#but this mindful demure shit just is like. Why. just the word demure out of its original context pisses me off

[s1ld3n4f1l]

i could deal with girl dinner i could deal with im just a girl but i cannot deal with demure it makes me want to pull my hair out

[rinhaler]

hey hey, ik ur requests are closed so im gonna leave this till u open them back up,

imagine Yakuza Boss!Toji bucking his hips into you, bored out of his mind at his meeting, you’re cute whimpers and whines for him to slow down slightly amusing him as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, all this happening while his most trusted subordinates watch as he fucks into you at this meeting, while you just sit on his lap babbling about how good he feels until he finally makes you squirt, causing him to stop the meeting and kick everybody out so he can abuse your little hole some more, wanting to see you squirt for him more. :3

I feel like I went a little off script and I threw some Shiu in there too bc we're all sluts for Shiu right?? Bon apetit!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap, possessiveness, slight jealousy, slightly mean toji, dom!toji, exhibitionism, public sex, oral fixation, squirting, daddy!kink, DDLG esque?, pussy spanks.

words: 1.6k

“She shouldn’t be in here.” Shiu comments, his boss gives him a passive stare before looking in your direction. You sit politely with your hands in your lap and a shy smile, looking awkwardly around the room full of terrifying men. “She shouldn’t be listening to the shit we’re discussing.”

“I shouldn’t be listening to this shit, either. What the fuck do I pay you all for?” Toji responds, putting his arm around the back of your seat as he scoffs. “She’s needy, she needs constant attention and I know all you filthy fucks have got your eye on her so I don’t want her out of my sight.”

Shiu groans, but stands to his feet. You feel bad, really, you know what an inconvenience you are but you do try your best to remain demure and out of the way. But he’s right, you’re needy. And to be honest you’re a little afraid. Since you’ve become Toji’s plaything you’ve got a target on your back. You know with all of the security and loyal men at his disposal the odds of anything happening to you are slim. But still, you know it isn’t impossible.

Toji’s second in command leads the meeting in the board room, and you are engaged and silent as he speaks. It’s something about a territory dispute. You don’t fully understand but you know it’s illegal and dangerous. And you begin to whimper as they discuss resorting to violence.

The sound catches Toji’s attention. It seems you’ve been paying more attention than he has. He’s got more money than sense, and that is why he keeps Shiu around. But he can read you like a book. He knows when you’re happy or sad, angry or scared. And now, he sees how hard you’re trying to hold in the fear you feel. He knows what always makes you feel better, though. And he’s bored out of his fucking skull.

He shows no care or consideration for his audience as he lifts you from your seat and into his lap. Shiu stutters a little as he watches Toji manhandle you, your legs spread apart over his own before he touches under your little miniskirt. He smirks, kissing your shoulder when he feels your naked flesh.

“Good girl, no panties, jus’ like I told you.”

He doesn’t see a point to you wearing panties, he told you that after your first encounter. He told you he’d be keeping you around and you were his perfect little girl. And perfect little girls don’t need panties.

“Perfect little girls just need to keep their cunts wet for their daddy’s.” that is what he told you.

Your face flushes with heat when you realise if anyone in the room is brave enough to look they’ll see your dripping little slit. You aren’t sure how brave Toji’s men really are, though. But Toji is bold and uncaring and he knows what he wants. Always.

You gasp, softly, stealing a few gazes from the men in the room. Shiu is busy trying to keep the meeting on track and keep everyone focused. And it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He knows your pussy like the back of his hand, too. Because Toji loves to show you off. But he’ll never share. But his second in command knows better than most what your cute cunt is capable of. It’s a novelty to him, now. Why would he steal glances when he knows his generous boss will brag about you in private to him?

You fall forwards, little hands slamming against the table top as Toji rams his cock into you without remorse. He holds your hips, pulling you down until the back of your thighs smack against his. His fingers squeeze into your doughy skin, sure to leave bruises as he’s often one to do. Any fear that you’d felt at the thought of the men surrounding you committing acts of violence are a distant memory, now. You’re too busy trying to steady yourself through daddy’s onslaught.

“P-Please, fuck, please… daddy! S-Slow down!” you beg, a smirk sprawls like wildfire across his face as he listens to your desperate pleas.

“No no no, you don’t tell me what to do,” he reminds you. A light slap coming down on your clit as he continues fucking up into you. “Stop thinking, just take it, princess.”

Shiu sighs, his focus wavering as you continue to moan and yelp through Toji’s never ending fucking. He lights a cigarette for himself and then hands one to Toji. He takes a hand away from your hip to bring it to his lips, and Shiu proceeds to light his and then his own.

He continues to speak as if nothing is happening. He’s so calm and collected, but it’s no wonder. Toji is a man he’s known for as long as he can remember and he knows all of the complexities that come with him. Not to say that you are complex. You’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him, truthfully. But it isn’t as much of a distraction as it seems to be for the rest of his subordinates.

Toji chortles when he watches Shiu slot his thumb into your mouth, his other hand still holding his cigarette with no care to where the ash lands. The lackeys are even more confused, now, do they share you? Toji isn’t the type to share, no, but he isn’t going to chastise Shiu for doing what he needs to do to get through his meeting.

Besides, you look quite cute sucking on his thumb. He always thinks you look cute when you’re sucking on something, though. You hold onto Shiu’s wrist as you suckle on his thumb. And you hate that he won’t give you any attention, especially when you’re blinking up at him with pretty, wet eyes. Doesn’t he want to admire how cute you’re being for him?

You begin to act up, mewling loudly around his fingers as you try to get him to look at you. But it only ends in another wet slap on your pussy from Toji and a particularly rough cantering of his hips. He pulls you back towards him, your shoulder blades cushioned by his pecs as you’re pulled into him.

Shiu wipes your saliva from his thumb onto his blazer and gives you a passive glance before focusing on the men in the room again. He snaps his fingers in a bid to command their attention.

Toji, however, is fixated on you. His sharp canines ghost over your jugular. Your heart rate quickens and so do the shallow breaths escaping your throat. He silences you, his hand smothers your lips as he continues to nip and bite softly with ease. It’s exciting, and terrifying, because you know he could tear out your throat if he really wanted to.

“Did I just hear you beggin’ for another man’s attention, princess?” he whispers, his large palm pushing your legs further apart before repeatedly slapping down against your firm clit. “Is daddy’s cock ruinin’ you not enough, hah? Because I’ll stop, right now, and you can forget about cumming for a while. A long fucking while, darlin’.”

You muffle your protests through his smothering palm. Of course he’s enough! You got carried away, that’s all. He’s more than enough. You don’t need anyone else’s attention. Just him. Only him.

“Heh, that’s what I thought.” he laughs, harshly, licking a fat stripe up your neck with his wide tongue. Tears spill from your eyes as he continues to pound into you, gritting his teeth with each squeeze and stifled moan he’s suffocating with his hand. He wraps his free hand around your torso and drills upwards into your slippery heat.

Your moans become louder as you reach your peak. He repeatedly nudges your sensitive insides in the most beautiful way and forces you to clench and wince and fucking scream through your nostrils as he drags your orgasm out of you.

And eyes begin to turn white as they roll into the back of your head. Your body turns limp as his touch forces an orgasm from your body. Your body is wracked as you violently shake through it, your cunt squirting all over his lap and onto the floor below. He moans, boisterously at your display.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by the men in the room, either, as the sound of gushing water hits the ground below.

Toji bends you over the desk, carnal desire flooding all sense that he has. He pushes your head down so your cheek is squished against the table. You look up at Shiu, blinking pathetically. And now, you do have his attention. Toji hisses, flipping your skirt up to reveal your plump ass. He has no doubt his men will find it difficult not to look.

“Everyone out, now.” he commands, his men readily jump to their feet and begin to filter out of the room. Shiu stubs his cigarette out on the table top, not even an inch away from your nose and he prepares to leave. “Not you. Stay.” Toji orders. Shiu chuckles, weakly, and takes a seat.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” he asks, tucking your hair behind your ear as he watches your fucked out face continue to swallow Toji’s cock again and again. “Sorry I couldn’t give you any attention, angel. That meeting was a disaster, huh?” he smiles.

“This isn’t your pleasure, Shiu.” Toji informs him. “She jus’ likes it when you watch.”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[l1tw1ck]

In Exchange

Sub!Bottom!FTM Sam Winchester x Dom!Top!Male Reader

☆ Word Count: 3,617 ☆

AFAB Language Used

blacked out every time i wrote this like jekyll and hyde 😭 /j

CW: Non-Con, Sexual Coercion, Drugging, Blowjob, Cum Swallowing, Creampie, Pregnancy Mention, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Puppy Play (Collar, Puppy Sam), Nipple Sucking, Riding, Corruption

“Excuse me, are you [Name]?” Sam walks up to you as you're smoking outside a bar.

“What's it to you?”

“I’m Joseph Johnson. I'm a detective.” Sam shows you his badge just long enough for you to believe him. “I’d like to ask you some questions about the recent incident.”

“Then you’d better give up and ask someone else.”

Sam looks at you in dismay. “You're the only living witness, we won't be able to get anywhere without you!”

“I’m not sharing anything without something in return.”

He perks up. “I've got about 60 buc-”

“I'm not looking for money. I want you to get on your knees and give me a blowjob.”

He looks at you in shock. “Are you serious?”

“Completely. Make your choice, Sherlock.”

There is no choice. He needs this information in order to save the town. He has to do it. “Fine…Just don't make me swallow.”

You stub out your cigarette. “You're not in a position to make demands, sweetheart. You're gonna swallow it if you want me to talk.”

Chills run down his spine. You're so assertive, it's…..sexy. He almost slaps himself. He lets out a big sigh. “Okay.”

You smile. “Hold on.” You enter the bar and come out a few minutes later with a bottle of beer. It's already been opened. That makes Sam suspicious but in your defense, he doesn't have a bottle opener on him. Against his better judgment, he chugs the bottle.

He notices the chilling grin on your face but hopes it's not because you drugged him. You lead him to a secluded alleyway. “Kneel.” You unbuckle your belt.

“Here? Are you serious?”

“Didn't you hear me, pretty boy? Kneel.”

Sam frowns and gets down on his knees. He gulps upon seeing your hard cock. He’s never seen one in real life before, after all, he's never gone far enough for that.

“Open wide.” You tug on his hair. He looks at you with contempt but opens his mouth anyways. The feeling of your cock entering his mouth is completely foreign. It's way different than sucking on a popsicle or some other iced treat. It’s warm and pulsing. And it's thick, so thick his jaw hurts. “As I thought, you look much better with my cock stuffed in your mouth.”

Sam shivers. He can't believe that turned him on. His body suddenly begins to rise in temperature, as if he's come down with a fever. You don't seem to care about his reddening face as you slowly drag him back and forth on your cock. He stops worrying about it, even as he starts to feel more aroused than he should. He just closes his eyes and discreetly ruts against his hand as you do all the work for him. He feels so wet that his slick is probably bleeding through his underwear. He desperately needs to touch himself but he's sober enough to feel embarrassed about doing so. It's so hard for him to feel pleasure through his pants that he's started whimpering. You don't know why he's doing that but you're not complaining about the new sensation you're feeling.

“Shit- I’m already gonna come-” You moan. “Your mouth is amazing, sweetheart, you're better off selling it than being a detective.”

Sam moans as you come in his mouth. His mind is so hazy and high on whatever you drugged him with that he actually feels happy to swallow your seed. He’s completely out of his mind.

You pull him away from your cock and pry open his mouth with your thumb to make sure he's swallowed everything. “Good boy.”

He looks at you almost demurely.

“It’d be a shame to stop here, don't you think?” You run your fingers through his hair. The drug seems to have kicked in completely so you know he’ll agree.

“Mhm..”

“It’d be nice if I could fuck that sweet ass of yours...”

“Not there...” He shakes his head.

“Why not? I’d make you feel real good.”

“Isn't my pussy better?” Sam smiles, unbuckling his belt.

“It definitely is.” You smirk.

Sam shakily gets up on his feet and drops his pants and boxers to his ankles. He walks over to the wall and bends over, giving you a drunken smile. You look at his pussy and feel your cock immediately come back to life. He's so wet that his slick is on the inner corner of his thighs. You can't wait to dive into that.

You stick two of your fingers inside him, not caring for how that makes him feel, and explore his insides. He's soft, warm, and oh so fucking wet. Sam moans, too drugged to consider the fact that he's in public.

“Th- there!” His voice and legs are shaking. “Yes-yes-yes–”

“Already gonna come, darling?” You find his g-spot and immediately cause him to squirt. You watch in awe, painfully hard thanks to this mesmerizing display. You pull your fingers out and slowly inch your cock inside him. “Sorry, I just couldn't wait any longer. You don't mind, right, baby?”

Sam moans, eyes half lidded. “Mm- deeper~”

“The drug’s really changed you…or maybe it's just allowed your real personality to show?” You smirk, going deeper as he requested. “I might have to keep drugging you if it means I can fuck this sweet pussy of yours.”

He shivers, leaning further against the wall as you make him experience his pussy stretching to accommodate your girth for the first time. “Bi- big~” He bites his lip, absolutely blissed out.

“You like how big I am? Or how good your cunt feels stretching to fit me?”

“Ye- yes~ so good~” He answers both of your questions. “My pussy feels so good, [Name]~”

“Yeah? I’ll make it feel even better.” Once you bottom out you start fucking him at a rough pace. The warm and slippery feeling of his cunt is making you too aroused to control yourself. You cover Sam’s mouth with your hand, knowing he won't even try to keep quiet. Your hand quickly becomes drenched with his saliva, a constant vibration thanks to Sam moaning. You can still hear his moans, albeit muffled, but at a much better level that suits your location. “You're such a good boy, you know? Taking my cock so fucking well. If we were at my place, I’d be happy to hear you moan.”

Sam’s body reacts to being called a good boy, his cunt clenching around you once again.

“I wish I could have you, a cute puppy like you should have an owner. Although, I don't know if I have the strength to actually let you go.” You pull down the collar from the back of his shirt and bite him, making a mark that’s sure to last a while. You can tell just by hearing him and feeling the way his cunt reacts that he liked that. “How about you touch yourself for me, pup? I want you to feel extra good.”

Sam brings his hand down to his t-dick, gently stroking himself and accelerating the amount of time it’ll take him to have an orgasm.

“Look at you, following orders so well.”

He whimpers in response.

“You’d be better off belonging to me than some agency, don't you think?” You move your hand away from his mouth.

“Ye- yes- wanna be yours!” He moans, squirting again on your cock. In his current state of mind, he feels overjoyed at the idea of abandoning his dangerous “career” for a life full of pleasure and submission. He won't have to think or put his life on the line anymore. Right now, he doesn't have the ability to think rationally and being your dog is all he wants. “Tak- take me! I wanna be your puppy~!”

You bury your head in his shoulder, slowing down. “I’ll hold you to that. Gonna make sure you can't change your mind and leave me.” You come inside of him despite knowing he wouldn't want this if he was sober. At this point you don't care what he thinks, you just want him. Maybe the whiskey you had earlier is finally getting to you...

Sam wakes up on his motel bed, feeling something inside his underwear, a painful feeling in his neck, and a sharp headache. He closes his eyes and tries to recall what happened last night. He soon starts to remember everything, even after the drug kicked in. He should be angry but he isn't. He's horny. He sits up on the bed and looks around.

“Dean?” He calls out. No response. He leans back and brings his hand into his pants, sliding his index and middle finger down his slick cunt. He feels your cum and pushes it back inside him, fingering himself with your cum. He doesn't want to get pregnant but he can't help himself. Just doing this makes him so horny…He feels like a perv.

Sam leans back and moans, feeling extra sensitive. He remembers how you made him squirt for the first time and how it’d probably feel even more amazing if he could do it sober. He starts to think about all the compliments you gave him and how you wanted to make him yours. He knows he should be focusing on hunting, especially because of his powers, but he can't help but yearn for a safe life with you. He doesn't even really know you. He did a background check on you but he didn't look at anything that would’ve given him any information about your personality. He can't believe that a one night with you is making him feel like this. Making him want to relinquish his autonomy to a stranger.

He murmurs your name, absolutely enamored with you. Are you even human? You have to have some special power to make him so infatuated with you. Right?

Before he can reach his climax, the sound of the doorknob twisting stops him. Sam quickly takes out his hand and rubs it on his clothes. Dean opens up the door and immediately looks at Sam.

“Where the hell were you last night? And why are you in the same clothes?”

“I- I uh…got drunk.” He looks at him sheepishly.

“Why?!”

“[Name] didn't want to talk unless I won a drinking game…I won.”

Dean looks surprised. “That guy must be even more of a lightweight than you are.”

Sam laughs awkwardly.

“So what's the story?”

“I don't know–” Sam stops thanks to Dean’s expression. “Yet! I’ll call him today.”

“You got his number?”

Sam vaguely remembers you putting something in his pocket. He digs into his right pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. He opens it up. I’ll talk. I left you hangover medicine, the morning after pill, and a pregnancy test. Let me know the results when the time comes. [Your Number]. “Yeah. I got it.” He turns to the bedside table and sees a bag with the logo from the local pharmacy. His heart flutters from your consideration. Which is ironic, considering what you did to him.

“Good. Take a shower and eat something, then call him.” Dean grabs the remote, gets onto his bed, and turns on the tv.

At around 11, Sam called you and now you're sitting outside a café with “Joseph” and his partner, “Francis”.

“There's two of you.” You raise your eyebrow. “Looks like you're not Sherlock, but one of the hardy boys.” You chuckle.

Sam laughs awkwardly. “This is my partner–”

“Wait, let me guess, Frank?”

“Francis. My friends call me Frank.” He smiles, impressed that you got the reference.

“Joseph and Franics. Interesting coincidence.” You’re tempted to inquire further but you decide not to. You're not too excited to recount the story but you’d rather just get it over with.

“And that was it.” You lean back into the chair. You noticed Sam was staring at you the entire time but you ignored it, you don't want to bring anything up with Dean around.

“Thanks for telling us. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Dean stands up and shakes your hand. “Alright, let's go.” He turns to Sam.

“I- I actually have something to do, go without me.”

“What? What the hell could be so important?”

Sam looks away and doesn't answer.

Dean sighs heavily. “Fine. But don't let me find out you're trying to meet some girl or something.” He shakes his head and walks over to his car.

“So, what’s more important than your investigation?” You tilt your head in interest.

“I remember what happened last night.”

“I sure hope so, that's the whole reason I’m here.”

“No, I remember that you drugged me.”

You’re a little surprised, that wasn't supposed to happen. You know he won't turn you in though. You’re sure of it. “Are ya gonna turn me in, Mr. Hardy?” You smile teasingly.

“Not if you do something for me in return. It's only fair, right?”

You give him an amused look. “Of course, puppy, it's only fair.”

Sam blushes at the name.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Drive me to your place and you'll find out.”

“Alright, we'll have to make a quick stop though.” You grin and lead him to your car.

Sam enters your home, anxious for two reasons. One, because you went to a sex shop and told him what you bought is a secret. And two, because he's about to request something that nobody in their right mind would do after being taken advantage of in such a way.

He sits on your bed and watches you as you place the bag on your desk and reveal what you bought. A collar that closely resembles one for a dog, but clearly made to be worn by a human. Sam’s entire body heats up.

“Just a little something to remember me by.” You hand him the collar

He frowns slightly, he doesn't want to leave you. He doesn't know why he's so obsessed with you but he brushes away the thought and puts the collar on. He looks adorable. “Now you have to do my request.” He unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. “I want you to eat me out.” He's been fantasizing about this in the shower. He can't leave this town without experiencing this at least once.

You lick your lips. “That's it? If that's what you want, I’ll be glad to do it.” You pull his pants and underwear off for him and kneel in between his legs. You slowly drag your tongue up his pussy, tasting him for the first time. You let out a soft noise of pleasure before wrapping your lips around his t-dick and slowly easing two your fingers into his cunt. Sam throws his head back and moans unabashedly as you suck him off, his body heating up. This is so much better than just fingering himself. Your mouth feels so good.

“Like that- yes~” Sam rolls his eyes back. It won't take long for him to come. “[Name]~!” He gasps when your fingers reach his g-spot. “Oh my God–” He falls back onto the bed, quickly climbing towards his orgasm. You add a third finger and continue to finger his wetness while sucking his cock more passionately. Sam can't even manage to get any words out, he feels too fucking good to even think about anything. He instinctively wraps his legs around your head and squirts, drenching you. He takes a few moments before letting go of you.

You pull away and lick your lips. “Now, how about a round two?”

Sam nods, removing his clothes. “I wanna ride you.”

“I’d love that.”

