myself into my first day at work, I spent the afternoon with Paige and it gave my mind respite from itself. But once I was home and alone with my thoughts, they took over and refused to be tamed.

I went through Thursday in an altered state, so distracted by everything in my head, I felt like I was watching myself from a third persons perspective. The day didn't seem real.

One thing that was clear though was my time spent with Paige. She met me after my final class of the day and we just sat and spoke and enjoyed each others company. Things felt lighter with Paige, easier to handle but I was not Paiges responsibility and I was not about to become a burden to her either.

Kissing Paige on Thursday night was bittersweet because I knew I wouldn't be seeing for a few days at least. I could feel myself slipping into a deep depressive episode and along with that came a whole lot of self isolation.

I isolate myself when I get like this to save the people around me. I'm a ticking time bomb when my thoughts darken and I wanted to minimise the casualties. I was the only casualty allowed.

I cried when Paige dropped me home. I cried for me and this inevitable dark cloud that appears whenever it feels like it. I cried for her because she had no idea what was going on. I cried for us because things were going well and I was about to ruin it.

I skipped classes on Friday and slept most of Saturday. Sleeping when I feel like this is the only time I have that allows the feeling to pause.

It was Sunday now and my roommates had invited me to go to brunch with them, of course I declined. I think they knew deep down what my answer was going to be but they asked anyway.

Kelsey hugged me tight before they left, telling me to call her if I needed to, I just hummed in response and watched the girls with sympathetic smiles on their faces leave.

Getting up from my place in bed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My hair was bundled in a bun on top of my head, undoubtedly tangled to hell. I had an oversized t-shirt on that I had previously cut to be off-the-shoulder. I looked a mess but I didn't have the energy or care enough to do anything about it.

The healed marks on my arm teased me to feel that of so familiar, temporary relief of physical pain. It was a mental battle that I had won up until today.

Paige

I knocked on Kaylas apartment door after hours, days actually, of deliberation.

"Oh hey, Paige." Kayla says smiling, opening her door for me to step in.

"Hi Kayla." I gave her a small smile in return that makes it obvious that somethings wrong. I've never been good at hidding my feelings.

"What's wrong?" She asks, perching on the edge of her couch.

I sit down too, unsure how to approach the subject without making overly obvious that something was going on between me and Lily.

"Have you spoken to Lily at all?" I ask, not really caring what Kayla thought, worry taking precedent.

She shakes her head, "No, I haven't. Not since Wednesday." She tells me. "Why?"

"I just haven't heard from her in a few days. I've tried messaging but had nothing in response." I explain.

It looks as though something clicks in Kaylas head when I say this but she doesn't speak up.

"What?" I push for her to say what she's thinking.

"Something happened on Wednesday. I promised Lily I wouldn't say anything though."

"What happened Kayla?" I ask, my heart rate increasing at the thought of something bad happening to Lily.

"I really can't say Paige. She asked me not to."

Ouch.

"She asked you not to tell me?"

"Not you specifically, anyone." Kayla says.

"I'm worried." I admit.

"Have you been to her apartment?"

I nod, "I walked past today and yesterday. I rang the buzzer but there was no answer."

"I could try calling her." Kayla suggests pulling out her phone.

"Please." I urge and watch as she presses call on Lilys contact.

The phone rings and rings and eventually goes to voicemail.

"I'm going to her apartment and if I have to break in, I will." Is all I say before leaving Kaylas apartment.

My mind reels with scenarios that could have happened to make Lily go completely MIA as I make the short trip to her building.

As I pull up, someone is leaving the apartment block and I jog from my car to catch the entrance door before it closes and I have no way of getting in.

I take the stairs two at a time to reach Lilys floor and I knock on the door.

Nothing.

I knock again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Clearly her roommates were not home because they would have answered.

I knock again.

"Lily," I call out her name desperate for a response, "It's Paige."

I wait a while before knocking for the fourth time when I hear the latch of the door click and it slowly creaks open revealing Lily. She looks different, tired, like exhausted and...sad.

"Oh my god, Lily." I exclaim basically forcing myself through the door. "Are you OK?" I ask, my arms instinctively wrapping around her.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice is quiet and shaky and it takes me aback, she usually sounds so upbeat and cheerful.

"Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for days. I went to Kaylas, she said something happened on Wednesday. What happened on Wednesday?" My words are rushed and messy.

"She had no right to tell you that. I asked her not to." Lily says, now out of my arms, she crosses hers over herself.

"I was worried. What happened Lils? Talk to me."

She just looks at me with heavy eyes and takes staggered steps towards the couch before sitting down.

"Is it me? Have I done something?"

"It's not yo-"

"Just tell me if I have. I'll fix it. I really like you Lily." I cut her off before she can finish her sentence.

"Paige." She says getting my attention, "It's not you. Please will you sit down."

"Was it Marcus? I'll kill him if he's done anything to you." I say now thinking of the worst possible things.

"Paige!" Lily says louder this time, "Just sit down." She flings out her arm that was across her chest motioning for me to sit next to her and as she does I notice array of white lines. Healed scars bestrewn across her wrist and inner arm.

She looks from me to her extended arm and quickly pulls it back to her chest before getting up and walking, fast to her room.

I follow after her in silence, unsure what to say in the moment.

When I reach her bedroom, shes pulling a sweater on over her baggy t-shirt.

"Lily.." I begin but I don't really know what to say next.

"You don't have to say anything Paige." She says, sensing my hesitation.

"I want to say something. I just don't know how." I tell her truthfully.

"Just say what you're thinking."

"What happened?"

"When - on Wednesday or what happened to cause my scars?" She asks sitting on her bed, crossing her legs.

"Both." I breathe out going and sitting next to her.

Lily inhales deeply, "I'll tell you, but I want you to know that's its OK if you want to leave after. I'll understand."

"I have nowhere to be today."

"No. I mean like really leave. Leave this," She motioned between us. "before it becomes something."

"Lily, why would I want to leave?" I ask genuinely. Theres nothing that she could say to me right now that would make me want to walk away.

"Because Paige, I'm a burden and being around me when I'm like this quickly becomes exhausting." She says, her head bowed down looking into her lap.

"Don't say that!" My voice comes out louder than I wanted and Lily looks up at me taken aback. "Sorry," I mummble. "but please don't say that. Being around you is not exhausting, I've never felt more alive than when I'm with you, Lily." I shuffle my body over to her, closing the gap between us on her bed.

We're side by side with our backs against the headboard, my legs extended in front of me and Lily's crossed in front of her. I place my hand delicately on her thigh to let her know I'm here whenever she's ready talk.

It takes her a while and we sit comfortably in silence, my hand on her leg and eventually her head on my shoulder, before she speaks.

Lily tells me everything. From her depression diagnosis at thirteen to her somewhat recent breakup and being outted and how that ultimately resulted in her attempting to take her own life. She explained the scars on her arm were self inflicted and she said it was hard to explain but she would rather feel something physically than mentally so thats why she did it.

As much as it was hard for her to explain, it was equally hard for me to understand. I didn't want to think of Lily hurt and understand it.

She had a panic attack on Wednesday that started this most recent episode. She said they come every so often without warning, she's on medication that helps her get through most days but she still has moments that she can't control.

I stayed mostly silent while Lily bravely shared such a vulnerable part of her. She cried at points and I wiped her tears but I didn't ask any questions, I just wanted to listen.

"Do you think I'm crazy." She sniffles, lifting her head from my shoulder to look at me.

I shake me head, "No baby. I don't think you're crazy. I think you've been through a lot in your life. A lot of shit that you didn't deserve. But what matters is, you're here. You're here trying, despite it all and I'm proud of you." I tell the doe eyed girl infront of me.

I place a hand on each of her cheeks and hold her face, wiping strays tears as they fall. I plant a kiss to her forehead, then one on the tip of her nose and I hover my lips over hers unsure if now is the time but Lily's the one to close the space, pressing her mouth to mine.

I kiss her gently at first as if scared to break her but Lily pushes deeper into the kiss, harder. Without breaking us apart, she manoeuvres herself on top of me, straddling my thighs. My hands find her hips like they were made for them and I hold on to her desperately as we continue to kiss.

"I don't want this to change the way you see me." Lily says breathlessly as we break away from each other.

"I knew you before I knew this and that's the Lily I see. The one who buys coffee for her friends when they're hungover, the one who smiles at everyone, the one who works hard. That's the Lily I know." I say to her as she stays sat in my lap, my hands caressing their way up her back.

"If it gets too much...if I get too much, I'll understand." Lily says playing with the strings of my hoodie.

"Can you stop saying stuff like that?" I take her hands in mine, "I want to be here. With you. Right now. Do you understand that? I'm choosing to be here Lily."

She nods a small nod letting me know she heard what I was saying.

Lily flips her leg off of me so shes back at my side. I shuffle down the bed slightly and pull her into me, my arm around her shoulders and head on my chest.

