#how to clean your car interior

[leclerc-hs]

73 Questions with Mrs. Leclerc - cl16

pairing: husband!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you do a 73 questions interview with Vogue OR charles can't help but third wheel your interview warnings: none??? just cute fluff basically, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 2.1k author's note: I actually got a request by someone to do this and thought it was such a CUTE idea and concept. I obviously didn't do ALL 73 questions cause that would've taken forever. But thought this was a cute little piece to do. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think don't be shy !! xoxo

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THE DELICATE FOLDS of the pale pink sundress fluttered like petals in a gentle breeze, framing your figure with a soft, ethereal elegance. As the front door yielded to the push, the fabric danced around your legs, caressing the tender skin of your thighs with a whisper of touch. Your radiant smile illuminated the scene, a beacon of joy amidst the fluttering fabric and nervous flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey!” The male voice chimed brightly, his tone cheerful as a songbird greeting the dawn, echoing through the air with an infectious energy that mirrored your own bright smile.

“Hey!” You respond with effervescent warmth, your smile stretching across your face like a sunbeam breaking through clouds. With a graceful gesture, you swing the door open wider, revealing the inviting warmth of your home’s foyer. The soft light spills in, casting a golden glow over the polished floors and elegant furnishing. The first thing to notice is the giant painting of a Ferrari Formula One car, hung high above the entry way table.  

“Look who we have here! It’s Mrs. Leclerc!” A delicate blush warms your cheeks, a subtle reminder of the tender affection that tingles within you whenever you’re addressed as such. Though you and Charles have been together for many years, your marriage has infused your relationship with a fresh sense of intimacy and closeness. And despite that it’s been almost five years, the title of “wife” feels forever new and unfamiliar.

“On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“I would say 8, so I’m super excited!” With a gentle click, you shut the front door behind you, enveloping the foyer in a tranquility as you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen. Along the way, you stooped to pick up a scattering of children’s toys that lay scattered like confetti on the polished wooden floors, offering a quick apology for the perceived “mess.” However, you couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the orchestrated chaos around you. While the house was meticulously maintained by the cleaning company before the video shoot, every detail was carefully curated to strike the perfect balance between lived-in warmth and elegance, ensuring a setting that felt both inviting and authentic to you and the viewers.

“Any reason for that?”

In the heart of the home lies a kitchen adorned with a stunning green cabinet motif. The cabinets, painted in a rich emerald hue, exude an air of sophistication and charm, perfectly complemented by gleaming brass hardware. Sunlight filters through the vast array of windows, casting a warm glow over the polished marble countertops. 

“You mean other than the fact that the kids go back to school soon?” You and the interviewer let out a soft laugh as you made your way behind the kitchen island, opening the fridge in a smooth motion to pull out a water bottle. “Want one?”

“No, but thanks though!” His voice is light-hearted. 

As the fridge door remains open, a tantalizing glimpse is offered to the audience of its well-stocked interior. A colorful array of fresh produce fills the shelves, showing an abundance of vibrant fruits and crisp vegetables. Among the healthy offerings, assortment of juice boxes catches the eye, adding a playful touch to the wholesome scene.

“That’s a lot of juice boxes you have in there.” He makes a comment, it’s not a question, but you take it as one.

“Two kids and a husband,” You start, your tone light and casual before lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper for the camera, “who practically is also a kid, results in a lot of juice boxes.” With a playful wink directed at the lens, you punctuate the statement, adding a touch of humor to the scene. Setting the water bottle down on the expansive kitchen counter, you resume your easy demeanor, effortlessly blending candor and charm for your audience.

“Hey!” Your head shoots over, the camera seamlessly following your gaze to where Charles, your husband,sits on the floor of the living room, two of your kids, aged two and three, beside him with an abundance of toys strewn about. “I heard that!” Charles retorts with mock offense, a playful grin lighting up his face as he joins in the banter.

The living room exudes a chic sophistication with a distinct Formula One flair. Charcoal-gray walls provide a sleek backdrop, accentuating the mounted flat-screen television. A striking statement piece dominates one corner—a display of artwork showcasing all of the racetracks Charles has conquered – infusing the room with a sense of triumph and energy. A plush white sofa, adorned with an array of vibrant red pillows, invites relaxation and style. Across the room, a sizable shelf proudly showcases a collection of racing helmets, some belonging to Charles and others gathered over time, adding a personal touch to the space. Below the television, was a long console table that was adorned in various plants and photos of your family. You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced at them.

With a casual wave of your hand, you dismiss Charles’s playful interruption, maintaining your position at the kitchen island as the camera refocuses on you. The gesture carries an air of affectionate familiarity, a gentle reminder of the dynamic energy that permeates your bustling household.

“If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?”

“Definitely Austin Butler.” You answer almost immediately, no hesitance in your voice.

“Hey!” Charles’s playful yelp echoes through the room once more, accompanied by the joyful laughter of your children. One nestled in his lap, the other engrossed in a picture book, their presence adding warmth and vitality to the room. You share a knowing smile with Charles, the affectionate banter a familiar melody to your family life.

The laughter of the interviewer joins the playful exchange. The camera effortlessly captures the dynamic interaction between all of you with ease.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Restez en dehors de ça.” Stay out of this!

“Arrête de faire semblant de vouloir faire l’amour avec quelqu’un d’autre que moi!” Stop pretending you want to make love with anybody but me!