Sam hovers above your hard length, his left hand holding it in his place and his right on your shoulder. He lowers himself onto your cock, gasping when he feels you stretching him open. Despite his memory being mostly clear from that night, the pleasure he remembered wasn't enough to prepare him for this. “Fuck–!” He moans, continuing to lower himself down. Tears run down his cheeks thanks to the painful pleasure he's experiencing. “You're- so, so big-” He's breathless.

“You're adorable, puppy.” You hold his cheek in your hand. “I know you can handle it though, keep going.”

Sam moves further down until you're completely inside him. He looks at you, tears still streaming down.

“Good boy.” You kiss him. His eyes widen for a moment before closing his eyes and reciprocating the kiss. You briefly pull away to open your mouth and Sam is quick to catch on. You return to kissing him but now with your tongue. Sam considers himself a master at kissing, since it's the most he’s ever done. At least when it comes to receiving.

Sam finds himself grinding down on your cock, finding pleasure in the way you feel inside him.

You pull away from him and move down to his neck to bite and kiss it. You now move even further and wrap your lips around his nipple, happily sucking on it while your hand goes to massage his other breast. Sam whimpers and squeezes your cock happily. He could get used to this. Just being a dumb, slutty puppy for you to use sounds great to him. Sorry Dean and the greater good, Sam is giving up on being a hunter and choosing to become a simple toy.

You reluctantly leave his breasts and look at Sam with a smile. “Why don't you try riding me now?”

“Okay..” Sam places both his hands on your shoulders and slowly rises. He whimpers at the feeling. He never had the confidence to try using a dildo so he had no idea how intense this would feel. He quickly lowers himself, missing the feeling of your entire cock inside him. Even losing a few inches is upsetting for him.

“You don't want to do it anymore? Is it too hard for you, puppy?”

He looks away from you. “I want all of you inside me…”

“Aw, you can't even stand a few seconds? I promise you won't even feel it as long as you keep up a fast pace. It’ll feel much better than just having me inside you…although I do enjoy having you keep my cock warm.”

Sam tries riding you properly but he's still feeling weak and can't do it fast enough. He stops and looks at you.

“Let me help you.” You grab his waist and lift him up and down at a fast pace. Sam rolls his head back and moans in pleasure. “See? It feels good.”

“So- so good!” He cries. He feels so good that he barely even feels the painful slapping of his breasts against his chest. He can't even focus his sight, pain is nearly obsolete to him. He brings his hand down to his dick, stroking it as best he can. You can tell he's about to come.

“Come on, puppy, come for me.” You smirk. It doesn't take much longer after that for Sam to come. He squirts, making a mess on your body. “Good boy. Now it's my turn.”

Sam gasps as his body is suddenly pushed onto the bed, your hands squeezing his wrists tightly. “Just a little more, I know you can take it.” You roughly thrust into his cunt, indulging in the lovely wet warmth of his pussy. Sam doesn't mind, on the contrary, he’s happy to be used just to get you off. “You're so obedient, sweetheart, so perfect.” You start to act more like a dog than Sam, your horniness compelling you to rut into him like a wild beast. He can barely handle it thanks to the previous activities but he's fighting to stay awake. Seeing you in this state is much too arousing to miss.

“Tha- thank you~” He smiles stupidly.

Just hearing him say that with an expression like that makes you come. You briefly grip his wrists harder then loosen it as you come down from your high. “I don't want to let you go..”

“Me neither…I like being your puppy.” His eyelids start to feel heavy. “Wanna keep getting used…” He falls asleep. You kiss his forehead and pull out. You've never given an unconscious person a bath but it shouldn't be too hard.

Dean pounds angrily on your front door, a gun in his pocket ready to shoot you if necessary. Thanks to an eyewitness report from the café employee, he found out where Sam went. He doesn't know what's going on but he's furious. He hasn't answered his calls and he hasn't seen him since yesterday.

You open the door. “Ah! Francis. Here to pick up your partner?” You pause.

“What the fuck did you do to my brother?”

“Nothing he didn't like.” You reply plainly. “He's perfectly fine and drinking some tea. I’ll show you.”

Dean looks at Sam in shock. He's just wearing a big shirt and probably underwear. ��Sam! What's going on?”

“I’m sorry, but I want to stay here. I love [Name] and I don't want to leave him.”

“WHAT?!” He's completely taken aback.

“You heard him. You’ll have to head back on your own. I’ll get his stuff for him.”

Dean doesn't trust you at all. He's going to be doing a lot of research on whatever monster you might be. He's convinced you're not human. “I’m staying longer. You probably did something to him…I don't trust you.”

“That's fine.” You smile. You have something else to worry about. “So…who's Sam?”

Sam and Dean both look at each other. Looks like they're going to have to reveal the truth, at least partially...

[couldawouldashoulda50]

This is Part One of my entry for the wonderful @cellythefloshie's birthday BINGO, featuring Matthew Knies (I know he was past the 2018 cutoff but celly gave me the green light for him). Although I did get bingo with my 5 tropes (Virginity, Age Gap, Secret Lovers, Meet Cute, Pining), the 5 are spread across Part One and Two. I am finishing Part Two soon, and then there might be a smaller third part - I just haven't figured out the fine art of writing smaller fics yet but I'm working on it. Nevertheless HAPPY (early) BIRTHDAY CELLY! I hope you enjoy this ❤️

Warnings/Notes - profanity, toxic parenting, parent estrangement. This part mainly covers the initial development of Matthew and the OC

OC Face Claim - Anna Katharina

Approx Word Count - 5.7k

August, 2024

Well, this is a huge fucking mistake… Lana thought to herself, forcing a smile as she sat across from her date.

She chastised herself further in her mind. Shit—I can't even remember his name. Was it Terry…or Jerry? Wait…Phil? No, he was last week. Fuck.

Against her better judgment, Lana allowed her arm to be twisted by her beloved brother to go on yet another blind date.

"Just try, Lana—just try again," he'd say. Now, she was wasting away across from this person, who was blathering about a subject that she had already forgotten about, alongside his name.

Lana rotated the highball glass with her fingertips, as she pretended to show interest in the man's one-sided conversation. Although her eyes appeared to be focused on his face, she was actually gazing out the window, just over the man's shoulder. From the 51st floor of the ManuLife Centre, the view of that particular evening boasted a magnificent August sunset, which added to the magical twilight of the Toronto city skyline.

Lana pouted in her mind. Why can't I be sitting here admiring the view with someone I love? Or even like? Attracted to, maybe?

It was from these moments of desperation, or weakness—whichever it was—that she found herself in this blind date situation to begin with.

She loved her brother, Andrew, for trying to set her up with a decent guy to develop a connection with. Lana thought it was reasonable that he might know a little more about men and dating since Andrew was in a loving relationship with Jason, his long-time partner.

She thought it was reasonable mainly because Lana had never dated anyone.

As in never, ever, ever.

Based on the non-success of the past men that Andrew sent her way, Lana felt her relationship status would not be changing anytime soon either.

Lana snapped back to reality just in time to catch what's-his-name staring at her tits as he finished his sentence.

She smiled demurely as she studied his expression. She really had not heard a word he had said, and it did not appear that he was awaiting a response from her. Seizing the opportunity, she excused herself and headed off in the direction of the ladies' room.

She turned back around to glance at her date. He was already otherwise occupied, ogling a nearby female server.

In the confines of the washroom stall, Lana swiped open her phone to remind herself of the name of the man she regretted suggesting to meet at one of her favorite restaurants.

Upon finding it, she muttered "Darren."

Lana responded to a text her brother had sent her earlier, asking how things were going.

L - Do you think that Jason can start vetting these guys before you send them my way? Personality of a piece of cardboard. I think I actually may have lost consciousness while he rambled on…

Andrew must have been waiting for her message, as he promptly responded.

A- Jason and I love you but we're done with sending you men. Coming to breakfast tomorrow?

Lana smiled at her brother's message. He always teased her saying she wouldn't have the foggiest clue what to do with a man anyway.

L - Love you both too. Breakfast is a no-go. Taking a client to view some condos. TTYL

A- Msg me when you get home

Lana exited the stall and glanced at her reflection as she washed her hands. She pondered what method she would use this time to send Darren packing.

Interestingly, most men never bothered to call once she handed them her business card anyway.

They seemed to trip over the word "Owner", especially of one of the most prestigious real estate brokerages in Toronto.

As they wrapped up their date, Lana cordially offered her business card with her contact information. Darren glanced at her card and then back at her. His expression gave her all the information she needed to know about the man standing before her.

Other than "Owner", there was a second word that was a lingering fact about Lana. A word that had begun to plague her mind and body more and more. She always wondered how a man would react, if in fact they were ever able to look past the first word, and get to know her more.

That second word was virgin.

▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊

Lana and her older brother Andrew grew up in a small, close-knit community approximately two hours northwest of Toronto.

Their parents were cold, strict, and controlling towards their children. Although they made sure Andrew and Lana had everything they needed, there were always strings attached with everything they were provided.

Andrew was intelligent, strong-willed, and independent from an early age. Being 5 years younger, Lana idolized her handsome older brother. In turn, he adored her and always pushed her to succeed in everything she tried. Their bond became even stronger as their parents became even more controlling with Lana as she approached her high school years.

Andrew clashed badly with their parents, experiencing constant conflict and turmoil while living under the same roof. Andrew was determined to leave as soon as he could. He worked multiple jobs while still managing to excel academically. After earning as much money as he could, Andrew left to study architecture abroad at 18.

Once Andrew departed, his parents no longer acknowledged his existence. Andrew always felt a tremendous amount of guilt and remorse knowing he had deserted his beloved little sister. From afar, he did his best to help his sister navigate their parents' increasingly stern and uncompromising attitude toward her.

Meanwhile, Lana was experiencing rapid growth spurts at the age of 13. She was long, lean, and had natural curves which enhanced her athletic build. Her mother often shunned her appearance, making her feel that her natural beauty and her blossoming figure were a detriment and a cross to bear.

As she entered high school, it would mark the hardest time of her life.

Lana's mother drowned her with archaic myths and cautionary tales about boys, sex, disease, and unplanned pregnancy. She would be forever "ruined" if she gave in to having relations out of wedlock. As the ever-dutiful daughter, Lana absorbed everything her parents said and never scrutinized or disobeyed them.

The teenage boys at her school, with their raging desires fueling their comments as she walked by them, did little to convince Lana that her mother might be wrong in her teachings.

Teenage girls were in some cases worse than the boys. The behavior of the girls at Lana's school was full of envy and competitiveness. She often felt ostracized and alone during her first weeks and months of high school.

Lana would message Andrew in tears in the stall of the girls' washroom between classes. He was always there for her with words of comfort but would only allow her just a few tears of pity. Andrew would then coach her on how she would need to rise above it all. Step by step, Lana put her head down, studied hard, and became active in student council and various athletic programs.

Lana developed a no-nonsense type of attitude which served her well in her secondary school years, as well as keeping the peace at home. She managed to forge a few solid friendships with those who were authentic, intelligent, and did not concern themselves with trends or being popular.

At the end of high school, Lana was rewarded for her diligence and focus by excelling in academics, athletics, and the arts. She received a full scholarship to enter the Law program at the University of Toronto.

Fast-forwarding through her first two years in university, she maintained the same steadfast and hard-working mentality that was part of her nature. However, Lana soon discovered that Law did not ignite her passion. With Andrew carving his own path in architectural design and serving as her constant guide and mentor, she uncovered an unexpected love for real estate.

She landed a paid internship with a brokerage firm owned by an older gentleman by the name of Reine Schmidt. Reine immediately recognized Lana's dogged determination, her intellect, and her willingness to learn.

Reine taught Lana everything he knew. He had a proven track record of understanding trends to predict future outcomes, alongside his charisma, sharp wit, and masterful negotiation skills. With the guidance of her brother, Lana eventually followed her instincts and dropped out of university to work alongside her older mentor.

Lana's parents were furious and, in a fit of true toxicity, they severed ties with their daughter completely as they had done with their son.

As the cloud of devastation from the estrangement dissipated, Reine became a much-needed father figure in Lana's life. He provided her with shelter, which was merely a back room of the brokerage office. He helped her with the bare minimum, just enough to set her off in the right direction. The rest, Lana would have to work on and figure out for herself.

And she did. As the years went on, Lana gained a reputation throughout the GTA, being touted as Reine Schmidt's brilliant and beautiful protégé. She was elegant and poised while being creative and shrewd in her negotiation tactics. By the time she was thirty, Lana had her own substantial property portfolio, worth millions of dollars as the Toronto real estate market exploded.

When Reine became too ill to fulfill his responsibilities at his firm, he appointed Lana to step in on an interim basis. She did not know it at the time, but Reine had already decided to will her the firm. He just needed to make doubly sure that she was ready.

Lana remained by Reine's side as his illness progressed. He had no family to speak of, and he always said that he was not in the business of making friends. But he had grown to love Lana like a daughter, and although he never said as much, he was grateful that she made sure he was not alone during his last moments on earth.

▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊

Lana awoke the following morning with the memory of her near abysmal date from the night before all but washed away. Retrieving her cell from her nightstand, she broke her own rule about no screens until after she had completed her morning Pilates. She just wanted to check if what's-his-name had messaged.

He had not.

Her business card had become like a detection device which helped identify those that would waste her time. Moreover, she was pleased that she could still calculate risk and probability by simply observing someone's non-verbal cues and other subtle behaviors.

Lana laid back on her pillow and gazed out her floor-to-ceiling windows in her bedroom. Her panoramic view of the city displayed all the colors of the sunrise of a late summer's morning. But the sunrise triggered a pang of loneliness within her. The sunset had a similar effect on her last night, and now the sunrise was having a go. She wanted someone to lie with and enjoy the wondrous city views in the morning. She longed to have someone to sit with at dinner and have them witness the perfection of a sunset by her side. She wanted to feel what it's like to crave someone and have them equally yearn for her.

Pushing her lonely thoughts aside, Lana yawned and stretched and slid out of bed, turning her phone off until it was time to leave for the office.

Any other morning, Lana would have opted to take transit, walk, or even run to her office. She quickly realized the good fortune of driving to work that day in an air-conditioned vehicle. The humidex was already climbing and it was only just 7 a.m. Another sweltering summer day in the city had begun.

As she drove, she mentally pre-planned her morning. Yesterday, a last-minute request came in from a very important client-turned-friend to view some condo listings in the downtown area. What left Lana perplexed was who the request was from.

Lana's mind drifted to another thought while idling at a traffic light.

Just two more weeks—two more weeks until I'm off and I'll press pause on the whole "trying to find a mate" search. Maybe I'm just meant to be alone. Maybe you just need to sleep with someone once and that'll be enough… maybe he's just not out there…. Lana mulled over these thoughts as she ventured south on St. George Street.

It had become a custom for Lana to flee the city at the beginning of September and spend a few weeks at the expansive lakeside home that she co-owned with her brother. With 5+ acres and an exceptional lakefront, it was a place where Lana could experience quiet for a while. That is, quiet after their friends, colleagues, and in some cases clients, descended onto the property for a popular get-together for the Labor Day weekend.

Arriving at her office before 7:30, Lana slipped into her leather chair and dove into a landslide of unread emails.

As the office began to fill, she left her office to greet her assistant and enjoy a morning chat. To Lana, this was one of her most favorite times of the day. Despite her upbringing, Lana sought connection with her professional family and was nurturing and compassionate to all of her associates. In turn, her staff were fiercely loyal to her and it showed in their combined success at the firm.

Lana returned to her office to tie up a few loose ends before her appointment arrived.

Ainsley tapped on Lana's office door, letting her know her 9 a.m. had arrived, and asked if she would like them escorted to her office. In her mind, Lana tripped over the word "them" as she was only expecting one person. Shaking off the confusion, she declined Ainsley's offer and thanked her as she made her way down the corridor.

As she approached the reception area, she was prepared to see Aryne Tavares but not her handsome husband John and another even more striking man standing next to the couple.

Lana's professional-turned-friendly relationship with the Tavares' began with helping Aryne navigate the Toronto housing market when John was traded from the Islanders to Toronto. Although John was present during some of the preliminary preference discussions, Aryne always appreciated how Lana focused mainly on her and her needs during the conversation, as opposed to her husband. Oftentimes, it was the opposite with other firms and their agents who wanted to talk hockey or suck up to the player in the hopes they might be able to drum up more business for themselves.

For several years, Lana's name had become the number one recommended by the majority of Toronto WAGs who were either in search of shorter-term furnished rentals or more permanent homes. She understood and made it clear (while treading lightly) that where the player-husbands were often making the salary allowing the upscale and sometimes super luxurious homes, it was the wives and families that had to live in them day in and day out. As such, Lana's firm cornered the market for finding suitable homes for Toronto's professional athletes and their families. Due to the unique demands, she created a specialized team and trained them specifically to work with sports agents, significant others, and the player's surrounding support system.

Lana's eyes lit up, as did Aryne's, as they greeted each other and hugged warmly.

"What an amazing surprise! Good morning!" Lana gushed, first embracing Aryne and then John.

Lana approached the third individual standing slightly behind John. He was taller than the veteran player by a couple of inches, visibly younger, and was extremely broad and fit.

Lana thought she recognized his face but couldn't quite place it.

Aryne made the introductions. "This is Matthew Knies. Matthew, this is Lana — she's a friend and has been our real estate guru for a number of years."

Matthew's cheeks were already burning when he first glimpsed at Lana. He was positive he had never seen a woman nearly as beautiful as she was.

But when Lana turned and looked directly into his eyes while extending her hand, that's when his insides fell apart. He had difficulty swallowing, and he realized his mouth was slightly agape.

Lana squeezed his hand warmly. "I thought I recognized you. It's really wonderful to meet you, Matthew."

Trying to pull himself together, he shook her hand and with a dry throat, he squeaked out, "Nice to meet you too."

As Lana escorted the group towards her office, Aryne explained that she and John just wanted to help sort through some of the available condo listings for Matthew.

Lana smiled and explained to Aryne and John her initial confusion when the request for condo listings appeared under the "Tavares" file. After all, she had already helped Aryne find their ideal home twice as their family grew.

Matthew had resided with the Tavares family at the beginning of the 2023/24 season and later moved to a rental unit downtown mid-way through the season. Unfortunately, for various reasons, he was not at all happy in that building and wanted to start the upcoming season in more suitable place. Although it was not discussed in their meeting, the main reason being that Matthew and his now ex-girlfriend had parted ways in that same unit, and it was not an amicable ending to say the least.

Lana appreciated having John and Aryne there to assist Matthew. In recent years, other members of her sales team had primarily handled the real estate needs of younger male players. Time was ticking before the start of the season, and Lana wanted to be efficient in pinpointing exactly what would suit Matthew. John's input would be valuable in considering practical factors, especially regarding proximity to Scotiabank Arena and the practice rink in the southwest end of the city.

As Matthew sat diagonally across from Lana, he pretended to show interest in the selected listings which Lana walked them through on the large monitor mounted on her wall.

But it was only Lana that held his attention.

Matthew wanted to absorb every detail of her from head to toe. He wanted to stare and drink in every detail of her face.

Not wanting to appear obvious, he made sure his eyes didn't linger too long when they wandered to catch another glimpse of her as she pointed out various features in each listing.

Matthew had not even realized that his auto-pilot responses were in full swing. He barely recalled agreeing to see a handful of ready-to-show condos in the surrounding area and that it would be Lana herself giving him a tour of each unit.

Lana rose from her desk. "So Matthew, if you're alright for time now, it sounds like we'll be spending the morning together."

Matthew smiled as he silently willed his cock not to twitch at the very thought of being with Lana in any capacity, morning, noon, or night.

"Sure — absolutely… I'm all yours."

With the feeling that his heart was in his throat, Matthew realized how true those words had become in just half an hour after meeting this siren.

Lana stopped by Ainsley's desk and quietly gave some instructions for tasks that could be taken care of while she was out. Ainsley couldn't help but look past Lana ever so subtly at the handsome young player as she nodded her head.

Sensing that Matthew had caught her pretty assistant's eye, Lana gave Ainsley a knowing smile. "You want me to find out if he's dating anyone?" she quietly asked.

A bashful smile spanned Ainsley's face. "Oh my god, he's just so hot… I don't know… I guess it would be nice just to know if he's got a girlfriend?" she replied under her breath.

Ever so coolly, Lana gave Ainsley a discreet wink. "I'll see what I can find out and report back later, ok?"

Ainsley beamed, barely able to suppress her excitement as she nodded enthusiastically.

Lana joined the group as they meandered down the corridor towards the elevators. Little did she know that this little "meet cute" with Matthew Knies would soon change her entire world.

▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊

Later in the day, Matthew arrived at the building of his close friend and teammate, Joseph Woll. He pressed the intercom button and within seconds, the door to the lobby clicked open and Matthew made his way towards the elevator.

Minutes later, Matthew was at Joe's door, which he had left propped slightly open inviting him just to come on through. Matthew always appreciated Joe's easy-going and considerate nature and felt grateful for his friend and how they both seemed to naturally anchor each other.

He walked through to the open living room and kitchen area where Joseph was working away assembling his most recent Lego project — the famous Concorde aircraft.

Joe glanced over the tail of his newest Lego set towards Matthew. "How did it go — see anything you liked?"

Fuck… yeah, only it wasn't a condo, Matthew mused to himself.

"Not sure… I guess nothing really stood out," Matthew replied as he flopped onto the nearby couch. "Might take a few more times… I just want to pick the right one."

Without looking up from snapping a series of small blocks together, Joe continued. "Too bad there's not anything available in this building…" He searched the table for the next appropriate piece before adding, "…but then again if you moved in, maybe there's such a thing as seeing someone too much…"

Matthew looked at his friend with a pained expression. "Ouch — fuck, bro… is that what you think?" he chuckled.

Joe shook his head laughing. "No… I just like getting a rise out of you. Oh—and just letting you know that we're meeting up with the rest of the guys at the bar around 8 tonight. I guess it's guys only now… the girlfriends opted to do something else."

"Who's all going? Mints, Cowboy…?"

Joe continued, "Me, you, Bobbo, Mints, Cowboy, but then there's a few vets coming — Max, Muzz… Doaner I think. It's shaping up to be a fun night."

Matthew stretched and yawned. "Sounds like it. Alright… fuck — I need a nap. Can I crash here for a bit? I don't feel like going back to my place."

Joe was concentrating on reading the instructions for the rudder for the plane. "Be my guest… we'll head out to the bar together then. I think you've even got a pair of shorts and a shirt here so you can change. Crash as long as you want."

Matthew traipsed down the hallway to the second bedroom and fell backward onto the mattress. He was tired, but his mind bounced in a million directions, wondering about what Lana was doing now and how her day would end. He wondered if she went home to a perfect husband or significant other who loved her and treated her right, or if she was with some prick who would never realize just how amazing she is.

Matthew's insides were starting to twist and flutter each time his memory pulled him back to the seemingly insignificant moments of that day. Sitting next to her in her car. Chatting seamlessly while stuck in traffic. Riding the elevator with her, or holding the door for her whenever they entered or exited a prospective condo.

His mind traveled back to the quick lunch they had, where Lana couldn't stop laughing after Matthew told her a story from his childhood. When she continued to chuckle about it for the rest of their time together, Matthew thought he might melt with desire right then.

Matthew finally pushed past the restlessness he had begun to feel and drifted off into a deep sleep.

Later that evening at an upscale sports bar, the table of hockey players cheered when the servers presented the group with the most bizarre and fascinating Caesar concoctions. The popular Canadian cocktail was adorned with everything from pulled pork sandwiches and burgers on skewers to tempura prawns and dessert options.

The group's boisterous laughter marked the upbeat and optimistic mood of the group with the start of a new season just around the corner.

Matthew tried to mimic the mood but he simply wasn't there in mind or spirit. He even ignored being chirped by a few of the rookies for nursing his Corona and avoiding the subsequent tequila shot altogether.

Matthew had a close friendship burgeoning with former rookie Bobby McMann, whom he sat next to at the table. Bobby noticed Matthew's glum demeanor but initially assumed it was over the demise of his recent relationship.

Bobby clinked the clear glass neck of his beer bottle against Matthew's, which was still virtually untouched. "It'll get better, man—try not to let it drag you down too far."

Matthew nodded and smiled to acknowledge his friend's support.

Joe, who was sitting across the table, silently wondered about the change in his friend's mood. Yes, Matthew had been through some turmoil in the past months with ending a relationship that had gone off the rails. However, after the dust had settled in the off-season, his mood and outlook were full of confidence once again. Joe knew Matthew was really geared up about finding a new place quickly, so perhaps his low mood was a result of not having any luck that day. It didn't quite compute in Joe's head, but he would keep his thoughts to himself, for now at least.

When Matthew quietly announced to those sitting nearest to him that he was done for the night and was heading home, Joe and Shane (Doan) walked him out just to make sure their good friend was alright before taking off. Matthew assured them he was, that he was just tired.

He ordered an Uber and was back home in no time, but the change in location to his quiet condo only exacerbated him more. Pulling out Lana's business card, adorned with her headshot that he couldn't avert his eyes from, he placed it on the coffee table. He picked up his guitar, a not-so-new hobby that Matthew freed his mind with, much like his buddy Joe did with Lego, and began to pick at the strings. He was pissed with himself as he tried, and failed, to think of anything else other than contacting his new and unexpected crush.

Setting the guitar aside, he picked up his phone, entered Lana's cell number into his contacts and sent her a brief message, beginning with an apology hoping it wasn't too late to reach out to her.

Matthew was pleasantly surprised that she responded within minutes. He asked Lana a series of questions, all about viewing more condos, but it was mostly to establish whether he could reach out to her specifically. She responded that indeed he could, and she would do her best to accommodate his schedule in the coming days. Matthew wasted no time in setting up a time with Lana for the following day, and then two days after that.

He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

Following a silent moment, Matthew then shook his head and muttered to himself to get a fucking grip and that he was acting completely ridiculous by already pining over a woman that he didn't even know.

▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊▣◊

As the end of August approached, Lana and Matthew had spent a considerable amount of time sorting through listings and narrowing down options to view. Lana encouraged Matthew to be selective, as it was important for him to be happy in the space where he would spend the majority of the next eight or nine months.

On the other hand, she knew the start of the season was sneaking up quickly and she hoped, for his sake, that he would find a place before training camp, media days and everything else that goes with it was upon him.

Matthew secretly knew this and sometimes felt he was playing with fire, appearing either indecisive or hard to please with the places Lana showed him. With this in mind, Matthew quickly finalized his decision on a place and chose a second one as a backup.

He also wanted to take the plunge and ask Lana out for dinner to say thank-you.

The following afternoon, Matthew sat next to Lana on the sleek, white sofa in her office as she walked him through the paperwork. The air between them was comfortable and relaxed, but the professional nature of their relationship was still very prominent. While initialing and signing wherever Lana indicated with her elegantly simple manicured nails, Matthew tried to ignore the anxiousness that was swirling in his mind.

Lana had consumed his every thought since he first met her. Whether he was in the midst of strength training or skate drills, he imagined what it would feel like if she was there watching him. He thought about her in traffic, in the shower, or running out to get food. He continuously caught himself having these harmless daydreams and did his best to shoo them away in order to refocus his mind, but often he was fighting a losing battle.

With his last initial inked on the page, Lana smiled widely and extended her hand. "Congratulations, Mr. Knies—I think you'll be very happy in your new place. It really is such a great neighborhood."

"Well, thanks… yeah, I know I will. And thank you for all your help. And for being patient with me. I hope it didn't feel like I was never going to choose one… you just gave me so many great options," Matthew smiled as he shook her hand.

As they stood, Lana felt a little disappointed that this might be the last time her and Matthew crossed paths. Her initial impressions of him and his frat boy exterior had almost immediately dissolved and she found him to be very mature and he spoke with an intelligence that was far beyond his years. Oftentimes, Lana found that she genuinely looked forward to seeing him, especially the times when they decided to walk to each destination instead of fighting traffic. She had only felt this level of comfort, ease and enjoyment with a select group of people, and although she never would have expected it, she considered Matthew a friend.

If she was really being totally honest with herself, she had thought about him as a little bit more than a friend as her base female urges had only increased since she met him. Lana often fell asleep feeling frustrated, squeezing her thighs together to try and get relief from the pressure building in her core.

Lana moved towards the door, knowing she had limited time before her next meeting. “I hope you won’t be a stranger but I can only imagine how busy you’ll be once the season starts. Oh - and all the best…I hope you guys have a really great year ahead.”

Feeling that time was not on his side, Matthew’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously and stepped in close to Lana.

“Hey - well, I kind of felt like I was being a bit of a pain in the ass with monopolizing your time, so to say thanks, I - I was wondering if maybe you’d let me take you out to dinner sometime?

Lana’s eyes softened as she smiled, feeling flushed at Matthew’s invite. “Absolut - “

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ainsley appeared at the door, her eyes darted between the expression on Lana and Matthew faces. “Your 3:00 is here.” The curtness in Ainsley's voice would be unrecognizable to most, but Lana picked up on it quickly. She had all but forgotten that Ainsley had developed a crush on the young hockey player. Normally, her attractive assistant caught the attention of most guys around Matthew's age and type, but any interactions she had with Matthew thus far were strictly polite and professional.

Lana thanked her and said she would be out momentarily. She made a mental note to check in with Ainsley later, as she noticed her pursed lips before she walked stiffly down the hallway.

Lana turned back to Matthew. “How about this, I send you a note once I’m home from work and we can get something arranged, ok?

“Perfect - I guess until then…” Matthew postured for a hug which Lana gladly accepted.

For a split second in his embrace, she imagined how it would feel if his hands held her a little more firmly. Pulled her in a little more tightly.

She watched as he sauntered out into the reception area, quietly mumbling as she chastised herself.

“He’s 21…you're 32. Get your mind off of this notion, Lana.”

But for the remainder of the day, she couldn't stop the fluttery sensation in her stomach. It mystified and excited her but it was a feeling that also terrified her.

After her last meeting had wrapped up for the day, she hurriedly sent a message to Andrew and Jason. She flagged it as urgent for good measure.

L - Are either of you home tonight? Desperately needing advice - can I come by?

Jason responded first.

J - Are you ok? Already setting a place for you at the dinner table.

Andrew responded asking the same question.

Lana paused, held her breath and typed in each letter slowly.

L - I think I'm interested in someone.

There was a silence that could be felt, even over the phone.

Andrew eventually responded.

A- Jason probably fainted. You might want to pick up something stronger to drink than wine.

[amazingmaeve]

INFATUATION (2/?)

homelander x fem!reader

series summary — homelander meets Ashley's sister and he's already feeling infatuated with you and he just can't help it, even though ashely is fucking annoying he can't help but think you were the exact opposite.

summary — you have a very interesting second encounter with Homelander afar your first day at work.

warnings — homelander being himself, stalking, mutual masterbation (not known to reader), angst, fluff, toxicity from homelander, unwanted groping (mentioned and not by homelander) breastfeeding, homelander being jealous of a baby

word count — 2205

authors note — hopefully you guys like this chapter im kinda proud of it so enjoy your reading.

homelander masterlist | the boys mastelrist

ITS been a week since you moved and since you’ve been in the Vought tower. You had a week before work started at a company, where you’d be working as a secretary, so you just did normal day activities, getting groceries, taking care of Ellie, and unpacking all of your stuff which was a lot harder than you think it would be.

Ashely weirdly hasn’t contacted you since, which made you worried, had you upset her or was she just a stressed worker. You were leaning towards her being stressed because that made more sense. Usually if your sister had any problems with you, she would outright tell you and hopefully resolve the problems. Less could be said for you, you usually avoided confrontation, you hated arguing and maybe that’s why you hadn’t been to the Vought tower since, because you didn’t want to argue with your sister.

But the night before your first day at work, you had texted her and asked if she could watch Ellie, since you hadn’t gotten a nanny yet and you really didn’t trust a random person to watch over your daughter. At least alone. So you had crossed your fingers hoping Ashely would agree and then you could ask for her help to find a nanny or a daycare that was trustworthy.

Luckily she had agreed, excitedly, and you let out a sigh of relief at that. You don’t know what you would’ve done if she had declined and you had a good night's rest.

The next morning as you got everything ready for work and for Ashley, you were starting to get nervous, not only because of the job, but you were anxious to run into Homelander again. You tried to remind yourself that he was America's golden boy. He wouldn’t do anything to you. But something in the back of your mind thought the exact opposite. Maybe it was the look in his eyes as he talked to you, or maybe it was because of the anger he had when he first entered the room.

But you shook those thoughts out of your head.

Once you got to Vought you were lucky that Homelander wasn’t there, so you dropped off Ellie and all the stuff she needed (milk, diapers, clothes etc) to Ashley who seemed happy to see you. At least you hadn’t angered her.

Then you went off for your first day at your job.

Unbeknownst to you, Homelander was watching you and justified it by him taking a liking to you. He wasn’t doing anything wrong as he watched you in your tiny apartment. E wasn’t doing anything wrong as he watched you breastfeed Ellie and then he got hard, which led to him jerking off. But he was surprised he hadn’t seen you at all since that day.

You seemed close to Ashley.

But he was surprised to find the baby was with Ashley as he got back from a mission, probably just missing you. He cursed himself but didn’t put himself down too much as he knew you’d be coming back for the baby.

To be honest, Homelander has been craving a meeting with you, yeah it felt better watching you but he needs to hear your voice. He needed to hear you talking to him. And only him. He needs to get his shit together and talk to you. He wasn’t a pussy, he just needed to man the fuck up and talk to you.

It couldn’t be that hard. You seemed like a shy and demure kind of woman and would probably giggle at everything he had said. Like those women who are too shy to make the first move, but aren’t that shy sexually. He prayed for that. He was the Homelander, and he could fuck any woman he wanted but he wanted you to want him. He wanted you to be so turned on that you had to make the first move, he hadn’t witnessed you touching yourself since he’s been watching you. Probably due to the guy who fucked a baby into you and left. The other reason could be due to the baby itself, he noticed it cried. Like a lot. So if you were to have a few moments to yourself, to let yourself pleasure yourself, the baby probably would’ve interrupted it.

Needless to say Homelander spent the rest of the day thinking of you trying to hide his raging hard on.

When you had returned to get Ellie, he had noticed you seemed upset so he decided to eavesdrop on the conversation with Ashley.

“What’s wrong Y/N you seem upset,” Ashley asked worried, it seemed she noticed it as well.

“Nothing it was just his guy at work, he kinda groped my ass when we were in the elevator,” You murmured picking up Ellie as you gave her a smile.

Homelanders' eyes narrowed once he heard that, it wasn’t the groping that made him angry, but it was the fact that someone touched someone that he already deemed as his. She was going to be his and he was going to laser the fuck out of anyone who touched her.

“Did you tell your boss,” Ashley asked concerned, although you didn't, which confused both him and Ashley.

“No,” You mumbled.

“Why the fuck not, assholes like that deserve to be at least fired,” Ashely snapped. “Why don’t you seem mad at this?”

“Because Ashley this happens a lot of the time, not just at work so I’ve just gotten used to it, and I need this job, it pays well and I can’t afford getting fired or quitting because assholes like Steve can’t keep his hands to himself,” You said with a hard tone in your voice.

Perhaps he should visit this stupid fuck who did this.

“Fine but if he does anything else please do something about it,” Ashley pleaded. She didn’t like to see you like this, just so casual about it.

“Okay I will,” You promised although Homelander knew you were lying by the skip in your heartbeat. “I have to get going Ash, I need to get Ellie to bed,” You said, grabbing your stuff and bidding Ashley a goodbye.

Homelander sprung into action, not knowing if he would get another chance like this and made his way towards the elevator he knew you’d use. And as expected you made your way towards the elevator and greeted him with a smile as you pressed the down button. He hid the smirk as he heard heart speed up a little.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while,” He spoke as he put his hands behind his back.

“Oh I’ve just had kinda a tough week,” You said in a tiny voice and he knew you were lying. He was watching you all week lounging about your apartment. But he didn’t say anything, not wanting to rat himself out.

The elevator opened and the both of you stepped in the elevator.

“I get it, tough weeks are kinda my thing all though comes with the work,” He said flashing her a smile which made her let out a little laugh.

“I’m pretty sure your week was way tougher than mine,” You say with a smile. And now it’s time for his heart to start racing more and he’s lucky you can't hear his heart beat because he might have to kill you if you had heard.

“Don’t put yourself down, it must be heard being a mom, a single one nonetheless,” Homelander praised you, wondering what you would respond with.

“Thanks it’s a lot,” You mumbled looking at the floor, feeling your body get covered in goosebumps. Although you wondered how he knew you were a single mom, you shook that idea out of your head.

“Speaking of mom hows the baby,” He pushed the words out, trying to make it seem like he cared about the little human, even though deep down he couldn’t give a fly fuck.

“Oh she’s amazing, but she’s a bit of a crier so it gets kinda hard at times, but she’s worth it,” You gush looking down at Ellie with a warm smile.

Homelander bit his lip, not wanting to say something he doesn’t mean, something grew in the pit of his stomach, not a new feeling. Jealousy. He wants you to talk to him like that or at least about him like that, he wants you to give him that smile and dote on him. He deserved it.

But he shoved the green envy down, coming up with a new idea that could help him. He noticed they were about to the first floor and he turned to you.

“Hey you should come by more often,” Homelander stated in his softest tone he could manage and lifted his gloved to rest it on your arm. He immediately noticed the goosebumps rising there and he felt that sense of pride again. He had an effect on you as well.

“Oh if-if that’s what you want,” You stuttered as you felt your heart race.

And if it couldn't get any worse he grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth and pressed his lips to your knuckles giving it a kiss. He noticed you biting your lip and when the elevator doors opened he retracted his hand quickly.

“Hopefully I’ll see you soon,” Homelander said as the both of you walked out and you gave a wary nod.

He watched you walk out the building and kept his eye on you until you were in your car and he immediately went outside and shot up in the air, not caring if people looked at him weird or fascinated.

He landed on top of the same building across from your apartment and just waited for you to get home. He didn’t have anything else to do. He didn’t need sleep, even though he does at some times but he’d much rather be watching you.

It was about 15-20 minutes when you got home and he noticed how tense you were, you seemed to be very stressed and he couldn’t wait to fuck that out of you. To make sure you weren’t stressed anymore.

He let out a tiny groan as he saw you sit on the couch and take off your shirt (as you thought no one could see you) and start to feed Ellie. Homelander bit his lip watching, as he moved his hand to his covered cock and began to slowly rub himself.

And as soon as the session started it was over and you were taking her to her crib, setting her down as you saw that she was asleep. Walking around shirtless in the apartment with milk dripping onto your stomach as you got a towel to clean yourself. He moaned as he began to rub harder.

Homelander watched as you entered your room and took everything off and his mouth waters at the sight of it. But you pulled a bigger night shirt over your body before laying down in the bed. Without any panties. It was like you knew he was watching you.

He watched as you turned off the light but didn’t go straight to sleep and he wondered why. You seemed tired so why weren’t going into a deep slumber. Sometimes you turned on the tv and watched some television before you fell asleep but you were just staring at the ceiling.

But he was certainly surprised when your hand made its way under your covers and under your shirt. He must have made a very good impression as you were about to touch yourself.

With a groan he finally released his cock from his pants and began to stroke himself as your fingers made contact with your pussy for the first time. You bit your lip as you slipped your middle finger through your folds and made its way to your clit. Homelander groaned as he moved his hand faster as you began to pant heavily as you circled the nub.

Before he even knew it, you slipped two fingers into your wet pussy and he tried not to close his eyes and moan but the sounds you and your pussy made him fuck his hand even harder. He couldn’t wait to get a taste of it.

As your fingers moved faster your other hand went to attend your clit and he knew you were close, he was close to. Sp when you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a tiny moan as you clenched around your fingers and released your orgasm. Homelander let out a louder moan as he released himself on the ground of the top of the building.

Homelander so badly wanted to suck the juices off your fingers but he restrained himself as he shot into the air and made his way to his penthouse as he continued to think about you and he knew you’d be back next time. Especially due to your sexual feelings for him at the least.

Meanwhile you went to the bathroom and washed your hands and peed before you laid down on your bed and nuzzled into the pillow and fell into a deep sleep.

[soraviie]

━ type: jungkook x gn! reader   ━ navigation

━ about: a healthy splash of angst; reader is slightly older than Jungkook (also in denial) and he is a whole forest because there's just so much pine

━ requested by @manavi-meera (?) tumblr deleted your ask when I tried to write in it, all I saw was the gif :/

"Just think about it."

"It's Jungkook!"

"Yeah, it's Jungkook. So think about it."

"Hmm."

It's around when your foot is halfway across the threshold that Yoongi speaks again — just as somber as he'd begun the conversation. If, of course, one's ex-boyfriend turned best friend hurtling a bunch of mistruths and delusions at a completely oblivious and confused party of the other could be construed as a "conversation".

"Oh and ______________?"

You turn around, feeling some form of clammy fear sink its grimy talons around your gut the longer this stifled, awkward bout of silence drags on.

"Yeah?"

"Just...be kind. No matter what you do."

