#headers knives out

[krirebr]

Lips Like Sugar Masterlist

Pairing: sugar baby Ransom x late 40s female reader

Summary: Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected.

Warnings: sugar baby au, sex work, d/s relationship, more to be determined—All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

One

Two

Ongoing series

[daisyfilmm]

wake up dead man: a knives out mistery headers

[rafesurto]

madelyn cline headers.

[allfavz]

glass onion knives out headers like/reblog if you save

credits @aIfasquad on twitter

[iconsfilm]

did you have header for this icon? if you have thank you 🤍

like or reblog if you save | headers not mine cr to the owners

[2kiran]

❛ I KNOW YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ❜ ➖ ch1-ch2.

series masterlist | ghostface x reader | nsfw

IN WHICH THERE is only one way to live: take his virginity.

content: 18+ DDDNE: DUBCON, male!ghostface, top male reader, canon timeline, mentions of heterosexuality (?), death threats, physical violence: ghostface injures reader, freeze response, coercion, virginity loss (ghostface��s first time), unprotected sex, creampie

›› previous | v.ao3 | red headers

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You pause momentarily. Titles which have no peculiar prestige in elements echo through your mind, and the back of your throat vibrates loudly with your humming. “I don’t know.”

“You have to have a favorite,” Ghostface answers in time, his palm soothing over his hardening cock hidden beneath thin layers. It was naught but of deviance, sick, and worthy to be indicted of indirect defilement, “What comes to mind?”

Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you settle on one and mutter it out. You return the question, “What’s yours?”

“Guess.”

“Hm,” in the forsaken trenches residing within your brain, you are able to vacuously sense an anomalous presence stalking you in every corner. Though, you decide on not to dignify it, considering your brain may be simply playing tricks on you. “A Nightmare on Elm Street.”

“Is that the one with the guy who had knives for fingers?”

“Yeah, Freddy Krueger.”

In spite of the known fact that it was inherently basic knowledge that anyone could possess with disregard to tolerance of such movies, Ghostface almost groans out in pleasure, digging his palm against himself firmer. You had no idea how proud he was.

“Freddy!” He cheered breathlessly, his gaze seemingly fixated on the bulge that resided on the front of your pants, inevitably causing his own cock to throb and his hole to clamp around nothing with want, “That’s right. I like that movie. It was scary.”

Buzzing resonates slowly from your throat, born out of you humphing thoughtfully in agreement. “Only the first one.”

There was thrill in this conversation, in spite of the certitude that this person was no woman.

“So... you got a girlfriend?” Ghostface interrogated through a ragged breath, the puff hitching at the end as he patted his growing bulge lightly as though to reign in his aggravated nerves. Haunting murmurs of jealousy brewed inside of the storm that was currently ravaging his brain at his own question.

It shouldn’t bear any significance. He’ll kill your lover if you have one.

With great and exceeding self-restraint, you hinder yourself from laughing out loud in surprise. The corners of your lips threaten to curve upwards, “Why? You into me?”

Perverted, outrageous excitement courses through the killer’s body as he steels his knees against the dirt to halt himself from humping his palm. He needed you to be with him—even better, have you inside of him for as long as he needs. “Maybe. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

“You never told me your name.” He stated, despite already owning the knowledge of your identity.

It’s only a few more minutes until he’ll get to the love of his life; until he’s granted the luxury of being freely able to caress you, to trap you to his body with his arms, to make you carve your initials into his flesh with that soon-to-be familiar weapon of his, and so many other endless possibilities.

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

Oh, fuck.

Warranted fear seizes your heart, your body abnormally stilling for a moment as your breathing halts. Driven by shock, you steer your gaze towards any and every window that may allow anyone to peer into your home. To your dreadfully cursed luck, darkness completely embraced the outside.

“What?”

“I wanna know who I’m talking to.” The anonymous voice residing on the other line confirmed.

“That’s not what you said.” You mutter, departing from the counter behind you to seek for a weapon.

“What’d you think I said?” He rises from his knelt spot, pacing towards an unfortunate entrance of your home. With the aid of his current location, he still has the ability to watch as you fumble with a knife in your trembling possession, your shoulders stiff with alertness. God, you’re beautiful.

“What? Hello?” He prompted, a hint of impatience seeping into his tone.

“I gotta go.”

“Wait, I want to go out with you.”

“No, I don’t—”

“Don’t hang up on me.” Ghostface demanded, a precipitous dawn of anger crossing his heart when you still doggedly ended the line.

You needed to set the phone down somewhere or at least dial the police. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You’re not alone.

You’re not alone.

The unceremonious deathly rattling of the communicator startled you, your knife almost brutally descending from your grasp. You draw a tattered inhale, sweat naturally developing on your forehead as you reluctantly answer.

“Yes?”

“I told you not to hang up on me.” You didn’t know it consciously, but Ghostface was getting closer and closer.

“What do you want?” You force out, your fingers tightening around the handle.

“To talk.”

“Go dial someone else. Listen—”

“No, you listen you little bitch. You hang up on me again, and I’ll gut you like a fish. Understand?” Ghostface’s voice rose in temper, aggressiveness clutching the edges of the menacing syllables that probed their way out of his mouth. He chuckled upon noticing your shaken silence, “Yeah...”

“Is this a joke?” You ask, frantic. Like a man in dire need—perhaps, you were—you comically rush around your house to guarantee that every lock was activated.

“More of a game, really. Can you handle that, baby?”

If the situation did not concern your life status, your heart would’ve pleasantly fluttered.

Eventually, you arrive to a halt at a corner in the hallway. You glance towards the windows in your kitchen, attempting to gauge any sign that could denounce where he was lurking.

“Can you see me?”

“You know I’m going to call the police.” You warningly interrupted, the life-stealing metal that you delicately cradled was taunting you that you wouldn’t be able to strike the criminal. You were certain of it.

“They’ll never make it in time. We’re out in the middle of nowhere.” He painstakingly emphasized the last word, to which your abdomen churns with regret.

“What do you want?”

“To see what your pretty insides look like. But if you agree to play a game, I’ll let you live.”

A game? Is that what all this was?

Your capacity to laugh was dutifully robbed from you.

“Here’s how we play. I ask a question, and if you get it right, you live.” Ghostface beamed, soundlessly climbing through the window you well-conveniently failed to inspect.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s an easy category: movie trivia.”

An instinct you did not know existed was nagging you.

He’s here.

“Let me give you a warm-up question. Name the killer in Halloween. You can do this.”

“Michael Myers.” You blurt out without thinking, a sharp exhale passing through your nose as you steeled yourself to not allow a hint of vulnerability to be brought into your voice.

“Yes! Very good. Now for the real question.”

“No—”

“But you’re doing so well. We can’t stop now.” Ghostface encouraged, his footsteps deliberately light against the floor.

“Same category. Name the killer in Friday the Thirteenth.”

“Jason!” You almost yell, both of your hands tirelessly seizing the communicator as if it was your dim lifeline, accompanied by the knife you can’t let go of in fear that he will come to terrorize you any moment.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the wrong answer!”

What?

No.

Please no.

“No, it’s not. It was Jason.” You outwardly panic, the beat of your steady heart amplifying. Adrenaline crashes into you like a bullet, practically rendering you free from all movements.

“Afraid not. No way. You should’ve known that Jason’s mother was the original killer.” Ghostface lightly scolded, the head of his cock babbling out small bursts of pre-cum in response to your perceptible horror.

“Lucky for you, there’s a bonus question. What door am I at? Go on, it’s your call.”

He’s here.

Before you’re able to respond in any form, a hasty crash of intricate glass scattering across the ground resounded through the halls. You tense automatically, your shoulders wincing when you see a glimpse of black cloth in one of your doorways. Involuntarily, you lose your grip on the phone and abandon it once it hits the floor with a dull echo. You don’t have the time to spare, so you dash up the stairs.

There’s only about four or five steps left until you reach the top of the staircase when ominous and foreign fingers curl around your ankle, yanking you back down.

“Fuck—” you grunt, twisting around and kicking against the grasp with the lack of precaution.

To great luck, your foot collides with the chest of a figure decked out in long, black, lurex robe with tattered edges at the bottom. It was graced with a metallic-like sheen, the fabric catching in the low lighting. Then, you glance to see the intruder’s face, only to be confronted by an eerie white mask that sustains a permanent and exaggerated horrendous expression that’s guaranteed to be engraved into your memory.

You hear him yelp from the force, followed by the sight of him stumbling. One of his dark boots skidded against the edge of the tread of the step, and it eventually resulted in his fall.

Seizing this opportunity, you steadily—if you can even call it that with how you almost trip over yourself several times—run up to the second floor.

The stranger rapidly shook his head, regaining his consciousness in spite of the near-television static consuming the foremost area of his racked brain. He shoves himself upward a tad too quickly for it to be good for him, and he trails after you like a man on a vengeance-fed rampage.

You’re able to take only a couple of steps inside of your bedroom before Ghostface tackles you on the ground, one hand of his weighing down on your chest while the other holds his knife—your own clattering someplace else—to your vulnerable throat. He straddled your lap, the sides of his knees digging against the outer areas of your thighs. The scent of death awakened; the infamous weapon was now a hair’s breadth away from prickling your skin.

You don’t think you can breathe.

Your knee nudges up, attempting to buck him off of you, to no avail. He assertively settles his weight down on top of you, angling the flat of the metal to your jaw with the sharpened part just barely managing to graze your chin. Your breathing locks in your throat, and you stiffen up to prevent erroneously giving yourself a fresh cut.

“You lose.”

It was nothing short of an exuberant declaration of your defeat. You didn’t need a view of his face to be aware that he was grinning unabashedly.

“There we go, stop struggling. If you wanna live, you have to listen to me.”

At that, you are overcome with the need to retain your life, and you reluctantly exorcise all means of vigor your body previously contained. You lay there, demeaningly underneath him, with the active withholding of delivering a brute hit to his obscured face. Your hands ball into tight fists and the intruder immediately takes notice. But it didn’t matter much to him. He knows you’ve given in.

A giggle, a demoralizing sound that is seemingly altered by what you guess is a voice modulator of some sorts, reverberates from his chest and up through the elongated, wide-open mouth that abominably expands the jaw. The eyes of the mask were hollow and dark; yet, nevertheless, they were piercing your form enough to make you slightly squirm.

Ghostface’s reaction is immaculately swift. He clenches his thighs around yours to force you to still, and that’s when you feel it.

Oh.

Oh.

He was hard.

His cock pressed against your thigh, the sensation remarkably solid and warm through the decently wispy material of his costume. He sees your gaze darting towards his groin, and he doesn’t know how to outwardly react, but he knows you’re staring. The hand that’s on your chest reaches up to take hold of your chin, tilting your head towards his own and away from the neglected ache in between his legs. Gloves—black gloves that are terrifyingly smooth against your skin conceal his hands, you silently note. He lifts the knife away from your body, but he did not discard it next to your forgotten knife. He was granting you some respite.

“I think you know what I want now.” Ghostface pinpointed, experimentally jutting his hips forwards and backwards once. It was uncoordinated, providing minimum pleasure for him but none at all for you. The realization that your hands were still unbounded has you hooking your hands on his waist, to which he let out a hoarse moan in delight.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Hearing your question gifts him the audacity to groan in exasperation. He twirls the weapon around in his hand, idly swinging it with no true objective. “Don’t be stupid. What do you think I’m talking about?”

Before the urge completely registers in your brain, your right hand deviates from his side and flings upwards to connect with his jaw. He jolts, faltering on top of you as his palm gripping the weapon falls onto the floor to maintain his balance. It was an opening, and once more, you attempt to turn your positions around but he’s suddenly locking his legs around you. He slaps you hard across the face, averting you from retaliating in time, and uses his index finger, middle finger, and thumb to slightly compress your cheeks together.

Without a warning, he slashes a line with the steel blade over your cheek. You gasp, the dart of pain firing through the entirety of your face along with the stinging hit given to you just moments prior. The cut was relevantly shallow, light, and not at all intended to scar, but it still mildly hurts you. Beads of blood begin to dot along the cut and slide down your cheek. The scent was distinctly metallic, hitting you in the nose in a way that makes you want to hurl.

“Do that again, and I’ll fucking kill you! Now, stay still and keep that pretty mouth shut.” Ghostface reprimands as he repositions himself, the volatile duality of his behavior startling you into obeying his whims. You deliberately allow your hand to slip off of him, and he doesn’t seem to take any offense. Again, he rolls his clothed hard cock against your still-soft groin, albeit a tad too gentle for either of your liking.