With a mischievous gleam in your eye, you turn back to the camera, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I change my answer?” You inquire, injecting a hint of playful anticipation into your tone.

“Sure,” the interviewer replies.

“You’re supposed to say no,” You quip with a chuckle.

“Oh, um no?”

With a playful pout, you glance over at Charles who is already staring at the interaction. A smile adorned on his face like he is in complete awe of you, regardless of what you are saying. “Sorry honey!” You wave your hand around. “Answers are final!”

Leaving the kitchen behind, you make your way towards the backyard, where the promise of relaxation and leisure awaits. Stepping through the door, you’re greeted by the sight of a large pool shimmering under the sunlight, its crystal-clear waters beckoning for a refreshing dip. Surrounding the pool, lounge chairs are strategically place, some on the pool’s ledge, inciting you to bask in the sun while enjoying the cool water. A wide arrangement of pool floaties from unicorns to racecars litter the pool as well.

It’s a breathtaking sight: a vast expanse of bright blue skies stretching overhead, adorned with barely a wisp of cloud in sight. The warm rays of sun dance upon your skin. With a stylish flourish, you slip on a pair of your favorite Ray-Bans, a subtle nod to your husband’s sunglass collection. 

“Vintage or new?”

You ponder for a moment as you stand in the backyard, a breeze blowing your hair behind your shoulders. “Depends, but definitely vintage.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Aisle, although Charles likes to take the aisle more.”

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“Wait, do my children count as two of the three?”

“Up to you.”

“Okay, so my two children. And my lip gloss.” You laugh, pausing for effect. “Kidding! My two kids, and my lip gloss…” You pause, jokingly. “And my husband of course.” The light-hearted remark reflects the joyful chaos of humor and love in your life. “He’s really the sweetest man. I’m so lucky.”

The glass door slides open with a whisper, and into the frame steps Charles, his presence incessant. With a carefree demeanor, he approaches you clad in a pair of baggy jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretched at the seams from his muscles. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks, the stubble of his own rubbing against your smooth skin, his love evident in each tender kiss.

“Désolé,” Sorry. He apologizes before pecking another kiss to your cheek. “Tellement ambrassable.” Just so kissable. He places one more on your cheek, your face bright red from the camera’s catching all of this.

“Looks like he can’t be far from you for very long.”

Charles looks at the camera, a glint in his eye with a large smile, like he was the happiest man on earth, and nothing could dampen his spirits. Especially with you nearby. “Est-ce que tu la vois?” Do you see her?

The interviewer, unaware of Charles’s words, simply nods in response behind the camera lens, acknowledging the affection in his tone. Later translations will reveal the depth of Charles’s words no doubt. Elle est tellement belle. Bien sûr, je ne peux pas rester loin longtemps.” She’s so beautiful. Of course, I can’t stay far long.

Your face is bright red as Charles remains at your side.

“Where are the kids?”

“Put them down for a nap!” Charles answers, his arm slung over your shoulder as he leans on you comfortably. 

As the interviewer continues the questionnaire, Charles can’t resist interjecting with playful remarks and comments on almost every question. His spontaneous interruptions add an element of humor and spontaneity to the video, turning what could have been a standard interview into an entertaining and engaging exchange.

“How do you define beauty?” “My wife.” “Charles, the questions are for me!”

"What do you love most about your body?" "That's an easy one...I think her--" Charles begins, but you swat his chest and cut him off. "I love my arms. Not because they're that nice but they give me the ability to hold my children." Charles clicks his tongue, hating that you even implied something about yourself as 'not that nice'.

"Least favorite color?" "Red." Charles lets out a large gasp with a string of phrases in French, clearly hurt by your response. "It's a joke, mon amour!" "How did you know you were in love?" You look at Charles then, his eyes already on you, a soft smile pulling on both of your lips. "I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with him. Probably when I realized I would rather be awake in the middle of the night, since he was traveling so much, just to talk to him for even a few minutes, instead of going to sleep." Charles plays with the ends of your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers as he chimes in. "We've known each other for so long. But, when I first met her, it was like meeting someone I've known my entire life. There was no awkward silences between us. We just clicked."

“Diamonds or pearls?” “Pearls.” “Mon chou, don’t lie.” “I’m not!” “The diamond on your finger says otherwise!”

“If you made a documentary, what would it be about?” “Charles’ brain. I seriously question what goes on in there sometimes.” “Hey! It’s only you…”  You raise your eyebrows at him, like he’s a liar. “And racing.” “Definitely racing.”

“If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Charles smirks deeply, like he knows something the world doesn’t, the interviewer picks up on it. “Wait, you have a tattoo? Can we see it?”

“No! It’s for me only.”

You playfully swat at Charles’ chest, a playful blush coloring your cheeks as you both wander throughout the house, showcasing its beautiful décor. Despite your embarrassment at Charles’ antics, you can’t help but be thankful for him easing your nerves. You weren’t one for the public eye, normally. So, when you agreed to this interview it came out as quite a surprise.

“Okay final question of the day.” 

You both stand by the front door, the interviewer on the front step outside of the home. 

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Definitely ki—” You don’t get to finish your answer as Charles’ fingers grasp onto your neck, his fingers sprawled along your jawline as well, and tugs your face into his. He shuts the door as soon as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It’s a few seconds before you push him off you. “You’re unbelievable!”