And because for some unknown reason a sudden knot appears at the base of your throat, you can't speak — without rhyme or reason it seems nigh impossible to utter a single word so you nod. Nod and leave Yoongi to sit in his studio alone and with that disconcerting glimmer in his eye. 

Jungkook liking you — one has to laugh! 

“Old man has to be checked for dementia,” you grouse to yourself, the only thing hearing your discontent being the darkness of the emptied hallway. 

The thought! The absolute gall! 

Jungkook liking you…

It’s — it's ridiculous!

But because of one nosey little fucker, the idea has been planted in your head now and like an invasive species of flora, it refuses to leave your gardens alone. 

You try to imagine, you give it an honest, good effort but even now, after all these years what you see before your eyes when thinking of Jungkook are those big, wet eyes. It doesn’t matter how many tattoos and piercings he adorns himself with, how many bikes he drives through the night in the name of the thrill, none of it matters — to you he’s just a gangly kid, always turning his face away so you don’t see the nearly constant state of panic reflected in his features. 

What Yoongi has been smoking you have no idea, frankly you certainly don’t want to try it if it causes this sort of brain damage. 

Jungkook yearning for you. 

Yearning. Just hearing that word bounce back in your skull makes you scoff. Yearning was for torrid love affairs and sentimental romance books; no one in real life yearned. Who could possibly have the time?

Grab your jacket —> go home —> forget this ever happened —> maybe share a demure chuckle or two with Yoongi five years laters, because obviously he’d be embarrassed about being this wrong about something but the plan is fucked. 

It’s fucked because big, brown eyes are staring right back at you, as you round the corner into the wardrobe and more importantly they’re holding your jacket. Well, his hands, not the eyes. Eyes couldn’t hold things. 

“Welcome back,” Jungkook outstretches the jacket towards you, his voice rumbling low in the chest. It’s usually a pleasant hum but because of Yoongi you cannot help but wonder whether it’s a pleased hum as well. “Why didn’t you tell me you're stopping by?”

Had it been just yesterday you would have punched his arm, rolled your eyes and annoyed the ever loving shit out of him, saying he’s not your boyfriend — you don’t owe him to know when and where you’re coming and going but it’s today and suddenly merely touching him feels excruciatingly awkward. 

“Must have slipped my mind,” you mutter, struggling to put the jacket on. A faint wrinkle of discontent worms its way in the space between his eyebrows. Frustration rises and he outstretches himself to help you — out of instinct, out of annoyance? — you're not quite sure, before it never crossed your mind to ponder about it. However, now that you do your legs take an automated step back and Jungkook's hands after a second of lingering contemplatively into the air, half reached out towards you drop back to his thighs — unassuming and still.

"Something wrong?" he asks, inclining his head to the side and why....

...why is it sort of cute?

Cute in a very Jungkook way but not in a usual Jungkook way because usually he was like a little brother you never wanted and...

"__________________?"

...and you're spiralling.

"Yeah?" you blink down on him and the frown on his face deepens.

"You're a bit," jerkily, he waves his fingers around. "Out of it."

"You're like a brother to me, right?"

You didn't mean for it to come out as a question but it is now and it's terrifying. It's terrifying because Yoongi was right. Jungkook's not laughing or scoffing or even acting annoyed or offended by this familiarity. Rather there's this ashen film covering his face and the longer his gaze flits anxiously from one spot to another — anywhere but your own persona — the more you understand.

He'd thrust his heart into your awkward hands and now you're simply horrified to even hold it with more pressure — what if it breaks, what if you hurt it in anyway? It feels more like an injured bird than a heart — any wrong move and you would do something that would weigh down on you for the rest of the remaining days.

It's your turn to call out his name and echoing the same confused, absent-minded state you're in, he hums at the mention of his name, eyes hazy and teeth gnawing on his lip.

"I mean I always thought we're...friends, you know?"

"You're still—"

"I'm not little anymore."

For a second he gains a new sort of resolution - the hazy veil in his eyes is traded for something more steel like and his spine straightens just for a second befoer he collapses into himself, muttering with no small amount of bitterness:

"I'm not a kid, ___________, and you're not that much older than me."

"I know it's just," there is an ill-willing sense of a migraine coming on - you could feel it into the tepid albeit painful tension sitting at the base of your neck. "I guess it's just hard to shake off first impressions, Koo."

He gives an ugly sort of snort — a bit bitter, a bit self-depreciating — and you swear there is a "don't I know it" under his breath, grumbled in a tone that implies it's something of an inside joke with himself.

You wonder what it means.

"I'll walk you home," he suddenly utters, jumping up from the seat. Was he always such a beefcake? Your stare lingers just a touch too long and now that the proverbial scales had been ripped off your eyes you fully grasp how he preens underneath this crumb of attention.

It brings back the awkward feel in your hands — like holding something too small and too precious while walking across a tightrope.

"I didn't ask—"

"Tough shit," he throws over his shoulder, already walking away, pretending to be all cool.

"When did you get so commanding?" you grouse, rushing to keep up with him. It's a bit easier to breathe for now, here in the desolate hallway of HYBE's lower wardrobess, things have for now returned to normal and you revel in that fact though in the back of your mind you know things are soon to change. Conversations will be had and secrets will be spiilled, be it for better or worse. You know it and Jungkook knows it but for now you both pretend it's the same it used to be and bicker to your heart's delight.

"Spank me then."

"Fucking perv."

"Who do you think I learned it from?"

"From Namjoon's truly godless porn sites."

"I'm a good boy, I would never."

"Wipe that sly grin off your face and maybe I'll believe you."

send in a picture of the boys and I’ll write a scenario

[starlightsearches]

I have a request for Eddie x Reader where the reader is his best friend. They’ve been best friends for years, and are extremely close, sharing everything with each other. While hanging out and teasing one another the reader admits to Eddie that she’s worried she’s not good at giving head, (maybe an ex made a comment or something.) Eddie laughs at first, thinking she’s joking, but when he realizes she’s seriously upset about it he tries to comfort her. She ends up asking him if she can blow him to see if she’s bad at it and he’s reluctant, because he’s secretly been in love with her for a while, but eventually let’s her. She’s in love with him too, which is partially why she’s wanting to blow him. After or during the blow job she finally admits to him she’s loved him for a while. (Bonus points for praise kink/princess or good girl used)

Feel free to change anything to make it work for you! Thanks in advance.

What Are Friends For?

This was such a fun idea, bestie! I'm sorry it took me so fucking long!

Eddie Munson x F! Reader / 4.4k words

18+ only, best friends to lovers, pornos, oral (m recieving), fingering (f receiving) praise, nicknames for reader (princess, sweetheart, babe), language.

When Eddie asked you to run some errands with him, this wasn't what you had in mind.

You'd never been in the back room of Family Video—the bold, red 18+ only sign had kept you far away even after the warning stopped applying to you. But Eddie breezed past the curtain like he fucking lived there, so of course you had to follow. 

It's really not that exciting. Just a bunch of shelves—the same ones they have in the rest of the store—and if you don't look anywhere for too long, it's like you're watching him browse for a regular movie. 

Kind of.

"Hey, look at this," Eddie laughs, flashing one of the covers in front of you. It's a picture of a girl—half-naked but wearing a wide-eyed expression—a cheap replica of the Freddy Krueger glove reaching towards her tits, covered demurely with the palms of her hands.

"Ew, Eddie! Tell me you're not actually watching shit like . . . Wet Dream on Elm Street?"

You'd only been back in Hawkins a day or two—finally home from your first semester of college—but you're glad to see that things with Eddie are the same as always. After the shit storm the last few weeks had been, you needed this to be normal . . . or at least, as normal as it can be when you're shopping for porn together.

Eddie scoffs, but he places the tape back in the same empty space on the shelves. "Jesus, when did you turn into such a prude, princess? I thought going to college was supposed to fix that."

Ouch. Eddie may know you better than anyone, but that doesn't make him a mind reader. You shrug the comment off, despite the sting. "Guess it didn't work on me."

Leaving Eddie where he is, you sneak off to a new aisle, one where you can feel a little more comfortable letting your eyes brush over the lewd pictures to satisfy your curiosity, if nothing else. It's actually kind of . . . fun, in a weird way—comparing the sex appeal of all the bare-chested men stretched out on silk sheets, laughing at the cheesy titles. 

Until you catch Brian's eyes staring back at you from the front of one of the video tapes. 

Then there's his shining, wet smile, the feeling of his hands slipping against your skin in the darkness of somebody else's bedroom, heavy breaths and muffled music and is this okay?

"Blowjobs, huh?"

You flinch, heart stuttering when you turn towards the voice, feeling stupid for getting so worked up. It's just Eddie.

"What?"

He points to the same video that shoved you into the spiral. On second glance, the man doesn't really look like Brian—older, for sure, with a little less boyish charm . . . and a much bigger dick bulging against his underwear.

There's a girl on her knees in front of him, dainty hands planted on his thighs, and you wonder if you'd looked like that when it happened—all coquettish and doe-eyed, pink tongue hanging out of your wide-open mouth. 

Maybe then he would have called you back. 

"Oh, no, I was just—" you swallow hard, skin itching where it grows warm across your chest. You don’t get the chance to think through what you say next. "What does it feel like?"

There's a little crease between Eddie's knitted brows.  "What does what feel like?"

"Um, getting your dick sucked?" You're all hot with shame, but Eddie's hardly phased. 

"It feels awesome. Why?"

You could brush it off. He'd take your words at face value if you hit him with a just curious, but you're tired carrying this secret, and the longer it sits inside of you the more it feels like you're lying.

"You remember that guy I told you about, right?" 

Eddie frowns. "What guy?"

"You know . . . Brian. The one from my Creative Writing class?"

"You never said anything about a guy," he says, and the tone of his voice is hard as he doubles down. 

Damn him. Eddie had been paying more attention than you'd given him credit for in those weekly phone calls. You had to keep most of the conversation PG anyways—since there was always somebody waiting for their chance to snatch up the hall phone the second you'd set it back on the receiver—but you could have told Eddie about the whole thing without mentioning any of the nitty gritty. 

If you had wanted to. 

"Maybe I forgot." You shrug, pretending to browse, like Eddie wouldn't see through that act in half a minute. "Anyways, we went out a couple of times right before finals, and kind of . . . hooked up at a party and I went down on him. I dunno, I thought he might've liked me, but he stopped calling me back."

Eddie lets out a sharp sigh. "Christ. What an asshole." 

"You don't know that," you snap, feeling oddly defensive, "maybe it was bad." Maybe I was bad, you think. 

But that just makes him laugh in his distinctly Eddie way. "Unlikely, babe."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, it means that getting your dick sucked is pretty much always great," —he shrugs one shoulder, eyes tracing along the shelves again without seeing anything— “besides, you’re good at everything.”

You've developed a sudden, irresistible interest in ceiling tiles. "Whatever."

The silence between you is uncomfortable, and loaded like a gun, neither able to look at each other but both too flustered to look anywhere else.

"Well," Eddie cuts the tension in a voice that rides the line between serious and ironic, "there is one way to improve your technique."

He's got the not-Brian video again, waggling it in front of your face. 

Your first instinct is to slap it out of his hand, but you manage to keep your arms down, turning away from him instead. 

"Gross, Eds," you mumble, but just thinking about it still makes you warm between your thighs.

The more Eddie waits, though, the more he's convincing himself of it. He leans up against the shelf with his idea face on. The one that always comes before trouble.

"You wanna learn, right? Then you gotta learn from the best."

He holds the video out to you, but this time you can tell he's serious.

"I can't, I- my parents would see."

"Okay. I'll check it out for you." He adds it to his stack with the other video he’s grabbed before tucking it under his arm. You lunge for the tape, eyes wide, boxing him out with your shoulder when he reaches for it. Eddie doesn’t hold back, leaning all his weight against you until you’re pushed against the shelves, the hard slats digging into your chest and thighs.

You’re a little too old for play-fighting, but that’s not what’s got you all embarrassed. Eddie’s body smothers yours, warm and soft and so much fucking better than you’d imagined it, and he’s making these little grunting noises in your ear, trying to get a hold of the tape.

Oh fuck. 

You let him take it. Not the best option, but it’s more mature than throwing the fucking thing across the room, and that’s not a conversation you’re willing to have with the guy at the front desk. Eddie’s distracted enough by his success that you can finally slip past him, into the open air. He adds the tape triumphantly back under his arm, wearing a cheeky grin. 

The victory’s gone to his head, clearly. “Should we go, or do you want to find another one while we’re here?”

"I don’t have anywhere to watch it, Eds." You’re still breathing hard, and the heat in your cheeks won’t dissipate. 

“Watch it at the trailer, dummy."

"Okay,” you laugh, “what are you gonna do while I'm watching porn?"

He shrugs, looking down at his hands, picking some dirt out from under a nail. "We needed something for movie night, anyways.”

Jesus. That stuns the laughter right out of you. "This is different, Eddie."

He’s got this smile on when he gets in your face, your favorite little cheeky, shit-eating grin that makes your heart flop around in your chest. 

"Why? You worried you're gonna go all crazy with lust, baby? You afraid you're gonna fall in love with me?" He bats his big eyes at you, just joking again. 

Like you needed a reminder of what got you in this mess in the first place. Fuck somebody else to get over Eddie Munson sounded like a way easier thing in your head.

Still, it's not the worst idea ever. You mull it over, chewing on the thought like a tough piece of meat. Watching a porno with your best friend would be all kinds of awkward, but it also might be the least embarrassing way to get the answers you need.

Which says a lot about how dire your situation is. 

Eddie misreads your silence, slipping the tape back from underneath his arm, holding it out to you, a peace offering. “Listen—we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

You keep your hands at your sides, eyes flashing between Eddie’s soft brown ones and not-Brian’s on the box. 

"Do you think- do you think it would actually help?"

Eddie makes a sound like I don't know, shrugging his shoulders. "There's one way to find out." 

He’s right about that. You dig your nails into your palms and let out a heavy breath.

"Okay . . . but let's find a different video." 

The couch cushions are squishy beneath your palms, and you rock back and forth, eyes anywhere but the TV or Eddie. He’s on one knee in front of the wobbly little stand, bent in half and fiddling with the controls, pretty cavalier about the whole thing as he tosses the case on the floor. He flops down beside you once he reaches the couch, grabbing a pillow off the floor and tossing it in his lap.

"Comfortable?" 

Eddie leans over, sticking his fingers in your side until you squirm and let out a few little high-pitched giggles that sound nothing like your usual laugh. 

"I'm good, Eds."

He hums a sound, making it clear he doesn’t believe you. You hope the whirr of the tape will cover how heavy you're breathing. 

It doesn’t start out so bad. The screen lights up with the little blonde girl from the cover lying spread out on the red sheets. She shifts around for a few seconds, posing seductively while the guy—who looks nothing like Brian, this time—kisses at her pink lips, big and barrel chested, swallowing her body under his as he crawls on the bed. Just kissing and moaning, with loud wet mouths. 

You know, like any other movie. 

Eddie shifts beside you, just settling into the couch cushions, and you try to stay relaxed, gripping at your knees tight enough to feel the bones moving underneath. 

The man pets a big hand down over the woman’s hip as he adjusts for the camera, slipping it between her thighs and pressing tight against the lace of her underwear while she moans, writhing against the sheets.  

It’s getting harder to breathe. Brian hadn’t really touched you the night it happened—just second base—cupping your tits over your clothes while he kissed you all sloppy and wet. You’ve thought about hands under your skirt before, late at night in your dorm—imagining thick, long fingers and heavy rings.

But that part doesn’t last long enough for you to dwell on it. She’s getting on her knees.

The air in the room grows tighter, like saran wrap across your face, and you think Eddie is watching you, the burn of his eyes warm against your cheek. Maybe he is, but you don’t dare check, glued to the screen while the girl slips the man’s cock from under the band of his boxers. 

Jesus. It’s not like you’ve seen that many dicks—just the one—but there’s got to be something wrong with this guy. They’re definitely not supposed to be that big. It looks like a monster from a sci-fi movie, like the chest-burster from Alien, red and throbbing.  The girl can barely wrap her hands around him, trying to unhinge her jaw just to get his cock part way in her mouth.

“You okay, sailor?”

Eddie’s nudging you with his foot, graying sock planted against your clenched thigh. You let your eyes fall closed, counting back from ten. 

“I’m fine,” you tell him, but your voice is tight.

It feels like you’re gonna crack a tooth the way you can’t get your jaw to release, watching on the TV as the big man takes that poor girl’s head in his hands, shoving her down farther and farther over his angry, red, monster dick until she’s gagging, shining tears in her eyes. The retching sounds pour out of the tinny speakers, rattling your whole brain.

“Okay,”—you’re off the couch before you can really think about where you’re headed, fumbling for the power button on the front of the TV, pressing a bunch of others in your haste, stopping when you hear the heavy click. The screen buzzes out with a hum, and you fall on your ass to the carpet. 

You can see Eddie on the couch in the screen’s distorted gray reflection, eyes so big they’re taking up half his face.

“You okay?” he asks, quiet.

It’s hard to know for sure. Your body buzzes with the static of conflicting feelings, like you’re only half-way here.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. That was just, you know . . . a lot.” 

Eddie clears his throat, and maybe you should turn around and face him, but you’re not sure what he’d see when he looked at you—if all your emotions are just sitting there on the surface of your skin, waiting for him to pick them apart.

 “Yeah,” Eddie hums, “they’re not all that intense, though. We could always go find another one.”

“I think the one was enough.” 

You try to laugh, to show him that it wasn’t his fault you couldn’t handle it. Maybe that’s why Brian had left you in the dust. He was probably looking for a girl to give him something like that. Maybe all guys were. And that’s got you feeling really small. 

Eddie crawls from the couch, moving to sit beside you, one hand still bunched in the pillow to keep it tight against his lap. 

“It’s no big deal, sweetheart. We could always—”

Whatever he’s about to say next though, you’re not even thinking about it—too busy putting the pieces together for an entirely different puzzle.  

“Are you hard?” you blurt the question out.

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Eddie flushes, and that’s answer enough.

Your mouth floods wet and hot, and you curl your fingers into the carpet, trying to swallow it all back down. Now is not the time to think about Eddie’s cock in your mouth. There is no good time to think about your best friend’s cock in your mouth. Thinking about his rings catching in your hair, the way his head would fall back as you tasted him, his deep voice full of whimpered moans and praise while you sucked the soul out of him. 

“I mean— we were just watching porn, so it would be normal, you know, if you were.”

“I, uh, yeah. I can’t help it.”

He laughs, maybe to make you feel more comfortable, but it’s got you wishing the floor would raise up and swallow you. You should have kept your fucking mouth shut. 

“Oh.”

A few beats of silence pass, and you wonder if you’re ever gonna be able to come back from this, or if you’re gonna spend the rest of your life wishing you could drive into oncoming traffic. 

“Why’d you wanna know?” He nudges you on the shoulder, and your hands find their way to your cheeks, pressing in until it hurts, trying to hide from him and to stop the sting of tears at the back of your throat.

“It’s stupid,” you whisper.

Eddie takes both your wrists in his gentle, calloused hands, tugging until he can look you in the eyes.

“Now you gotta tell me, princess.”

His thumb traces little shapes on the inside of your wrist, and there has to be some kind of magic he’s hiding from you, because you’re actually thinking about telling him the truth.

“It’s really dumb, okay? I just thought . . . if I’m gonna learn . . .”

What you don’t say is that he’s the only person you trust enough for something like this. You don’t tell him that it feels like your only hope. You don’t tell Eddie how badly you want it to be him. 

His thumb stops right against your thrumming pulse.

“Oh.”

“Sorry, sorry, it was fucking stupid and I should just go—” You’re almost to your feet when he grabs at you again, pulling you to a stop. 

“It’s not stupid.” 

Eddie lets the pillow drop from his lap, and your eyes trace over him—down the Metallica logo on his shirt and his belt buckle and the bulge in his jeans.

The weight of the moment slows your movements, has you straining to meet his eyes before you ask, “are you sure, Eds?”

“Yeah, of course I’m sure,”—he swallows— “if it’ll help you out, yeah.” 

You didn’t expect that. Didn’t think he’d give you a yes, and now you’ve got to ask yourself if it would be better to see Eddie Munson fall apart for you just once in your life, or never at all.

“Should we just-” you gesture back to the couch, and Eddie takes a couple steps in that direction until his knees buckle against the cushions. You slip to the ground with a little help, steadying yourself on the arm rest.

It’s fucking weird, finding your balance with your hands at his thighs, feeling the denim beneath your palms and the soft give of his skin beneath that. Eddie’s taking heavy breaths through his parted lips when you look at him, looking almost as scared as you feel.

“You’re still gonna be friends with me, right? Even if this sucks?”