“Fuck… you feel good. Real good,” He praises under his breath, slowly grinding against you. Using his thumb, he swipes the trickle of blood up, cautious as to not inadvertently brush the wound. He raises that hand and tucks it underneath his mask, grunting in appreciation as his tongue—not that you can see it, but it’s a prediction—flicks out to lick the vital fluid that belongs to you, and he mumbles, “Taste good too.”

In that moment, you were suspended in an unyielding trance, unable to respond or move from mere shock. What the hell was going on?

Ghostface sighs, long and drawn-out and agitated. For apparently good measure and to liberate you from your ephemeral hypnosis, he strikes your cheek a second time. It was delivered with a lower level of physical power but a higher level of intention to snap you out of whatever train of thoughts are booming through your head. It works as expected, your head briefly jerking to the side then back to him.

“I want you to fuck me,” he abruptly blurts out.

You sputter, heat skulking to your bloodied face and you half-expect to be hit again for the never-ending length of your stupidity, “What?”

“If you wanna live tonight, baby, you’re gonna fuck me. Sounds good?” Ghostface rephrases for your sake, tilting his head off to the side as if he was scrutinizing you.

“Why do I—”

KRNKKKK!

He stabs the knife into the floor right beside your head, the weapon scraping as it splinters the floor slightly. You flinch, instinctively trying to firmly separate yourself and the killing tool, and he considers that as a cue to intensely ground his groin against yours to hoist your attention to him and him only.

“Do you wanna live or not?”

“I—”

Your nth mistake.

You’re too slow in telling him what he desperately needs to hear. Driven by furiosity, he smacks your injured cheek, hard, your blood splattering all over his now crimson-stained glove—one that he’s neither throwing away nor throwing into the washer—and you loudly grunt out a pained curse.

He coils that same hand around your exposed neck. Not to strangle you. At the very least, not yet.

With his unoccupied hand, he reaches down to loosen the strings sticking out of your waistband. You want to argue, you should argue, but you realize that you’ll only grant an audience with your end if you dare voice out your disapproval.

“Take me to your bed.” Ghostface demanded, his fingers ghosting over your cock prior to grasping his knife once more. You were growing hard under his attention, inevitably. Your hands curl around his powerful thighs, the flesh flexing with anticipation as you sit up. Whether or not you were able to withstand such weight underneath your palms, it didn’t matter. You are obligated to hoist him.

He dutifully slings his arms around your neck, his legs wrapping around your waist to support himself upright. You carry him to your bed (just as he had ordered like you were some sort of rabid animal to be tamed) and drop him onto the mattress. The furniture creaks as Ghostface’s back connects with it, bowing a little in protest to an unwanted stranger. He kicks his knees up, pushing himself backwards for his boots to dig onto the sheets.

His hands reach down to take the bottom of his costume and yank it upwards, the material pooling around his middle as his lower half is exposed to your supposed-to-be uninterested gaze. His arousal prominently strained against his boxers, a damp spot residing where the head of his cock was. You had expected an unsightly creature to unveil themselves to you. Alas, his skin, of what you were permitted to view, was normal. Human. Soft, even.

He allows his weapon to fall next to him, deliberately within his reach in case he finds use for it.

“Well?” He prompts, hooking his thumbs beneath the band of his boxers and pulling them down until they are all the way around his ankles. He languidly hangs it around one of them, before booting it off of him. His palms smooth under his knees, lifting his legs up to exhibit his rim for you.

Shit.

There was slickness glossed over and inside Ghostface’s hole, which was seemingly stretched out. Putting it to a test, and you weren’t even aware that you found yourself allured by the sight that you should’ve felt repulsed towards, you rub the pad of your index finger around his entrance to gather bits of the lube and push it into him. No resistance, if you ignore how he squeezes down onto your digit with a strangled moan.

“Yes, fuck,” he gasped out through a distorted rasp of his voice changer, his walls tense and amazingly more welcoming than any other used cunt. “W-Worked myself open just for you and your cock. Mmn, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Waiting? He’s been waiting?

You feel absolutely sick. For weeks, possibly for months, he has been stalking you without end.

And you’re the one who has to pay the price for his attention.

October 31st, 2:01 A.M.

Soon enough, your hips are snug against the backs of his thighs while your wet cock traitorously throbs inside of him.

Ghostface forced you into his untouched body without any remorse; his being born from sin ushering you to where you are now. You hold the advantage over him, with him being in a more vulnerable position, but you are physically and mentally departed from every means of control. He threw his legs over your shoulders, straining himself for the reward of pleasure that he’s selfishly making you give him. He beckons you to lean over him, and you follow.

“That’s a good boy.” He praises, his head tipping back against the sheets.

The sensation by itself is strange. You pilot your hips backwards until half of your girth is being clung onto by his too-tight rim, before you snap into him once more. That wrecks out an appreciative moan from him, his thighs twitching against your upper half. Your length glistens with the lube he had graciously fingered into himself earlier, causing the strokes to be much smoother.

The head of your cock manages to rub against his prostate, his reaction immediate. “Fuuuc—ah!” Ghostface babbles, the small of his back arching off of the bed as his hole can’t help but clench down tight around you. Granted, it has you buck into him, the veins that run across your length brushing against sweet spots that have his boots digging against your back.

You’re compelled to leisurely roll your hips, your dick slipping further inside of his spasming hole. You grind into him, ensuring that just the right amount of attention is driven into the certain bundle of nerves that has his pretty hole trembling around you. He whimpers, tears welling up in his eyes because, fuck, you’re too handsome and your cock is too thick for his brain to comprehend. The crease that’s formed in between your eyebrows due to them knitting together makes him want to rip off his mask and kiss you.

But that’ll wait for another time.

Once he loosens around you, becoming docile underneath the presence of your body, you resume to your previous pace. The unattended cut across your cheek stings as your teeth grit together, a drying stream of crimson trudging down to your jaw. He whines, his hand lifting to wipe that trail off of you and rocks forward to meet your thrust. “Best f—hngh— f-fucking cock I’m ever going to have,” Ghostface mumbles under a tight breath, his own length pulsing with the need of release against his flexing abdomen.

“You’re sick,” you grunt, pausing your movements to grab the base of your length and pull out. His lips part to retort, but you slide back into him with an abrupt slam.

“I—fuck!” He curses, a noise torn in between a pathetic moan and a scream. Ghostface laughs, his chest rumbling upwards as he uncontrollably contracts around you, “We are both sick. You’re gonna cum inside of me sooner or later, and you won’t be telling a goddamn soul about what happened between us, ‘less you wanna—”

You repeat the previous motion; your leaky tip slamming against his sensitive spot harder than before.

“—hnnngh—! Shit—” Ghostface gasps, interrupting himself as his legs slide off of your shoulders as they helplessly spread apart. He looked almost pretty like that, his cute rim squeezing onto every inch of your throbbing cock to coax out your own release. Your skin and hand was wet with him, the lubricant combined with your pre-cum was gushing out of his entrance and conveniently slicking you up.

He felt so utterly full.

Killing you will be a damn waste, and he couldn’t possibly get rid of his Sweetheart now.

His hands rush downwards, his fingers gathering the gentle sheets for leverage. He struggles, squirms, when he senses a rapid euphorical coil bundling within his lower abdomen. He whimpers, the vocal modulator barely managing to modify the noise.

“S’this okay?” You pant out the words sarcastically next to his ear, slowing your thrusts into harsher yet deeper ones. Ones that shove his body further up your bed and nearly bang the top of his head against the wall.

“Y—Yes!” He cried out, his voice gravelly and hoarse and raw. Squelching sounds came from the apex between his legs, from where your body was intertwining with his, and he zones into that sensation of you filling him up over and over and over again until his thighs flail and lock around your waist.

Suddenly, his body jerks once, before cum dribbles from his slit. He shudders all over, trembling breathlessly as he rides out his first high by rolling his hips just in time for the head of your cock to breach him. He clamps down there, purposely, to trigger your climax — just as he wanted.

It’s wet and warm. Ghostface can feel your cock twitching against his walls, and he has to physically prevent himself from forcing you to fuck into him again. He unwraps his legs, exhaustedly slumping against the bed. You pull out of him, rather too quickly to go on unnoticed, and practically collapse next to him.

He feels boneless, with your cum trickling out of his stretched hole.

You might’ve just successfully saved your life and a few others.

[suigenerisisadiva]

"Who in the house would you not let your child date?" - Feat Batsis!Reader <3

Pairing: Batfam/Batboys x Batsis!reader Content: Swearing, use of Y/N, my first crackfic lolol, I believe 'ukhti' means sister!

For my pookie <3 : @inejinn (Sorry If I didn't fulfil your idea the way you imagined </3)

Rapid shuffling of feet ... Camera aggressively pointed in Dick's face

Steph: Dick, who in the family would you not let your child date.

Dick, immediately: [Y/N] cuz she's the reason New Jersey banned nunchucks, of all things

Steph: Jason who in the family would you not let your child date?

Jason, without missing a beat: [Y/n] because she called going to an unexplored island a "light field exercise"

Steph: Timberly, who in the fam would you not let your child date?

Tim: after some thought: Oh 100% [Y/N]

Steph: Why?

Tim, with an offended expression: Because she called me "middle class" as an insult, I AM RICH THO-

Steph: Duke who in the family would you not let your child date?

Duke: [Y/N] because she uses throwing knives as bookmarks, they were diamond-encrusted too. She and Damian have a lot more in common than you think...

Steph: Dames, who in our family would you not let your child date?

Damian, not looking up from his book: Ukthi because she's unhinged.

Steph: Elaborate?

Damian: I saw her sword fighting a mirror as she felt disrespected. My child deserves the utmost love and not nightly visits to Arkham Asylum.

Steph: Cass Cass! Who in the gang would you not let your child date?

Cass: [Y/N], dangerous, seductive, wore Prada to bust drug cartel.

Steph, entering Bruce's study: Yo Brucifer, who in the manor would you not let your child date?

Bruce: [Y/N], she may be my daughter but I don't want another lawsuit.

Steph: LMFAO WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT AGAIN

Bruce, rubbing temples: She took my jet to Milan because the boutiques were "calling her name"

Bruce: Also, out of all of my children, my baby girl is Selina's favourite, which is very telling, don't, under any circumstances, don't leave them together in a room.

Steph: [Y/N], out of everyone in our family, who in the house would you not let your child date?

Y/N: None of those motherfuckers, they're all genetically predisposed to fumbling some of the baddest bitches alive.

Y/N: What'd the rest of 'em say?

Steph: Oh you don't wanna know

Y/N: I mean, for Dad it's kinda warranted, I told him "GYAT" meant "Get Your Act Together" and he yelled it at the Titans plus Jon and they all doubled over laughing and he grounded me :\, but did they actually say me?

Y/N: I genuinely bet those hoes dragged my ass, they picked ME didn't they? YOU KNOW WHAT-

Hope you all enjoyed this! Likes, comments, reblogs and requests are highly appreciated! Requests are open!

Sources !-

Blue lines - @cursed-carmine Bat dividers - @sister-lucifer Batfam Header - Pinterest (Robin #6)

Property of suigenerisisadiva, do not repost my work pls & ty

[little-diable]

Kinktober Day 1 - Jasper Hale

Here we go – my favourite month is finally upon us! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

🖤 Blood 🖤

Warnings: 18+, smut, rough piv, blood play

Pairing: Jasper Hale x fem!reader (700 words)

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

header by @theanythingbuthuman 🤍

The room was barely alight, only a few candles were offering some flickering guidance. (Y/n) had lost all sense of time, unsure how long she and Jasper had been hiding away in her bedroom, finding comfort in one another’s presence as they chased one high after another.

“Can you take another, darlin’?” His voice had a slight condescending touch to it, leaving her choking on a “Yes”. The vampire smirked down at her, losing himself in his thoughts about his mate - seconds she used to flip him around, straddling his waist.

“It’s my turn now.” Not once had she done this before, preferring to have Jasper guiding their moments together. But something had shifted inside of her today, something that left (y/n) ending up right here, sinking down on his cock while his eyes turned into a darker shade. Her walls fluttered around him, holding onto his cock while he impatiently bucked his hips.

(Y/n) could tell that Jasper was struggling to hold himself back, but perhaps it was also the fault of the small dagger she reached for. Somewhere along the way, they had begun to include knives into their back and forth, Jasper liked to tease her with the cold metal, seeing the excitement swim in her pupils. But not once had he cut her, always careful not to harm her.

Her fingers trembled as she brought the tip of the dagger up to her pointer finger, smirking down at Jasper. (Y/n) knew that she could trust him fully, knowing that he would never risk her safety, and yet her heart still skipped a few beats the second she lightly cut her skin. The groan leaving Jasper made her gasp, keeping her eyes focused on him before bringing her bleeding finger up to his lips.