"One thing Lily," I say and she hums in response. "if you ever, ever get the urge to hurt yourself again, please come to me first. You're not alone anymore, I promise you."

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

This week was going considerably better than last week, thank god.

Paige had spent most of Sunday laid next to me in my bed, even when my roommates returned from their brunch plans, she didn't move. I was falling in and out of sleep for the majority of the day, my emotions had exhausted me and with my head on Paiges chest and my body encapsulated by her arms, I felt a sense of peace that I hadn't for a long time.

Paige reluctantly left my apartment that night after making me promise to never isolate myself from her again. She made it abundantly clear that I can always be open and honest with her and she'd never judge me. I made the promise, but I knew it would be hard to keep.

Wednesday had rolled around again and I had a completely free day. No classes, no homework and I wasn't due in work at all this week. From speaking to Marcus, it sounded like things got busier once the sports season really starts, which isn't until next week.

"Delivery for Miss Kent." Madison says in faux accent knocking on my bedroom door, coffee in hand.

"Ugh, I love you!" I say standing up from my place in bed and taking the iced drink from my roommate. I took a sip straight away and immediately felt like I could take on the day.

"What are your plans for today?" I ask Madison as we walk together from my room to the living room, each taking a seat on the couch.

"I have to get in the library today, how am I already behind? Actually, more importantly, who sets assignments on the first week?" She dramatically asks, eyes wide.

"Oh that's rough. My professors went easy on us." I say silently thanking the college gods.

"So what are your plans for today then?"

"I'm not really sure, I might take a walk around campus and maybe meet Kelsey when she breaks for lunch." I tell Madison my unofficial plans.

I wasn't sure what I'd spend my day doing but I knew I needed to do something, giving my mind downtime was dangerous. I didn't need to sit and think about everything, ever.

"Not seeing Paige?" Madison asks curiously and my head shoots in her direction but I try and play off my surprise.

"Um, no, why would I see Paige?" I lie.

I would love to see Paige today. I hadn't seen her properly since Sunday. I saw her on Monday when I'd popped into the office to meet with Marcus and we'd sneakily made out in an empty bathroom. And we'd briefly bumped into each other yesterday but she was with KK and I was with Kelsey so we kept it short. Maybe I'll message her and see if she's free.

"Oh I don't know, she only spent the whole day here on Sunday. In your room...with the door closed."

My cheeks flushed at the insinuation Madison was hinting at even though nothing like that happened between us. The most Paige I did was was kiss and OK, maybe I was in her lap and maybe I did get flustered and maybe I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her hands on my bare skin and her mouth on mine...

I'm texting Paige.

"We're just friends." I say matter-of-factly, standing up to go and find my phone.

"Uh huh," Madison pretended to agree, "sure you are."

Paige had finally asked for my number after days of using Instagram DMs as our only form of contact.

She had tried to save her contact as Buckets with a serious of drooling emojis but I overruled and we decided on Paige with a star emoji.

good morning p <3

good morning pretty girl

what are u doing today?

wanna hang?

miss me?

duh

ive got practice now but meet me after?

at like 11

i miss you too

ok see u soon 💋

I decided to take my time getting myself ready before meeting Paige. I took a hot shower and washed my hair using all my favourite products.

My phone was propped up on my vanity as i straightened my hair, Emma, my best friend from home, took up the entire screen as we were on FaceTime.

I caught Emma up on my first week at UConn, my account was explicit, there was nothing I couldn't say to my best friend. She begged for pictures of Paige but I didn't have any to send, "I'll take one today." I tell her as I begin applying my makeup.

I keep it natural with a skin tint, brow gel, mascara and of course lip liner, my one true love.

I bid farewell to Emma before hanging up, telling her I miss her dearly and she agrees that she has to come and visit me soon.

With my phone still in my hand, I decided to snap a picture and send it to Paige letting her know I'm ready.

I didn't expect one of Paiges usual quick responses considering she was at practice so I did the final touches to get myself ready before leaving.

Madison had called out a goodbye while I was on FaceTime so I left the empty apartment, locking the door behind me.

The walk to the training facilities wasn't far and took me less than fifteen minutes to reach. Even though I wasn't working today, I had my Staff ID badge around my neck to make it looked like I belonged there.

Walking into the building, I assumed I had arrived just after training had finished. The usual squeak of basketball shoes and balls was nowhere to be found. I made my way to the court peeking through the glass in the door seeing who was around.

My eyes landed on a lonely Paige, dribbling the ball before taking a shot. I couldn't see the basket but could only assume that UConns star girl had made it effortlessly.

I swung the door open and walked in, immediately grabbing Paiges attention. Her previous, serious expression softened as she looked at me, smiling now. We both took rushed steps across the court towards each other until we were face to face.

"Hello, pretty girl." Paige complemented wrapping me in a rather sweaty hug, I fake grimaced, "You're gross." I say trying to wriggle free but Paige is not only taller than me but stronger than me too, I was trapped. "You love my hugs." She protested still not letting me go, "Admit you love my hugs."

I did love Paiges hugs. They were so warm and comforting and I felt like nothing or no one could hurt me while I was bundled up in Paiges arms.

My lack of reply only makes the blonde girl hold me tighter, lifting me slightly off the ground, I let out a squeal, "Paige! Put me down!"

"Admit you love my sweaty hugs." She brings her mouth close to my ear to say that and the hairs rise on the back of my neck at the heat of her breath.

"I love your sweaty hugs." I admit in defeat as she lowers me down, my feet touching the floor once again.

"Thank you." She chirps pressing a quick kiss to my forehead.

"Where is everyone?" I ask looking around the empty room.

"In the locker room cleaning up." She nods her head over to a set of doors which I'm guessing leads to the locker rooms.

"Didn't feel like showering today?" I joke.

"Wanted to shoot around a little more, practice wasn't the best." She explains picking up the ball from where it had rolled to once she dropped it to hug me.

"I doubt that, Buckets." I smirk at Paige as she proves me right by sinking the cleanest three. She smirks back, "You want a go?"

I shake me head immediately, "No. No way." I say backing away from the basketball player.

She laughs and it echos around the court, "Come here, I'll help you." She insists beckoning me over.

"No Paige, I'll be terrible, I know I will." I remain adamant.

"You haven't even tried, have some faith in yourself. Now come here." The second half of her sentence is sterner than the first and the assertion of dominance catches me off guard.

"Yes ma'am." I mummble and walk back to Paige with slightly red cheeks.

"OK, stand here." Paige positions me on the free throw line, using her foot to push mine apart and using her hands to bend my arms in the way she wants. "Here." She hands the ball to me and I take if from her and she immediately giggles.

"What?" I huff, I knew I'd be terrible at this.

"You're so delicate with it." She smiles repositioning my hands on the ball, "Spread your fingers out more." I do as she says and she takes a step back as if admiring her work.

"OK, now shoot." She instructs and I do and it's terrible.

I throw the ball with all my strength and it flies out of my hands and smacks the backboard, missing the basket completely, before rebounding off and almost taking me out in the process. It acted more like a boomerang than a basketball.

Paige was quick to intercept the ball hurling towards me and caught it with one hand before tucking it under her arm.

She was trying her best to hold in a laugh as I just scowled at her and began to walk off.

"Hey, hey, hey." She called grabbing my arm before I could pass her, "That was a...good first attempt." She says leading me back to the same free throw line I'd just embarrassed myself on.

"Good? That's the exaggeration of the century!"

"One more go, I'll help." She hands me the ball again and I reluctantly take it, remembering to spread my fingers like last time.

Instead of standing back and watching, Paige steps behind me this time, her frame enveloping mine. We're so close I can feel her front pressed against my back, her hands cover mine over the ball and I wonder what we look like from an outside perspective.

Paige draws the ball back, my body moving in accordance with hers, before launching it forward and I watch in awe as the ball spins in the air before falling through the basket in a faultless swish.

"There you go baby!" Paige praises, her arms coming together around me, "That would've got you 1 point!" She says unwrapping herself from me, raising her hand for a high five.

I smack my hand to hers, even though that was entirely Paige, I was taking it as my bucket.

"And how many have you got?" I ask referring to points.

"Maybe like five thousand, career wide." She brags but I like it, Paiges confidence in her abilities is one of the most attractive things about her.

"I'm catching up." I tease picking up the ball once more and taking an unserious shot at the basket and to my surprise, I watch as it circles the rim before slipping through.

I snap my head towards Paige in shock, my mouth hung open, her expression mirroring mine.

"Sinking threes? OK Kent!" A familiar voice called out, it was Aubrey coming out of the locker room, a few of the girls following behind her.

"I try." I boast playfully, knowing it was a total fluke.

"Are y'all coming to grab lunch with us?" Ice called out, also emerging from the locker room.