That makes him laugh, and he nods. One of your hands snakes towards his belt.

“Wait,”—Eddie catches your fingers between his, tugging a little— “do you think we should kiss first?”

“What?”

“I mean,” his cheeks go pink, and he won’t look you in the eye, staring at the hand that’s caught yours while he fiddles with one of his rings, “you’re about to have my dick in your mouth. I just thought, maybe that would be weird, so . . .”

“You think kissing first would make this less weird?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eddie says, but the dejected look on his face talks louder, “I’m just being stupid—”

You catch his jaw in your hand, pressing your lips to his before you can talk yourself out of it.

Eddie’s kiss is warm and soft after he gets over the shock of it, relaxing into you with a gentle sigh that sends a jolt through you, whole body electrified. Something about him tastes familiar—like he’s been stealing all your chapstick from your bag again—but there’s nothing greasy left on your skin when he shifts, catching your bottom lip between his own. He just tastes like Eddie. 

And you can’t get enough of it. Even when you know that you should pull away—when you recognize that this is more than a friendly pre-blowjob peck—you don’t want to. You press forward instead, just letting your tongue brush the seam of his lips. Eddie smiles against you.

Then he jumps back with a little huh, almost like a moan. You’re surprised to see that your hand had slipped from his belt buckle, tracing the shape of his cock through his jeans.

“Oh,” your cheeks go flush, and you pull your hand back just a little, “sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” Eddie tells you, “did you wanna . . .?”

He glances back down at his bulge. 

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

You slip the strap of his belt through the loops before fiddling around with the buckle. The metal clinks when you push it to the side, jingling a little as Eddie shifts. There’s the soft pop of the button, and the metallic rumble of his zipper, uncovering more and more of Eddie’s blue boxers, and it’s all got you on pins and needles, shaking with anticipation. You keep your eyes on his when you reach inside the fabric, finding him by touch instead of sight.

Oh. Eddie’s cock is warm in your palm as you slip it from the gap in his boxers. He’s a little bigger than Brian was, but not enough to scare you, deep blue veins tracing paths from the patch of dark hair at the base up to the pink flushed head. 

This one only brings the total number of dicks you’ve seen up to three, but Eddie’s is definitely the prettiest.

His thighs are tense under your arms as you explore him with your fist, bouncing your hand just slightly, your thumb tracing one of his veins. Eddie’s trying to keep it together for you—lips pressed tight so you won’t hear the little sounds he’s making, or the pink flush climbing up his neck, but you know, and you see it, and you want more. 

 You lean in just close enough for your lips to hover over the tip, stopping before your lips brush against him. 

“Let me know what feels good?” you ask.

Eddie nods, voice tight. “Just . . . start slow.”

Easy enough. You let some spit collect at the front of your mouth, coat the tip of your tongue with it before parting your lips against his burning skin, just wide enough that you can take the head inside, sealing your lips under the seam. 

“Yeah, shit, just- just like that.” 

You’ve hardly done anything—just circled your tongue around him, pressing at the slit a little, but Eddie’s acting like you’ve fucking put a man on the moon, curling one hand in your hair, the other in a white-knuckle grip against the couch cushions. You take a little more of him, and the stretch isn’t so bad when you glance up through your lashes. 

Eddie’s got his head thrown back, jaw taut and chest heaving, and it’s got you wondering if he was right earlier. 

Maybe you are good at everything. 

The praise goes straight to your head, of course, confidence doubled knowing that Eddie likes the way your mouth feels around him, and wasn’t that what all of this was for? 

“Fuck, princess, that’s so fucking good. Fucking perfect.” 

The hand in your hair guides you, but gently, as you bounce up and down on his cock, tugging a little at your roots until you whine. There’s a swell of pleasure in your belly, one that travels straight to your cunt when he groans, and you know you’ll be thinking about this moment for a long time, every night you’re alone. 

You’re getting far enough down that you can feel the head of his dick nudging at your soft palate, eliciting a soft gag each time your head dips to kiss the edge of your fingers. Some spit leaks down from the seal of your lips, and you spread it with your palm, coating all the spaces you’re not going to be able to reach.

And Eddie’s so fucking loud—just the way you want him—whining and babbling as his hips shift and his dick twitches and you’re sure you’re gonna make him cum some place besides your dreams.

“Jesus, princess,” Eddie pants, and he can’t get a whole word out between his heavy breaths, “knew you’d be good at this. Never could stop thinking about you on your knees for me.”

What?

Maybe he forgot you were here. Maybe he’s thinking about somebody else to get through this, imagining their lips and their hands, but you don’t think so, even if it’s always seemed impossible. With the way he’s cupping the back of your head so gently, how you can feel his muscles shift under the palm of your hand, you know Eddie’s too far gone to lie to you. 

And maybe that makes you a little crazy, doubling your efforts as you hollow your cheeks around him, letting your tongue lave over his sticky tip, tracing the shape of him until he can’t help himself.

“Jesus, fuck, baby—” he’s trying to pull you off him, maybe embarrassed about how easy it was for you to get him so close, maybe worried that you don’t want a mouthful of his cum. 

But that’s exactly what you want. You hear his deep groan, feel it shaking in your chest as it drips down your throat, and you swallow every drop of it.

“Jesus H. Christ.”

That’s all Eddie has for you when you finally pull off him, eyes blown wide and expression slack. For the first time, you let yourself think about how pretty he is without the accompanying guilt. 

When he gets a hold of himself, he can’t meet your eyes, too busy tucking his spit-coated dick back into his pants to look at you.

You crawl up on the couch beside him, just watching, smiling too wide. It makes your jaw ache, but you can’t help it. Eddie’s all embarrassed when he finally meets your eyes. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” you tell him, scooting a little closer, pressing chest to chest. It’s your turn now to be a tease, after all the shit he’s given you. “I’m just wondering how long you’ve had your little crush on me.”

“Okay,” Eddie blanches, looking for some kind of escape route, but you’re not giving him an inch, “it’s not that big of a deal . . .”

“Yes it is, Eddie. Because, if we’re being honest with each other now, I want you, too.” 

Eddie’s hand shakes when you take it in your own, trembling against your thighs when you press it up your skirt, holding against the soaked fabric between your thighs. He lets out a little surprised breath, eyes searching. He looks scared to death of you. 

“Oh, fuck. Really?”

You hum, pressing his fingers tighter against your core until one slips between your lips, right up against your dripping hole. 

“Since I made one of your fantasies come true, why don’t you return the favor?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, like he still can’t believe his luck, “okay.”

[chickenparm]

live reaction (wriothesley/f!Reader) pt. 2/end

this is a continuation of this fic(livestream), though it's not necessary to really read that one. please be mindful that the reader does have gendered parts in this one in comparison to the previous entry.

---

AO3 Link

Prev Part

Wriothesley/f!Reader

3,279 Words - NSFW

(voyeurism, mild pining, dirty talk, somnophilia, m!masturbation, f!receiving oral, vaginal sex)

---

Gripping the busted camera in his hands, Wriothesley stands in his office and stares somewhere into the middle-distance. His gut churns in an odd mixture that takes a moment for him to analyze. Only when it’s begun to settle and the sediment is separated from the supernatant does he realize that the anger and embarrassment had been suspended in a kind of thick, syrupy excitement.

With a clatter, it hits the floor, and his hand braces against his desk as he wraps the other around his cock with almost bruising tightness. Someone had been watching for god knows how long. Watching him, probably even enjoying the sight of the Duke slouched in his chair, working off some of the stress that builds when he least expects it. 

And his thoughts that had been aimless and half-assed just to get him through were now pinpoint focused on the image of a formless figure hunched over a camera terminal, watching enraptured. It had been a female voice through the speakers - at least he’s pretty sure, though he wouldn’t care either way - and he wonders if the sight of him nearly coming apart had been enough to make them grow wet with their own desire. 

It’s enough to have him doubled-over, his efforts paying off with the audible wet sound of his cum hitting the top of his desk, palm slick with what’s been smeared around. And in the moments after - when he does his best thinking - Wriothesley comes up with a plan of action. 

---

Faintly, somewhere in the distance, you hear the sound of a bell ringing incessantly. You try to count them, but lose interest quickly in favor of rolling over onto your stomach and burying your head in the few pillows you have, blankets kicked off without a care. Sleep seems like a better idea, you’re so exhausted. Losing out on a few coupons is fine. 

Unconsciousness claws at you, dragging you back into your dreams as you settle. Deep breath in, breathe out, you’re almost there until your body jolts in a hypnic jerk and that makes you grumble and only try even harder. With great success, you completely disregard any need to be awake and out of bed. 

It’s while you’re in the midst of a dream about something fanciful or other that your door opens rather carelessly, groaning in protest as the quickness of entry. And then it stops, a hand curled around the edge to keep it from opening any further than would allow entry to the single newcomer. Quietly, beneath their breath, a little “shit” before the door shuts fast. 

And you don’t even stir, so adamant you are to skip the day. 

Wriothesley leans against the door, locking it and staring openly at your figure in the dim room. You truly hadn’t roused at all after your quick slip into slumber last night - you’re not even wearing pants, and you’ve left yourself all but displayed for him to see upon entry. 

This had to be on purpose, right? Wriothesley distinctly remembers telling you that he’d swing by to remove the camera while you were working, so why are you here? Wriothesley’s lungs deflate with a long exhale through his nose as his eyes truly adjust to the darkness and he can see more than he’d initially witnessed. 

You’re not just curled in bed demurely, snuggled up in your blankets. No, you’re sprawled on your stomach, one leg hiked up, all but beckoning him to see your cunt in the high definition his little camera hadn’t afforded him last night. 

In his mind, the first thought is to just leave. That’s likely the first thought that went through yours when you’d been snooping on him. And just like you, he freezes and takes another breath, going against all his better judgment to move closer, not away. Had you been this enraptured? 

The part of him that maintains the smallest amount of stifled ego says yes, that you hadn’t been able to tear your eyes away from him as he’d touched himself during a moment of privacy. Just like he can’t stop taking steps forward - only two, the room is so small - and pressing one knee into the thin mattress to hold his weight. 

An arm’s length away, Wriothesley could reach out and touch. Really get a handful of what he’d been thinking about for a little longer than he’d expected. The object of his dreams last night and the reason for his uncomfortable erection this morning - one that hadn’t quite died down even after handling himself to the thought of you again.

Just a touch, he promises himself. Enough to fuel a few of the less savory thoughts he’s been having, and then he’ll leave. Only a swipe of his fingers to slick them with your cunt and he’ll disappear in his office once more, drawing lungfuls of the scent as he tries in vain to work through his frustration again. 

And the camera will still be here, so maybe…

Wriothesley smooths a palm up the back of your thigh, thumb pressing into the muscle as he goes, divoting the skin and enjoying the give of you. So kindly you’ve left yourself open, comfortable in your sleep if not entirely indecent. Both hands reach out, cupping at your ass and squeezing both cheeks together before pulling them apart, growing a bit greedy with what he’d like to see - everything.

Your asshole - off-limits for now, he won’t take too many liberties - and the folds of your pussy, just the slightest bit wet. Anticipation laces his shaking exhale as he leans closer, eyes darting up to ensure you’re still sleeping before he uses his thumbs to pry apart your labia and really see what he’s been dreaming about. 

Last night, he’d been given a glimpse. The quality of the camera wasn’t the best, but god, could his mind fill in the blanks. How sweet it is to be able to spread you open and see that you’re just as pretty as he imagined you’d be. Glazed-over eyes rake over the sight of your cunt, his thumbs pressing a bit too hard as he imagines what you’d have looked like if he did come down here last night. 

If you’d fallen asleep just the same, would his spend still be here, leaving you sticky enough that pulling you apart in this way fills his ears with the smearing of his cum?

Wriothesley doesn’t realize he’s leaned in until his nose brushes against you, and he stops with a bated breath. Just a touch, he’d promised, but maybe a taste wouldn’t hurt? Just enough to have you blooming across his tongue, then he’ll be satisfied and leave you alone. 

The taste, he thinks, is not enough. 

Flattening his tongue, he presses it against your hole and pushes, as if that would squeeze arousal from you that he hasn’t earned just yet. Looking up at you, along the length of your body, his fingers dig in and what becomes just a taste devolves into nothing more than greedy devouring of your pussy. 

The fluttering of your walls around his tongue is addicting, squeezing and pulling as if you want more and more. And if you’re going to ask him so nicely, he’ll gladly oblige. You’d put on such a nice show last night, truly more than he’d been hoping for, so the very least he could do is keep going until you tell him to stop. 

From above, your quiet little puffs of breath and sharp inhales spur Wriothesley on. Like little pleas for him to keep going, Wriothesley drags his tongue down, rolling it across your clit in quick passes until it’s swollen and slick. Your hips tilt back toward him, chasing his mouth every time he rears back to take a breath, as if he needs to dive into you. 

Letting go with one hand, he slips it down his front and undoes his pants with easy quickness, barely paying attention to the way he falls free until the tip presses against the skin of your calf. Rather than take himself in hand, he uses his fingers over top of his cock to press himself to your leg, dragging for friction that matches the glide of his tongue through your pussy. 

From the back of his throat, strangled and breathless, he moans against your cunt, and you whine in return at the vibration. Back and forth, smearing his pre-cum against your leg with little care, he grinds himself against you and lets his eyes drift shut. Just a little more and he’ll be satiated. Then he’ll make it up later when you inevitably ask why the camera is still there and your cunt is licked clean. 

Maybe even raw, if he can’t get a handle on himself sooner rather than later. 

Carefully, he chases his own pleasure while giving you yours, avoiding making the bed groan in protest any louder than it has to. Each roll of his hips smears his fingers with his arousal, beading up at the webbing and pooling against your skin until each movement is effortless, no matter how tightly he holds. Wriothesley’s scalp tingles at the feeling of fingers scraping along it, twisting into his hair and pulling his face ever closer. 

And then his eyes shoot open, mouth pressed suction-tight against your cunt as you look over your shoulder at him with a sleepy grin. 

“Odd choice of breakfast, Your Grace.”

And he can’t very well answer with his mouth full. But you don’t allow him that sort of reprieve, not like he really needs it. The only viable answer is the one he’s already been giving. Wriothesley’s tongue pushes into you again, aching with the strain of trying to taste you as deep as possible. Your moan curls with appreciation, and from the corner of his eye he watches your toes curl, matching the cut of his own hidden grin. 

Wriothesley is sure he must look like a sight. Hair mussed, cheeks ruddy, eyes half-lidded and punch drunk on something he hadn’t expected to partake in. But the look in your eyes that reflects back at him is undeniably adoring, filled with that same unmistakable hunger that got the two of you mixed up in all of this in the first place. 

Stronger than your grip, he pulls his head back with a wet inhale, chin coated in a shimmering mixture of his own spit and your coaxed arousal. A flash of disappointment crosses your gaze, easily rectified by his hand squeezing hard enough against your ass to bulge the flesh between his fingers, nails leaving crescents against your skin. 

“Rise and shine,” his voice is ragged, thick with pleasure and spittle. Eyes darting down, he watches in undisguised wonder as you visibly clench around nothing. “Just my voice, huh? Barely even said anything.”

“Could probably cum just from your voice.”

“Yeah? Wanna try?”

As much as Wriothesley would love to barricade the door and spend the next few business days spouting whatever nonsense he can think of to watch your pretty little holes flutter, he agrees with your immediate petulance, your lower lip jutting out just so. The effect is as intended whether you expected it or not and he crawls the rest of the way on the bed, uncaring of his boots against your bedding. 

Fuck it, he’ll show some preferential treatment and get you something nicer to sleep on. 

Releasing his cock, he uses his sticky hand to press at your lower back, keeping you pinned, while his other grabs at your hitched knee to straighten out your leg. Swinging his knee over, you find yourself locked in rather nicely with the heft of his cock tucked neatly against the seam of your ass. 

A breathless little sound of giddiness leaves you as he shifts you around effortlessly, your legs kicking a bit at the knee as if to test the give that isn’t there. “Does it have to be this way? I wanna watch, Your Grace.”

“Yeah, you like watching, huh?” Wriothesley can’t keep the amusement from his voice, even if his words hold truth. “Not this time.”

Your mouth opens, likely in a rebuttal of some sort that he’d love to hear under normal circumstances, but he’d like it much better if any sounds you made from here on out were completely incoherent. So, without any warning, as your voice crafts the first syllable, he rolls back just enough for the thick head of his cock to catch on your entrance. 

And it sounds much sweeter than anything you were going to say. So much, in fact, that he can’t keep up the pretense of delayed gratification any longer and pushes forward into you. Inch after inch with little room in between for you to breathe, Wriothesley stretches your pussy out until you’re taut and straining to accept him. 

And still you take more, until his hips dig into your ass and your thighs tremble beneath him. A surprising lack of volume is attributed to your little mewls of pleasure. Gaze darting up from the lewd image of your body struggling to accommodate him, Wriothesley hums in disapproval as he realizes you’ve buried your face in the scant pillows that you have, the fabric of one clenched between your teeth.

“C’mon, none of that now,” he slides a hand up your spine, hooks it around your shoulder, pulls until you’re arched unnaturally. Wriothesley only lets you go when your elbows plant into the bed, keeping your face well away from the bedding. “You sounded pretty good over the speakers, but man… I really want to hear what you sound like when you cum on my cock.”

And then he leans down, pressing deeper, mouth against your ear, “Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

The squeeze of your cunt around him is exquisite, enough to draw a choked little laugh out of him. “Gonna take that as a yes. So keep your face out of the sheets, alright?” And for a moment, you don’t answer, your lip drawn between your teeth as your eyes clench shut in quiet ecstasy. That won’t do either, and he blows out a sigh as he rocks forward a little. “Or if you really want to be quiet, then I’ll just shove your face in them.”

The forward rut of his cock makes you whine meekly, mouth falling open to facilitate the sounds that will surely follow, and he’s satisfied enough with that answer that he turns his head to press a kiss to the skin beneath your ear where it’s softest. “Still good for me, I like that.”

And when you whimper on his withdrawal, cunt clinging to him like your very insides don’t want to let him go, well… Wriothesley likes that, too. 

His first thrust is slow and steady, pushing apart every little inch inside you to accommodate his cock before pulling it away just as lazily. Any quicker and it’s not going to last as long as he wants, though it’s not like this was anything like what he expected. Everything had snowballed from the moment he stepped in here, the moment he installed that camera, the moment you’d looked in on him in his office. 

There’s no point stopping it, but he can at least slow it down, and he doesn’t relent when you start to wiggle beneath him, trying in vain to push your hips up and back to make him go faster. A sharp hiss leaves you, the knee pads of his boots digging into your hips when you shift too much, and it’s as good a deterrent as any to keep you still and pliant beneath him. 

“Appreciate you being so accommodating, by the way.” Wriothesley doesn’t miss the way his voice doesn’t hold the same steady quality as usual, instead coming out between little pants of breath as he gleans just as much pleasure as you do. “Was gonna be a man of my word and get the camera out, but then you just had to go and invite me in, huh?”

Not quite how it happened, but he can see the little twist of a smile on your lips between open-mouthed moans, your fingers gripping at those pathetic pillows. Snapping your jaw shut, you hiss through your teeth as he shifts his angle to sit upright once more, looming over you from on high. An apology sits on the tip of his tongue, stifled once he realizes it was a sudden sound of pleasure, not pain. 

So Wriothesley rocks back, then forward, leaving you empty before filling all those spaces with himself again. And the stifled wail you give him in return is just what he’d been hoping for. He just knew you were a loud one. And if not, then he surely planned on making you that way. 

It’s cold enough in the Fortress that each wet thrust of his cock into you feels like a bed of embers, your cunt starting to accept him with more and more ease. Each pass all but bullies you open until he can finally set a pace that he’s been dying for, one that leaves your body rocking beneath him, your fingers scrambling for more purchase than a few thin pillows can give you. 

Wriothesley can help with that, he thinks, and falls prey to his own intrusive thoughts by snatching up your elbows, fingers locked tight around them to keep you from being fucked away from him. They’re the perfect leverage to arch your back, your hips tilting with the movement and his cock pressing into the wall of your cunt just right. 

Incoherence is what he wanted, and the sounds that tumble from your lips unfiltered are exactly that. Half-finished syllables, whines, cries for him to keep going, just like that. Each plea from you brings him closer, coupled with the sudden sensation of you clamping down viciously tight, as if you mean to break him. 

He’s not sure that you stop cumming, his movements precise but losing their rhythm as he falters in the face of his own release. Each wet, squelching movement drags him further along, sucking him in and demanding he stay there to keep you full. So he does, rather comfortably in fact. Only a few more thrusts until he’s cumming, each throb of his cock is met with an almost-pitiful moan from you. 