They held eye contact as he parted his lips, eyes filled with an unfamiliar sensation she hadn’t seen thump through his system until this very moment. He was struggling, knowing that he needed to do something before the predator inside of him could gain the upper hand, so he flipped her around again, hovering over (y/n) to roughly fuck into her.

“Oh, fuck, Jas’.” She was close to screaming, wide eyed staring at the man who fucked her harder than ever before probably. He was high on the taste of her blood, knowing that he would be forever addicted to it, unable to ever forget about the no longer foreign taste.

Sounds she couldn’t pinpoint left him, blending together with the sounds of their bodies meeting with every ferocious thrust. (Y/n) knew that her overstimulated body wouldn’t be able to hold on for long, not expecting him to react like that to her taste, a single drop which had elevated his mood to new levels.

She felt him deep inside of her, close to destroying the metallic frame of her bed with how roughly he moved. And yet she didn’t find it in herself to complain, both were too far gone, (y/n) with her body trembling with need, Jasper with eyes that were close to turning so black that even night itself would fear the depth of the darkness he emenated.

“Jas,” (y/n) choked on his name as she came. With her head thrown back, with her fingernails scratching at his skin, she let her orgasm clash through her. Jasper kept snapping his hips against hers, burying himself inside of her with a strength he’d apologise for later on.

(Y/n) lost her grip on reality, allowing him to use her body while he came himself, falling over the edge with a choked out groan. With her last ounce of strength, she pulled him down for a kiss, letting their tongues meet while he pulled out of her.

“Are you hurt, darlin’?” Jasper’s voice was rougher, lower, still high on the scent and taste of her blood. She could only shake her head, too far gone to put her thoughts into proper words, and yet (y/n) couldn't help but pull Jasper closer, needing to feel him with his arms wrapped around her to guide her to safety.

[joelmillerswife9]

Sunday Rides

Summary: You and your biker boyfriend Joel go on a picnic that ends with the two of you making love in the rain 🙈💕Reader is 29 Joel is 36

I loved writing this and I hope you love it as well! Also, I do have a header for this, but I’m posting on my phone and I’ll upload it when I’m in front of my computer.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Kissing. S*x in public, pet names, cursing, no apocalypse, Joel rubs tanning lotion on reader.

“You know I’m such a fool for you..

You got me wrapped around your finger…

Do you have to let it linger….

Do ya have to.. do ya have to….”

The soft rhythm of The Cranberries mixed with the occasional radio static roams along the peaceful house. You hum the melody as you stir a freshly made pitcher of strawberry lemonade, Joel’s favorite. You pour the tangy refreshment into two mason jars and seal the lids on tight. Placing them at the bottom of the red cooler backpack, you check off items Joel told you to prepare.

“Okay..” Counting with your fingers, you make sure nothing is missing.

“Lemonde… sandwiches… fruit cups… utensils ... suntan lotion… sunglasses…Joel said he will bring towels… that’s everything”

You maneuver the items into the pack and set it on the wooden kitchen island. The clock ticks 10:50, Joel said to be ready for a surprise at 11. Cleaning up the counter of dirty knives and crumbs, a young vibrant voice flows along the radio speaker:

“Good mornin’ to all you hunnies soakin’ in the warm Texas sun and good vibes on this gorgeous Sunday morning. Whether you’re still in bed or out and about, we hope you stick around listenin’ to 95.9 TXRadio! We’re gonna continue our 90’s throwback party after these messages and when we come back we’ll tell you how to land tickets to that upcoming Kenny Chesney concert in Dallas, so don’t turn that dial!!”

After wiping the counters and sweeping the floor, you patter up the stairs to grab for sandals and a pair of sunglasses. You choose a pair of red flip flops to match your cherry patterned bikini, that hugs your body under your high waisted denim shorts and white baby tee. Grabbing the heart shaped sunglasses to complete the look, you pull your curls back in a cute half up half down style. It’s very reminiscent of those 1950’s pin up models you idolized as a young girl. You can’t help but feel like a classic beauty as you glance at your reflection in the mirror applying coconut flavored lip gloss. You’re sparkling from the inside out. After sporting one last look in the mirror, the doorbell rings from downstairs.

“Coming!” you sing out into the open.

Darting down the stairs, you swing the front door open to find Joel leaning his body up against the old door frame. You’re taken back by the look he’s modeling; aviator sunglasses that put Maverick to shame, a tight black t-shirt that accentuates every bulging muscle in his arms and torso with a denim jacket to compliment, and blue bootcut jeans that make his meaty thighs look irresistible. Unable to calculate syllables, you yank Joel by the shirt pulling him out of the unforgiving Texas heat. Your lips smack onto each other like a tidal wave, Joel moans sucking the short lasting gloss off your bottom lip.

“Mmmmm… ya taste good, kitten”

“Thank you” You mutter snaking your arms around his cozy neck bringing him closer.

If he hadn’t planned a schedule, Joel would have hoisted you over his shoulder for a quick shag in the living room. But, the weather was calling for afternoon rain showers so ya’ll needed to get a move on. Leaving one last kiss on your swollen lips, he pulls away. Immediately, you feel the withdrawal growing from the distance of his touch and mouth.

“Did you get everything, kitten?”

“Yes I did” nodding in agreement.

“Good girl” he says, delivering a peck on your forehead. He follows you into the kitchen where the cooler pack rests on the island. Slinging it over your back like it’s nothing, Joel grabs for something in his back pocket.

“Before we go, I need you to put this on. It’s part of the surprise” In his palm lies a wrinkled bandana. Cocking your head, you grasp the cloth placing it over your eyelids. Turning around, Joel hums an unfamiliar tune while his digits tie a small knot.

“Too tight?” A phrase he’s asked before in the bedroom. You nod your head no. All of the other senses go haywire wondering what this surprise could be. Interlacing his fingers between yours, Joel guides you down the hall. The front door creaks open, the warm breeze tickles at your skin.

“Alright darlin, we’re steppin’ out onto the porch.. I got ya”

Not letting go of your hand Joel guides you, “Alight, keep walkin’... one step… and another.. good girl… just a few more steps.. okay, kitten take it off”

Sliding the cloth over your curls, you squeal in excitement. Parked in the driveway, a red and black Harley Davidson Classic glistens in the sunlight. It resembles the motorcycle that old Hollywood star Marlon Brando rode in your favorite film, The Wild One. The same movie that was showing at Daddy O's Drive-In when Joel brought you there for a first date. He knew you appreciated the classics and in that moment, you could see his heart of gold under the rustic cowboy persona. Nuzzing into the front seat of his pick up truck, you watched the film while feeding each other reeses pieces (his choice) and sweet tart ropes (your favorite). Joel didn’t care much for the film, he was more invested in watching the excitement in your bright eyes; how they darted at the fast motorcycles zigzagging on the screen. He loved the way your teeth grazed your bottom lip at the sight of Marlon Brando. He loved that you appreciated the simplicity of life.

Tears well up around your eyelids; Joel did all of this out of love and appreciation for you.

“You like it?” Joel questions wrapping himself behind you.

“Like? I love it, Joel! Where did you find it?”

“Remember the rancher on Elmer Street that Tommy and I have been working on? Well, we found it abandoned in an old shed and I’ve been fixin’ it up for a couple of weeks. After a few adjustments and a upgraded paint job, she’s good as new”

“Joel,.. I- it’s amazing. Can we go for a ride?” you ask.

“That’s the plan, kitten. Hop on” giving a little smack to your butt you waste no time. Straddling the seat behind Joel, the hot leather stings your thigh but you don’t even care. You’re bursting to get out on the road. Joel adjusts the mirrors, your heart-shaped sunglasses block your bright eyes, but nothing could hide the enthusiasm oozing out of your smile.

“You ready my little highway queen?” Joel asks, sticking the key in the ignition.

“I was born ready, baby” there was a hint of arousal in your tone. You're aching for him to rev the engine.

One click, and the engine purrs like a kitten sending shockwaves between your legs. Joel chuckles at the thought of you getting turned on by a machine. Slowly easing out of the driveway, Joel takes it easy through the neighborhood. Your hands enfold around his torso for support. Passing one house and another, the ride is smooth as honey. Out on the main road, Joel revs the engine a little harder, the vibration growls as it intensifies. A couple of traffic lights and stop signs, Joel gets off the exit heading away from town. That’s when the fun begins. No limits on the highway. It’s just you, Joel, and the open road. The motorcycle goes from 30- 90mph with a snap of your fingers and you grip tighter around him. You’ve never felt a sense of liberation like you do at this moment. The thrill wrenching through your veins is indescribable, but you want to chase it for the rest of your life. The mountains, the highway, the fields, it’s your playground. Joel’s palm finds yours and delivering a soft kiss on your skin. Through the heart shaped sunglasses, you get a glimpse of Joel in the mirror. His lips curved into a grin as his dark locks danced in the fast breeze. His aviators perched perfectly on his strong nose; he’s timeless to you. Moving your hands from his torso to his shoulders, you bring your lips closer to his neck. Brushing your mouth along his skin, you plant delicate kisses along his neck and ear. He twitches at the kitten lick around his earlobe.

“You’re gonna make me crash” he hollers.

Quoting a song from The Smiths, you croon in his ear, “To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die”

He shakes his head at your sense of humor. Revving the engine, Joel takes off on the blacktop. Mountains, street lines, everything passes before your eyes quicker than a lightning bolt. You feel invincible sitting behind Joel; you wonder if the ability to fly is possible. Tilting your chin to the sapphire sky, you inhale a taste of freedom. Without thinking, your fingertips slip away from Joel’s denim jacket along with your palms. Gracefully stretching your arms over your head, you have an urge to scream out into the universe to let the whole world know what you’re feeling. Taking in a deep breath, you let out a ferocious howl that echoes past the mountains.

“Let it out, babygirl,” Joel utters to himself, admiring you in the side mirror.

After 30 minutes on the road, Joel turns onto a bumpy dirt path that makes your body hop up and down. You can’t help but laugh at the titillating motion. A couple more zigzags and Joel parks the Harley. This was the real surprise.

“Oh.. Joel.. this is” you lift your sunglasses off your face to view the breathtaking landscape. Scenery like this could only be consummated from your daydreams or Van Gogh’s artwork. You blink twice to make sure it’s real. A crystal clear lake that stretches beyond the blue sky accompanied by a field of wild sunflowers swaying in the gentle gust. Mountains peak in the distance while the mockingbird chirps along the pink and green salix of a willow tree.

Joel leans into you brushing his scruffy beard across your cheek, “I know you’d like it. Cmon.. let’s get to explorin’”

Joel jumps off the bike and crotches down to the leather satchel on the side of the Harley. He grabs two towels and a polaroid camera. Placing his denim jacket on the seat, trails of sweat travel down his neck making your mouth water. He looks like a god in the blistering sun. Joel lends a hand out helping you off the machine. From the intense vibrations of the motor, your legs feel like jelly when you stand up. Walking off the numbness, you two walk down to the willow tree overlooking the lake.

“This is perfect” you say, placing the cooler pack in the shady region. Grabbing the picnic blanket from the side, the checkered red and white cloth stretches along the grass. You kick your flip flops on opposite sides to keep it from blowing away. While you set everything up, Joel struts towards the lake. Overlooking the mountains, you gasp at the sight of his shirt effortlessly being stripped from his solid core, over his tousled curls. The muscles in his back flex as he rolls the tension out of his shoulders. His sun kissed skin exposes a beautiful alignment of freckles along his shoulders and back. Hands in his pockets, he turns to you smiling behind the reflected aviators. Rising to your knees, you prance towards Joel at the edge of the water.

“How’s it goin?” he questions putting an arm around you.

“We’re all set up, captain”

Joel’s hand cups your face drawing you in for a kiss. There’s a taste of salt on his lips when your tongues collide, fueling your hunger for more of Joel’s affection. Jumping into him, he wraps your body around him pulling you closer. The baby tee slips over your head, Joel becomes feral at the sight of your cherry bikini top. A soft groan rumbles in his chest.

“You know what cherries do to me”

“That’s why I wore it” biting your lip grinning.

“C’mon.. Daddy’s starvin’” Joel throws you over his shoulder making you squeal. Planting a little smack on your bottom, he makes way to the willow tree. Laughing and kicking your legs, you playfully shout, “Don’t drop me”. Joel delicately puts you down and sits up on the blanket. Opening the pack, you assemble two mason jars of strawberry lemonade, homemade fruit cups assorted with berries and citrus fruits, and chicken salad sandwiches. His eyes widen at the sight of his favorite foods.