A giant smile spreads across his face as he looks down at you. “Only for you, mon chou!”

[flowersforbucky]

oil & water

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5.8k

prompt - "If you wanted to take your pants off for me so badly, you could have just said so."

shout out to @ellemj for her encouragement with this ♡

warnings/tags: SMUT, vaginal penetration, oral sex (female receving), face sitting, mentions of violence, description of blood & wounds, no use of y/n, reader is afab, hurt/comfort trope, bickering & banter, friends to lovers, forced close proximity trope. 18 plus only!

“Roll your window up,” Bucky snaps at you as he turns down the music you had just put on moments ago. “The last thing we need is someone noticing the blood caked all over the entire right side of your body.” 

As if the lack of functioning AC in the twenty-something year old getaway car (an early 2000’s model Chevy Aveo is inconspicuous, according to Sam) wasn’t stifling enough in the south Georgia summer, the annoyance radiating from the brooding super soldier sitting next to you adds an extra ten degrees. 

Sure, Sam. Inconspicuous is the right word to describe a six foot, two hundred plus pound man with a metal arm cramped behind the driver’s seat of the equivalent to a clown car. Bright fucking cherry red and all. 

“It’s 103 degrees outside.” You glare at him from the passenger seat, where you’re using a tattered handkerchief found in the glove compartment to put pressure on the knife wound on your shoulder. “I’m going to have a heatstroke.” 

“You’re not going to have a heatstroke,” he rolls his eyes at you. “That happening would indicate that I have any amount of good luck.” 

“Ha-ha-ha,” you say under your breath, reluctantly rolling up the manual window with your still bleeding arm. “I got the fucking intel, did I not?” 

You remove the USB drive from its secure location in the cup of your bra and flash it at Bucky. “Though we’ll be lucky if this thing still works after being drowned in boob sweat, since you won’t let me keep the window rolled down.” 

“And nearly got yourself killed in the process.” He grabs the flashdrive from you and grimaces. “We’ll be at the safehouse in less than five minutes, if you can please just refrain from stroking out or bleeding out in the meantime.” 

You glance down at the once white handkerchief clutched in your hand. “I’m not making you any guarantees.” 

You're welcome for saving your ass, by the way, you resist adding. 

Jokes aside, the energy exerted in bringing down over a dozen HYDRA agents in combination with the July heat and the substantial blood loss from your shoulder wound has you feeling woozier by the minute. Factor in a few potentially fractured ribs and a dislocated knee and you're in pretty rough shape. 

As promised, just under five minutes later Bucky parks in front of a small trailer just outside the city limits of Valdosta. It's seen better days, but you don't mind as long as it has semi-functioning air conditioning. 

Bucky is opening your car door and offering you a hand up before you can take in your surroundings. You force yourself out of your seat, ignoring his outstretched hand and attempting to stand on your own, doing your best to ignore the borderline blinding pain radiating from your right knee. 

“Thanks, but I think I can–” 

Your vision goes fuzzy as you stumble forward, right into Bucky's chest. Your hand instinctively clutches the fabric of his shirt as you attempt to regain your balance.

“Let me guess. You're capable of stitching up your own shoulder, too?” 

He gently loops his arm around your waist, slowly walking the two of you to the front door of the trailer. You try to focus on keeping pressure on the gash on your shoulder and not the feeling of his toned body pressed against you. How does he smell so good after hand to hand combat and sitting in that sauna of a car? You're sure you probably smell like a wet diaper that's been left in the sun for–

Bucky opens the door and guides you inside. The interior of the safehouse is surprisingly homey and clean. It's still uncomfortably warm, but offers a nice reprieve from the violent mid-day sun. 

Bucky leads you into the small living space before maneuvering you out of his hold, where you all but collapse onto a suede sofa.

“I guess you do have some amount of good luck, after all,” you mumble, wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. 

“What are you talking about?” Bucky glances at you from over his shoulder as he flicks on the AC. 

“That happening would indicate that I have any amount of good luck,” you quote his sarcastic comment from the car ride. 

“Ha-ha-ha,” he fake laughs just as you did. He rummages through a few cabinets and drawers of the small kitchen before finding everything he’s searching for, then makes his way back to where you are on the couch. 

“Drink this.” He hands you a bottle of water that you hadn't even noticed him grab. For once you don't object to his instructions, uncapping the bottle and gulping down the contents as quickly as you can. 

“You're not having a heatstroke,” he assures you. “But you are going to have to let me stitch up this crater on your shoulder and pop your knee back into place.” 

You sit forward, removing the now fully soaked cloth that you've been holding to your shoulder for the last half hour. 

Bucky winces at the sight of it, handing you a dishrag before opening a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “You might want to bite down on–” 

“I know the drill.” You sigh before putting the rag between your teeth. 

He hesitates for a moment before pouring the clear liquid over the wound. You groan against the rag, your eyes squint shut in pain. You've had your fair share of broken bones and black eyes working in this field, but you don't think you'll ever get used to the pain of getting stitches without the comforts of saline solution and anesthesia.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, dabbing the cut dry with a paper towel. 

Your heart skips a beat at the nickname. “It's part of the job. I've come out of missions worse than this before,” you shrug, squeezing the dish rag he gave you until your knuckles go white as he makes the first incision. 

“Never because of me.” 