It’d be easier if he’d had a little more foresight to undress rather than just get his cock out, but you don’t seem too keen on complaining when he gathers you to his chest and settles on his side, his length still stuffed neatly inside you. Warmest place in Meropide, he’s certain. 

Slowly, your breathing comes down from its hurried pace, dipping so low that Wriothesley wonders if you’ve nodded off on him again. With a little extra indulgence, his fingertips run up and down the length of your arm, his other tucked beneath your head as a pillow. Meropide continues clanging on in the distance beyond the door, feeling a little more far away than usual. 

A little too long for his liking, you finally pipe up. “Didn’t mean to sleep in.”

And that answers that question, he thinks. It wasn’t on purpose, but he’s glad you were feeling a little lazy, nonetheless. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t come in here intending on any of this, either. Guess we’re both causing lots of little accidents, huh?”

Your face turns to bury in his arm, and his laugh bubbles up and out of him at a speed that surprises even himself. Squeezing at your hip, he grabs your attention. “I really did intend on just getting the camera and giving you some space. To be honest, I wasn’t really sure if you wanted to go any further.”

“And then you decided to gamble on eating me out?”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you what I’d really planned on doing when I saw you laying here half-naked?” Wriothesley’s hand slides up your stomach, between your breasts, all the way to grip your chin and direct you to look at him from over your shoulder. “I planned on soaking my fingers in you before retreating to my office.”

“Hoping I’d catch you again?” Your voice is breathless - teasing, but lacking as much weight as it should. “You busted the camera, I’m sure.”

“Could always reinstall another one. With a nice private terminal, just for you.” You flutter around him, his breath hitches with barely-concealed excitement. “Oh, you like that idea? Being able to just drop in and watch me working?”

The plush of your lower lip catches between your teeth, and Wriothesley dips forward to coax it back out with a swift kiss, one that briefly smothers you before he pulls away. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

[delphi-shield]

ᴡᴀꜱʜ ᴏᴜᴛ ‼

Claire Redfield x Jill Valentine hurt/comfort, fluff wc: ~1k pre-re2 and post-re5. read on ao3

“Have you ever thought about going blonde?” Claire asks.

It’s 1996 and she’s lounging back against an ottoman that had belonged to her parents. One last hoorah for the next few months. A sleepover at Chris’ place - Claire's last night in town before she goes back to school for her spring semester.

The shower drones on in the background. Chris is taking his sweet time - not that she minds. The butterflies in her stomach had turned from nervous to giddy when Jill had suggested doing her hair.

Her legs frame Claire's shoulders, her hands buried in her auburn hair, braiding it back into a ponytail for her. She'd already put it into a bunch and declared absolutely not with a punch of laughter.

Jill laughs again at her suggestion. Loud, abrasive, bursting from her chest. There’s nothing shy about Jill. Nothing demure. Claire’s cheeks flush.

“God, no,” Jill says. “Me? Blonde? That’ll be the fuckin’ day.”

Claire flips the pages of Seventeen magazine too quickly. A tear scratches through Jennifer Aniston’s beaming face.

“This guy made me watch Basic Instinct– I dunno.”

“Don’t let Chris hear that,” Jill teases. Her nails scrape pleasantly against her scalp. The pause is just long enough for a chill to ripple down Claire’s spine. “I’m more into Sigourney. You’ve seen Alien, right?”

“Duh.”

It had been a formative experience for a little Claire. Chris had snuck her in to see the sequel when it released. Mom and Dad had been furious with him. She'd had nightmares for weeks. It quickly became her favorite movie.

(She stopped watching it all together when Mom and Dad died not long after. Chris had put it on after the funeral. For the first time, she stared at the screen and realized that she was Newt, not Ripley. At the time, Chris had been her Ripley. She'd pressed against his side and cried. His voice broke when he told her it would be okay. Now she wonders if he felt like Newt, too.)

“Well,” Jill declares, “that shit blows Basic Instinct out of the water, right?”

Claire swallows the words she wants to say, all the vulnerability, patches up her raw nerves and frayed ends with a laugh. She doesn't get why she wants to tell Jill all this. She doesn't get why her chest feels like it's about to burst.

“Yeah. Okay, no blonde. It'd wash you out anyway.”

“It looks good.” Claire passes over the coffee, so tepid it hasn't even warmed the container through. It's 2010. The late winter chill is kept at bay by the walls of Claire's apartment. She settles next to Jill, tucking her legs up underneath her on her parent's old ottoman. “Really.”

Jill hunches in her coat, hat squashed low and struggling to contain all of her newly blonde hair. It would almost be cute if the distress wasn't peeling off of her in waves, a sickly kind of anger that festers in the air.

“I'm gonna cut it off.”

“Jill, c'mon.”

Claire sounds like her brother when she says that. It makes Jill’s lip curl into a sneer. She's tired of the patronizing, tired of the kid gloves.

“I'll go bald,” Jill warns.

“Now you're just being dramatic.”

Dramatic. Her jaw clenches. Hasn't she earned the right to be a little fucking dramatic? Hasn't the torment, the drugs, the brainwashing warranted some drama? Some fucking anger?

Claire reaches to touch her shoulder and it takes every bit of restraint in her not to jerk away, not to snap and gnash her teeth like a beat dog.

Her hand is heavy. It weighs her down into her seat. For a moment, Jill is drowning. She fights her way above water long enough to spit out, “are you going to help me or not?”

Claire's shoulders round. She reaches up, movements slow and careful. (Jesus, Jill thinks, I really am a dog. Her eyes track every movement, whale eye and everything, her teeth set on edge. Claire has never hurt her even when given permission to, but Wesker had wedged his way into her mind and marrow even in death. Now she expects every move, closed fist or open hand, to be a strike.) Her palm nestles against Jill's cheek. Warm, soft - the muddled sweet scent of lotion she always buys. Jill turns to nose against her wrist.

“Of course I'm gonna help,” Claire manages to keep the exasperation out of her voice, but Jill catches it before it leaves her eyes. “You gotta take the hat off, though. You know that, right?”

Jill rolls her eyes. She swipes her hat off, ignores the churning in her gut when her hair spills past her shoulders, blonde and bright and foreign to her.

“I hate this.”

“It really doesn't look that bad.”

“Still hate it.”

Claire braces her hands on Jill's shoulders, guiding her to the bathroom. The countertop is awash with plastic bags, boxes of brown hair dye in a variety of shades and tones spread out.

She drops her chin against Jill’s shoulder, presses a kiss just behind her ear.

“I know,” she murmurs. Jill leans back against her, avoiding her own reflection. “Take a seat. We're gonna do hair dye this-or-that. I didn't know what shade to get.”

Jill plops down on the edge of the bathtub, legs spread wide. Claire steps between them, picking up the first two boxes of hair dye.

“Did you buy out the whole store?”

“Hush. Focus. This one or that one?”

Claire jiggles the boxes, as if that will keep her attention - as if she's a puppy. Jill’s smile bubbles to the surface despite her efforts to stuff it down. She nods to the box in Claire's left hand, and she tosses the loser aside.

“Now who's being dramatic?” Jill teases.

Claire rolls her eyes. She grabs another box of hair dye and wiggles them again.

“I just want to make sure it won't wash you out.”

[akuma-tenshi]

so this is a big, long rant about sexism in the idv community bc it's been on my mind lately and i need to put it out there. this is what i've observed after almost four years in the fandom and been stewing on for a long-ass time. if you don't feel like reading an essay on how annoyed some random enby on the internet is, then don't click the read more and just keep scrolling. don't interact with this post if all you're gonna do is get mad; i'm not here to piss anyone off, just make observations. and if this isn't your experience, good for you and please direct me to whatever circles you run in because i need to be there.

so, i've noticed that the idv fandom is extremely shit when it comes to how they treat female characters, and nobody really.. talks about it?? the only person i've ever seen actually discuss it used it as a way to drum up sympathy for ada. which, if you know me, you know really fucking pisses me off. because there are SO MANY OTHER EXAMPLES of sexism in this community, but no, clearly because we have sympathy for a male victim of abuse we're being sexist towards his abuser.

the thing is. there is so much to point to when you talk about how the fandom is sexist. it's very common to see female characters boiled down to just a couple traits. mary?? hot mommy step on me. michiko?? soft and gentle and demure (don't think i won't notice the weird shit about how that's a very common stereotype of asian women btw i see it). demi?? hot and drinks a lot. emma and lily are "uwu mentally ill babies". annie is soft. emily is either an irredeemable monster or a bitch, depending on who you're talking to. patricia is scary and mean. sangria's a girlboss, grace is soft and gentle, martha is spunky. and if you ask anyone their thoughts / ideas on these characters beyond those short descriptors you get nothing. i'm starting to fucking hate the word "girlboss" because it's all anyone says in response to like half these characters.

male characters are given alllllll the nuance in the world you can't talk to an aesop fan without them going into their endless headcanons / theories on why he's the way he is or how he's not actually that bad of a person or how cute he is or whatever. look at norton, or eli, or orpheus, or luca, or edgar, or joseph, or ithaqua, or any characters in that vein, and look at how the fandom treats them. look at the endless fanfictions and character studies and ships and x readers and headcanons. and then look at what female characters get. nowhere near that much.

i feel like margaretha and emily are the ones who suffer the most from this male-centric view by the fandom. they're characters who are inherently intricate, whose actions can't be explained away as entirely good or entirely bad. but that doesn't stop people from actively trying. they're going to act like margaretha wasn't being horrifically mistreated by her husband and just decided to burn down the circus for funsies or whatever. they're going to act like emily isn't trying so fucking hard to help emma and repent for what she's done. neither of them are meant to be read as black-and-white, but people will try because if they have to use more than two braincells on a female character they're going to implode.

meanwhile you get paragraph after paragraph about the intricacies of the argument between luca and alva. you get so many people analysing the relationship between norton and orpheus and how they're both kinda dicks but also both kinda have points. you get endless people defending joseph's actions bc his brother's dead and he's terrified of growing old / forgetting the people he loved / dying. you get so many fucking stories about how y'know, edgar's not that bad actually.

AND I'M NOT AGAINST ANALYSING THESE CHARACTERS!!! idv, especially in recent years, has been doing some great things with character writing. like, fuck 'em, they've got their issues, but they're still really good with some stuff and deserve credit. but don't act like it's not obvious how so many people have overlooked women (and poc, don't think i've noticed people ignoring the intricacies behind william and ganji as characters as well in favour of "himbo" and "bastard who cares", but i'm white so that's not exactly my place to talk) in favour of their favourite skinny whiteboy of the week.

they're that way with older-looking characters, too. if an idv guy has facial hair, you bet your ass he's also getting boiled down to his base traits. jose's an alcoholic, kevin is self-sacrificing and likes women, kurt is a little guy, kreacher is Awful, charles basically doesn't fucking exist anymore. but again not the focus of the talk atm.

it's just. so upsetting. esp. since most of my favourite idv characters are women but everyone i talk to about them is like "oh yeah demi's hot" or "aww annie's such a nervous little baby" or "god patricia's such a cool girlboss". and even when the shit they say is positive in a vacuum it still makes me so upset bc THAT'S NOT ALL THEY ARE!! demi is kind and loving and hardworking in the face of a world that only ever hurt her. annie's life has been an endless stream of pain and heartbreak and the only thing she really wants is freedom. patricia is literally cursed and is trying to find her place in the world.

also. i fucking hate ada but she falls victim to this too. as much as i despise the "you dislike her just bc you're sexist" thing and as horribly uncomfortable as she makes me, don't act like you haven't seen how her entire character is boiled down to how much she "loves" this man. don't act like you haven't seen how her entire character, all of her promise and potential, is forgotten in favour of that fucking trainwreck of a relationship. i bet half the fandom can't tell me anything about her other than her relationship with emil. emil suffers from this too, with his backstory and personality and life of abuse becoming an afterthought, but again, not what we're focusing on.

this is not an isolated thing or confined solely to the idv fandom. this happens in fandoms everywhere. but because idv is so close to my heart i feel like i really need to talk about it. there's so little content of female characters when there's fucking daily content of male ones. and don't get me wrong, i do like male characters. norton is literally one of my favourite fictional characters and i love talking about / analysing him. but i can guarantee a lot of people wouldn't be so interested in him if he was a woman.

sorry, just needed to get that off my chest. mandatory "this doesn't apply to everyone in the fandom" and "if this doesn't apply to you then i'm not fucking talking about you". we were so against the ashley wood collaboration bc of how much he sexualised michiko (and women in general) but like. do y'all really care that much?? bc i really don't think you do.

[twst-drabbles]

Dire 5

Summary: With the college closing for break comes a question regarding you, the janitor.

(Dire Crowley is another dude I want to bully. It's fun.)

A certain Mr. Dire Crowley has a nasty habit, a most peculiar and irritating of way of wording and phrasing things. As in, he never get to the fucking point. He dances around the issue, preferring to whisper the direct answer under a layer of wordy nonsense that means nothing to you. He wants to flaunt his feathers first, as though waxing poetic about his own graciousness will somehow soften the blow of a less than ideal answer.

“So, that is to say, in all my boundless graciousness that I have given to you, my special janitor who has saved this college and make it shone all the brighter,” Fuck, now he’s lathering you up. That’s even worse. “…”

He stopped, mouth still smiling but the sweat coming from under his mask tells all. Milking the tension for all that it’s worth, clearly just wanting to be anywhere but here. While it’s nice to know that he fears you, you do not have the patience to deal with the bullshit you’re about to pry out his mouth.

You didn’t even sigh. You grabbed at his tie and dragged him close to your face. Just to be polite, you gave a smile of your own, tense and ready to show teeth despite the way Dire threw up his hands in submission.

“Payment. Will I be paid while you’re on vacation, dear Dire Crowley?”

The students have the gift of celebrating the break with their loved ones, however you have nowhere and no one to go to. Well, most students are going but your point still stands! You’re stuck here and you still have to clean and take care of the fairies here, but the man in charge of giving you your money is going to fuck off and do whatever it is birdbrains like this man do. And you’re very sure he isn’t the kind to know how to wire your money directly to your account.

Dire’s smile was gone, a mere puckering dot on his face.

“…Maybe?”

Your eyes thinned to slits as you pressed closer, ignoring the passing students that stared at snickered at Dire’s demure hunch. Hs eyes were entirely locked onto you, unable to escape your encroaching wrath.

You gripped his collar and pulled it tight around his throat. Dire coughed but didn’t choke. Nor did he even push away. He was under your will, forced to listen to your every word.

Honestly with the amount of times you put your hands on this man, you’re starting to suspect he likes it. You’re more than sure he can fight back. Sure, you’ve seen the way the students like to mock and slander Dire’s name but never do they bother to physically fight back. Sure, it could just be a set of institutional rules stopping them—if you managed get kicked out of the NRC, good luck being worth anything with that stain—but you’re sure there are students that want to try.

But they don’t. Which brings up the question on why Dire even tolerates your behavior that’s on grounds of being fired. And yet here he is, mind still working its gears before he finally gave up and submitted to your demands.

“…You’ll be paid. Extra even, for overtime.”

You let him go. Dire caught himself and adjusted his hat. And now he’s back to that high stance of pride, albeit just a bit chipped.

“That’s a good boy.” Shit, Divus is rubbing on you. Oh well, it’s worth it. Dire shoulder’s twitched, the light sway of his head almost mechanical. “Glad to see you’re a fair man, Dire.”

Sure, you won’t get a vacation but eventually you will! Especially with all the money you’re getting.

[iamtired10]

WDYM BUS ACCIDENT

but good to know ur organs and kidneys are at place not in a fkn black market cuz thats- that's not very demure very mindful

so fkn random but i have BAD bad eyesight i gotta squint every 5 sec just to see and if ur wondering cess, why don't u get yo glasses? its bc I lose a HUGE amount of aura points if I wear that. like. no shit.

sooo it all happened while i was knocked out ijbol.. i have no clue how it all went down since my introverted ass didnt say a word and slept through the entire thing (also my dad called me like 100+ times 💀 but my phone was on silent sooo oop)

apparently the bus tires got punctured and it took 2 freaking hours to fix. my dad legit thought i got kidnapped or smth 🤡

also same here my eyesight’s awful af.. 🙂‍↕️

my mom's already saying she's taking me to the doctor as soon as i get back home.

but lowkey i love wearing glasses

it gives me that nerd vibe (and nerds are total hotties 🤓❤️)

e.g.:

im in LOVE w this nerd

[sjsmith56]

Still Not There, Chapter 16 - Eyes of the Father

Summary: After reuniting Bucky experiences a PTSD moment and pulls away from Lacey.

Length: 4.7 K

Characters: Bucky, Lacey, Terry, Steve, Clint, Shuri.

Warnings: PTSD rears its head, Bucky (anxiety, decision making, etc.)

Author notes: Yeah, I’m making life difficult for them. Have to have some conflict. This chapter goes to the final of Avengers: Endgame.

<<Chapter 15

🦾 🙍🏼‍♀️

That evening there was a major rearrangement of the sleeping arrangements.  Terry, Bucky, and Steve were put in Nathaniel's room, while Tommy, Nathaniel and Cooper shared the latter's room.   Originally Clint said Bucky could stay with Lacey but he demurred, saying it wasn't fair to put that burden on her when it was the first time they had seen each other in person since the one night they spent together almost nine years previous.  Terry wasn't happy about sharing a room with the man who made his sister cry so Bucky volunteered to sleep on the couch in the living room.  As he settled on the couch with a pillow and blanket, wearing a borrowed pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt he heard someone coming down the stairs.  With a sigh he turned, looked at the stairs and was surprised to see Terry.

"Really, I don't mind sleeping on the couch Terry," said Bucky wearily.  "I promise to stay here and not go to Lacey's room."

"That's not why I came down," said Terry as he sat on an armchair across from Bucky.  "I couldn't sleep.  I'm the last person to be angry at you for making Lacey cry.  I avoided her for years and when I did see her I treated her like shit.  I looked down on my own sister for so many years because I wasn't a good man when I was playing pro football."

Bucky sat up and looked at the man.  "Why is that?" he asked.

"Too busy living the high life," said Terry.  "Literally.  I was an imposter.  Terrified of being found out by my teammates, my fans, my coaches ....  I acted like I was in control of my career and really I felt that if anyone knew the truth about me my career would be over.  My family were a reminder of who I used to be, the guy who just wanted to fit in."

"So what changed?" asked Bucky.

"She met you, got pregnant, had to go on the run from the Russian mob, go into hiding from the CIA and HYDRA...," he paused.  "When our mom died and Lacey told me all that she had been facing, alone, I felt ashamed that I had given my entourage more attention than her.  So when she called to say Clint left because of losing his family it became my chance to step up and be the man I should have been all along.  The fact that for five years I've been her protector made me possessive of her.  I'm sorry."

"I wanted to marry her as soon as I found out about Tommy," admitted Bucky.  "But I got my arm shot off, I still had activation words implanted in my brain that would turn me into the Winter Soldier, and I was a mess.  She told me to go to Wakanda and get fixed first.  Then Thanos happened, and the Snap took five years of my life from me.  Five years away from her and Tommy.  I should have come here with Clint as soon as I could but Steve had something that couldn't wait and I owed him my life.  He saved me, Terry."

"Yeah," he replied with understanding.  "He told me.  Whatever you need to do to finish your obligations just do it.  I'll stay with her and Tommy.  Then when you're ready I'll step aside and start living my own life."

"You don't have to do that," said Bucky.  "Tommy loves you.  He told me how you've been helping him train.  You can live with us as long as you want.  I don't want to come between Lacey and you."

"What about what Lacey wants?" said a woman's voice and they both turned to see Lacey on the stairs.  "You two are already deciding what to do with me but haven't asked me what I want."

"Well, what do you want?" asked Bucky.  "You're right, you should be part of this conversation."

"I want a normal life," replied Lacey, coming fully into the living room and facing the two men.  "One that includes you, and my brother and sister.  I want Tommy to go to school and I want to be able to go for a drive without looking behind me all the time to see if I'm being followed.  But, you know what?  It doesn't matter what I want because until you're completely free none of that can happen.  So, I'm still going to be in a holding pattern ... here if they'll have me.  If not, then I have to find somewhere else to hide out."

She went to the window, looking outside at the dark.  By the position of her shoulders it was obvious she was crying but barely any sound escaped her lips.  Bucky stood up and went to her, placing his hand on her back.  She turned and buried her face in his chest.  He stroked her hair and whispered to her.  Terry watched the body language between them and knew both of them felt they had little control over their lives at the moment.  They had a couple of days while at the farm but as soon as Bucky turned himself in he would be subject to the legal system.   Terry joined them at the window.