I looked to Paige for her to answer, the girls were Paiges friends and I didn't want to ever feel like I was impending on their hang outs or make it too obvious that we had something going on.

"We actually have plans." Paige says and I raise my brows, did we?

"Cool! Catch you later." The team waved us goodbye as they all filtered off and out of the basketball court.

"What's these plans that we have then?" I ask Pagie once we're alone again.

"Oh, you know. Our usual."

Paige and I hadn't spent much time together in the few weeks we'd been acquainted and any time we were alone, the majority of it was spent with my mouth on hers and vice versa so I didn't know what our usual was.

I look quizzically at Paige, "Which is?"

"Well it requires a lot less distance between us," Say says returning the ball to its rack and walking over to me, "and hardly any talking." She finishes as she reaches me and dips her head slightly to kiss my lips.

I'm smiling as she pulls away, "Sounds like great plans."

"Give me ten minutes to shower and we can go back mine, seeing as the girls are out we'll have the place to ourselves." She tells me before jogging into the locker room.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wcbb #wlw #lgbtq #fanfic #paige bueckers fanfiction #lovegalor333 #fresh start

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lifeiskentastic · 1 year ago

Text

young!Noah wakes the gn!Reader

Gif by @richijerimovich

A/N: I'm sick and currently on sick leave, which can only mean one thing: a Ryan's movie rewatch marathon (and more fics)!

Summary: Your neighbor Noah wakes you up every morning. And this morning seems to be no exception.

Word count: 559 words;

I'm also accepting reqs rn!

Mornings in your town started differently for everyone. Some people got up with the first birdsong of their own free will, others were forced to do so, and still others were greeted by a real earthquake with every sunrise. Or a hurricane trapped in a human body.

'Get up!' your ear has been mercilessly terrorized since the morning. 'Do you really want me to do this?'

You tried to jump up and prevent the inevitable, but it was too late... Noah jumped into your bed in one jerk. Which, in fact, was a single bed.

'Noah...' You stirred sleepily as your neighbor began to jump on the mattress very diligently. So much so that you could only dream about sleep.

'It's not my fault!' He leaned over you and laughed right into your ear. Still rocking the bed.

'Uh-oh... Just a minute more...'

Your brain was working in the morning... In fact, in the morning it refused to function at all, and your whole being had only one single goal at this time of day - to sleep a little more. However, Noah was absolutely not satisfied with this arrangement. How could you exchange your joint plans to go to the lake for some insignificant nap?

'Don't make me...'

A moment after these words, and Noah purposefully fell on you. Literally. You sank under his weight, tangled in a pile of blankets.

'What, you want to get up now?' He said sarcastically, kept grinning from ear to ear, even as he slid his arms under you, hugging you tightly. Although, in fact, it was all just a cleverly planned trap. 'You had to think before!'

After a few more (completely futile) attempts to get out from under Noah, you had to surrender to the victor. But with a sincere smile. After all, no matter how annoyed, angry, tired, and all at the same time, you couldn't help but smile when you looked at Noah's cheerful face. So close to your own.

His warm breath tickled your ear, his arms were still frozen under your back, holding you in place, and his legs somehow managed to intertwine with yours. And you could not do anything about it. You didn't even want to.

You closed your eyes in the hope that you could get a few more seconds of peaceful rest while Noah seemed to have dropped his guard. But, of course, that was too much of a luxury.

'Ha!' Noah reacted the moment your eyelids closed. He shook his hands, causing the entire bed to jump, and loomed over you with a wide, smug smile. All you could do was sigh in disappointment. 'Thought you could get away with it, huh?'

And then he began his favorite part of the morning. Noah put his head in the crook of your shoulder and began to wiggle his nose, tickling you terribly! You couldn't stop laughing, completely forgetting even about the possibility of sleep. Especially when his grown strands of hair fell on your neck, unbearably tickling.

After a while, you finally got up, with tears of laughter in your eyes and a smile on your face. Later on, Noah would have a whole lecture about respecting private space and understanding the concept of a sleep schedule, but for now, he could enjoy your cheerful appearance and laugh together. Just like every morning.

#ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling fanfiction #gn reader #noah calhoun #noah calhoun x reader #x reader fluff #notebook movie #notebook 2004 #notebook

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raven--stag · 9 months ago

Text

Sooo... Um. "Fool for love" huh.

I wish my brain was functioning properly right now so I could write a fucking doctoral thesis about how absolutely BRILLIANT this episode is. However, it left me curled up on the floor shaking and crying, unable to put words together in a sentence that would make sense to anyone but me. So, yeah. What a fucking episode!?

As a side note, the fact that btvs writers clearly could write something of such quality but didn't /couldn't makes me really fucking sad. Because nothing in this show prior to this episode made me so feral and I feel like they missed out on a lot of opportunities to make their show this special.

A bit of incoherent thoughts because I just need to put it somewhere: something about Spike saying "I've always been bad" and them cutting to him being nice and kind and polite and gentle. Something about them telling us that demons are just shells of humans with no emotions or anything underneath. And then showing us bits and pieces of human Spike that he somehow got to keep? (like that parallel between vamp Spike saying "ow ow ow" as Buffy beats him up and human Spike saying the same thing as Dru draines him). Don't get me wrong he's a fucking asshole but he's capable of decency (if not kindness) and he's still as cringe as he was before he grew out a shiny pair of fangs. And him KNEELING BEFORE BUFFY as he tells her the secret of her mortality (crappy screenshot attached because I can't get it out of my head)

And him being unable to kill her and being the only person that kept her company in THAT moment.

There's more things but my brain is all mushy and I literally can't think straight.

#babe wake up a new favourite episode of all time just dropped #i feel insane #this makes no sense #but i needed to put it somewhere #what an episode #spike #spike btvs #buffy summers #spuffy #5x07 #fool for love #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #watching for the first time #cringe but just wanna put it out there: english is my second language #so if something doesn’t make sense that's why

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Note

Do you write nsfw fics? If so could you write a Price x Reader based off the song “Guys My Age” by Hey Violet please and thank you :)

Lustful Gold and a Crimson-Stained Tongue

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be simple -- an intel Op. in some Russian Arms Dealer's mansion. Hell, you were actually looking forward to it, especially with the way John was undressing you with his eyes. You hoped that the red silk dress you had gotten made it through the night. (18+)

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Attempted SA, NSFW, Porn with Plot, smut, angst, fluff, praise kink, blood kink (?) (Not really but Idk), saliva, lots of fluids, P in V, dry humping, age gap

A/N: This is literally a virgin writing smut for the first time so it's legally obligated to be cringe -- but thank you for giving me the opportunity (I've crossed a line that I can't go back over). I took a bit of creative liberty with the request, so it's slightly different than what you might expect. Anyways, enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“Tilt your head to the side for me, Love,” John mutters, eyebrows turned in as he holds a black earpiece in his fingers before placing the device into where you would need it delicately; making sure it wouldn’t fall out, “There we are.”

“John,” You scoff softly, “You’re holding me like I’m going to be crucified and not just going to a dinner party to get intel.”

“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t worry about my girl?” He raises a brow, taking a step back from where he had you tight up against his chest, “A piss poor one, I’d say.”

You stifle a laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides as your cheeks heat with love and gratitude. It felt good to be suffocated by his careful nature – even if that didn’t really sound appealing. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Now,” John crosses his arms, nodding his head as the black beanie on his head lightly tilts at the action, “Let me see you, Sweetheart.”

“What, do you want me to do a spin too, you pervert?” You were dressed to the nines, gold gleaming around your neck and wrists, elaborate braids twisting part of your hair to rest in a bun while the rest falls to shroud the black device that lies dormant in your right ear. It’ll come to life shortly – when you finally make your way to the mission sight; the location was some rich asshole’s mansion.

No doubt the party you were going to was nothing more than an excuse to boost the target’s ego with grand displays of money and sultry attendants. It sounded positively enticing, you thought – though, John was making it quite difficult to want to leave with how he was undressing you with his eyes.

Around your body, a tight-fitting red silk dress hugged you just right, accenting everything good about you and showing off enough to entice anyone with a functioning brain. Fuck, the way it wrapped your hips made even you drool; the dripping neckline was perfectly eye-catching as well. John had told you that you looked like a goddess before you had even put it on, but he seemed to want to say more when he watched you slip into it smoothly, the practiced fluidity in your bones helping you move sensually.

The man had been laying naked on the hotel bed with nothing more than a thin bed sheet wrapped around his sculpted pelvis, the rest of the fabric hanging off the side and pooling on the floor. A cigar had been held loosely in his lips, and when you turned to ask his opinion, he nearly dropped it with the way his mouth had opened.

Your ego had taken a steep incline as the Captain’s pupils had dilated, turning that shade of storm blue as dark as the shadows outside the window. Unconsciously, you had rubbed your thighs together to stop the pooling heat that beings to form as his lower half jerked instinctually from the bed. You weren’t even sure he noticed his physical reaction.