You glance at him, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. His gaze doesn't leave the thread and needle that he's using to close up the gash on your arm - his normally plump pout set into a hard line. 

“You know this isn't your fault, right?” You keep your eyes locked on him. “I saw that guy coming at you out of nowhere and I panicked. I wasn't watching my own back. That's my fault, not yours,” you say earnestly. 

“If you say so.” He glances up for a split second, giving you a tight-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes. 

“Is that why you've been such a grouch? You're blaming yourself for me not being careful enough?” 

“Maybe,” he admits quietly. “Or maybe I just hate seeing you covered in blood for any reason.” 

You freeze at the bluntness of his words. You and Bucky have been partners on more missions than you could count at this point - you know that he would have done the same for you if the situation had been reversed; in fact, there had been times where he had taken the brunt of the fight in order to protect you. 

All of those instances suddenly flash through your mind. 

The time he used himself as a human shield when there was a bomb set off during a recon mission at a warehouse in Tokyo. Or when he football tackled you out of the direct line of an incoming dagger during an operation in Portland. Not to mention the time he left a job all the way in Prague unfinished because he merely suspected you had a concussion. 

You had always chalked it up to “that’s what partners do,” but the pained expression on his face as he refuses to meet your eyes has you questioning if there could possibly be more to it. 

No. You’re his partner. He’d do the same for anyone else. He wouldn’t want to see anyone on his team covered in blood if he could prevent it. 

The two of you sit in a thick silence while he finishes stitching you up. 

“There,” he says at last, clipping the excess suture thread with scissors. “Not quite as good as your stitch work, but I think it’ll hold you together.” His voice isn’t as strained as it was moments ago, though you can't help but notice it sounds forced. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed the tiniest bit at his compliment. “Now for the really fun part,” you add, staring at your throbbing knee. 

“You’re in luck,” he says, perking up a bit. “I’ve popped my own knees back into place an embarrassing amount of times, so this should be a breeze.” He repositions himself to have better access to your leg, moving off the couch to perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. You attempt to pull the tight fabric of your tactical pants up enough to give him unhindered access to your knee, but it’s too restrictive, immediately causing you to wince in pain. 

“Fuck,” you huff. “I’m going to have to take these off.” You pop the button at the top of your pants and begin to push them down your thighs before insecurity can get the better of you. You try not to think about the fact that Bucky's never seen you in such little clothing - pants now pushed down to your calves, only your underwear and the bra and thin tank top you wore underneath the tactical vest that you took off as soon as you were in the safety of the getaway car left to cover you. 

Hesitation flashes across Bucky’s face for a brief moment before he scoots over slightly, moving directly in front of you so that he can position his hands on either side of your kneecap. You’re painfully aware of the polar opposite feeling of his right and left hand - his flesh hand is warm and so much softer than you’d expect, his metal one icy and smooth. You aren’t sure which causes the visible goosebumps that now litter your skin.

Maybe it’s not his touch at all. Maybe it’s the way his eyes haven’t left your thighs since you exposed them.

Maybe it’s the fact that if you parted your legs just a few inches, he’d be nestled between them. 

Chill out, you berate yourself. He's just relocating your knee for Christ's sake. 

“On the count of three,” he starts and you brace yourself. “One, two–” 

“MOTHERFUCKER.” You yell out at the same moment your knee creates a loud cracking noise that echoes off the walls of the small trailer. “You said count of three!” 

“Would that really have made it less painful?” He shrugs, but doesn't move from where his knees brush against yours. “I think what you mean to say is “thank you, Bucky, you're a lifesaver and I'm now in your debt.” 

“In your fuckin’ dreams,” you scoff. “I'm going to wash all of this blood and sweat off of me.” You move to push yourself off of the couch, tugging your pants back up as you stand. You can feel his eyes trail up your body as you do, making you feel woozy all over again. You turn away from him, heading towards the hallway that the bathroom is likely located down. 

“I could have done that through your pants, by the way.” 

You freeze mid-step, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean?” You snap at him. 

“Your knee,” he clarifies, a hint of undeniable mischief in his expression. “I could have popped your knee back into place through your pants. If you wanted to take your pants off for me so badly, you could have just said so.” 

Just when you thought the safehouse was starting to cool down, your entire body heats up a thousand degrees. You're racking your brain trying to think of a retort when Bucky's ringtone starts blaring from the kitchen countertop. He ignores it, his eyes not leaving yours for what feels like an eternity. 

You finally break the silence. “That's most likely Sam wanting to make sure we're not dead. Should probably answer it.” 

“Probably should,” he smirks, and at last gets up from the coffee table to answer the phone.

You scurry the rest of the way to the bathroom before he can look back at you again, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from your ribcage and the now dull ache that spreads from your knee. 

You turn the water to cold, and don't get out until you've started to shiver. 

— — — — — 

When you exit the bathroom and step back into the connected bedroom in only a towel, you see that Bucky has done you the kindness of bringing in the bags that had been stored in the backseat of the getaway car. 

You dig through your backpack, pulling out a fresh t-shirt and pair of leggings. From the next room, you can smell the aroma of whatever non-perishable food that Bucky has scrounged together. Despite your growing hunger pains, you take your sweet time combing through your freshly rinsed hair. The thought of looking Bucky in the eye after your last interaction nearly makes you lose your appetite. 