“This looks amazing babe, you made all my favorites” Joel praises removing his aviators from his face.

Even after four years, his eyes make your heart melt like a popsicle that’s been left out in the middle of the desert. While eating lunch together under the willow tree, you gaze out into the field of sunflowers. The tall yellow stems whip from one side to the other letting its grass honey aroma make its way to your picnic. You’d love to take some home to liven up the dining room.

“Do you mind if I go pick some flowers, Joel”

“Go ahead, darlin” Joel says, gnawing on a strawberry.

Grabbing a pair of cutting scissors from the pack you run along the hill to the sunflowers. Joel turns to watch; he smiles at how your curls bounce along the red strings of your bikini. There’s concentration in your hand motions like one little hiccup in your cutting skills could damage the flower. Snipping the flowers one by one, Joel grabs for his Polaroid. He adjusts the lenses and snaps a shot of you. The film snakes out at the bottom of the camera, it’s perfect. Joel stands to his knees making his way towards you; his boots making loud crunches on the tall grass. Bringing the camera to eye level Joel hollers, “Smile”. Right as you turn around the camera clicks. You laugh and bring the fresh cut flowers to your face, only your eyelids are visible.

Hands waving in the air you dramatically plead, “Paparazzi, please! No pictures!”

“Cmon, kitten. I can never have too many pictures of your gorgeous face”

Lost in his eyes, you bring the bouquet of flowers to his chest and smile. He brings the camera to his eyes, but pauses before snapping the picture. He inches towards you and brings the bouquet closer to your face, only showing your eyelids. Sweeping a piece of hair out of the way, his digit glides along the bridge of your nose.

“Stunning” he compliments.

“Stay right there. That’s perfect, baby girl” Joel says, getting the camera ready. Your eyes curve from the hidden smile on your lips. The camera clicks and the polaroid prints out at the bottom.

“Lemme see” you say, dropping the flowers to your waist.

The polaroid clears up, a silent “Wow” paints along Joel’s lips. He can never have too many photos of you, but this one is like no other. The natural beauty exudes off the film. Your eyes and skin glow in the sun, your hair rests perfectly on your shoulders. The photo is like a lost memory from the past, like a flower child from the 1960’s. You’re timeless in the photograph.

“It’s nice” you say.

“Nice? It’s exquisite, darlin’. Might have to send it in to one of those fashion magazines you’re always readin’ ”

Chuckling, you kiss his lips and guide him back to the willow tree. While walking Joel’s hands find your back.

“Oohh kitten, you’re lookin’ a little red. You bring sunblock?”

You nod yes. Back under the willow tree, you unzip a side pocket and reach for the suntan lotion. Joel takes it from your hands and tells you to sit in front of him. His fingers swift your hair out of the way; the lotion topper pops and Joel squeezes dabbles of lotion in his palm. Rubbing his hands together, Joel’s warm hands massage your toasty shoulders. Between the cool moisturizer and Joel’s digits kneading into your skin, your body arches into his touch. You’re like an addict when it comes to Joel because he doesn’t just touch; he explores you. Every cell in your body is electrified the minute his digits make contact with your flesh. His hands exude a combination of protection, warmth, and desire leaving you with an overwhelming crave. Popping a slice of kiwi into your mouth, you look out into the horizon. Your eyes flutter as Joel’s touch moves down your back to your waist.

“Hmm.. that’s nice, Joel”

His body moves closer to yours until his torso and chest are kissing up against your back. Wrapping his arms around your tummy, his face rests on your shoulders. A tickle from his beard makes you quiver. Reaching for his hand, you guide him along the crevices of your chest.

“Can’t have these pretty lil babies get burnt” Joel grabs the tanning lotion and drizzles the creamy liquid on your chest. Eyes closed, mouth slightly parted he feeds your addiction. Gently rubbing in the lotion, his hand slips inside your bikini top. His lips nibble the nape of your neck while his firm hands knead and thumb your breast. Teeth grazing your bottom lip, you pathetically whimper his name. Before long, gray clouds shade a way the sun, the wind shifts in an opposite direction.

“Let’s go for a swim, kitten,” Joel whispers in your ear. Breaking the sexual tension, you agree. Joel gets up while you adjust yourself on the picnic blanket. Throwing his boots off, Joel unbuckles his pants leaving him in his boxer briefs.

“Where’s your bathing suit?” you question.

Lacing his digits around his waistline he smirks, “I don’t remember putting that on the list”

The fabric falls from his thighs; he stands there naked as Michelangelo’s David.

“Joel! Someone’s gonna see you” you’re head swinging from side to side.

He laughs “Nobody around but us, darling.”

He walks down to the lake while you watch every muscle in his back flex. His gorgeous toned ass bopping around freely. Tagging along, your body bounces along the water creating little ripples. Splashing, swimming, and laughing; your bikini slings to your wet skin. Joel bites his lip at the view of your nipples poking through your top.

“C’mhere” Joel grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. Your legs wrap around his waist while his arms snake around your back. You lean back letting your curls kiss the water. Joel pulls you back up running his digits through your soaked hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, shaking his head. Cocking your head down your eyes flirt, but then your heart skips at the feeling of your strings being untied.

“Hey, what do you think you're doing?”

“What am I doin’?” he questions loosening the red string around your back. His fingers make their way to your neck playing with the second set of ties.

“Joel…” you whisper.

He hushes you with his lips, the ties come undone leaving you topless. The water temperature drops a couple degrees cooler as he slings the top over his shoulder. You look from side to side and Joel cups your face.

“Kitten, stop worryin’ so much. It’s just you and me. Focus on me..” the sentence ends with Joel’s mouth on yours. The tension settles and you do exactly what he says. All your focus is on him. One hand on his cheek while the other gets lost in his curls, you deepen the kiss. The taste of strawberry lemonade lingers on his tongue making you moan. Gripping onto his arm, you gasp at the feeling of his shaft brushing up against your bikini bottoms.

Joel’s hands cup your ass and you thrusts against his erection. “Take em off, Joel” you whimper. With one swoop, your bottoms strip away from your thighs; he tosses the garment over the same shoulder. Letting your body adjust to the cold temperature, Joel nuzzles his face into your neck making your heart race like the wind. His cock grows bigger as he feels your cunny close to him. Your crave for Joel is on overdrive.

“Joel… I---”

“Talk to me. What does my baby girl want?” he whispers along your collarbone.

“I.. aahh… I wanna ride you” you confess locking your digits into his curls.

“God I love you”, Joel growls. Steadying your thighs, you shriek his name while he enters your tight cunny. Inch by inch Joel’s cock fills your walls, making your nails claw into his skin. Catching your breath, you start rolling your hips into him creating ripples in the water. His big strong hands travel along your thighs and ass guiding you up and down on his shaft.

“J-Joel… God!” you shriek as you put more power into your thrusts. Stretching your chin to the gray sky, you sing out moans and squeals of pleasure. Lost in the sensation, a droplet of water plants on your nose, and then your forehead, and two more on your lips. The rumbling sound of thunder forces you to open your eyes. Before you two know it, Texas is downpouring on you feral little fiends.

“Good timing,” Joel laughs. The thunder, the rain, the rippling tide doesn’t stop you two. If anything, it adds to the excitement. You slick Joel’s hair back and kiss him hard on the lips.

“I have an idea.. Hold on to me” he commands. Grabbing onto his shoulders, Joel starts walking out of the lake and back to the willow tree. With his cock still inside your drenched cunny, you involuntarily continue thrusting and rolling your hips like your life depends on it. You body reacts like you could die if you stop feeling Joel.

“Mmm fuck, honey. This is a new move” he jokes as you continue riding him standing up. His firm hands on your ass making sure you don’t stop grinding; his slap makes your back arch. Finally making it to the picnic blanket, Joel lays you down on the soaked cotton. Soaked from head to toe, he follows the droplets of water dance on your skin. He kisses and licks every dribble of water that settles on your breasts to your tummy.

Roping your legs around his waist, you beg him to move. Teasing you at first, he sends a strong thrusts that makes you gasp in delight. His grinds grow deeper, your shrieks get louder, the rain continues to downpour. Like a shield, Joel’s body keeps you warm from the cold droplets.

“Ohhh Joel… Just like that” you pant, kissing his shoulders and massaging his back with your nails.

Grabbing his wrists, you place his hands around the side of your neck. Chin tilted to the sky, Joel grunts at how your skin gleams from the rainfall. He presses his hand lightly on your throat. A wicked smile curves along your lips feeling his mouth kiss and suck around your neck. You tug at his curls in encouragement.

“Joel.. I’m- getting close. You’re gonna…mmmmm…. make me come all over your thick cock” you hiss in his ear.

His hips snap into yours making you buck, but Joel’s strong hands grip onto your hip bone to keep you from squirming; you have no choice but to take all of him. Nails raking into Joel’s wet skin you endure every bit of pleasure he’s delivering inside your sweet cunny. Your sight grows hazy from hitting the peak of ecstasy.

“Come for me, kitten. I wanna feel you unravel on my cock. Mmm cmon, baby.. Come for me. Fuck.. be my good girl..”

He praises you with every thrust and grind until the most intense orgasm cripples every muscle fiber. You are drowning in immense pleasure, chanting over and over that you’re coming on his cock.

“Aaahh ff--fuck!” Joel grunts burying his face into your neck. Clenching your skin, Joel’s body shudders as his orgasm releases inside your warm cunny. Filling you to the brim, his hot seed starts dripping out of you. Your walls clench around him not wanting to let go. His breath echoes in your eardrums; you comfort him with delicate kisses around his shoulders and neck. Easing back from the high, you and Joel nestle into the afterglow. The rain starts to slow down, the salix from the willow trees protecting you both.

“That was amazing” Joel pants.

“You’re amazing”

As more time goes by, Joel agrees it’s time to go. Pulling clothes back on eachother’s bodies, you pack up the cooler and wrap the bouquet of sunflowers. Ready to hit the road, Joel questions, “Did you have a good day?”

“The best day ever”

One last kiss on the lips and Joel starts the Harley, the engine vibrations a little more intense the second time around. Back on the blacktop, Joel and you ride off into the Texas desert. The clouds part and the sun peeks through the gray sky. The perfect ending to the perfect day.

Tagging: @jazzy11scorpio @baronessvonglitter @littledes1re @pascalispunkczechia @katwriteshardy @joelsrose @foreveratlantica-blog @tateypots @mani-pedro @iamladyp @gothcsz @karaslqve @deaneatspie @xbeababyx

If I forgot to tag I’m sorry 😭❤️

[love44lew]

All mine . sir lewis hamilton

彡drivers sir lewis hamilton

彡genre ferrari!lewis hamilton x tired!reader, fem!reader, phone s3x, sir k1nk

彡summary you had to miss out on attending suzuka gp and you accidentally miss qualifying due to being overworked and you call him

၊၊||၊ i literally read like a scenario based off of this and it moved me so much i came out of hiatus again 😭 lmk if yall want the part two, other than that enjoy and ty for reading!! ၊၊||၊

彡warnings sexual content

his job required many demanding attributes. not just from his body which is the reason of his toned figure, but also his life too. you knew what you were signing up for when you started dating him, but you didn’t mind. it was an excuse to go on many vacations and hopefully expand your cultural palette. you didn’t learn arabic for nothing, right?

The only thing you wanted from him was to just make it worth all the missed time together. Try his hardest even if it doesn’t give the results he wanted, its better to fail knowing you gave it your all then to never even try. He’s always gonna improve next time and wherever you are, you’ll be there to watch it.

It did get hard though, especially when he had to be gone for a really, really long time. you were unable to go with him to japan this year because of work and it crushed you. it was last minute stuff and it wasn’t something you could handle on a zoom meeting or over the phone. though, thankfully you were able to attend the next two grand prix the plan was to spend all 3 weeks of the triple header together.

lewis told you not to worry for he would always have his phone near in case you needed to call (except for when be was in the car of course)

Every night of that week in japan you called and talked every day or night. Sometimes you would wake up at 2am and you’d talk until day break. you understood that sometimes he couldn’t get back to you but you didn’t worry because you could see him working hard in the garage and you would text him a picture of himself sending a creepy text like “i see you hehe~” and then he would smile at you through screen.

the worst part of missing a weekend like this one is the once-a-year-date you guys would go on which was drifting through the streets of tokyo on a rainy night. you especially loved racing him and then winning for two reasons. one, you could tell people that you beat an f1 driver in a race and two, it was one of the few things you were better at

this year he had to do it without you which broke your heart, and his.

you were thankful all the race events were late from where you were so you could get home and turn on the tv. you didnt really mind missing fp but you always made sure you were on time for quali. but tonight was different, they had worked you to the bone and you were so done you contemplated even getting in the shower because you were so tired.

you flipped on the television and decided to watch just to see ferraris pace before qualifying, especially lewis’s.

you dont remember anything beyond a couple laps and the timer being 40 minutes.

when you’d awakened the clock on your phone read 4 am and espn was playing cricket on your screen.

oh no.. you slept through quali.

you hopped in the shower before you got into bed and called lewis.