“Fuck,” John mutters in front of you, bringing you back to the present. He lets his eyes trail slowly, “Doll, I’d bloody pay you to do anything you want to me.” A smirk filters from your lips.

“You really like the dress, don’t you, hm?”

He doesn’t hesitate, “Yeah, lie of the century, that is,” You raise a brow, confusion leaking into your beating pulse as he saunters closer with a sway in his alluring hips. The packs and objects on his black combat vest press into your upper stomach as he leans into you, carefully shoving you back into the body-length mirror attached to the wall. John leans close, his breath fanning over the hot skin of your exposed neck; the rouge of your painted lips open as your lungs tighten with expectation. You want desperately to shove him back into bed and rip his damn gear off. Or maybe just let him fuck you with it on, really…you lusted over that shit, “I bloody fucken’ love it.”

His lips find your pulse point, moving the gold necklace farther up your skin with his nose, causing your head to slam back into the mirror with a muffled thump. John chuckles as you eagerly open your neck to him more, glancing at your face from the side. Your heart was beating like a lion’s, being able to be seen through the thin silk.

“Eager, are we? I thought I had tired you out not an hour ago?”

You had, You had wanted to say, but only a needy whimper falls from your lips as his teeth graze your skin. The ache from your prior activities was set deep into your thighs and lower body, making a promise to cause hell when you have to walk in heels soon.

But, God, did you love it.

Your hand weaves its way under John’s black athletic shirt, finding the tight available skin and digging your red acrylic nails over it. You force the man forward, his deep-chested grunt leading to a full-body shiver not a second later. Something hard and solid presses into your abdomen and you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, panting as a trail of saliva follows John as he pulls back from your neck to watch you.

“Who’s eager now, Captain?” John’s hands snap to your thighs, smirking as he’s dragging one to his waist. You lick your lips as he presses deeply into you with his clothed erection, making the heat in your core burst into a raging fire at the stiffness, a slick feeling coating your panties. Your thigh comes to rest on his waistline, and he holds it there with an iron hand.

“John,” You whimper as he begins to move you, lightly rocking back and forth as your hips jerk to meet his.

“Fuck,” He groans, pressing his forehead to your own as he grips your waist tight with his free hand. The man pulls your thigh into him with every thrust, fingers digging so hard the skin is already indented, “If only you could see yourself, Love,” A low whimper enters the air, muffled when John connects his lips with yours with heavy open-mouth kisses as his beard rubs over your flesh. The both of you move in sync, using the other to get off as quickly and as cleanly as possible in the limited time. The zipper of his pants connects with your bundle of nerves, making you moan and writhe against him like a bitch in heat. John pulls back to grunt into your mouth as his hips press you farther into the mirror with a particularly hard thrust once more, making sure to hit that spot again. Always so attentive. Your back arches as you keen breathily, hands roaming his abdomen and digging into the muscle there to ground yourself as you rut. The slick in your panties drips down your free leg in a disgustingly pleasurable tear, “Fucken’ perfect in that dress.”

That’s when there’s a knock on the door.

Snapping out of your hazes, you both whip back to stare at each other with wide eyes before your heads turn to the door. The fire stills, pauses, unsure if you both should continue. You want to. Your breasts are pressed tightly to John’s chest, and every breath makes you want the Captain to grip them in his hands and squeeze.

“...You two had better be decent!” Gaz’s voice wafts in from under the crack, making both of your eyes widen comedically, “The rest of us had to plug earbuds in to drown out the sounds from an hour ago. Honestly…the pair of you can’t go a few bloody minutes without fucking?”

Your face heats, twin scorching suns taking home over your cheeks. Immediately, all thoughts of lust are shut off like being doused with a bucket of cold water.

Still leaning into you, John groans, leading his body to vibrate perfectly. You stifle a needy whine as your hips rock once more, slick beginning to uncomfortably drip to the side of your knee. You would have to change your underwear before you left. And redo your makeup.

“Fuck off, Sergeant, before I come out there.”

“I’d rather you don’t come anywhere, Sir.” Slapping a hand over your mouth you try to stifle the loud bark of laughter that finds the air, the shadow under the door slinks off with a finishing call of, “Laswell said five minutes before we leave, yeah?!”

Your chest vibrates with humor, head lightly meeting John’s chest as he lowers your thigh and lets you place your foot on the ground. Laughing, you feel the man’s arms wrap around your body pulling you to gently sway back and forth.

“Damn the boy,” Price mutters into your head, “Should put him on desk duty for a month for that.”

“Oh, come on,” You respond, pulling back to look at him with a smile as your eyes light, “That was funny.”

“Hm,” he rests his bearded chin on your forehead, the small bristles getting caught in some of your baby hairs as he lays a gentle kiss on your skin.

You both stay like that for a minute or two, content as you listen to the heavy beating of each other’s hearts and the slight pants of air falling from your lips. The lustful heat was dead, and in its place duty grew.

It was time to get to work.

—

“Price?” You tilt your head to the side, slipping the gold and diamond earrings on as you whisper into the earpiece, “What are the chances that I can steal some of the appetizers and stuff them into my handbag?”

“I’d say less than probable, Love.” Layered behind John’s amused voice, Laswell pipes up, the sound of shifting bodies letting you know that many people were waiting on you to exit the Limo. You had no idea how they could see you but were put at ease that they were able to.

“You’ll have plenty of time to eat later, Bravo 1-6, no need to worry. Let’s just focus on the mission for now.” You pouted as Kate spoke, newly applied lipstick pulling at your skin as you moved your hands away from your ears and fixed your strands of hair. Under you, the leather seats of the vehicle are insanely comfortable.

“You guys are no fun.” Sighing, your hands stop their fiddling, falling to your lap as you huff, “If the silverware is gold plaited you bet your ass I’m shoving it down my bra – and I don’t care how much you complain, I’m taking it.”

Just as you stop plotting your mini heist, the car door to your right opens with a pop, snapping your thoughts back to the task at hand.

A tall Doorman your age is on the outside, dressed in a handsome black suit and red bowtie as the chilled night air seeps into the car. He holds out a hand to you, and after a second of hesitation, you plaster an innocent smile on your face; eyelids fluttering prettily. It was shocking how fast you could change your outward attitude.

“Oh,” You purr, head tilting, “Such a gentleman. Thank you, Sweetheart.” Placing your hand in his, your jewelry jangles as the Doorman helps you out of the car, carefully gripping your hand in his own gloved one.

“Erm…I-Invitation, Ma’am.” He mutters, face amusingly red as he stares at you; unable to make eye contact for more than three seconds. He drops his hand but leaves it outstretched as you take a step away from the vehicle.

You smirk.

“Of course,” Flicking your tiny handbag open with nimble fingers, your hand delves inside. The smooth surface of a stamped envelope connects with your searching digits, but your knuckles tantalizingly brush the tiny knife sewn into the lining of your bag. With a giggle, you grab the invitation and hold it out. In your grip, it’s held loosely between your pointer and middle finger. You tilt your head as he takes it.

“I’ve heard Mr. Bogdanov throws the most wonderful events – when I’d been told, I forced my father to get me an invitation to the next. Can you believe he almost denied me?” Bringing a hand to your mouth, you cover the convincing laugh that meets the chilled air politely, “Insanity! As if I could miss this!”

God, You think to yourself, this is humiliating. John and the others always get the fun jobs.

“Yes, Ma’am,” The Doorman, “Mr. Bogdanov is always happy to see new faces on his estate. Especially ones as beautiful as yours.”

Your earpiece crackles for a moment, and you swore you heard John mutter, “Muppet,” into your earlobe.

Stifling a violent snort, you shuffle your heeled feet.

“Oh,” You watch the Doorman check the invitation, flicking it open and checking the signature on the bottom with flushed cheeks as he blatantly moves to stare at your clothed breasts, “Flatterer.”

“You’re all good, Ma’am,” He clears his throat, shakily handing you back the paper, “Enjoy your night.”

Snatching the invitation, you smile his way before walking up the red-carpeted stairs ahead, hearing muttered conversations flowing out into the night. You try not to ogle at the humongous house that the Target has, multiple stories and windows larger than a damn tree coupled with white paint. The front garden alone was the size of multiple football fields.

“...This place is definitely in that ‘World's Top Ten Biggest Houses’ video online.”

Gaz’s voice chuckles through the line, making your lip quirk.

“I think I’ve seen that one before!”

“The both of you are chaos incarnate.”

“Damn right, Laswell,” You murmur, eyebrows furrowing at the radio silence from John. He was usually hyping you up by now, whispering in that husky voice to leave you flustered. It was your favorite part of these missions – his grumble in your head leaving your lungs heaving and cheeks hot.