What was I thinking? Oh right, I wasn't thinking at all, otherwise I wouldn't have just pushed my fucking pants down right in front of–

“Your five course dinner is getting cold.” Bucky raps his fingers against the bedroom door, startling you from your thoughts. 

“Be right there,” you call back to him, swiping some deodorant under your arms. You take a glance at yourself in the bedroom’s small vanity mirror and immediately wish that you hadn't – you're cleaner than you were by miles, at least no longer covered in your own blood as well as the blood of HYDRA agents – but your cheekbone is lightly bruised, there's a slit on your bottom lip, and the bags under your eyes make it look like you haven't had a decent night's sleep in a month. 

You take a deep breath and then walk back to the one room that makes up the kitchen, dining area and living room. 

“Beef or shrimp ramen?” Bucky asks as you climb onto one of the barstools on the opposite side of the counter from where he's standing. 

“Hm,” you contemplate, not meeting his stare and instead occupying yourself with another bottle of water that he's placed where you now sit. 

Fucker probably wouldn't fluster me so bad if he wasn't being so damn thoughtful.

“I'll go with shrimp,” you answer, remembering that beef is his favorite.

He slides the bowl across the counter and then hands you a fork. You finally get the nerve to look up and meet his stare that feels as if it weighs two tons. 

“So, what did Sam say?” You try to go for light conversation, twisting the fork around your noodles. “Are we free to get out of here once it's dark out?” 

“Not…quite,” he hesitates, now seeming particularly interested in his own food. “The car battery kind of died.” 

“What do you mean the car battery kind of died?” 

“While you were in the shower, I tried to move the car behind the house so that anyone driving by wouldn't immediately know that someone's here. It started fine, but as I was driving it around back it just.. stopped. Had to push it the rest of the way.” 

You let out a dramatic groan as he continues. 

“I called Sam again and he said the earliest they can send someone to get us is in the morning.” 

“Well,” you exhale, blowing a raspberry with your lips. “We can flip a coin to see who gets the bed?” You ask lightheartedly. This isn’t the first time that you and Bucky have had an overnight mission together, but it is the first overnight mission where the two of you haven’t had your own motel rooms or at least a safehouse with two beds.

He looks at you quizzically, furrowing his eyebrows. “You really think there’s a chance of me making you sleep on the couch? In your condition?” 

“My condition?” you laugh. “I’ve got a few stitches, I’m not dying of cancer.” 

“You don’t think I’ve noticed the way it’s uncomfortable for you to inhale and exhale? You’ve probably got a couple fractured ribs with the way you landed on that cement. If not fractured, then at least heavily bruised. You’re not sleeping on the couch.” 

Between his tone and the look on his face, you know it isn’t up for debate. You throw your hands up in faux surrender. 

“Serving me instant ramen and letting me take the king sized bed?” you say teasingly. “Keep it up and I'm going to think that you're soft on me.” 

His gaze on you is heavy as he takes a long sip of water from his own bottle. “Wouldn't that be a shame?” 

— — — — — 

The rest of the afternoon is spent with you lounging in bed, resting your injuries and reading some cheesy western romance novel that you found in the drawer of the bedside table. 

Bucky keeps to the living room, where you hear a violent sounding movie playing from a TV that has to be as old as you are. 

You tell yourself that you're staying in the bedroom because you need to take it easy and relax, but truthfully you feel suffocated by the tension that has been escalating between you and Bucky since you arrived here. 

A certain level of tension had always been there, you knew deep down. From the first time the two of you met almost two years ago. 

Bucky had been formally introduced to the team just a few weeks prior, and it was his first official mission. An undercover mission - just the two of you. 

Posing as an engaged couple at a party thrown at the estate of a notorious crime boss in order to obtain intel. Pretty straight forward - it was far from your first undercover mission. And then it was sprung on you at the last minute that the man who you'd only met once, less than a month ago, was to be your fiancé for the evening. 

The bastard even went as far as to slip the fake engagement ring on your finger himself. 

“Natasha picked this out. She said it needed to be a princess cut, because that's what you like.” 

You chuckled as he went to slide the rock onto your ring finger. “What? You're not going to get down on one knee?” 

The mission went shockingly smooth, you and Bucky were in and out with the needed intel in just a few hours. But those few hours replayed in the back of your mind more often than you care to admit. 

The way his arm stayed wrapped securely around your shoulder or waist the entire hour that you mingled as guests. How he pulled you into a slow dance to discuss the plan for sneaking into the study on an off-limits floor. The musky smell of his aftershave and the spearmint on his breath. 

And especially the way he referred to you as his “bride” when introducing yourselves to people, on more than one occasion throughout the night. 

“And who is this absolutely beautiful young woman on your arm?” an elderly man with eye boogers and booze on his breath asks Bucky. 

“This is my bride,” Bucky introduces you, giving him your undercover name. “She is beautiful, isn’t she? Most beautiful woman here, if I do say so myself.” 

Saying that Bucky played his part well that night would have been an understatement. Saying that he played his part scarily well would be a more accurate assertion. 

After grabbing the intel and fleeing the scene, neither of you ever mentioned that mission again. Not the lingering touches, smoldering stares - not even the way he shoved you up against the wall of a corridor, cupped your face in his large hands, and kissed you senseless for half a minute when you came close to getting caught sneaking into the private office by security at the very end of the evening. 