“goodmorning pretty” a low soft toned voice spoke from the other end

“afternoon, handsome” even though you’d spoken to him just hours ago before fp3 but it doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering at the sound of his voice

“how was your day beautiful, i miss you so much” his words hit you like knives to your heart, he would usually say that when you’d come home from a long day. his strong arms capturing your waist and his lips brushing soft pecks across your face and neck. his fresh aroma filling your senses making you melt right into him.

you missed him so much

you bit your lip and pressed your thighs together in hope it would relieve some of the longing tension your body created for him

“it was long, i wish you were at home waiting for me” you sighed out

“id love that right now..” he sighed tiredly

“is everything okay?” his answer arose concern in you “you can tell me anything”

“no, no i promise everything is fine i’ve just been having some troubles with the car thats all” he quickly responded to not worry you

“oh, okay.. you sure?”

“yes love, i promise” lewis reassured you

“you left at the worst time ya’know” you sighed

“why’s that?”

“because..” you stalled telling the truth

“hmm? talk to me beautiful” his soft tone flowed through your ears like good music.

your whole body shook at his voice. if only you could jump on him right now…it didnt help that he was literally talking right into your ear

“they’re slaving me out here, i need a vacation” you fake cried “come save me my prince” you put a hand on your head dramatically, even though he couldn’t see you could hear his low chuckle

god, his laugh

at this point he can burp right into the mic and you would feel a little wetness between your legs. you had a rabid tiger down there that was begging to get out and you could no longer tame her

“you need saving princess?” he cooed

“yes please”

“im at your service” his accent peeked through, you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not

“need you” you whined, the tension between your thighs becoming unbearable

“in what way my love” his slight naivety to your situation was heavily frustrating

“lewis— sir, please” whimpers escaping in between words as your fingers smushed against your needy clit, you felt so embarrassed to get off at just the sound of his voice

“pretty, i can help you but you have to listen to me okay?” he spoke affirmatively but still in his soothing tone “can you be a good girl for me and do what i say?”

“yes sir” you bit your lower lip hard

“stop rubbin baby, don’t want you gettin sleepy” you hesitantly took your fingers away

“okay” you responded to let him know you did so

“I want you to slowly rub over your panties, not too hard, slow, gently” you obeyed, allowing a small moan to escape letting him know that you listened

“y’know when im kissin it before eating you out” his words put imagery in your head, making your legs shake for a moment, remembering past times

“mhm” your jaw clenched

“move your panties and only put one finger in” you did it, even though a digit wasn’t nearly enough

“dont touch your clit baby” he instructed which you whined in disapproval

“i know, i know, soon baby i promise” he cooed “you’re doing so good for me”

you dont understand what he’s trying to do but you hated that he was doing this to you. things are so simple when he’s home, you’re horny, hes bored, he eats you out. you both are happy.

when its like this though, he takes advantage of your needy-ness that gets worse when he’s gone—your yearning to be held and loved by him again. you hated him for that but still you let him do it because it feels so good in the end and the sex when he gets back is.. yeah theres no words for that.

“you can add another finger for being so good” he directed, now two was more manageable

“cant wait til i get back so i can take care of my pretty girl” his ambition to finish the weekend made you excited too. you couldn’t wait til you were free from the shackles of loneliness and you could be loved on properly again.

“i miss being inside you, your perfect little pussy taking all of me so well” his lewd descriptions made your head spin “you’d love to do that huh? be full of me?”

“hmmph” you whined

“tell me how much you’d love that”

your moans filled the room as you curl your fingers imagining being stuffed by him and how being away for some time would mean you’d have to adjust to him all over again. you’ll probably be so wet that you wouldn’t even feel it though

“lew m’ s’close” you cried, trying so hard to hold it in

“not yet” he instructed

“sir, please i cant anymore” you were basically begging at this point

“just a little longer, you’re doing s’good” your legs began to twitch, your body barely holding on

“take your fingers out ‘n rub your clit” the relief of finally being able to pleasure the bundle of nerves almost made you finish right there and then

“slow baby, slow” his soft voice blessing your ears once again

“c—c’you keep talkin” you asked politely, your voice quiet despite the loud sounds you were making before

“of course beautiful”

“you moan so pretty y’know that? i love when you say my name, let me know whos makin ya feel good” lewis loves to act humble and surely he is but he’ll never admit that like every man or athlete, he’s a bit egotistical. you appreciate that he likes the stuff you do to make him feel good, not just physically but about himself. he gets doubtful really easily so you always want to make sure he knows that he’s the only man to ever make you feel this way

“you lewis” you say between moans, that familiar feeling building up in your lower stomach

“i do? whos pussy is that then?” he asks

“a’yours baby” you pant, your limit beginning to reach

“yeah? fuck—i love you so much, cum for me beautiful, let me hear you” his wish is your command

your back arched off the bed as your cunt spilled ecstasy, followed by a series of his name flowed from your lips into the phone mic

“thats it my sweet girl, m’so proud of you” his praises made the aftershocks easier, your tense body relaxing because of him.

“thank you, i love you more and i wanna see you really soon” you responded after coming down from your high

“soon baby, i’ll make you feel s’good i promise” his words brought tingles all over your body

“i’ll be waiting, but for now its my turn” you giggled, biting your lip happy to return the favor

——-

[polaris-daydreams]

oh, sweetheart

pairing : benjamin poindexter x matthew murdock

warnings : blood, injuries, matt being a cocky little shit, very small allusions/hints to wet dreams/jacking off.

w/c : 1.6k

a/n : hii ! thank you to everyone for being so kind on my first work. all those nice comments and reblogs really fueled me to continue writing !! had a horrible headache last night after school, so i was daydreaming about dexmatt instead of being able to start on animal kingdom haha, and that's how my second fic came to fruition in one sitting again :) dexmatt pics in the header are credited to @bullseyelover (@/BULLSEYELOVER! on pinterest), bullseye dividers are credited to @uzmacchiato. thank you and i hope you enjoy <3 !

Dex wants to understand Daredevil. 

That's his only agenda, he convinces himself. When he follows Daredevil keeping the city safe throughout the night. When he watches the way Daredevil’s body maneuvers so elegantly and powers through hit after hit. When he sees Daredevil exercise mercy on those good-for-nothing criminals. Without fail, every single time.

He just wants to know why. Why Daredevil makes the choice everyday to not deal a killing blow. To get rid of these vermin once and for all. Just like how he wants to understand why that goody-two-shoes lawyer took the bullet for that monster. How do Daredevil and Matt harbor that same goodness in their hearts? How can they believe everyone deserves a second chance? 

Dex wants to crawl his way under Daredevil’s skin. Wants to see the world as Daredevil does. See the goodness in everybody like Daredevil does. He wants to wear Daredevil’s skin like his own. He’s already worn the suit, clawing his way into the body and mind isn't that far fetched right? He wants, he craves, he desires. It all comes to a head when Daredevil catches up to him again.

୨୧・┈・୨୧・┈・୨୧・┈・୨୧・┈・୨୧・┈・୨୧・┈・୨୧

The gun flies out of his hands but just as Dex is about to throw his knives without looking, he recognises the red baton on the floor. He grins under the balaclava. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this angel.”

“You've been following me.”

“Gotta keep the angel on my shoulder, right?”

“You haven't been leaving a trail of dead bodies.”

“You keeping tabs on me too?”

Dex lets that question hang in the air between them. Something coils around his chest at the detail of Daredevil noticing him. Has his north star finally noticed his impact? Noticed him? The coil tightens like a snake and he brushes those thoughts away. Dex finally decides to turn around and take off his mask when he doesn't get a response.

Squinting his eyes when he really takes in the usually menacing form of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Dex glances down at Daredevil's stiff jaw. Travels his eyes down lower to his fidgeting hands. Hm. That's weird. It’s unlike Daredevil to be this nervous. This unconfident. Like he's carefully forming a response. Like he's being delicate about his next words.

“Was it … because of me?”

Of course it was, the voice in Dex’s head replies. Everything was about you, everything is about you. How did it take you this long to figure out the hold you have over my soul?

“Don't get cocky on me now angel, you think my mind revolves around you everyday?”

Yes. It does. Every waking moment. Before he goes to sleep. After he wakes up. Red. Red. Only red. That night on the rooftop. Their foreheads touching. Their lips so close. His anguished cries. Sometimes though, flashes of a cane crosses his mind. The tight grip on his hair. The taste of his own blood overflowing in his mouth. The condescending manipulation of a sweet lover’s pet name. Sweetheart. 

Daredevil has been tilting his head. A small, imperceptible smirk forms on his lips. Almost unnoticeable, unless you were Dex. He frowns, taking note of the change in Daredevil’s frame. Less unsure now, as if he just confirmed something or stumbled upon a secret that Dex wasn't privy to in those few seconds he was lost in his thoughts. Dex clenches his hold on his knives, expecting another fight from this change in demeanor. 

“It's good. What you've been doing.”

…

What?

Dex must be having another one of those dreams. Yes, that must be it. Those specific dreams that plague his mind sometimes. Of bloody hands that have a bruising grip. A velvety voice whispering sinful words. The morphing visual of two men. Daredevil gripping his hair and calling him sweetheart. Matthew Murdock bringing their foreheads close. Their bodies, their voices all mingling into one person. The dreams where Dex wakes up panting, wanting, needing.

Dex’s attention returns back to the man in front of him when he registers movement. Daredevil takes a step closer, approaching Dex slowly like he's a wounded animal.

“Holding back. Aiming at non-lethal areas. I know it's taking you a lot more effort to leave them alive. But that’s good. You're doing better. You're getting better.”

Dex feels the floor shake. Or maybe he's the one shaking. What is this? What's his game? A million thoughts race through his head. Trying to analyse the possible hidden agenda. The hidden motive. Why is he acting like this? What does he want in return? Unpleasant memories of vile monsters return. He’s just gonna use you. He’s gonna use you for his own benefit then toss you aside to rot. He’s just like the res-

“Hey.” A voice snaps him back to reality like a lifeline.

Daredevil’s closer now, Dex notices. Much closer. So close in fact, that he can put his gloved hand on his shoulder. Dex shudders at the contact. Even through their suits, the palm of his hand feels searing hot.

“I’m serious. I see you. I know you're trying to be better, and that's good. I don't have a hidden motive. I just want you to keep doing this, using me as your north star. I want you to keep being good, can you do that?”

Yes. Of course he could do that. He could do anything Daredevil asked him to. Dex nods without even registering the movement. Daredevil’s words feel like clouds in his brain. Or maybe cotton candy. Dex can't really think straight when he sees a soft smile forming below the cowl. And especially not when Daredevil’s other hand goes to the back of his head, patting the soft hair there once, twice.

“Good. That's good sweetheart. I'll see you around.”

oh. oh.

That motherfucker. 

୨୧・┈・୨୧・┈・୨୧・┈・୨୧・┈・୨୧・┈・୨୧・┈・୨୧

The next time his angel catches up to him, Dex has had a rough night. 

He mowed down a big gang tonight, one that he knows has been on Daredevil’s radar recently too. Dex’s balaclava is off. His ribs hurt when he tries to breathe. Blood is escaping his wounds. He’s made it to the rooftop, just conscious enough to keep pressure on his wounds. But the night has taken a toll on him, and his eyelids droop closed.

… 

“Sweetheart, hey stay with me, please.” The pet name washes over Dex like a warm blanket of safety.

He forces his eyelids open just enough to catch a flash of red. Leaning his head back on the brick wall, he gets a good look at Matt. Daredevil is kneeling before him, his horns illuminated by the moon rising behind, peeking just above his head like a halo.

“There you are. I'm gonna get you home okay? I just need you to stay awake, can you do that? Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Dex barely manages to utter out a “mmph” past his lips, blood dribbling out and down his chin. His eyelids are weighing heavy. He's so tired and Matt's voice is like a gentle lullaby. He did good right? Maybe he can fall asleep for just a bit.

“Hey.” Dex feels a warm familiar touch on his forehead.

“You did so well today. You were so good. You are good, you know that? And you can continue to be, I just need you to stay with me. Please, sweetheart.” 

Matt’s breath fans over his lips. He's so close. Just like that day on a different rooftop. He could kiss Matt if he wanted to. Close that barely there gap. He licks his lips and the taste of copper fills his senses. But Dex chooses the smaller salvation. For now.