So this attitude was very confusing, to say the least, but you can’t dwell on it. The front doors open as you walk up to them; butlers waiting outside for the guests – all excellently dressed.

Their eyes boggle out of their heads when they see you, and skurry to make sure you don’t have to wait outside any longer.

“Thank you, boys,” You sing, waving a hand as you saunter past, enjoying the attention but wishing it was from someone else.

This would have been so much more fun if John was here. He would have made jokes about everyone's outfits with me.

Your chest tightens, and you frown. Something was wrong with your Captain, you knew it. Not able to handle it any longer as your heels click over marble and the laughs and sounds of conversation get closer, you speak.

“John,” You clutch your handbag, eyes flickering back and forth, “You with me?”

“...Sorry, Bravo 1-6,” Kate’s voice is not the one you want to hear right now, “Price said he had to step out for a moment.”

“What–?!”

“Ahh, and who might this be,” Sputtering, the sudden deep Russian voice to your side makes you reel, head snapping to the side, “Such a stunning woman…unfortunately, it seems I don’t know your name, лисичка.”

“A-Allegra Bayley, daughter of Braylon Bayley,” You find yourself answering with the fake name and family you had been given hours earlier, “and who might you…” Trailing off, your eyes widen slowly. Staring at the sharply dressed man two times bigger than a bear, with muscles so large the suit nearly looks like it’ll rip, you feel your hands get sweaty; you grip your handbag tighter. He’s so tall you have to tilt your head up to see his face.

You wish you hadn’t.

Not that the gargantuan stranger wasn’t handsome - in a rugged sort of criminal type of way because his nose had been obviously broken multiple times – it's that you had seen his dead eyes before: staring back at you from the confines of a manila folder Laswell had slid over to you two weeks ago. The Target.

Kazimir Bogdanov, Your heart picks up speed, pulsing like a rabbit’s behind its fur – only you had no fur. The only thing over you was a thin dress of flowing silk and gold jewelry. The tiny knife in your bag wouldn’t do much against him. Suddenly, you desperately wanted John’s thick leather jacket and beanie to cover your skin; confidence slowly leaking because of the glint in Bogdanov’s icy eyes.

No…you just wanted John; his heavy presence behind you, like a watchdog ready to strike at any threat to come near you, only held back by a thin shred of decency that develops in your presence. You wanted him to be there to back you up, but with tight shoulders, you knew he wasn’t – only open-air and the scent of expensive perfume and money encompassed you.

You were on your own.

Kazimir is a weapons dealer with ties to multiple foreign terror organizations throughout the entire world – playing every side and never coming out physically covered in blood because of business. Metaphorically speaking, the man was drowning in crimson.

The number of deaths he had caused was astronomical and rising by the day.

“Mr. Bogdanov,” A sweet smile slips to your lips, but your heart tells you to run. You had expected time to get the layout of the mansion, mingle, and get used to the environment. Hell, you still needed to figure out where the food was! You’d barely gotten through the giant fucking doors! This wasn't good.

The earpiece picks up a sharp inhale from the line, bodies shifting, and a muffled call to someone.

“It’s a pleasure. Please,” You frown, shaking your head and waving an arm, “Forgive my incompetence. The majesty of your estate…well…It’s blinded me. I’m utterly entranced.”

“You said you were Braylon Bayley’s daughter, yes?” Kazimir murmurs, fixing the red tie around his neck with ringed fingers as thick as branches, “I remember he had sons,” Narrowing his eyes, you try your best not to panic, “but he never mentioned a daughter to me.”

“Oh, You know how fathers are. The bastard kept me from everyone,” You reply lightly leaning forward and bringing two hands to the side of your lips, “Business, you know. Tricky stuff.”

“Hm,” The Russian grunts, and his biceps tense for a moment. He watches you like a piece of meat, eyes trailing up and down as he smirks. The various scars over his face twist, “Mr. Bayley has been incredibly generous this year with his erm, donations…I can’t think of a better way to repay him than to entertain his lovely лисичка for the night. Please, accompany me.”

You blink innocently and pull your lips back into a naive smile, imagining John giving you that look instead and letting heat flood your cheeks as a result.

“I’d love nothing more.”

He talks about taking you to a lounge, walking with your hand in the crook of his arm as you pass envious onlookers that burn you with their eyes and sneers. You try not to look so nervous but can’t help the way your heart pounds. The jewelry on your wrists and neck glint as if to try and comfort you; offering winks with their tiny diamond eyes.

As if it were so easy to turn off all of your emotions and be as numb as gold.

Maybe this had been a mistake.

The earpiece crackles, “Get him to talk about his latest deal,” Laswell murmurs to you, “I want details; you can’t leave until he mentions his buyer.”

“Or if you feel like you’ve been burned,” Gaz pipes in and you hear a rustle of fabric, “Your safety is the highest priority, Ma’am. Don’t jeopardize it just for the mission,” Then, jokingly, “The Captain would wring my neck.”

He’d do more than that, You want to answer, but hold your tongue, only sighing as you pass a grand table filled with amazing-looking food. Studying it longingly, Kazimir hurries you past with a comment on how ravishing you look in red – even going so far as to say it's his favorite color. It doesn’t really surprise you.

You want John to tell you you would be okay, but his voice never filters through the wavelengths, never graces your ears like an intimate murmur. Only cruel static.

It only serves to make you more anxious.

Where is my John, You wonder, but can’t dwell on the twisting feeling in your gut before you’re brought to a couch in the corner of the main room, a small group of mingling guests glancing you over before smirking and sending whispers to their dates, Why did I agree to this?

“I must say, Mr. Bogdanov,” You sit when the man holds out a hand for you, motioning you to the soft velvet cushions, “I am quite impressed with the scale of your extravagance. So many rooms so beautifully decorated and furnished. I can’t help but wonder if my father’s donations to your business may be put to use in other places.”

Grinning to show you partially thought it was a poor attempt at conversation, he takes a seat right beside you, body heat making your skin crawl. Kazimir had placed his frame closer to yours than you would have expected. Shifting yourself slightly away, your opposite arm hits the wooden armrest with a dull thud.

The guests leave the room.

When the Russian talks you feel the vibrations of his voice from where he keeps contact with you.

I want John’s leather jacket, You tell yourself this once more before you scratch at your neck. Afterward, you disguise the nervous gesture with the outward appearance that you were fixing your hair. Feeling slick sweat dribbling down your spine, you can’t help but wonder if you had just walked into a monster den without a sword.

“I assure you,” Kazimir murmurs, sliding a hand over the back of the couch and leaning his body into yours, pressing you into the armrest with his vile build, “All investments are going exactly where your father instructed, лисичка. I’m simply the middle man, you understand, yes?”

He laughs, and you swallow the bile in your throat. You attempt a small smile, though, your eyes certainly give you away, not to mention the tension in your body.

Get the job done, Your fingers shake, and you clutch them over your handbag in your lap to try and get them to stop, Get it done and leave. You’ll be fine. It’s gonna be alright.

But his hand was touching your shoulder now, slipping over the straps of the silk dress you had loved. You want to throw up.

In your ear the device jolts to life, your name uttered and nearly missed by Gaz, who begins to plead with Laswell. They undoubtedly know what’s going on. They’re not stupid to Kazimir’s ways with women.

“..Tell her to get the hell out of there! Move in or something – let me kill the bastard myself, Kate!”

“We can’t move in,” Laswell sounds concerned, “We don’t have anyone else on the inside right now – and we need to know where the weapons are being distributed from.”

“Bullshit! We’ll figure it out another time!”

You don’t need to be a genius to know the answer to that comment. There wouldn’t be a ‘next time.’ Hundreds of people could be dead in a day if you don’t find out where Bogdanov’s current stock from your ‘father’ is being sold.

“I can’t help but wonder,” You clear your throat, pushing aside your discomfort and leaning into the man’s hold, letting loose a girlish giggle as you flicker your eyelashes up at him. Just pretend, “Where is it that you’re sending your product? My father never told me and I hate being left out of the loop. He’s such a stickler for me never being involved in the family business.”

Before this moment you hadn’t realized that Kazimir Bogdanov was barely older than yourself. He wasn’t an old man at all, nor was he John’s age. The Russian was perhaps only one or two years your senior.

He looked down at you with dilated pupils, staring at your visible skin and the red off your lips. Bogdanov’s tongue flicks at the side of his mouth.

“Any why would I tell you that, Little Allegra Bayley? It is not ideal to discuss work at a party – you should drink, eat…partake in more carnal pleasures.” His finger traces your shoulder blades, creating small circles.

“Because I want you too,” You smirk, whispering the words out with a slow sigh, “Because I asked so nicely to such a handsomely dangerous man like yourself?”

“Hm,” He murmurs, caught like a rat in a trap. His file had been right.

He had a horrible idea that women couldn’t be involved in a line of work such as his – be smart enough to play his game. He underestimates the lengths you would go to bring him to his grave.