“Do you think that was believable?” he asks nervously, his hands still clutching your face as he looks around the hallway for any lingering guards. 

“Ye-yeah,” you stutter breathily. “As believable as it possibly could be.” 

There’s a light knock on the partially open bedroom door that draws you back to the reality of the safehouse. You realize that you’ve been staring at the same paragraph in your book for the last half hour. 

"Yeah?” you answer, bringing yourself to a sitting position. 

Bucky peaks his head around the door, opening it further so that you can see what he is carrying. 

“I’m tired of watching old James Bond movies,” he sighs, glancing between you and the stack of board games in his arms. “I found these in the TV stand.” 

“I kicked your ass in Battleship last time we played,” you remind him. “Do you really want a rematch of that?” 

“How about we make a bet?”

— — — — — 

Half an hour later, you've eaten your own words, now owing Bucky a large meat lovers pizza from his favorite parlor in Brooklyn and two weeks worth of laundry duty when you return to the compound. 

“How'd you get so good?” you demand as he makes the winning attack. “You were so lame at this last time.” 

“Maybe I just let you win last time,” he shrugs with a shit-eating grin. 

You just shake your head in defeat, wincing as you stand up from where you had been playing on the shag area rug in the living room. 

“No,” you declare firmly. “No, I don't believe that. There's no way you'd willingly let me win anything. I've learned that the hard way during hand to hand combat training way too many times.”  

Bucky belly laughs from where he still sits on the floor, his gaze trailing after you. 

You walk over to where he has piled the board games on the coffee table, trying to find something you were confident you could win. 

Monopoly isn't fun with only two players, Risk takes too long — 

Your eyes lock onto a card game peeking out from underneath the Sorry! box. 

You pick it up, turning back to face him with a growing smile on your face.

“Absolutely not,” he says firmly. “I'm over a hundred years old–” 

“What does age have to do with truth or dare?!” You exclaim, sitting back down on the floor once more. 

“I haven't been roped into a game of truth or dare since the 1930's,” he groans. 

“Scared of what you might have to do?” You tease, unboxing the cards. “Or what you might have to admit?” 

He stares at you for a long moment, pursing his lips. The disapproval doesn't quite reach his eyes - you can tell by the way they gleam that he's going to cave. 

“Maybe a bit of both,” he admits. He tousles his fingers through his hair and moves to cross his legs at the ankles. “Fine,” he relents. “One game.” 

You squeal like a kid in a candy store as you shuffle the deck of cards and lay them in a stack between you. 

“Elders first,” you motion to the pile. 

He rolls his eyes, drawing one from the top – dare. 

“Smell another player's armpit,” he deadpans. You're instantly thankful that you remembered to cram a stick of deodorant into your backpack when packing for the mission. 

“Well?” You lift up your arm. “I'm the only other player here and it's not going to sniff itself.” 

Bucky sighs, leaning across the game to put his nose directly next to the opening of your t-shirt sleeve. “Lavender,” he observes after inhaling, giving you an approving nod. “As far as dares go, I got lucky.” 

“Lucky that I showered earlier,” you mumble as you draw your turn, your cheeks warming slightly. 

Truth. 

“Who was your last kiss with and what was it like?” 

Your heart plummets to your stomach as you read the words aloud. Bucky waits impatiently as you fiddle with the piece of paper in your hands. 

“Might I remind you, you are the one who wanted to play this game so desp–” 

You hold up a finger and make a shushing sound, silencing him as he grins menacingly. 

“My last kiss was almost two years ago,” you answer honestly, looking back down at the card to avoid his stare. He can always tell when you're lying, why even try? 

“With a man I barely knew,” you continue. “We had to pretend to be in love for the evening. It was a shockingly easy thing to do. When he pushed me up against a wall and kissed me as a distraction to security guards, I had to remind myself that it was an act. We never spoke about it again. But now two years later, I'm telling him that I think of that kiss often.” 

When you finally look up, you can't decipher the look on his face. Long gone is the mischievous grin from just moments ago, in its place is.. shock? Perplexity? 

“And why exactly have you not kissed anyone else since then?” He asks quietly. 

“Nope,” you say, popping your lips on the p. “That's not how the game works, you don't get to add sub-questions.” 

His eyes don't leave yours as he draws his next card.

His turn for truth. He glances down to read his question.

“Have you ever wanted to have sex with any of the players?” 

Forget your cheeks feeling warm - your entire body feels like it's on fire as you wait for him to answer. 

He chuckles, tossing the card on top of the other two that had already been picked. 

“Every goddamn day since I kissed her almost two years ago.” 

You aren't sure which one of you snaps first. You lunge forward at the same moment that he's leaning across the splay of cards to grasp your face in his hands just like he did in that corridor two years ago. The same hint of spearmint on his breath, a bit more stubble on his jaw, and a sense of desperation that wasn't there before. 

He moves his hands to your lower back, pulling you flush against him as you both sit on your knees. Your own hands find the hem of his shirt, your fingers dancing across the skin of his waistline. 

“I asked you why you haven't kissed anyone since we last kissed,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away, both of you breathless. “You don't have to answer, but that..” his mouth moves to the side of your throat where he trails open-mouth kisses across the sensitive flesh of your pulse point. 

“That's why I haven't kissed anyone else, either.” 