“Can't get rid … of me that, that easily counselor.” Dex fights against the pain, the blood to get those words out.

Matt relaxes and smiles upon hearing the snarky (affectionate) remark. He wouldn't be smiling so fondly, Dex thinks. If Matt knew just how dark his depravity ran. The things he does every night now to the memory of hearing that stupid pet name. To the ingrained feeling of Matt’s hands on his body. The way Matt plagues his mind, overpowers his sharp senses.

“What happened to angel? It was starting to grow on me.” 

Matt puts space back between their foreheads and Dex wants to chase after that familiar heat. The ache in his bones and blood oozing out of his many wounds stop him from doing so.

Dex feels his body being maneuvered. He's being carried, his brain supplies. One arm below his back, the other cradling the back of his head. Too weak, Dex’s head falls to the crook of Matt’s neck. His bloody lips just barely grazes the skin there. Dex hopes they get back home soon. The urge to just pout his lips and plant a gentle kiss on Matt is clouding his mind.

“But I guess with you on my shoulder now, you're my angel huh?”

Dex wants Matt to stop talking. To prevent this warmth that's blooming in his chest from spreading all over. To stop the safe that's buried and chained up under there from beating a thousand miles per hour. He buries his face deeper into Matt’s neck. Barely able to compute that his lips are fully making contact when he grumbles out a weak, “shut up”. 

Dex feels Matt doing his signature head tilt (seriously, what is up with that?), and knows he’s donning an evil smirk without even needing to look up.

“That's alright. You can be my angel and my sweetheart too. You can be mine as long as I can be yours, your north star.”

a/n : ahsjs hope my characterisation of them both isn't too off D: but if you enjoyed, do leave a comment or reblog ! makes my day to reread reactions and ramblings :p

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi, doll, I was wondering if I could request a Steve Rogers x Reader in which the reader is the daughter of some-one Bucky killed and he say 'sorry' to her on Raynor's orders. It's awkward because Steve wants Bucky away from her. And Bucky ends up saying 'sorry' to her at one point.

I hope this makes sense. I just had this idea in my head.

Making Amends » Steve Rogers/Captain America and Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky tries to make amends with you for what he did as the Winter Soldier, but Steve wants Bucky to stay away from you and he ends up apologizing to you at some point.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, mentions of HYDRA, mentions of murder, nightmares, flashbacks, slapping (once), crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers 🩵

A/N #2: Italic text is nightmares and flashbacks.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credits go to the creators.

“I made amends with almost everyone.” Bucky tells Dr. Raynor.

“Everyone, including Y/N?” Dr. Raynor says.

Bucky cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He looked down at his lap, fiddling with his gloved fingers.

“I’m taking that as a no.” She says, writing it down in her notebook.

Bucky rolled his eyes when she started writing in her notebook.

“Does Steve know?” She asks.

“Does my best friend know that I killed his girlfriend’s parents when I was under HYDRA’s control? Yes, he does know.” He says.

The horrible memories of what he did to your parents constantly flashes through his mind. The horrific scream he heard when you saw him and the blood of your dead parents.

You opened the door to your house, only to find it kicked in. You cautiously walked in the house.

“Mom? Dad?” You say.

You found boot prints leading to the dining room. You followed each one, finding a man with a metal arm, wearing tactical gear, and had guns and knives. Your eyes widened when you saw your parents laying on the floor… dead in the pool of their own blood. You screamed, startling the man. He spun around, only to see a horrified teenage girl with tears streaming down your face. You quickly recognized him as the Winter Soldier, due to the red star on the shoulder of his metal arm. Usually, he kills any witnesses during missions, but this time, he didn’t. He bolted out of the house, leaving you alone with your dead parents on the dining room floor.

“James?” Dr. Raynor snapped her fingers, pulling Bucky from that horrific memory. “You still here?” She asks.

“Y-Yes.” Bucky says, clearing his throat again.

“You were thinking about Y/N’s parents again, weren’t you?” She says.

Bucky nodded.

“Make amends with her.” She says.

“How? She won’t even talk to me, let alone look at me.” He says.

“Try everything you can think of.” She says.

Bucky sighs and nods again. He wishes that he can just walk up to you and apologize for what he did, but it’s harder than it looks.

Bucky walks in the Avengers compound with his hands in his jacket pockets. He seen Steve. He’s just hoping you’re there too.

“Hey Steve. Is Y/N here?” Bucky asks.

“Yes, but you know she hates you.” Steve says.

“I know.” He sighs. “I want to talk to her.” He says.

You walked in the room, freezing when you seen Bucky talking to Steve. He seen you and Steve turned around.

“Y/N, I-” You walked past him before he could say anything else.

Bucky followed you and so did Steve.

“Y/N, I want to apologize.” He says.

Bucky put his hand on your shoulder to get you to stop walking. You stopped in your tracks and turned around, smacking him across his face.

“I don’t want to hear a god damn word from you! What you did is unforgivable. Just because you’re best friends with my boyfriend, doesn’t mean you and I are friends.” You say, your eyes tearing up.

Bucky didn’t dare to say anything. He just nodded and watched you leave the compound.

“I was doing what Dr. Raynor told me to do.” Bucky says.

“I understand that, but I think it’s best that you stay away from Y/N.” Steve says.

“Ok.” He whispers.

Bucky doesn’t want to upset you anymore than you already are so he’ll keep his distance for now. He just needs to think of a way to talk to you so he can apologize.

He waited a couple days before apologizing to you again. He went to yours and Steve’s apartment, hoping that you’re home. He knocked on the door and patiently waited for you to open it. Instead of you opening the door, Steve did.

“Is Y/N home?” Bucky asks.

“Not yet.” Steve answers. “I told you to stay away from her.” He says.

“I know, but she’s the last person I need to make amends with.” He says.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Buck. She hates you enough as it is and she doesn’t want to hear anything you have to say.” He says.

Bucky looks down and sighs sadly. He just left instead of fighting his best friend about apologizing to you. He so desperately wants to make amends with you. That’s all he wants to do. He hates that he put you through this. Bucky heard the elevator ding. He looked up to see you getting off of it. He opened his mouth to say something to you, but you held your hand up before he could say anything to you.

“What part of me hating you and not wanting to talking to you, do you not understand?” You say.

“I’m just doing what Dr. Raynor told me to do. I made amends with everyone else. I need to make amends with you.” Bucky says.

“I don’t give a fuck about what she told you to do! I can’t make amends with someone who killed my parents!” You say.

You walked past him, going straight for yours and Steve’s apartment. You opened the door and slammed it behind you. You leaned against the door and started crying. Steve wrapped his arms around you before your legs gave out under you. Now, Bucky has to tell Dr. Raynor tomorrow during his therapy session that he’s made no progress on making amends with you. He laid awake most of the night and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about what he did to your parents. Meanwhile, you were tossing and turning from a recurring nightmare you’ve been having for years.

“Sweetheart.” Steve whispers, gently shaking you. “You’re having that nightmare again.” He says.

You woke up and quickly sat up, tears streaming down your face and your breathing uneven. Steve wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his lap.

“I know Bucky is your best friend, but I hate him.” You say.

Steve rubbed your back and listened to what you were saying.

The following day, Bucky went to his therapy session with no progress on making amends with you.

“Did you make amends with Y/N?” Dr. Raynor asks.

“No.” Bucky answers. “I tried, but Steve told me to stay away from her.” He says.

“Ok.” She closed her notebook. “Text Steve and tell him to bring Y/N here.” She says.

Bucky took his phone out of his pocket and texted Steve. Steve texted back, telling him he’s on his way with you.

“Who texted you?” You asked curiously.

“Bucky.” He says.

“What does he want?” You mumbled.

“He said Dr. Raynor wants to talk to you.” He says.

“Why? I don’t need therapy.” You say.

“No one is saying you do, honey. Let’s go to see what she has to say.” He says.

“Fine.” You mumbled.

After a while, you and Steve got to Dr. Raynor’s office. You should’ve known what you were walking into when you seen Bucky.

“No.” You said.

“Just sit down and listen to him.” Dr. Raynor says.

You stared at Bucky silently, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Fine.” You mumbled.

“I’ll be in the waiting room.” Steve says, pecking your lips softly.

You sat down on the couch next to Bucky and waited for him to say what he needs to say.

“I am so sorry about what I did as the Winter Soldier. I was given a mission and I did it. You weren’t supposed to be there.” Bucky begins.

“Except I was there. Do you want to know how horrifying it is to come home from school to find your parents dead in the dining room and the person who killed them? That day has been haunting me for years.” You say, your eyes tearing up.

“It’s been haunting me too.” He admits. “If I would’ve known they had a kid, I wouldn’t have gone through with the mission.” He says.

“You didn’t see the pictures on the walls?” You asked sarcastically.

Bucky shook his head no.

“Thanks to you, I had no one. You took my parents from me. I was lonely for years until I met Steve. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you and I don’t think I can see us being friends.” You say with tears rolling down your cheeks.

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say next in his apology. He hit a roadblock.

“Can I go now?” You asked Dr. Raynor.

“Yes.” She replies. “So can you, James.” She says.

You stormed out of the room with tears on your face.

“I want to go home.” You say, walking past Steve.

Steve stood up and looked at Bucky as he walked out of Dr. Raynor’s office.

“What did you say to her?” Steve asks.

“All I did was apologize.” Bucky says.

“Whatever you said made her even more upset than she already is.” He says.

You were quiet for the rest of the day. That night, you were staring at the wall in the dark. There was something about Bucky’s apology that you were curious about. You assumed your dad had some kind of involvement with HYDRA, but what did your mom do? She had nothing to do with HYDRA. She was just a woman who was married, had a daughter, and a job. You wanted more answers so you grabbed your phone and texted Bucky.

You: Are you awake?

Bucky: I am now. What’s up?

You: Can you come over please? I want to talk to you. It’s important

Bucky: I’m on my way

You shut your phone off and quietly slipped out from Steve’s hold on you without waking him up. You went to the kitchen and made coffee while you waited for Bucky. It didn’t take long for him to get to yours and Steve’s apartment since he lives a few minutes away. Bucky texted you that he’s there so he didn’t accidentally wake Steve up by knocking on the door or ringing the doorbell.

“Come in.” You stepped aside after opening the door. “I made coffee. Do you want some.” You asked.

“Yes please.” Bucky smiles.

Bucky went to the living room and sat down on the couch while you went to the kitchen to get you and him coffee. You came back with two cups and gave him one.

“You said you wanted to talk about something important?” Bucky says, taking a sip of his coffee.

“It’s about the day you- the Winter Soldier killed my parents.” You say.

Bucky froze in his seat.

“I knew my dad had some kind of involvement with HYDRA, but I don’t know what it was. I was hoping you would know.” You say.

“He was a scientist for HYDRA who worked on the Super Soldier serum. He had files of the serum HYDRA wanted back so I was sent to kill- take care of him and get the files back.” He explains.

“What was my mom’s involvement?” You asked.

“She had no involvement with HYDRA.” He says.

“Then why did you kill her?” You asked, your eyes tearing up.

“I was told to kill any witnesses.” He says.

“Why not me?” You asked in a shaky voice. “I was a witness.” You say.

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Besides, you were just a kid.” He says, his voice cracking.

Bucky heard your breathing become uneven and seen your bottom lip quivering. You couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks.

“You know…” You sniffled. “After hearing what you just said, I feel a weight lifted off my chest. I finally got the answers I wanted.” You say.

You were full blown crying now. Bucky wasn’t sure if he should hug you or not.

“I am so sorry for what I did as the Winter Soldier. You didn’t deserve any of that. If I could go back in time and change it, I would.” Bucky says, tearing a rolling down his cheeks.

You put yours and his coffee cups on the coffee table before hugging him. Bucky was caught by surprise, but he hugged you back.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again.

“I know you are.” You whispered.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your forgiveness.” He says.

“You don’t have to do that. I forgive you.” You say softly.

Bucky was taken back. He looked at you with a confused look on your face.

“You forgive me?” He asks, making sure he heard you right.

“Yes.” You replied. “After hearing your explanation, I now understand that you weren’t under your own control.” You say.

“But I still did it.” He says.

“It wasn’t you. It was HYDRA.” You say.

You hugged him again. Bucky felt a new warmth in his heart.

“I’m willing to give friendship a chance if you are.” You say.

“I’d like that, doll.” Bucky whispers and smiles.

You smiled and kissed his cheek. You two ended up dozing off a moment later.