Kazimir is hanging off your skin like a man starved, gripping your flesh with his large hands. Like a blood-drowned mouse in a golden trap made of jeweled teeth and a diamond snare.

“I’m a snoop,” You soften your features, “My old man’s activities are…exciting to me. And I have a right to know, don’t I?” You flutter your eyelashes, putting on a pout.

Your heart was nearly breaking your ribcage open, the bones feeling like they were flaring out like birds wings.

“Лисичка,” Bogdanov leans in so close you could smell his musk, the breath playing off his lips, “Already prying me for information into family business. Not very innocent, are you?” He pauses, eyes lowering to your body pressed against him. He shifts his leg, watching your body move in reaction. He spills, “I believe the products were sold to a woman named Valdana Rojanić in Montenegro. Nasty stuff she plans to do – but it’s not my war, no?”

“Bravo 1-6, get the hell out of there,” Laswell barks down the line, causing you to flinch as the immediate sound of someone else shouting over the line finds your ear.

“What in the bloody hell do you mean she’s already talking to him?!”

“John…” You mutter out loud, eyes blinking as a breath of fresh air enters your lungs at the noise of rushing feet and hands sliding across a table harshly.

“What was that?” Kazimir’s eyebrows crease, face pulling back into a snarl, “Who is–”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bogdanov, but I really have to use your restroom,” Tilting your head in a display of pure regret, you stutter, “I hate to embarrass myself like this, but I have a horribly small bladder.”

You try not to cringe at the blatant lie.

Kazimir pulls back with a dark face, and you stand to shaky feet quickly, clutching your handbag in such a grip the fabric indents.

You make it about four steps before a hand latches onto your forearm, making you suck in a sharp breath as John’s perfectly gravelly voice wafts from the earpiece, oblivious to your panicked pulse and wide eyes.

“Love,” His voice seems breathless as another hand snaps over your mouth to muffle a shout of alarm, “I’m so fucken’ sorry. One word and I’ll blow cover and come get you myself, eh?” A pause and a nervous chuckle, and you can’t respond because you’re bringing an elbow up behind you, snapping it into the Russian’s spleen with a violent blow. Except his arm doesn’t let go, “…Love?” You unclasp your handbag with one hand as black dots swim in your vision. John knows you best – you’d never not respond to him on a mission like this, even if you were angry, “Love…! Shit, Laswell, she’s burned! Sergeant – you’re on me! I want that Muppet’s house on lockdown, now!

—

You sit on your hotel room floor covered in blood. Not your own, of course, but with the way you were shaking, you would think it was.

The locked door handle jiggles, and your eyes slowly travel to it – mind sluggish and still trying to process what had happened. You had killed Kazimir Bogdanov; shoved your tiny knife deep into the sinuses of his neck and felt the spray of his Carotid Artery’s blood splatter your nose and cheeks.

This shouldn’t be getting to you – how many men and women have you killed in your career? Hundreds…no, thousands. It shouldn’t affect you anymore. It doesn’t.

Kazimir was a bad man, You try to reason with yourself as you watch the doorknob once more move back and forth, he deserved what he got. No one will be sad over his death.

So why were tears running down your face? Dribbling to the carpet like little bullets of your own self-loathing? It wasn’t because of the Russian, you knew.

“Doll…?” John’s soft voice comes from under the door, his boots making shadows in the hallway light as they shuffle. His knuckles lightly wrap against the barrier separating him from you, “You still in there? Can you open the door for me?”

You stare at the woodgrain of the door, making patterns and finding faces in the dark lines. Bringing a hand up to your face, you swipe at your tears, only serving to spread the blood into long streaks up your cheeks.

John speaks your name, clearing his throat, “Please, I…I need you to open the door, Sweetheart. I’ve gotta make this right.”

His voice prompts you to move your shaking legs, standing and feeling the silk of your dress caress you like a second skin. You don’t want to wear it anymore, but you don’t have the energy to take it off by yourself.

Padding over to the door, your hand lays heavy on the lock, studying the red stains on your hands as they leave trails on the copper metal. You can hear John’s breath on the other side of the thin wood, the sound of his hand meeting the back of his neck, running over the flesh. He did that when he was nervous, a small tick you had been fortunate enough to learn over the years you two had been together. You knew him like a bird knew the sky, flew along the headwinds of his mind with sturdy wings without fear of divebombing; the two of you worked so well as a pair many already thought you were married.

There was one thing you could know even when you were reduced to this. John loved you; you loved John.

You flick the lock and hear the defending click as a deep silence covers the room. But the tall man outside the door waited for you to open the barrier between the two of you, even though you knew his heart was racing to break it down. Grabbing the knob, you slowly twist until the door draws back, only half of your face visible from the hallway.

John’s face immediately comes into view, a black beanie over his head and still in his dark tactical gear, the black undershirt absorbing all the light that met it. His small blue eyes are creased, and when his gaze travels the gore on your face he frowns deeply, fingers twitching at his sides.

You blink at him when he calmly takes a single step forward, grabbing onto the door frame. He doesn’t ask how you are, but the man was just about the smartest person you’ve ever known. He knows you’re not okay.

“Let’s get all that off you, eh, Love?” John nods his head at you, beard pulling as he tries to give you a small smile to mask the obvious concern at the blankness of your eyes, “Get my girl cleaned up.”

He scans your body, looking for injuries, and you’re brought back to the events in the car that had transpired not fifteen minutes earlier.

You had yelled at him, still dripping in blood as the car peeled out of the estate even as John was frantically moving his hands over your body, checking for open wounds. His eyes had been wild, and he took you throwing your anger at him with a stiff face, looking at the deep bruising over your forearm and the red of your neck seriously. His eyebrows had furrowed as rage swelled. Ripping your hand away from him you screamed with shaking limbs, where the hell were you?!

You were never mad about fucking Kazimir Bogdanov or what he did to you, you were mad that John – your lover and best friend – had left you alone. You had told him before, that on missions like these, you wanted him on the line the entire time; not only for the company but because he gave you a sense of safety in the way he spoke to you that you couldn’t give yourself. Not when everyone was looking at you like a slice of dessert.

John hadn’t been able to meet your eyes the entire ride back, and when you had locked yourself in the hotel room he had offered a small, “Doll…I…” Before you had slammed the door in his face.

Now, though, it felt good to feel his hand on your shoulder, lightly pulling you back into the room as he murmured softly into the air. He let you sit on the bed, guiding you as your bare feet stumble for a moment before your backside hits a soft mattress. You wished you could go back to the time before the mission – when John had laid with you under the covers and trailed his fingertips over your heated skin, your legs wrapped around his tapered waistline as he hit all the right spots and whispered dirty paise in your ears.

Good girl, He had grunted into your neck, panting and biting into the sweaty skin like a feral animal, leaving you sobbing with pleasure, His beard had burned so delightfully as it ravaged your skin, leaving it pulsing. Your body was trying desperately to move in tandem with John’s own devastating pace; hips instinctually trembling to meet his slick-stained pelvis, dripping from previous rounds, look at you, eh, trying so hard to keep up. Keep me in that cunt of yours. My good fucken’ girl. S-so good.

Blinking away the heat that grows in your navel, you shift, noticing John had gone off and returned with a wet rag from the bathroom; his tactical vest was off, and leaning on the bed on the floor. You hadn’t even seen him take it off. Hitting it with your toe lightly, you make it fall sideways with a muffled thump and a clinking of metal.

John attempts a chuckle as he stops ahead of you, crouching down and placing his hands in the middle of his open legs as his elbows rest on his knees. He takes a deep breath in.

“Not a fan, Sweetheart? I can move it farther if you want?”

“Where were you,” You whisper, voice hoarse. Pulling the fraying ends of your strength together you look up at him, “I needed you there with me for this…You disappeared, John.”

You just wanted to understand; just wanted the tightness of your chest to go away.

Your Captain stares up at you for a moment before he blinks, tilting his head to look to the side; away from you. A flash of red-hot guilt overtook his ocean-blue orbs as you see him glare at the side table like he could set the wood alight with his repressed hatred for himself.

“I’m sorry, Love. Don’t…don’t think any less of me, eh?” He chokes out, chest jerking with a humorless grunt, and his face turns back to you. Pausing, you find embarrassment heating his bearded cheeks, eyes unable to meet yours. John takes your hands in his own, bringing the rag up to begin peeling away the dried blood around your palms, “It’s…ah, It’s not an excuse, I know, but I…”

“John?” You murmur, bringing a hand up from his grip in concern to tilt his head. You hold a finger under his chin, liking the way his coarse beard itches you as you prompt him to stare you in the eyes. This was unlike him – John was never… embarrassed. Not like this at least, “What happened?”