A pathetic, small moan escapes past your lips at his admission. In a split second decision, you take control. You place your hands across his chest, pushing him down onto the shag rug that you'd been playing games on just moments ago. He lets himself fall back, pulling you with him. 

You straddle him, positioning yourself directly on his already evident erection. You drag yourself forwards, and then backwards, desperate for friction - he groans beneath you, jutting upwards. 

The fabric of your pants between you feels like a prison. 

You scoot back a few inches - just far enough to give yourself enough room to unbutton his jeans. 

“Wait, wait,” he stops you as you're about to begin pulling down his pants and underwear. You freeze, petrified that you've crossed a line– 

“I haven't stopped thinking about having your thighs wrapped around my head since I saw them earlier,” he says as he hooks his hands around them and hauls you up to his chest. “Take these off and sit on my face.” He tugs on the waistline of your leggings. 

“If you wanted me to take my pants off for you so badly, you could have just said so,” you echo his earlier teasing. 

“I'm asking you now, sweetheart,” his voice has a strained edge to it. “Don't make me beg.” 

Though the notion of him begging has wetness pooling down your thighs, you're too eager to entertain it. 

You stand up, directly above him as he keeps his position on the floor. You shimmy your leggings down your thighs, this time completely removing them and tossing them somewhere behind you. He tugs his t-shirt over his head and throws it in the general direction of your discarded pants. 

With you still standing above him, he leans forward so that his face brushes against the inside of your thighs. He brings his hands to the band of your underwear, hooking his fingers and slowly pulling them down until they're at your ankles. 

You slip them off as he lays back down on the floor. A bit apprehensively, you sit so that your bare pussy is against his hard chest. 

“Just stop me if it's too uncomfortable or if you can't breathe or any–” 

He cuts you off by all but picking you up and hauling you up to his face.

“I wouldn't worry about that,” his voice vibrates against the flesh of your innermost thighs. He tugs you down just one more inch so that his mouth makes contact with your center. 

You gasp out in pleasure as his tongue begins exploring your folds. There's no restraint about it - he sets a brutal pace, alternating between fucking his tongue into your cunt and sucking on your clit. 

You're writhing above him, grinding your pussy against his mouth. You go to squeeze your breasts, pulling your t-shirt off when you realize it's the one clothing article you've yet to shed. 

When he realizes that you're now completely naked above him, he lets out an animalistic groan as he laps a thick lick up your center. 

The vibration, in addition to him now squeezing your ass with enough pressure that he's bound to leave behind fingertip shaped bruises, is enough to send you spiraling to your climax. 

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs around his cheeks, riding out your orgasm as he continues to wrap his lips around your throbbing clitoris. 

You go still for a moment, aside from your heaving chest, as you come back down to earth. 

You climb off of him, your jellified legs nearly causing you to collapse onto the floor next to him. 

He props himself up with one arm, looking down at you. His face is thoroughly glistening with your juices. 

You can't help but think he's never looked hotter. 

A proud grin begins to form across his features as you pull him down to you by the back of his neck. 

You kiss him with as much feverency as you can muster in your post orgasm haze, tasting the semi-sweet tang of your come on his lips and tongue. 

“It's your turn to get these off,” you demand, drawing back from the kiss to pull at the waistband of his pants. 

“Can I at least take you to the comfy bed before this goes any further?” he bargains. “You are still recovering from multiple injuries, you know.” 

“I can assure you that I've never felt better.” But you let him have his way. He stands before picking you up, lifting you so that you can wrap your legs securely around his midsection. His large hands planted firmly on your ass, he walks the short distance to the bedroom. Your nipples pebble as they press against his bare chest. 

He gently places you on top of the comforter before standing back, at last removing his jeans and boxers. His cock springs forward, slapping against his lower belly. 

Your mouth goes dry at the sight. If it had been a long time since you had been kissed, it had been even longer since you had been fucked. 

He crawls onto the bed, hovering above where you lay. You automatically open your legs to allow him between them. 

His eyes rake up and down your body, pausing on your breasts. 

"You're goddamn stunning.” 

Before you can respond, he's leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. Rolling it between his teeth, the sensation has you arching your back into his touch. You can feel the tip of his cock jutting against your core - teasing but not yet entering. 

He starts to line himself up at your hole, his eyes locking onto yours as he pumps himself in his hand. He brings his lips down to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth at the same moment he nudges his tip past your entrance. 

There's a blissful burn as he cautiously buries himself inside you - you're simultaneously thankful that he's going slow and needing him balls deep. He pushes in, inch by inch, until you're filled to the hilt. When he can't get any deeper, he pulls back - and slams back into you all at once. 

You swear you can feel him in your stomach. You look down at where your bodies connect, the sight of him sliding in and out of you enough to have you on the edge of climaxing again already. 

He brings his metal hand to knead your breast. 

"Do you have any idea how many times I've pictured having you under me like this?” He coos. You gyrate your hips to meet his thrusts, causing his eyes to roll back into his head. 

“How many times I've thought about what your little moans would sound like?” 

Your only answer is a gutteral moan of his name as you wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into the flesh of his back. 

“Your pussy feels even more like heaven than I imagined it would.” 

His praises send you over the edge - you're coming for a second time, clenching around him as his thrusts grow messy. He fucks you through your orgasm before he loses control himself, burying his face in the curve of your neck as he spills into you. 