A few hours later, Steve woke up to feel your side of the bed cold. He lifted his head and frown when you weren’t in bed. He rubbed his eyes and stretched before getting out of bed. He seen two coffee cups on the coffee table and then seen you and Bucky fast asleep on the couch, your legs across Bucky’s lap and a throw blanket draped over the two of you.

“Sweetheart. Bucky.” Steve whispers, gently shaking the two of you awake.

You and Bucky stirred in your sleep before waking up.

“Good morning, Stevie.” You smiled, standing up to give him a morning kiss.

“Good morning, honey.” He kisses you back. “When did you get here?” He asks Bucky.

“Around 1:45am.” Bucky answers, rubbing his eyes. “Y/N texted me to come over and talk.” He says.

“I got the answers I’ve been wanting for years. I accepted Bucky’s apology and forgave him. Him and I are friends now.” You tell Steve with a smile.

Steve rose his eyebrows in surprise. He didn’t think you would forgive Bucky for what he did.

“Really?” Steve asks, looking from you to Bucky.

“Yep!” Bucky smiles.

“Well, I’m happy you got the answers you wanted, sweetheart and I’m happy that my two favorite people are friends now.” He says with a smile.

You tugged on Bucky’s vibranium arm to get him to stand up. He stood up and you gave him a hug. Steve smiles at the two of you, happy that his best friend and his girlfriend are finally getting along.

“Do you like pancakes?” You asked, looking up at Bucky.

“I fucking love pancakes.” Bucky says with a smile.

“I love pancakes too.” Steve says, pulling you against him, making you giggle.

“That’s what we’re having for breakfast.” You say.

“Yes!” They say excitedly.

Overall, you’re happy that you finally got the answers you’ve been wanting for years. Bucky was more than willing to provide those answers.

🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[rafesurto]

madelyn cline headers.

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Obx Headcanons Part 1|What Gifts to Give them

Any gender, SFW, romantic or platonic, no warnings (except JJ and Rafe by themselves?)

—Header from saradika-graphics—

JJ:

Get him a new surfboard, surfboard polish, a surfboard stand— ok, we get it, he loves surfboards. 

A new pair of sunglasses or a skateboard would also send this man crazy.

(And if we’re being honest, he’d love a nice shiny new gun 😂.)

He’s likely to be pretty chilled out about receiving gifts, unless his inner child happens to be out and he starts running around the house like your dog when they get the Zoomies.

Kinda like this.

Rafe:

(Help, it keeps autocorrecting to Rage.) 

Rafe would be surprised to get a gift from you in the first place, but don’t take his awkwardness as him being ungrateful. 

He’d appreciate anything you get for him (hopefully) and try his shot on finding something for you as well. It’ll be store-bought but hey, it’s the thought that counts.

As for what to get him, let it be anything but cocaine or alcohol. We all know the reasons why this is a bad idea. 

Just find him a nice tie or fancy ring, and he’ll be perfectly happy. Cologne, anyone?

Kiara:

Kiara, whether you’re a friend or dating, would be super grateful about receiving a gift no matter what it is.

In the case that she doesn’t like it, which isn’t likely, well, at least there’s the gift receipt. (Right?)

She’d love some handmade jewelry or something crafty, possibly something nature-related per her activist persona. (Maybe a small wooden whale to place on her nightstand?)

If it’s jewelry, you can expect her to wear it every day of the week and show it to her friends —(“Guys, look at the ___ y/n got me! Isn’t it gorgeous?”)— whilst taking good care of it.

Pope:

Pope is probably one of the best when it comes to gift giving— He’ll be chill with a smile on his face, polite as he always is.

Really though, he’s grateful. If you’re dating, don’t be surprised to see a blush on his face. On second thought, he might blush anyway out of embarrassment.

A nice book or a quality pack of pencils is all you need to make him happy.

If you’re leaning away from the nerdier side, how about a new hiking backpack or a fishing rod?

John B:

Awkward about receiving gifts? Yes. Happy though? Also yes.

He’d love a surfboard like JJ or something that reminds him of his friends. That’s part of the spirit of Christmas, isn’t it?

A picture frame of his closest friends, a bracelet with your names on it, or a photo album of all you guys waving to him will hit right home.

Booker is John’s middle name, so he might just book it on out of there he’s so emotional— no? Nevermind.

(Side note: don’t buy him a gun like JJ.)

Sarah:

Sarah is the best at receiving gifts— case closed. She’s the sweetest thing ever; the only thing she enjoys more than recieving gifts from you are giving them. True beauty of Christmas.

Sarah will literally squeal with delight when she opens the beautiful gift you’ve wrapped just for her. Expect hand-written thank you cards sent to your address.

Cute jewelry, a stylish new sweatshirt, or her favorite box of chocolates fit her vibe.

Have a blast shopping for/with her for the holidays!

Cleo:

Gotta include my fave girl boss!

Cleo will take anything you gift her to heart. Trust me, this woman will never let an act that means so much to her go to waste.

Cleo’s gotta admit, her new friends grew on her. She’ll treasure that present of yours forever. A hug or a thank-you card good enough for thanks?

Make her something with the shells from the beach or a glamorous woven-style bag to feel unique and extra-special to her ❤️

Ooh, don’t forget about some sharpening tools for her knives~

[asmutwriter]

My Angel (Part 1)

DESCRIPTION: You go about your day as usual. Getting some cash for your stolen items from the previous day. Little do you realise you may steal from the wrong person.

A/N - Header may change depending on how the story goes but for now I will keep it as this - enjoy

WORD COUNT: 2550

Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of prostitution/sex, talk of low income, petty crime (stealing), a small fight if you squint (no one gets hurt), self defense

DISCLAIMERS

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

You let out a soft grumble. The thin sheet covering your body not doing much to keep you warm. The bare windows allowing the early morning sun to come in and tease your eyes open. You rub your face. Burrowing your head into the hard pillow.

"Come on. Get up" you mutter to yourself. Eyes stay shut as you push yourself up from the bed. Twisting your nude body to exit the bed covers. Finding your various clothing items you scatted on the floor from the events of last night. Picking up the small wad of cash your regular customer had set aside for you. Stuffing it into your bra before you bundle yourself with layers.

You walk in the brisk air. A breath leaving your lips in a cloud of fog. Ears turning red from the cold nipping at them. You'd forgotten your hat and now you were paying the price. Your hands were firmly planted into the pockets of your thick coat. Trying to gain the warmth from your palms and transfer it to your head. Plus you could hug your keys in your fist this way.

Sadly it was common for you to get cornered. You soon got used to dealing with it though. Your keys being a good choice. Couldn't be charged with a planned assault with keys. Knives and other weapons could be. But that's not the point. You get to your home. Unlocking the front door.

It wasn't much but its been your home for 4 years now. Nearly 5. Two rooms. One small one to the side for a toilet and shower. The other, bigger room. Containing a bed, fridge and sink. Once you lock the door behind you again you go over to the bed. Emptying your pockets (and bra) onto the brown blanket adorning the bed covers.

Two wallets, a necklace, plus the fifty you made last night. You sit on the bed. Going through the wallets. Giving an annoyed huff. "Great". You throw the leather onto the bed as well as the contents. "I've made an extra seven bucks and a Starbucks voucher". You give out an annoyed sigh. Bringing the item up. Looking at the faded cardboard. "What a shitty day" you mumble. Flopping down onto your bed. Head hitting the creaky mattress below. Fingers fiddling with the flimsy item still in hand. Picking at the rough edge of it. Glancing your eyes to the bedside clock. 7:07am. "Yep. A shitty day".

You give an annoyed groan. Your hands coming up and covering your eyes. "Fuck. Ok" you keep your eyes closed as you process your day out loud. "So bad start. Its ok. We have spare cash from last month that we can use for rent. We can go and get our-" you bring the card back up. Glancing at it through a squinted eye before flopping your hand back onto the bed. "Free coffee or hot beverage and decide what to do from there". You sit up. Bouncing to your feet as you grab a coat and remembering your hat.

Bounding to the door as you unlock it and swing it open. "Shit". You go back over. Grabbing the necklace too. The shiny silver being a harsh contrast to your grime covered fingers. Shoving the jewel into your coat pocket. "I can swing by Liam's before coffee. See how much this bad boys worth". You go out to the street. Locking your door behind you. Turning once again to start your confident stroll your foot meets a rather large and muddy puddle. Splattering up your leg. You stand still. Annoyance coursing through your veins. Giving out a shaky breath as you try to remain calm.

"I can see Liam after coffee" you correct yourself. Shoving your keys into your pocket, but making sure you have a firm grip around them as you stroll down a few blocks. Coming to the coffee shop in question. Going inside and getting your free beverage. They were so busy they ran out of clean mugs. So you settle for a large take out cup.

You find the only space you can in the small and mildly crowded shop. Briefly paying mind to the elderly woman you sit next to. The seat to your left being free still as you sip your drink and do some people watching. Looking out the large window in front of you. Completely in a world off your own it takes you a little while to process that someone is actually talking to you. Turning you meet a pair of blue eyes. A soft smile adorning his defined features. "Hmm?" you say softly. He smiles more.

"Can I sit here?" He repeats. You note his drink and food in hand. Giving a nod as you smile back up at him.

"Of course". He sits beside you. Watching as he sits down. You tilt your head slightly. He attempts to take a sip of his drink. Seeing the regret flash through his eyes as he burns his tongue. You try not to laugh. Giving a small smile as you start speaking. "I know most of the locals yet you I don't recognise. You must be new". He gives a small chuckle. "I'm Mia". He turns to look at you as you outstretch your hand. Taking it in yours.

"Steve"

"So what is a guy like you doing out here then, Steve?" He gives a small chuckle again. Shaking his head slightly.

"I'd rather not get into that at the moment" He faces you again. Eyes scanning your features. "How long have you lived here for?"

"What made you think I live here?"

"You said you recognise the locals. Only people who live in the area recognise locals. Its either that or a poor attempt at a pick up line". Now its your turn to give out a soft laugh. Sipping your coffee.

"Could it be both?" He smiles. Turning his head back to look out the window. "I've lived in the area for five years now. Well, five next week". His brow scrunches slightly. Turning to look at you.

"You are either way older then you look or you moved here when you were very young". You smile. Resting your head on your palm as you continue to look at him.

"I moved here when I was 17 but we don't need to get into all of that". You turn to look out the window. Drinking your drink as fond memories of your past flutter through your mind. Before everything turned dark and gloomy. You mentally shake yourself. Turning back to smile at him.

"So you're 22?" you give a small nod. Smiling as you quickly dart your eyes to his lips.

"Smart man". He smiles at the compliment. His eyes steady on yours. "How old are you then Mr Steve?" He gives a low chuckle.

"Too old for you" you smile. Turning back to your drink as you down the rest of your beverage.

"You're probably right. Besides-" Watching as you plop the now empty drink down onto the table. "You seem way to nice for me" you smile as you look at him. He turns his head. Looking at the table as a small smile and laugh escapes his lips. Your eyes quickly dart over his features. Giving out a small sigh before planting your hands onto the table.

"Right. Work calls" You push yourself up with your arms. He watches as you stand. "Its been lovely chatting with you but I got to go and make some money" he gives a low chuckle. Nodding as he smiles at you.

"Good luck" he says. A genuine kindness in his voice. You smile back. Picking up your empty take out mug you squeeze past him. Going to the bin. And hand going into his pocket. Swiping his wallet and pushing it up your sleeve as you head to the bin. Chucking it in before squeezing back past.

"Hope to see you around Mr Steve" he gives a small nod. Giving a small wave to you as you head out the door. He watches you out the glass window as you start walking to Liam's.

Going a few roads away from the cafe. Coming to a dodgy looking house. You go up. Giving it three hard knocks before stepping back. A few moments pass before the door opens. A scrawny man with a tattoo on his neck opens. White wife beater and grey sweatpants. He smiles as he removes the lit cigarette from his mouth.

"Mia!" he smiles at you. Eyes going so gracefully to your chest. "What do I owe this pleasure?" You smile. Bringing your lip between your teeth as you reach into your pocket. Taking out the necklace from your pocket. His eyes stop staring at your boobs as they go to your hand. Giving out a whistle as he nods.

"How much for this?" He places the smoke back into his mouth. Outstretching a hand. You place them into his palm. His hands also a harsh contrast of dirt to the delicate jewellery.

"20"

"Fuck off"

"Thats the best I can do"

"Its worth atleast 100". He gives a small chuckle. Looking back up at you.

"30"

"80"

"40"

"I ain't going lower then 50. I'm not an expert with jewels but those-" you motion to the item in his grasp. "Those are worth the big bucks. The kinds that kings and queens wear". He gives another soft chuckle. Leaning against the door with his back as he pushes it open. Grabbing out a wad of cash. Counting out the money loudly.