John clenches his jaw, taking his hand not holding the rag, and carefully grabbing your digits before bringing them to his lips and holding them there. He lays a gentle kiss before he starts, uttering softly his secret into your skin.

“I just realized that maybe you would be better off with someone who wasn’t…” He trails, “...Someone who could treat you better. Give you what you want.”

What, your face must show your genuine confusion because John lets a tiny smile flicker over his lips before he goes back to cleaning your hand, Where had this come from.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your eyebrows crease, shivering as the rag goes up to your elbow, caressing the sensitive skin and drawing the large man closer to you as his heat sinks into you. His chest brushes your leg, leading you to move your limbs apart and under his armpits to rest your feet on his hip bones. The muscles of his toned thighs tense as you brush over them, and he sends you a glance.

His eyes soften.

“Someone more your age, Love.”

You immediately huff incredulously, not even realizing that you had come out of your stupor at the baffling comment from the man you loved more than anything.

My John? Insecure about himself? Your face twists, is this because of the people who were at the party? No, you can’t have that. Not your beloved Captain.

Grumbling with genuine denial, you grab John’s hairy cheeks, dragging him to you so swiftly that he grunts in surprise; eyes flashing with those flecks of sea glass. Your legs wrap around his back, locking at the ankles, and you feel his broad body flex and writhe as his hands immediately snap to your hips, dropping the rag to the floor with a wet thwap.

John gazes up at you with blown-wide eyes, mouth slightly open as the beanie on his head bounces at the action.

In his gargantuan hands he bunches the silk of your dress which is now shoved all the way up to your waist; creasing it, and you suck in a sharp breath as his beating heart is pressed directly into the fabric of your panties. Your nerves get set alight, heat building to a steady simmer in your gut that makes your thighs flex and your pupils dilate until little of the color is visible.

You bring John’s face up to yours, twiddling your fingers into his beard and running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks. He swallows thickly as you lean down, stopping just as your lips are able to brush over his own. You keep your eyes locked on his as you growl out.

“Any why would I want anyone that wasn’t you?” Your eyebrow raises as John gapes up at you, “Do you think anyone would be able to make me feel the way you do? The Doorman? The Butlers?” You scoff, and John licks his lips as his grip on your waist tightens. You know he wants to drag you to him, but you want him to wait, “All they did was ogle at my breasts and skin like horny teenagers,” John grunts, eyes flashing dangerously, and his heart is beating so fast in his peck that you roll your hips against his available body, gold jewelry shimmering in the dimed overhead light. The man responds by breathing out a shaky sigh, content with the feeling of you rutting on him. You knew it turned him on, though his bulge was hidden by the frame of the bed below you.

“Do you want to know something, John,” You mutter over his lips, and he hums, chest vibrating perfectly as you suck down a whimper through red-painted lips. He smirks, “Guys my age just don’t know how to treat me like you do. They can’t make me feel like this with just a fucking look.”

John slides one hand down to your parted legs as the other goes to the small of your back, gliding over silk sensually and maintaining eye contact as you both pant into each other. Your hands tighten over his cheeks as his sturdy digits delve into the space between the two of you before they finally press against the drowned fabric of your panties. You had already leaked through them.

He hisses in a breath, and before you can even realize what’s happening, your legs are being gripped tightly, and your back hits the mattress as a gasp escapes you.

“Little Minx,” John manhandles your body, pulling you to him as you let him peel the dress father up your body, pooling just above the swell of your breasts. Your hands grip the sheets as your Captain keeps your legs wrapped around him. He stands.

“John,” You whimper as he grips the edge of his athletic shirt with a heavy hand, ripping it off like the article of clothing offended him. His hat falls with the black fabric to the floor as the broad frame of his chiseled abs comes into view, pale skin marred with scars and burns. The sharp ‘v’ of his pelvis makes you constrict around nothing, “I...”

“Tell me what you want, Love,” He grinds his tented cargo pants against your core, one of his large palms coming down to grip your breasts under the silk as the other plays with the band of your underwear, “Speak to me.”

“I-I’m all bloody,” You moan when his hand grips you tighter, already sensitive skin now feeling like a live wire. His hips continue to rut against you, and tension is pleasurably building as he hits that bundle of nerves every time. Your chest rises and falls swiftly as your eyes flutter.

John chuckles deeply, shaking his head. Already so worked up.

“Oh, Love, I’ve fucked you covered in worse. I’ll clean you up just fine…make sure every trace of another man is completely erased from your skin – from your mind,” He bends over you, hand trailing down your abdomen to meet where he grinds into you. He presses into your covered clit with his thumb, rolling in small circles. You gasp, back arching up into him as ecstasy makes your legs tighten. One of your hands snaps up to John’s hair, running through the locks and tugging at the roots. He shivers, his mouth near the skin of your collarbone, “Until all that’s left behind is me.”

His tongue licks a stripe from the junction of your neck up to your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back as you cry out loudly; the callouses of his fingers hit you just right – the pace perfect as he ramps up your pleasure. Your pussy desperately tightens around nothing, leaking like a faucet with need. Your Captain grips the sheets just beside your head, making sure he doesn’t accidentally crush you with his gargantuan frame. If he asked you would let him.

“Fucken’ beautiful,” John groans, “Fucken’ taste bloody good, Sweetheart…fuck.”

He laps at your skin, leaving trails of saliva all along your neck, cleaning the blood away before moving to your face. He stares at you with a deeply feral look as the coil in your core builds, red hot and making your skin shine with a sheen of desperate sweat. Your thighs quiver as the wetness of your slit makes the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your skin. The flesh of your face scrunches, and your head is loosely rocked up and down from the constant movement of your boyfriend’s hard hips and thumb.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, You think, digging your nails into his scalp and tugging.

“Don’t stop,” You whine, “So close.”

“That’s right,” John’s tongue flies over the corner of your lip, making you want to cry at how you want to kiss him right now – but he's already moved onto your cheek, licking long stripes. When the man has his mind set on something, he’s not going to stop until it’s completed. The heat gets hotter, and your eyes snap closed eyebrows pulling in, “Yeah, come on, Love, come on. That’s it.”

He presses his thumb harder, moving it faster to chase that prize at the end of the road, watching in satisfaction as your body responds so perfectly to his every whim; hips moving erratically. You desperately try and meet his pace and, for the most part, achieve your goal, only sputtering when the tense minutes ware on and it all comes crashing down.

Your thin line of sanity breaks, and with a final heavy tug on John's hair that leaves him lowly groaning into your ear and muttering praises, your breath comes out in tight pants as light erupts behind your eyelids. You tense and feel your pussy gush with nothing inside of you, just your Captain’s steady rocking serving as an anchor as you feel your mind go blank with unrestrained pleasure.

“John!” You gasp, just as the man cleans the blood off your nose bridge as you arch violently against his sturdy chest, shaking, “Oh, fuck.”

“There she is,” Hands go to your chin, moving your jaw as your mouth remains open and releasing puffs of air. Your eyes open half-lidded as his finger works you through your high, “There’s my girl. Look at me, Sweetheart. Hm, did so good for me.”

“John,” You whimper, looking up into the sheen of pride that shines in his eyes; legs vibrating as his fingers move from your clit to your hip. The other leg, now tingling and pleasure numb, falls to the mattress with half of it hanging off. John digs tightly into your skin, leaving beautiful bruises behind for you to admire tomorrow, “Please I need you in me. Wanna make you feel good.”

“Hm,” He smashes his lips to yours, teeth clacking together, unable to restrain himself when you have that blissed-out look coating your expression, and you reciprocate as his painfully large erection still digs into you; his cargo pants stained with your fluids in a large wet splotch. Your free hand shakily slides to his belt buckle, tugging uselessly at the metal until John takes notice and tilts his head back, “Just a minute, Princess, so needy for me already?”

“Always,” You gasp, kissing the corner of his mouth breathlessly, “You treat me so well, John, always make me feel so good.” Tilting his head farther up with a nail, you feel his breath still, held in his chest as you leave love bites all along the part where his shoulder and neck meet, “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

He melts into you before hastily going down to undo his belt buckle with one hand, allowing you to continue your work of marking him as his hips begin once more to careen into you with instinctual pleasure. Nearly crying from the sharp sense of overstimulation, you let the glossiness coat your eyes but still want more from him, even if it made you go dumb.

Sliding your hands all over his back and digging into the delicious muscles with your nails, you only pause your ministrations when his pants fall to the floor with a thump of fabric; his boxers following. Pulling back, you let your head hit the mattress as John drops the leg he was holding and you splay your hands above your head, letting the chill of your jewelry ground you as you take in the sight above you.

Every time you and John had sex it felt like you were taking him for the first time, the size of him stretching you so perfectly it didn’t take much for you to be reduced to a whimpering mess. It was even better when you were on top of him, straddling his hips and feeling his hands holding you in place as he plants his feet and thrusts up into you; hitting that perfect spongy spot and kissing your cervix.