"Go to bed," he said quietly.  "Hold each other, make love if you want, just be together.  The only control you have right now over what's going to happen is between you while you're both here.  So take the opportunity to be physically part of each other's life, even if it is just for a couple of days."

He kissed Lacey on the head and patted Bucky on the shoulder then went back upstairs.  The couple looked at each other in the dark then Lacey took Bucky's hand and led him up to her room.  They stood inside the door for a minute, unsure of themselves, before Lacey put her hand on Bucky's cheek and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him gently.  He kissed her in return and held her in his arms.  She stepped back and took his prosthetic hand in hers, examining it. 

"The arm, is it better than the other one?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's amazing," said Bucky.  "I lost almost 40 lbs just by removing the other arm.  This feels everything; heat, cold, touch ...."

"Show me," she whispered.

He pulled his T-shirt off and she could see even in the dark that his skin looked almost normal next to the shoulder portion.  She ran her fingers over the skin and although it was warm like the rest of him it wasn't unnaturally hot and there was no new scar tissue. 

"Does it still hurt?" she asked.

"No, it doesn't hurt any more," he replied.  "Neither does my back.  They fixed it all."

Hesitantly he placed his hands around her waist and leaned over to kiss her.  Her cool hands were on his chest as he ran his right hand under her shirt and up her back.  She responded to him by encircling his neck and shoulders with her arms.   His hand moved to her breast, making her whimper slightly as he caressed it. 

He pulled away slightly.  "Are you sure you want to do this?  I don't have any protection."

"I do," she said.  "I got a 10 year implant late in 2017.  At the time I expected you to be here soon.  There are also condoms in the drawer, for backup."

He lifted her shirt off then picked her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist.  Kissing each other fiercely he walked to the bed and laid her on it.  As she backed up to the pillows he followed and laid between her legs, putting his full weight on her.  With his left hand he gently fondled her breast and although it was cool in temperature it's smooth surface moved effortlessly over her skin.  She ran her hand through his hair while gazing at him and he smiled softly in response.

"We don't have to go any further than this," he suggested.  "I want you but this, touching you and being close to you is awfully nice."

"It is, isn't it?" She looked away for a moment before looking back at him.  "I'm going to take the rest of my clothes off.  I do want you but if you want to wait it's okay." 

He raised himself to a kneeling position and watched as she got out of bed to disrobe completely.  His breath rate increased as she got back on the bed and faced him kneeling.  She had changed in the years since they were last together.  Her body was heavier and curvier but also more muscular from farm work.  Taking note of the changes he reached out again and touched her shoulder then her breasts.  Her skin was still soft and by her own breathing he could tell she was aroused.  He stepped off the bed and removed his clothing.  A soft smile crossed Lacey's face when she saw him nude and she put her hand out to him.  With a smile he got back on the bed kneeling, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her fiercely. She responded in kind and pulled him down so he was lying partially on her.  Unlike before when he used his artificial arm only to prop up his body while he laid on Lacey, this time he used it fully as he touched and caressed her body with both hands.  They kissed deeply between moments of mouthing the sensitive parts of each other's necks and throats.  Finally Bucky raised his head and reached for the drawer of the nightstand.  He put his hand in and felt around bringing out a vibrator.

"What's this?" he asked, smiling.

"Your replacement," she said, defiantly.  "There's been no one since you, Bucky.  Just that."

"There's been no one since you either," he admitted, then he put his hand back into the drawer and came out with a condom packet.  "While I'm sure your implant works I just want to be sure."

He rolled the condom on and with their eyes gazing into each other he guided himself slowly into her.  Like the first time she held her breath a little as he eased himself into her.  Then she gasped when he came out before thrusting in again. 

"You feel amazing," he whispered softly into her ear before kissing her deeply.

She gave a satisfied moan when he thrust into her again and lifted her hips up into Bucky's.  "So do you," she whispered back, as she ran her hands down his back.  "You can go harder you know."

"I don't want to hurt you," he said softly.  "To be honest I'm afraid to let go.  Except for when we were together I was basically celibate.   When the Soldier was ordered to breed he wasn't gentle because it wasn't in his nature."

"Do you think that it's still in you?" she asked, as they stopped.  "Bucky, he wasn't you.  Do you know that Natasha was in the Red Room when you were there?  She never spent time with you but she knew about you and how you were as the Soldier.  She also knew how you were when you weren't the soldier.  You didn't cooperate."

"I don't know if I can stop if I let myself go," he said worriedly.  "If I hurt you ...."

"My sweet man," replied Lacey gently.  "When we did this before you didn't hesitate.  Parts of you are still messed up, aren't they?"

He exhaled suddenly as if he remembered something disturbing, then pulled out and rolled off to the side, sitting quietly for a moment.  Pulling the condom off he got up and put it in the garbage.  Then he pulled his underwear on and looked at her.

"Yeah, I'm still messed up in places," he said bitterly.  "I have more of my memories now and not all of them are good.  Maybe this was a mistake.  Maybe we were a mistake that should never have happened.  I'm sorry."

He pulled his sweatpants on, picked up his T-shirt and left her.  Sitting up, she was stunned at what had just happened.  Quickly, she got dressed and went down the stairs but he wasn't in the living room as the blanket and pillow were gone.  She looked out the windows but saw no sign of him outside, realizing he had gone somewhere to be alone.  A feeling of anxiety came over her that somehow she had hurt him, enough that he was reconsidering their future.  Slowly she went back up the stairs to her room.  She looked out the window at the moonlit yard then started to cry and turned away, dropping into the bed and crying into the pillow.  From his spot in the shadows at the trunk of a nearby tree Bucky watched as Lacey looked out over the landscape.  He watched her start to cry and could hear her continue crying as she got back into bed.  He turned away, filled with self loathing at hurting her like that but the sudden memory of something he did as the Winter Soldier had frightened him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.  "Maybe you're better off without me."

He turned and went into the barn, finding an old truck inside.  Climbing into the front seat he put the pillow down then covered himself up with the blanket.  Sleep didn't come easily but when it did it came with a nightmare of the time he shot Natasha Romanoff through her body to kill the scientist she was trying to save.  Natasha's face changed into Tommy's and the scientist's face changed into Lacey's.  He woke up shouting and then wept at his cowardly decision to leave Lacey again, perhaps never to come back.  Unable to stop the argument in his head he sat up and waited for dawn to wake up Steve and tell him they had to leave.  He must have fallen asleep sitting up because Steve's voice beside the truck woke him up, as the other super soldier was standing beside the open window.

"What are you doing in here?" asked Steve.  "Lacey said you left suddenly during the night.  What happened between you?"

"I'm no good for her," replied Bucky.  "We were in bed and somehow the conversation turned to the Winter Soldier and I realized I can't be with her.  I'll hurt her at some point so I ended it."

"Are you for real?" demanded Steve.  "She has waited for you for so long and you decided within hours that you can't be with her because of the Soldier?  Bucky, what the hell.  She's devastated.  So is Tommy.  What were you thinking?"

"I'm no good for her," repeated Bucky.  "What I did proves it.  Until I know for sure that he's gone for good I can't be with her or Tommy.  Better I hurt them now than when they become invested in me."

"They're already invested in you," said Steve, pleading.  "Shit, Bucky.  Whatever happened to making it right?"

"It's the 21st century," he replied brusquely.  "They don't need me.  Can we go?"

Steve stood there, his mouth open, not believing what he was hearing.  It was the most ungentlemanly thing Bucky had ever done and it shook Steve to the core.  Bucky continued to look straight ahead and Steve shook his head.

"I'll get your bag and meet you at the quinjet," he said.  "I assume you don't want to see anyone or say goodbye."

Bucky didn't answer and Steve turned around, returning to the house.  Bucky got out of the truck, leaving the pillow and blanket where he thought someone would find it.  Then he walked to the quinjet and opened the ramp.  He heard someone running towards him and turned in time to be bowled over by Tommy, who began hitting him.  Bucky didn't defend himself from the boys hits or cries.

"Why did you come back?" he cried, his tears mixed with his anger as he rained blow after blow on Bucky.  "Why?  You made her cry again, on purpose.  You hurt her.  You hurt me.  You're not my dad.  I don't have a dad.  I hate you."

As the boy tired out and his blows lessened Bucky took control of his son's hands and sat up, holding Tommy away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said sadly.  "I'm no good for either of you.  You're better off without me."

Tommy spat at him and it landed on Bucky's cheek.  He gently pushed Tommy away and stood up then stepped onto the ramp.  Holding his emotions in check as best he could he looked once more at Tommy.

"Take care of your mother," he said, then he turned away and went up the ramp, wiping his cheek with his hand as he struggled not to cry.

When Steve entered the quinjet a few minutes later carrying both his and Bucky's bags he dropped them off at Bucky's feet and looked at him again, shaking his head.  Then he closed the ramp and started up the aircraft, lifting it away from the farmyard and into the air.  He programmed the course back to the compound and set the autopilot then looked at Bucky again.  This time when his friend looked back at him the tears were freely falling down his cheeks.  Steve kneeled down and looked Bucky in the eyes.

"Why?" he asked.  "The truth now, no bullshit."

Bucky's face was tortured.  "We were having sex and the conversation got around to the Winter Soldier and the breeding program.  She brought up Natasha's observations about the Soldier and how I was uncooperative when I wasn't the Soldier."

Steve look aghast.  "Bucky, you didn't...," he said slowly.

"No, I didn't," he replied quickly.  "But what if they didn't get that part of him out of me?" he asked.  "What if he's still there?  I had a vision of me tying her up and doing unspeakable things to her.  What if that's what's left in me?  I'm too dangerous to be around her or Tommy."

"Did you tell her this?" asked Steve, desperately.  "Did you talk about it?"

"How could I?" said Bucky.  "She would think I was some sort of freak.  Better she forgets me.  She'll get over it.  So will Tommy."

"Jesus," said Steve.  "That's messed up, Bucky."

"I figured I can talk to my therapist about it once I've been assigned to one," said Bucky.  "It's part of my plea deal that I go into therapy for my PTSD.  I think this qualifies."

"But I won't be there for you," replied Steve.  "You know that.  Who else can you confide in?  She would have listened if you told her this.  You know that too."

Bucky ran his hands through his hair.  "Yeah, you're right.  There really isn't anyone else I could talk to about this.  Maybe Shuri but talking to her about sex isn't something I'm comfortable with.  She's just a kid."

He put his face into his hands realizing the extent of his blunder.  Not only had he hurt Lacey, Tommy, and himself he had burnt the bridge to the only person who could help him through this.  For him it reinforced that he was more of a mess than he originally thought.

Three days later the memorial service for Tony Stark was held.  Bucky hoped Lacey would come so he could try to make amends but she didn't show.  Clint and his family came but wouldn't even look at Bucky or stand near him.  He tried to give Clint a letter to give to her but he ripped it up in front of Bucky, dropping the pieces on the ground.  All Bucky could do was stand out of the way and avoid conversation.  Shuri approached him when she noticed him standing by himself.

"Sergeant Barnes, why the long face?" she asked kindly.

He fixed a sad gaze on her.  "I made a terrible decision," he said.  "I told Lacey we were a mistake and she would be better off without me.  I left her bed, Shuri.  I was afraid the Soldier would hurt her while we were intimate."

She pulled him by the arm so they were away from the others.  "What made you do that?"

"A memory of something the Soldier did," he said hesitantly.  "I panicked and told her we should never have happened.  Then I left."

"You have to apologize," insisted Shuri. "You must go see her."

Bucky looked towards the Bartons.  "I don't think Clint will let me come within a mile of his farm."

Shuri followed his gaze and saw the harsh looks he was being given.  Sighing, she touched his arm, noticing that he flinched when she did so.  It was definitely a sign of regressing and she looked at him with concern.

"Come back to Wakanda," she said.  "I will help you get through this."

He shook his head.  "I've already made arrangements to turn myself in.  If I go back with you it would look like I'm on the run again.  Thank you but I have to stay and work this out on my own."

"Then talk with your friend, Steve," she advised.  "Don't keep it inside where it will fester and magnify itself.  Promise me you will do that much."

He nodded and looked away, signalling his reluctance to talk any further about it.  She returned to her brother and when she looked towards Barnes again he was gone.  There was one other person she could talk to about it and she made the decision to call Lacey when she had the chance.

Hours later Bucky, Sam, Bruce, and Steve were at the rebuilt time machine, set up outside the destroyed Avengers compound.  In the distance they could see the cranes and clean up crews trying to salvage what they could from the debris.  Steve was changed into his Captain America uniform and wore the hand control which would transform it into a time travel suit in the quantum realm.  As they looked at each other Bucky realized that this was it.  The two friends had only just reconnected and now Steve was going, fulfilling what he had shared with Bucky just after they defeated Thanos.

As Steve disappeared from view Bucky bowed his head in acceptance when his best friend didn't return in the time Bruce had estimated.  Sam questioned what was wrong as Bruce tried to figure out what happened but Bucky knew Steve wasn't coming back.  He turned towards the lake and saw the man, sitting with his back to them.  As Sam and Bruce were frantically talking behind him Bucky took several steps towards the stranger.

Bucky called out Sam's name, loud enough to get his attention.  The other two men stopped their efforts and looked towards Bucky then noticed the strange man.  Sam walked towards Bucky and stood next to him.  They both walked towards the man who was seated on a bench overlooking the lake, a round package beside him.  Patting Sam on the back Bucky encouraged him to go see the strange man alone.  Sam gave him a questioning look which Bucky answered with an encouraging smile.  He watched as Sam approached the man and smiled as recognition filled Sam's face when he realized this was Steve, aged many years.  When Steve gave Sam the shield, passing on the legacy to him he smiled again, knowing that this was the right thing to do. 

As he watched the pair, Bucky recalled the hours after the battle against Thanos, when everyone was still processing the death of Tony Stark, he and Steve sat away from everyone, wanting to talk alone.  Clint had already left, after Bucky told him to go back to the farm without him.  Steve, his best friend since childhood, told him then that he wanted to return back to the 1940s, seek out Peggy Carter and marry her.  Bucky couldn't blame him, knowing how much he had loved her.   By his own admission Steve told him how out of touch he felt in these modern times.  Steve did ask if he wanted to return with him but Bucky just looked at his prosthetic arm.

"I could never explain this," he replied, lifting his arm up.  "How could I face my parents and tell them what I became, what I did?  All the psychological damage that was done is better treated in this time as they understand it better.  I just don't belong there anymore.  It's better that I remain dead to them."

"Then take the shield," said Steve.  "Take my place here as Captain America.  You have the strength to do it, Buck."

"Maybe," replied Bucky, "but no one would trust a man who was a killer for HYDRA to carry the shield.  You know that.  I know that.  You need to pass it on to someone else, someone that people will trust and look up to."

"Sam Wilson," said Steve, firmly, without hesitation.  "Right from the moment I met him I trusted him.  He's loyal and he believes in what the shield stands for."

"I don't get along with him, really," joked Bucky, "but you're right.  He didn't even know me but he helped because he believed in doing what was right.  He's the man for the job."

"What about you, Buck?" asked Steve, concerned.  "What will you do?"

"I'll call that lawyer that took my case," he replied.  "Tell him I'm ready to turn myself in.  I have to stop running, Steve.  I have a son that I've never met in person and I want a relationship with him and his mom, whatever that ends up being.  After that, I'll find something to do.  I'll fit in, somehow."

Immediately after that Bucky called the lawyer and arranged to meet with the FBI after Tony Stark's funeral.  In fact, as he looked at his watch while Sam spoke with aged Steve he realized he was due to meet him within the hour.  He looked once more at Steve then turned around and headed towards where the clean up crew was salvaging what was left of the Avengers compound.  As he waited for the vehicle with the FBI agent who would take him into custody he looked up at the sky, wondering if he would still get to see it if the pardon fell through.  The dark SUV approached and Bucky stood taller, determined to have some dignity.  It stopped and the single agent got out of the driver's side.

"James Buchanan Barnes?" he asked.  "I'm Agent Dan Jones of the FBI.  I am here to take you into custody.  Your lawyer is already waiting at our offices for you."

"You were the agent who was looking for Lacey Williams' brother," said Bucky.  "I recognize your voice."

"You were there at her house, weren't you?" asked Jones.  "She told me you didn't show up until after I left.  Not that it matters now.  If you can give me your word you won't try to escape I won't cuff you.  You've been through so much and I learned what HYDRA did to make you compliant."

"You have my word," replied Bucky.

Jones opened the front passenger seat and Bucky got inside.  As the agent started the car he looked at Bucky carefully.  "It's uncanny how much the boy looks like you," he said.  "At least he did before the Blip.  I was dust so I couldn't be there to watch over Lacey and your son.  My replacement on her file says they came through it okay, in case you were wondering."

Bucky nodded and thanked him.  He put the seatbelt on and looked straight ahead.  The next part of his life was about to begin.  Until he got his legal status settled he couldn't deal with the mess he made of his relationship with Lacey and Tommy.  But he would fix it, somehow.

Chapter 17>>

Series Masterlist

[slimeywooper]

Labmas AU - Unintended Consequences

Chapter 14 Part 3 - Revelation

CW: Some cursing and uncomfortable situations

---

It's another day, and you can't help but feel optimistic. You've been in high spirits since yesterday, eagerly waiting for the opportunity to meet with Nobori. As you're getting ready, humming to yourself, you realize you forgot to drop off your lab coat again. Oh well, no harm done. You're mind is much too preoccupied to care. When you are finally done preparing, you make your way downstairs, boarding the elevator. Reaching the reception room, you see Colress is there typing on his tablet, no stress from yesterday present in his body language. "Hello, Colress," you announce your presence.

"Ah, hello (Y/N), you look chipper. It's good to know I'm not the only one happy to see those twins leave," Colress says, smiling to himself. After entering the door to the laboratory, he eyes you up and down as you both walk through the hallway, lazily holding his tablet at an angle. "So, a little Fletchling told me you spent time with Nobori yesterday. Even stopped by his room," he prods.

Who would bother telling him that, or why he would be interested to know, is a mystery to you. As nonchalantly as you can, you respond, "Yeah, after I found out it was his birthday, I gave him my best wishes. He was about to head to his room, so he offered to let me come over." You pray he doesn't comment more on the subject.

"Well, I hope the gift you gave him wasn't anything inappropriate or carnal in nature," Colress states with a smirk spreading on his face. He is doing it again, implying you would do such things. You knew he was saying it to get under your skin, but you didn't want to let it go and give him the impression that you were someone that would take those kinds of jokes at your own expense.

"I'll have you know, I would never even entertain the thought. We had a pleasant chat and he told me of his love for reading. Besides, a kiss is far from what I would define as 'carnal'." You explain, thinking that would be the end of it.

He stops dead, lowering his tablet, looking at you wide-eyed. You immediately halt, turning to check on him. His smile has vanished.

"You… kissed one of my hybrids?" he asks incredulously, with his mouth hanging open.

Oh shit, now you've done it. "Yes, but… it wasn't planned or anything, it just sorta happened!" you reply hastily, feeling like you had been thrust into the spotlight. Even though you didn't do anything wrong, you get the impression that this is going to be an awkward conversation, and what you had done was indefensible, horrible even.

"You kissed one of my hybrids…" he repeats, his hand now covering his mouth. You hear him exhale, then like a switch has been flipped, he becomes aggressive, putting his face right in front of yours. "Do you have any idea the things that monster has done?! Have you ever seen him work in the lab? What is it you think he does for Team Plasma?" Colress isn't yelling, but his voice is laced with a bubbling rage.

Surprised by his sudden closeness, you take a step back. Did he really just refer to Nobori as a monster? Sure he was a hybrid, and only two of those exist in the world, at least from what you are aware of. But 'monster' is much too harsh a word for someone as sweet and demure as Nobori. "I… thought he just helped out with whatever you needed help with. Kind of a jack-of-all-trades deal."

Colress smiles, but It isn't a genuine one, it conveys pity. His eyes are sharp like needles. It almost hurts the way he is glaring at you. He raises his eyebrows, processing the clearly very stupid thing you had just said. "(Y/N), it would be unreasonable of me to expect you to read the newspapers of my world and to keep up to date on the political and social happenings within them. But, did it never give you pause that all of the researchers, assistants and Plasma grunts, avoid my hybrids like the plague? And before you say anything, no, they don't just avoid Kudari. Nobori is also feared and only interacted with when I give them no choice but to do so."

Such a simple action wasn't supposed to be the precursor of such an onslaught of different thoughts and questions. You wrack your brain, an overwhelming feeling washing over you. What was it Nobori said he did for Team Plasma? 'I assure there aren't any negative optics arising for Team Plasma and prevent inconveniences from happening,' the words echo from your memory. You start to reply "Well, he said that—"

"It doesn't matter what he said," you are quickly cut off. Colress' eyes haven't left you since this specific conversation started, and you are having trouble keeping eye contact with his intense gaze. "Nobori is very efficient and thorough. Team Plasma wouldn't be anywhere near as influential if not for his assistance," he utters, now wearing a solemn expression.