"$50" he hands you the money. You smile. Taking it from his hand. Undoing the zip of your coat slightly and managing to shove the money int your bra. His eyes watch as you zip the coat back up. "I'll give you an extra 30 if you come inside". You give a scoff. Shoving your hands back into your pockets. If you did then you would be able to pay off the next couple of weeks rent. Plus have some left over.

"50". He smiles. Hand still holding the roll of cash. He takes out the money you asked. Handing it to you. You go to take it. He moves the hand away. Smiling at you.

"100 if you let me do it raw".

"No way. I ain't risking that" He gives a chuckle. Nodding as he hands you the money. Moving aside as he motions with his hand for you to enter. This wasn't your first time doing this with Liam. You knew where to go to find his bedroom. Plus you knew what he liked so the ordeal was over and done with after ten minutes. Putting your clothes on as he rests in bed. Throwing your coat back on. 100 dollars firmly wedged between your bra and skin. You wish him farewell as you head out the door.

The smell of his cigarette smoke stuck to you. God you would need a shower when you get back. Thankfully you could afford the bill to have a nice hot shower so you deemed it as a necessity. You start to head back to your home. Walking down the alleyway. The one that was normally empty besides the odd drug deal. Today it was empty though. Your lucky day. You smile as you head to your home. Unlocking and opening the door.

You reach into your pocket. Taking out the wallet from your earlier swipe. Opening it. You think its strange that he didn't have an ID or anything but didn't think to much of it. Your mind was set of the cash. your gleeful smile turns to a frown as you open it up fully. "Fucks sake" you mutter. You take out the single note. Twenty bucks. Feeling the little zip part of the item and opening it. 43 cents. "Great. Handsome man is a broke bitch". You chuck the wallet onto the bed with the cash and coins.

"I really need a shower". You sniff your coat. "Ew" you mutter. Smelling strongly of cigarettes you shrug it off. Going and pulling the curtains shut to your main room. Darkness other then the small light emitting from the bathroom. Reaching into your bra as you take out the wad of cash. Also throwing that onto the bed before starting to strip. Chucking your clothes into the dirty pile on the floor. You'll take them to the washer dryer tomorrow. Right now you needed a quick shower. Hopping in. Letting the hot water stream down your body. Washing the smoke out of your hair before getting out.

Towel drying yourself before heading into the bedroom living area. Grabbing some clean clothes out the drawers. Pants then bra. Socks. Then shirt. You go to put a leg into your jeans when you hear a noise. Your front door. The door handle jiggling. Hearing people talk outside. Two voices you think. You quickly pull your jeans up. A difficult feat but you manage it due to the rushed nature.

You try and be quiet as you go over to the door. Picking up a bat from beside your bed. Going over and standing beside the door. Trying to look intimidating. You go to bring the bat down as soon as it opens. A hooded figure. The person has quick reflexes. Grabbing the bat and pulling it. Disarming you as it gets thrown the into the hallway outside your apartment. You don't hesitate as you bring a foot up. Squaring it into their stomach. Winding them as they fall into the wall by the door. The person behind goes to grab you. Catching your wrist before you can react to anything else.

You twist your hand. Moving it to break from their grasp. Exchanging your wrist for theirs as you take a tight hold of their arm. Other going to their upper arm as you bring them up and over your shoulder. Knocking them onto the floor beneath you. You turn. Going into the hallway. Grabbing the bat from before and holding it up. Shutting the door as you stand by it. Eyes frantic as you look at the two bodies on the floor.

"Who the fuck are you and why are you in my home?"

"I know that voice" a female says. Obviously winded. She was the one you kicked. Your turn your head between the two of them.

"Answer my damn question or I'll start swinging"

"Wait. Wait a second" the other voice - a male voice - says below you.

"Who the hell are you?" There's a small pause. Too long. You bring the bat back. Swinging it against the wall. "Answer me"

"Mia?" The female voice says. You just can't quite out a face to the voice.

"Mia?" the male mimics. Almost disbelief. You recognise that voice too but are again unable to pinpoint who they belong to. You give out a sigh. Still on high alert and adrenaline. You reach behind you. Turning on the light. Turning back. Seeing your good friend Natasha bracing herself against the wall. The man you met earlier lying beneath you. You drop the bat. Making them both flinch as it hits the floor.

"Fuck"

Next

TAGS

@wonderlanddreamer

[towriteloveontheirarms]

So you think I look good while fighting? (Lucanis Dellamorte x Crow!Reader)

synopsis: “You need to worry less.” Lucanis repeats, his voice dry.

His words play on repeat in your mind like a broken record. There wouldn´t be another chance like this after all. So, you let him lead you in silence for a while as you rack your brain for something else to think about. Until a thought springs into your head.

warnings: Lucanis and reader on a job, kissing, afab reader

word count: 1.7k

(If you want to be tagged for any specific character/series/fandom or in general on my fanfic or moodboards let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: This is a little gift for the lovely @zaldritzosrose who is kind enough to still put up with my obsession and the silly ideas coming from it and who was kind enough to allow me to use the board she made as a header <3

Dividers by me

“All the entrances are clear.” Lucanis whispers in your ear. “There is no reason to check them again. For the tenth time in just about a minute.”

His voice carries the hint of an amused chuckle. Deep and raspy. Sending shivers down your spine.

“I know. Still, we can´t be too sure.” You reply in the same low tone. All too aware of the people around as you lean into your contract partner’s side.

Suddenly standing at the side of the room felt like you were sticking out like a fly on a wedding cake. The briefing had been simple enough. Get into the ball, blend in, take out a very important mage. In all technicality a job you had done countless times before. Wouldn´t it have been for the Crow that was accompanying you. Ballroom dancing and etiquette was something you were trained on since you were old enough to train. So, there was no reason to be nervous at all. At the same time, Lucanis' energy was so different from Viago and Teia’s that this was all the more reason for your body to make your palms sweat and your breathing tremble. Eyes darting around to all the possible entrances and hiding spots. For people listening in and the target mage. You can't even put a finger on what it was about him that makes you feel like this. Probably the fact that he was much calmer compared to Viago´s tensity and Teia´s underlying excitement. A quiet self-assuredness that while usually nice to be around, was not matching or helping your own tensity.

“Normally I would agree on this, but if anything, your uncertainty is making us stand out more.” Lucanis’ deep voice pulls you from your thoughts.

He takes a step forward and holds out his arm for you to take. Your eyes go down to it, then back up to look at his side profile. There is a stirring in your lower stomach. Lucanis has that air about him, you tell yourself. This flirty air that he wasn't aware of and if he was, he would probably stumble over his words and blush. You have seen it a couple of times.

“All I know is knives.” You had overheard him say to Viago once or twice.

You lay one hand on top of his, barely letting your gloved hand touch his skin, following him side by side as you look up at him again. Even through the mask, the distinct hook of his nose and his high cheek bones are unmistakable. The brown pupils roaming over your face so gentle and piercing at the same time. The rosy lips soft in contrast to your own. Broken skin decorating them from chewing on them too long. One gloved hand meets yours as the other lays on your waist chastely. You position your free hand on his shoulder and continue following his movement as he guides the two of you through the dance. Weaving effortlessly through the other attendants, it almost feels like floating across the tiled floor, the wide flared skirt of your black gown swishing over it behind you.

“You need to worry less.” Lucanis repeats, his voice dry.

His words play on repeat in your mind like a broken record. There wouldn´t be another chance like this after all. So, you let him lead you in silence for a while as you rack your brain for something else to think about. Until a thought springs into your head.

“If you think about it a fight isn´t much different from a fight.” It feels stupid to make the remark, but you desperately need a distraction from the way Lucanis looks in the suit chosen for the evening.

The asymmetrical vest and the one shouldered cloak make him look more regal than he ever looked before. And undoubtedly more handsome as well.

“How so?” Your dance partner tilts his head, never faltering in his steps.

“Firstly, there is the obvious. The reason why we train in it other than to blend in. It requires a lot of training, to read your opponent’s attacks or to align with the rhythm of the music.” You begin to talk slowly, thinking over every word that leaves your lips.

“Then there is the timing. A well-timed strike can be just as effective as a well-placed step.” You continue to explain when the man holding you doesn´t interrupt. “But also, they both tell a story. Of leading and following, attack and defense…”

You take the lead for just a few steps, unknowingly to you, gladly relinquished and then taken back by Lucanis. “Struggle, strategy and lastly triumph.”

“I suppose our training was always so closely intertwined I haven´t thought about it like that.” He ponders.

“You make the two look even more similar.” You note without thinking after a moment longer of floating over the dancefloor.

“Ah, I´m pretty sure the way I fight looks barely any different from Viago or anyone else.” The dark-haired man responds, already fighting with his words at the thought of having been watched so closely without having noticed.

“No, it´s just you. Illario and Viago are more focused on what they learned in their acrobatic training.” You counter his attempt to deflect. In the meantime, Lucanis catches himself again.

He chuckles under his breath, dark eyes glinting behind the black and gold mask. “Do I now?”

“You do. You make it look good though.” You lean closer to him, purring the words just loud enough to be heard.

“Say, have you watched me this closely often?” Lucanis drawls, leading the hand up from your shoulder to graze the flower in your hair.

He lets the fingertips run along the length of your face and down to the black bow that decorates your neck in a feather light touch, before it finds its place on your shoulder again. This time it is your turn to stumble over your words, whole body growing warm under the silver mask and the floor length gown.

There is another moment of silence wrapping itself around you like a blanket. This time interrupted by him.

“It is time.” Lucanis simply says, letting go of you and leaving to a hidden exit way.

Immediately the tensity in your muscles that you are so used to is back. Carrying you over to a servant holding a tray with refreshments. Grabbing a cup of wine, you open the locket hidden in the ring decorating your fingers and let the powder inside fall into the cup. Swishing the liquid around a few times, putting it on new tray to carry it over to the target. Confident strides carrying you across the room quickly.

“Excuse me, could I interest you in another drink?” You ask them in a polite tone. A gentle smile resting on your red lips.

The mage barely glances at you as they nod. Holding out the empty glass in their hand. Clearly waiting for you to take it and put the new one in its stead as they already go back to their previous conversation. Biting back a snarky remark, you do just that. Though your jaw clenches so tight it hurts at the pure entitlement.

With the job done you move to the exit way opposite of the one you know Lucanis is waiting at. The two of you watching closely from the shadows.

And like Lucanis has predicted, everything goes well. The target drinks their wine and as they begin to choke, the two of you make a swift exit, with him arriving back just after you. Finding you fighting with the quite frankly tiny zipper of your dress. Eager to get back into the clothes that felt like a second skin by now. Your back is turned towards him in the struggle, only made aware of his presence by the sound of clearing his throat.

“Do you need help?” He asks in a raspy tone.

“Yes, please.” You whisper and nod.

With slow purposeful steps, he walks closer to you, eyes fixed on you as you turn your back towards him and push your hair to the side. The air feels thick around you, making your breathing grow shallow. The sound of the zipper being pulled down at a teasingly slow pace fills the otherwise silent room. Inch by inch Lucanis reveals more of your skin, fighting his urges at every turn to run his other hand along it. Instead, he holds onto your hip. His face so close that you can feel his breath against the shell of your ear.

“So, you think I look good while fighting?” The words carry through the electric atmosphere. Charged with a promise of what could happen if they were replied to with a reciprocated intent.

“I do.” You tentatively turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. Turning around entirely once the zipper is down all the way, barely holding the dress from slipping off your shoulders.

Meanwhile Lucanis kept one hand on your hip, the other coming up to cup your cheek. Caressing it with his thumb. Soft skin running over soft skin, leaving behind a trail of fire.

“Only while fighting?” He asks lowly, watching your lips part ever so slightly to make way for a gasp with a hawk like gaze.

 “Not only while fighting.” You reply, drawing closer steadily.

“And do you plan on doing about it?” His breathy whisper tingles against your sensitive lips.

And instantly any remark that might have rested on your tongue previously vanishes into thin air. The same thin air that is pushed out of the room by the thick tension growing ever thicker by the second.

Without saying anything you simply close the distance, finally tasting the coffee you had earlier on Lucanis´ lips as you seal them with your own. With a sharp intake of breath, it´s like a coil snaps. Drawing the two of you together as closely as possible. Lucanis grabs your face so firmly that the pads of his finger almost threaten to dig into your skin while you hold him so close it presses the air out of both of your lungs. Stumbling until you are leaned against the wall, caged in by his taller frame. Yet not a complaint inhabits your mind. In fact not a single thought at all crowds your mind other than the feel of his body against yours, the way he breaths life into you with every kiss and the way his tongue plays with yours.