Staring at him, heat flows to your face, and your lower legs nearly fall together until John’s hands snap to them, forcing them open once more. On his tense stomach, his large cock leaks down onto itself, but he hardly seems to notice. Your heart pounds in your ribcage.

“Don’t hide from me,” He mutters your name, fingers leaving goosebumps behind as they trail to your panties. John plays with the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, leaving you pouting as the seconds drag on. But he just watches you, running his digits over the come that stains the garment and leaks from your hole to the bed sheets.

“What’d I do to deserve you, eh?” John grunts as you make a sound in the back of your throat, “What’d I do to deserve this?”

He grabs your wrecked panties and slowly drags them to your ankles, letting them fall off to the floor to make a pile with his own clothes. Sucking in a breath, you feel the chill of the room meet your now-visible pussy. John’s eyes darken with lust, and one of his hands goes to lightly start pumping his cock at the sight of liquid falling out of you. His eyebrows pull in with concentration.

“Y-you don’t have to deserve me, John,” You whisper, watching in awe as his muscles tense as he jerks himself off at the sight of you; keeping eye contact with those blown orbs. One of your hands slides over your clovered breasts and down over your abdomen, finding your own slick folds before splaying them. Masking a whimper at your sensitivity, your eyelashes flutter as John’s jaw clenches at the visual, “I g-gave myself to you because I love you. You know that…Ah.”

Growling, your Captain snaps a hand to wrap around your wrist before you can begin to rock your hips and weakly fuck yourself at the sight of his leaking cock-head.

“Easy, Love,” He groans, running a thumb over his tip, “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

John’s hand leaves his cock, going to land on your other hand’s wrist as he pulls you to a sitting position. You release a squeak as you almost faceplant into his abdomen.

“J-John?” Muttering with wide eyes, your heart jerks as his hands weave under your knees, the other spanning the back of your shoulders. He picks you up and tosses you up into the middle of the bed, making you squeal and release a set of giggles as you land softly onto the mattress. Your body bounces, hair partially blocking your view before you swipe it from your face.

John chuckles, placing a knee on the side of the bed before moving up and crawling forward, coming to trap you under his body as he places his massive weight against you. Hating the silk barrier between your bodies, you smile and move one of your fingers to clasp the zipper in the back.

“Let me,” The man mutters, laying a soft kiss on your lips before his large hands move behind you, grabbing the metal and dragging it down.

You arch your back to help.

When he reaches the end, he pulls the fabric and your bra over your head; he leaves the jewelry on your body with only a lick of his lips and a glance to tell you he enjoyed the way it stood out on your skin. His cock twitches. John drops the silk to the floor and slots his hips inside the space of your thighs.

“Hm,” He breathes over your flaming cheeks, and you go to wrap your arms around his neck in anticipation, “Not right.”

He flips you over so you straddle his lower body, and immediately the impression of his cock is on your folds, leaving you moaning with want and heat as he leans against the headboard with a smirk. You swallow, seeing the way John watches with a tilted head.

“Fuck, you feel good,” You mutter, moving one hand down to grasp him as the other lands on his chest. You run your fingers over the pre-come staining the shaft and spread it around, angling him as he groans ahead of you. His thick fingers weave through your hair, forcing your head upwards as he starts leaving savage kisses over your neck; biting and making you grip him tighter with a moan, “So big. The perfect cock for splitting me open. No one else could take me like you can.”

“Shit,” John shakes, fingers digging into your side, “So nice to me, Love.” Your hand lines him up with your pussy, moving the tip around your hole before letting yourself begin to sink down.

He fills you inch by inch, and you feel the ache in your hips as you bring your lip to your mouth, biting down to silence the loud sounds that are trying to escape from you. Stuttering, John’s teeth sink into the skin behind your ear as you bottom out a heavy minute later, both of your chests banging against each other as you gasp for breath. The trimmed hair over his pelvis is just as coarse as his beard, leaving you itching to move. Maybe you can ride his face after this – get that perfect beard burn in between your thighs.

“Feel so fucken’ good round me, Sweetheart,” John grunts, not able to stop the light roll of his hips as he moves his lips to yours, sealing them with an open-mouth kiss that leaves saliva dripping down between the two of you to where you’re joined, splattering over his abs, “But I need you to move, yeah?”

So tight, You notice how you’re gripping John’s cock inside you like a vice, stretching so satisfyingly around him that you have to look down to see it for yourself. Your gaze flickers to see with a pleasure-drunk sheen; eyes widening. You find John stuffed so beautifully inside you that you have to restrain yourself from coming at the sight of it, engorged member spreading you open as your slick glistens at the base, How did he even fit?

Your walls flutter in arousal, feeling filled so completely and seeing the bulge in your stomach.

“Fucken’ bloody hell,” John whimpers, head tilting back to slam into the headboard harshly. He fills his chest with air, and before you have a chance to adjust his hips snap up, leaving you yammering in surprise; a loud whine leaves you breathless and falling into his chest for support.

He hits that spot without even trying, moving your body up as he plants his feet and uses you like a fuck-toy. Sweat drips down his nose. Your jewelry clinks together, giving you something else to hear besides the sound of slapping skin and fluids squelching as John pounds into you.

You chant your Captain’s name as you feel one of his hands travel to your clit, flicking it while the other controls your movement. Up and down. The bed creaks as you arch, mind losing all function as your nails drag down John's chest, leaving deep red claw marks behind.

“No one else makes you feel like this, huh,” John growls, his eyes traveling your disheveled frame as he sends a particularly heavy thrust up into you that kisses your cervix. You writhe as he continues, mouth open and letting him do whatever he wants to you, “No one can make you this cock-dumb, can they? No, my good girl needs me to treat her right, is that it?”

His jaw clenches, and he spreads his thighs even wider, making your own respond in turn and letting him hit even deeper.

“Answer me, Love. Come on,” John snaps his hand over your ass, and the resounding sound of the contact makes you tighten around him as your slick paints his abdomen with a clear sheen, “Can’t have you goin’ already on me. Haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

Your eyes roll back for a moment, head limp. You don’t even care who can hear you at the moment as your sounds bounce off the walls before fingers go around your jaw, forcing your head up to stare directly into John’s beautiful blues. His pace slows torturously and you gasp in desperation.

“Answer me.”

“No one!” You yell, eyes wet and glossy, “No one, John! F-fill me up, please,” You whine, words slurring as your body pointlessly shivers; tears track down your face as you beg, “Need your c-come in me. Please, Captain. Feels so good with your cock hitting me just right, paint my insides with your come, please!”

The sounds you were making were downright pornographic, and you swore you heard someone banging on the walls to try and shut the two of you up.

Not that that made you both slow down.

“Gonna leave you dripping with me, Love,” John’s fast pace returns, becoming erratic, hips slamming into your own becoming almost too much with his hand returning to circle your clit. You whine with overstimulation, legs trying fruitlessly to close as that coil builds violently once more, “Won’t be able to bloody walk tomorrow after I’m done with you. Fuck, just how you like it. Gonna leave you drooling, yeah?”

“Yeah…yeah…yeah,” You pant, heart pounding as John’s cock curves up into your womb, “love being cock-drunk ‘cause of you, C-captain.”

“Good girl, that’s right.” Your walls tighten one last time, and as John connects his lips with yours the line snaps as you come on his cock, gushing as he guides you through your orgasm with his still pistoning hips. The sound of the wet thrusting nearly makes you pass out, and as you released a high-pitched keen into your lover's mouth, he does the same.

“Bloody Fucken’...!”

Your own pleasure had triggered his, and with a few sloppy thrusts later, his seed is coating your insides white with a chest-rumbling groan. You feel the combined fluids slide between the ring you two had made as you fit together, pooling to corrupt both of your flesh. But that was alright -- it simply becomes even easier to fuck like that.

John ruts into you still, cock softening even as it seems he could go more rounds. But today had been long. You sit pleasure-drunk on his chest as your body is moved back and forth by those soft, slick, thrusts, your own hips casually rocking as drool falls from the corner of your mouth. Your eyes had gained a faraway look to them.

Your nerves sing with satisfaction, your womb feeling full and dripping with his seed. Nothing made you feel this good; made your legs feel so numb and shakey.

“You alright, Love?” John pants, beard coming to scratch your temple as he whispers in your ear, “didn’t go too hard on you, I hope.”

You smirk, moving your head to kiss his chest, licking over the purple and blue bruises you had given him. He sucks in a breath, and inside of you his cock twitches; your abused walls clenching.

“I’m fine.” You let out a sigh, sucking in greedy breaths right after, “But I think the others might hate us tomorrow. Someone was banging on the wall a while ago.”

John lays a kiss on the side of your head, catching a drop of sweat on his lips as your fucked-out eyes go to look up at him.

“Then they’re really going to like what I do to you next.”

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