Okay, you can understand that. But he still hasn't given you an explanation to the question you can't answer. "Look, I don't know where you're going with—"

Colress snaps his fingers in your face, cutting you off once more. "He kills people," he answers plainly, having become bored with your inability to decipher his meaning.

Yet again, he's trying to get a rise out of you. "No, I don't believe you. That's crazy," you say, barely above a whisper. This is enough to make Colress' demeanor shift in exasperation. Dropping the tablet to the floor, he grabs your arms and slams you against the wall. Not hard enough to be painful, but you are no longer able to avoid his stare.

"How have the pieces not fallen into place yet?! I tell him someone is a problem, and he takes care of them. They usually just disappear. God knows what he does with them. But… every now and then… the papers report of a crime scene that's too gruesome to describe. Remember how Kudari likes to play with his food? I can only assume it's something similar." He trails off, now smiling sincerely at you, evidently enjoying how uncomfortable and upset you have become.

"What's going on here?" Both of you whirl your heads to see Nobori, with his usual slouch, arms held behind his back. When did he get here? And how long has he been listening? You would have heard him if he had been walking down the hall, but the only sounds have been the words of you and Colress' conversation. Getting closer, Nobori kneels to the floor, picks up the discarded tablet and holds it out for Colress to take.

"Just a friendly chat," Colress chirps casually, releasing you from his grasp. Accepting the tablet form Nobori, he looks back to you, "(Y/N), I won't be needing your help after all. You can have the rest of the day off, as well as the weekend. I'll be expecting you back on Monday. Enjoy your little vacation." Turning from the both of you, he continues down the hallway, as if nothing had happened, attention returning to his tablet.

Glancing at Nobori, you squeak, "I need to go."

He stands in front of you, blocking your escape. "What did he say to you," he asks.

You attempt to move to his right to get around him, but his arm reaches out and grabs you, holding you in place. "I… don't want to talk about it right now," you tell him, dreading the interaction.

"(Y/N), please, your fear is palpable. I don't ever want you to fear me," he speaks softly.

Looking up into his eyes, you state, "He told me what you do for Team Plasma. It's a lie, right? Colress is just trying to upset me."

Nobori slowly shakes his head, not breaking visual contact. "Serving Team Plasma is the only reason I exist. There are things that only I can help them with. I know my work isn't considered 'right', but the people I'm sent after are bad people."

The shock of his admission plants itself into your gut. "I can only think of a few things a person could do that would warrant them deserving to die, but that's only after someone can prove they did it." You're fearful of how he's going to answer, but you feel compelled to ask, "What is it these people did that made them bad? And how many were there?"

He matter-of-factly responds, "Well, I never bothered to keep count, but I've been doing this type of work since I completed my training at seventeen. I leave the laboratory anywhere from once, to three times a week. Sometimes there are multiple targets per excursion."

It sounded like a mechanical process. He clocks in for work, kills people, then clocks out. Was this the same man that you were so excited to speak with yesterday? Back in his room, you saw all the jewelry he has, that he never wears. The 'trinkets' that he 'finds' when he leaves. You feel your stomach churn.

Sensing your unease, he continues to explain, "What makes them bad is their goals. They usually want Team Plasma to disband, or attempt to manipulate the public into not liking our organization. We are a very important conglomerate, we can't have these people saying such blatant untruths and causing harm to our operations." Removing his hold on your arm, he places both of his hands on your shoulders, by the nape of you neck. "(Y/N), don't think poorly of me. I'm certain someday you will understand. This is what I have to do, what I was made to do. I am not capable of doing anything else."

Tears start to blur your vison. "Don't try and validate what he said about you! I see you as so much more than someone that kills people, regardless of the reason. You're sweet and kind, and always place other's comfort before your own," you announce.

Nobori is silently staring at you.

Wiping your eyes, you think back to other instances that probably should have set off alarm bells. "The other day, after Kudari put me back down on the floor, did you take my emotions again?" you interrogate him. "I'm not angry about it, I just want you to be truthful."

He looks uncomfortable, maybe even fearful. "I… yes, I did, but… it wasn't intentional, I assure you. When I was looking in your eyes… I didn't want you to feel bad for doing something you felt was in defense of yourself, and I sort of… took them. You must believe me, that's the first time it's happened without me making the effort to do so."

You can't believe what you are hearing. He talks with much more passion on the topic of taking your emotions than he did when he informed you that he's been killing people for years. That leaves only one more question for him, "Alright, thank you for your honesty, but what about in the first floor suite. You didn't answer me then, so I'll ask again: who was it you were talking to on that day you brought me there after I met Kudari?"

Hesitantly, he answers, looking to the floor, "It was your grandfather. He followed you through the Ultra Wormhole. You were little when he died, and you didn't understand why you couldn't see him anymore. He says he's always watched over—"

"Stop!" you yell over him.

With a saddened look, he asserts, "I wouldn't lie to you!"

Raising your arms, you begin to rip at his hands to get them off of you. "I believe you, I just can't hear this right now. Everything is so fucking crazy, I need to be alone."

Nobori relents, pulling his limbs back. Watching you brush past him, he tells you, "After I come back from my mission, we can sit down and have a more in-depth conversation about all of this."

You don't look back, nor do you acknowledge he has said anything. Briskly retracing your steps, you arrive back at the reception room, wasting no time hopping back in the elevator. Random Plasma grunts are stopping to watch you jog to your dorm. Opening the door, you rush inside and slam it shut. The only thing you want to do is escape this nightmarish place, but there's no where to go… Colress would never let you leave. Even if he were to let you go, you don't have any paperwork here. No birth certificate, no Social Security Number, nothing. If he were to ever change his mind, he could send Nobori after you. The thought is too much to bear, and you burst into tears. You make your way to the bed, hiding under the covers and crying yourself to sleep.

[jazelock]

She takes a thimbleful of Prisoner’s honey. It is still overly sweet and cloying, sticking in her throat even as she steps out into the bright lights of the Spring-tide. She trades the cap usually pulled low over her face for a mask - one that covers only her eyes to match those favored by the other guests swanning about. It leaves her feeling overly exposed all the same.

She dances with a guest wearing an overly ostentatious ensemble with feathered headdress to boot, demurs when they suggest taking the dance elsewhere with a hopeful look on their face. The chandelier explodes in a shower of twinkling shards and she claps but does not contribute to the screams of delight. She thinks she sees a familiar face or three in the blur of people, and absently files the faces, the outfits, their companions away in the back of her mind. She accepts a dance from a man whose face she struggles to place initially before she realises she is more accustomed to seeing it beneath a sailor’s cap. The song ends and she curtseys (it’s a day for curtseying), eyes sweeping the crowd, and--she flinches, nearly sending herself into a sprawl before she corrects for it, somewhat shakily but adequately enough.

That’s Sia, but it’s no surprise to see her here, completely bare-faced, but that is also not surprising; no, it’s the silhouette of the figure she is with, whose back is to Selene, but she thinks she recognises the line of the waist, the shoulder, the jaw.

It has been a long time since she’s visited the Garden Gleam, and it’s suddenly very urgent that she do so before the effects of the honey wear off.

Still just chrysanthemums, really, have they no imagination?

She’s rubbing the edges of the delicate petals, silently bemoaning the inexplicable lack of any lilies or, god, even some roses just for the variety when a high crystalline chord rings out, glass crunching underfoot, and she takes a breath and then another.

“Never thought I’d see you here. Dreaming with the rest of us,” he says, dangerously pleasant.

“Us,” she parrots. She doesn’t bother turning around. “You’re not real.”

“Always so sure of yourself.”

She laughs, a sharp thing that reverberates against the glass. “The real Leigh would have put a bullet in me before saying a word.” She takes a moment to catch her breath. “And the real Leigh wouldn’t have known to say that.”

“Maybe I’ve been watching you.” She can see a warped reflection in the petals of the flower she is staring into, the colors shifting and twisting as he circles around to stand beside her. “Seeing what you’ve been doing without me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Then you’ll have seen that things are going swimmingly.”

“You can’t even swim,” and that’s almost teasing and for a moment, she--she wants-- “How,” and she can hear the vicious smile in that single word, “are your boys then?”

“More accommodating than you ever were,” she snaps and then bites down on any further retort because damn it. And he--shark in the water--more dangerous than the real article could ever be because she made him this way, he knows everything she knows and then some--he leans back against the willow, all silent satisfaction. “That well, hm?”

“Nice to be able to have conversations about things that actually matter, yes--”

The glass trunk cracks beside her head, and she can feel fragile petals fracturing as she stumbles over them. His face is just as she remembers, although she has never seen this level of fury contorting those features before, and for a moment, she wonders-- “Don’t pretend. ‘Lene. That you’re not the same as me,” he snarls. “You just decided you want to playact like you’re so moral and superior.”

“You’re the one fucking about with souls--”

“You don’t give a shit about the soul trade. Your urchins, the fucking squidmen. Why can’t you just admit that they’re just there to make you feel good about yourself? You decided after all that complaining to throw your lot in with those tossers and I hope you’re bloody happy because for all their enlightened talk, how are they treating you, hm? Are you feeling appreciated over there?”

She kicks him, and when his grip on the revolver falters, she goes for the shoulders. He jerks back several paces and a determinedly buried memory claws its way sluggishly to the surface, a little too late, but enough that she takes the bullet through the side rather than the belly. The sudden searing burn sets her teeth on edge, but it’s good, pierces through the lethargy, and it’s, oh, so familiar, like riding a velocipede, you never really forget.

She ducks behind the tree and hears the glass on the other side splinter. The burst of adrenaline is seeping away, leaving bone-deep exhaustion, which is dangerous because if her thoughts begin taking that familiar turn, then this dream construct she’s created may very well oblige. Another explosive shot and another spray of glass from the other side of the tree, and she grits her teeth, willing herself to stay angry, to not want. It’s a losing battle even as she claws for every inch she can get, musters memories of every too-cutting jab, every dismissive comment, but underneath, or perhaps, despite it all - 

- the unfamiliar kindness of staying with her through bad evenings, the complete lack of hesitation in stepping in front of her and firing unflinchingly at the Jack who had tried to go for her in the street, his eyes always finding hers from across a room, sharing silent commiserations for the monotony of whatever party Sia had dragged them to this time, an eyeroll, a flick of the eyes towards some balcony or shadowy corner where they could find each other a few minutes later for a brief reprieve from all the schmoozing, and that guilty pleasure during their friendship when she could always expect that every person who badmouthed her, who slighted her in any way, would shortly find themselves inconvenienced by persons unknown in the most creative and mean-spirited ways. No one had ever done that for her, made her feel cared for quite so much, appreciated, and now -

The sound of gunfire has stopped, she realises hazily. She unfolds herself from where she had been pressed against the tree, considers peering around it. Before she can think too hard about it, she rounds the edge of the tree completely instead, presses herself against the shattered bark.

They stare each other down. She doesn’t know what he’s thinking; if it’s a simulacrum, then it’s not thinking anything at all, but what if it’s not, what if he’s... She studies his face, searching for anything, a slight deviation, something missing, something too perfect. There’s what looks like a burn mark across the back of his hand that she doesn’t remember, shiny with scar tissue, stretching as he shifts his grip on the revolver. But she doesn’t remember if that had been there a minute ago, it doesn’t mean anything now because she’s actually looking for it, nothing she sees now can be trusted, her head is pounding from going round and round in circles, so she simply...stops. Doesn’t let herself think as she strides forward and grabs his hand, closing her fingers over his around the gun. He moves at that, but not quickly enough and she has her other hand fisted in the collar of his jacket before he can jerk back, and distantly, despite herself, she’s wondering still, would the real Leigh have let me do that, the real Leigh would have punched me the moment I got within arm’s reach, unless, unless -

[thescribeoflostmemories]

The Moon represents my heart

Side note: I just found out about the keep reading button. I'm no longer on the phone. I did this instead of sleeping.

Pt 1

(yandere(?) Capitano x wife! reader)

Uh continuation, if I have to be honest. I have no idea what the hell is this story's heading, Scribe take the wheel!

"I can't drive!"- Scribe

@youyue

warnings: Violence, swearwords

“I fucking hate you!” You threw the glass vase next to your monster of a husband. The maid outside is probably scared to death since she was new to the manor. Both of you are supposed to be practicing ballroom dance but turned into a deadly tango. The knife that was hidden on your thigh, discarded on the floor.

It has been more than sixty (60) days since you've last seen your family, not even a farewell to them. Swiped the items around, similarly to a child having a tantrum. Though your spouse didn't seem to mind it, in fact it's amusing to him seeing his beloved woman so worked up on his victory over you. Nothing more than a mere hiccup in your relationship, because soon enough you'll be quiet on your own.

"Dove." He tried to reason with you. But that nickname infuriates you to no end, even more when it usually means everything you aren't and don't have.

"Stop calling me that." Your voice faltered, you looked so helpless underneath that hardened façade.

His gloved hand touched your shoulder, shrugged him off. "I don't need your fucking pity. Just let me die to a hound or some shit!" You screeched at him. To be honest, he takes joy in you challenging him like this.

"Then be ready tomorrow morning, you're coming with me. That’s final." You were about to retort but was silenced by his cold embrace compared to the everlasting winters of Snezhnaya. If you were being honest, being dead is better than staying here with him.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

True to his word, you were prepared for the day. Your handmaiden dressed you in a somewhat familiar style of clothes, flexible to move swiftly in, lighter but enough to not let you freeze to death outside.

“Is it to your liking?” Ciara asked, eyes closed and bowing to you. Submissive, demure… It’s disgusting to think you’re supposed to act like that, grinning and letting it all happen.

“Like a glove.” You put on the black eyepatch not wanting to be seen with the accursed scar.

“My lady, if I may.” Nodded, letting her help you by putting some powder to make sure it won’t be visible. 

You thanked her for her help before exiting your shared quarters, the maids stopped and bowed when you passed by. Only a bitter look on your face remained, holding every resentment you have for the very man that’s waiting for you at the entrance.

“You look the same as ever.” He says, trying to complement. But is he though? The hasty judgment and bias got the better of you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your eyes narrowing at him. He merely huffs, leaving you to follow him outside for whatever he had planned for today.

During the ride, you realized something. You haven't seen the outside world since your icy marriage. The snowflakes danced past you like little fairies that a story book you’ve once read.

Arriving at the destination with a serpentine like suggestion, both of you arrived at the wintery palace that sits proudly upon the moor. Opulent, and imperial, no doubt your siblings would never witness this in their lifetime. Capitano got out first, helping you down like he taught you a couple of times.

“So, why are we here?” Looking up at him, it was breathtaking for him seeing an innocent scarred face like yours sprinkled with the falling snow. 

“Is it wrong for me to let my wife know what I usually do?” That earned a scowl from you, following him into the icy keep that is the Zapolyarny palace.

Your husband’s footsteps overshadows yours, echoing in the building. Following to the office and filing a report. So you just sat down on the plush couch that didn’t seem to be recently used.

“I doubt there are some books that you might like.” At this point you can’t even tell if he’s being rude, or just trying to be considerate. So you kept quiet, it's really just awkward silence between you both. Only the sound of his writing can be heard.

A knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Enter." Your husband commanded.

"Sorry for my intrusion, but I am here to deliver a message." That voice, you recognize that anywhere.

"Simeon?" A smile appeared on your face once you saw the familiar mop of red hair. Bright blue eyes shine when he sees you. And hydro vision that rests on his ear. 

"Eh? Ah, ___, lil' firecracker!" You jumped to his embrace, relieved to see a friendly face. With your electro vision and his hydro created a tiny spark. 

"It's been so long!" Simeon hugged your waist and swished you around while you laughed.

"It's unexpected of you to be here." The servant of the law says, curious to why you're here and not in Natlan.

"Uhm…  Well… " Hesitant eye looked at Capitano whose burning stares couldn't be ignored.

"And your eye-?" Simeon was about to touch your eyepatch but was stopped by the gruff voice of Capitano.

"I suggest you leave if you're here to flirt with my wife." Even if you are wed to him, the fact remains that you could still be won over if he's defeated or killed. 

"Ah, uhm. Right." Simeon let you go, making you huff at your spouse.

But that was a couple of days ago, you had received news from your handmaiden that he is unable to talk to you. Walking into the training grounds, you didn’t wear the clothes that he had laid out for you, instead you borrowed a tunic and some pants from Ciara. "I heard that a certain someone was injured, the same person who was acquainted with you just a while ago and is now under a cleric's care." Your voice sounded, as agents turned their heads to you. 

" Wait, you mean that lawyer guy? He said-" A soldier seemed surprised. 

" Funny to talk about him, Dove. He got in my way of training. That hit was meant for someone else." Capitano blocked your view of the agent.

" He's my friend, you didn't have to hurt him." Getting closer, seeing how your figure sways abit, tassels of hair frame your face.

" It was only a scratch" The masked man merely said. Not wanting to admit that your undeniable affection towards the lawyer threatens your spoken vows. 

" Oh, so you call breaking his kneecaps a scratch?" raising an eyebrow at him, arms crossed. Finally you’re in front of him, it’s hilarious how short stacked you are. Your eyes looking up to try and meet eye to eye within the endless darkness of his mask.

" And what if I told you I only cut his cheek?” You could feel him smiling underneath that mask.

"What a liar.” You frowned. 

"Dare to question my honor?" He’s amused. Pride swelled in his chest. It has been a while since you've try to fight back against him.

"You didn't seem so honorable when you took my freedom from me." Scoffing at him as Capitano put his hand on the sword’s hilt.

" Anyone who isn't my wife, leave the training ground, I'm giving you twenty seconds to scram." Everyone scrambled to escape the captain’s wrath.

" You may have power in this land, but hurting my friend is a big mistake." Finding it adorable that you're wearing his shirt. Apparently the girl couldn't distinguish between a shirt and a tunic due to his size. 

" What does my little dove want from me? " Seeing you so riled up and in his shirt lightened his mood a bit. 

" I demand satisfaction in a duel." The short girl below him, staring holes into his. 

“I’m no coward compared to that man-friend of yours.” and to which you replied with. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” 

Couples had a stare down, circling each other. Lines were forged, weapons drawn. None made the first move until Capitano lunged at her with his sword at hand. Your shoe made contact with his blade, causing you to leap over him and strike him from the head. 

Gust of wind swatted your arrows from his mighty sword. He could see how you bend backwards to evade the sword going at you. Thin legs hooked onto his extended arm and hoisted yourself up. He didn't think his little dove would perch on his arm. Thoughts snap out when you greet him with an arrow to the face.  With his free arm shielded his face, letting himself off guard for you to escape his grasp. 

Your nimble body, twisting and turning wouldn’t be a problem for you to dodge his attacks. Your plan here is to at least injure him or even just a bruise. While avoiding his tactical swipes at you to push you into a corner and commence a defensive maneuver, which causes him to get a cut on the shirt.

"Pervert!" Face red before putting your weight on a tree branch. Unexpectedly it breaks under you. Screamed at the loss of foot holding that you lost your grip on the bow.

Metallic clinks grew faster as a strong arm caught your smaller build.

"As gentle as the moon." You could have sworn you saw sharp rows of teeth curled into a smile. 

It feels embarrassing to be in a situation like this, you didn't notice the full moon rising nor your arms around his neck. 

Snapping out of your thoughts, and grabbed a dagger from your belt to try and stab his face with it. He was prepared for that and he bit down on the blade as if it were a rose instead. You couldn't lie that it made your heart skip a beat, ears turned pink.

"P'tooy.. you had fun yet?" He teased after spitting out the knife from his mouth.

"Like hell I did!" Merely replying with a soft chortle. 

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~

Then there are times where you have to save his ass like the first time you found out he had left his claymore. 

"My lady, please calm down!" Ciara tried to pull you back into the house but lost her grip on you. 

"CAPITANO! YOU BASTARD, IF ANYONE'S GOING TO KILL YOU IT HAS TO BE ME!" Yelling from the top of your lungs as you got on top of your horse. Legs still sore from practice, you had gathered the few remaining men to aid you in battle. 

"I swear on the abyss that I WILL resurrect your ass and kill you myself!" Mumbling strings of curses that followed after that solemn promise into the wind that howled into the dead of night.

"Capitano…  if I fall, at least I was stuck with you instead of some pompous asshole."

" Hmph.. save that talk in bed, dove"

" Jerk, can't even talk about death in your face." 

"Until death does us part."

" So it does."