With you still panting and limp beneath him,  his movements gradually come to a stop but he doesn't pull out - instead he flips you to your side and maneuvers himself into a spooning position behind you. 

He peppers soft kisses along the skin of your shoulder, being careful to avoid your stitches, and relaxes beside you. 

“Remind me to dislocate my knee more often,” you joke, processing everything that just happened. 

He snorts, then tilts your head up to meet his gaze. “Remind me to play truth or dare with you more often.” He captures your lips in his, this kiss slower than any of the ones before. 

“I guess it would be weird to make you do my laundry for two weeks now, huh?” He teases, earning a laugh from you.

“You do still owe me a pizza, but I'll be happy to share it with you.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

[nxsturn]

license ( c.s )

warnings: nsfw! (car sex, rough sex, stomach bulg kink, overstimulation, praising — dirty and clean).

the night feels like it belongs to you and him, the air warm and alive, humming with something you can’t name. the engine of his car is soft and steady beneath you, a quiet heartbeat as the road stretches ahead, endless and dark. you’re not sure where you’re going, and you’re even less sure if it matters.

he has one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, his fingers warm and steady against the fabric of your skirt. the weight of his touch is casual, almost absent-minded, but there’s something deliberate about the way his thumb brushes idly over your leg, a slow, unconscious rhythm that makes it impossible for you to focus on anything else.

you glance down, caught in the sight of his hand there, the way it looks — strong, sure, like it belongs. the faint glow from passing streetlights catches on his knuckles, and you’re staring before you realize it, heat rising in your chest.

“you good?” he glances at you, half a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. it’s not the first time he’s caught you staring tonight.

“yeah,” you answer, but your voice is quieter than you mean for it to be, and you can feel the way it hangs between you, the weight of something unsaid.

his smile deepens for a moment, like he knows something you don’t, before his eyes slide back to the road. the streetlights blur as they pass, gold and soft, and the scent of him — faint cologne, leather, and something warm, something him, lingers in the air.

you shift in your seat, trying to focus on the faint music from the radio, the rhythmic push and pull of the tires against the pavement, anything but the heat of his palm still pressed against your thigh. but it’s impossible when the glow of the dashboard catches his profile just right, the sharp line of his jaw, the concentration in his brow.

it’s new, this version of him. Chris behind the wheel. him with this quiet, unspoken confidence. and it’s attractive in a way you hadn’t expected, in a way you’re not entirely sure how to handle.

“you’re quiet,” he says, breaking through your thoughts. his tone is light, teasing, but there’s something underneath it, a thread of curiosity.

“just thinking,” you say, and it’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.

he hums in response, and the sound is low, thoughtful. his thumb moves against your thigh again, just once, absent but enough to send a shiver through you. the road opens up ahead, empty and inviting, and he presses the gas just a little harder. the car hums like it’s alive, like it feels the same electric pull you do, and you’re struck with the thought that this moment, this night, could go anywhere.

as the car speeds down the empty road, the night air rushes past, a soothing melody that blends with the hum of the engine. you find yourself leaning into his touch, your leg pressing against his hand as if seeking more contact.

the car slows as he steers it off the main road, the tires crunching on gravel as he pulls into an empty parking lot. the sudden stillness is a stark contrast to the rush of speed and wind just moments before. he brings the car to a smooth stop, the engine idling quietly.

the dashboards glow dims, casting long shadows across his face. without the road's distraction, everything feels more intense, the way your heart beats a little faster in the silence. he turns towards you slightly, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

his fingers curl around your thigh, a gentle tug that turns you towards him. the movement feels slow, charged with unspoken possibility. his face is barely visible in the moonlit interior, all angular shadows and dark eyes that seem to glitter with hidden intentions.

his hand moves higher on your thigh, his fingers splaying out possessively. he pulls you closer, so that you're sitting sideways in the seat, facing him. he unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing it to retract slowly, the clicking sound punctuating the heavy silence.

his seat creaks as he leans back, giving himself more room. the command "c'mere," falls from his lips like a gentle demand, his voice a low rumble in the darkness. his hand moves from your thigh to grip your hip, urging you to move, to straddle him in the confined space of the car.

you shift your weight, lifting yourself onto his lap so that you're sitting astride him. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as his head rests against the headrest. his hands splay out on your lower back, holding you securely against him.

the leather of the seat creaks under the new position as you settle against him. his breath catches slightly at the feeling of you above him, his fingers pressing slightly harder against your back. in the dark, his eyes seem to burn with intensity, studying your face.

as you shift your position, your skirt hikes up your waist, bunched around your hips. you can feel the thin lace of your underwear and his sweats doing little to hide his growing hardness prodding against you. his hands give you a little squeeze, his hips bucking upward slightly.

he presses himself more snugly between your thighs. he can feel the lace of your damp underwear, and it makes him ache. his hands slide down to your thighs, urging them wider so that he can fit himself better between them.

with his hands on your thighs, he uses his leverage to push his sweatpants down just enough for his erection to spring free. the cool night air hits his sensitive skin, making him hiss softly. he chews on his bottom lip as he begins to rub himself against you.

his eyes meet yours in the dark, watching your face as he reaches to pull aside your underwear, giving himself better access. "god, you're so wet.." he groans softly, pressing against you.

a shiver runs through you as the cool air hits your newly exposed skin. you gasp softly, your fingers tightening on his shoulders as you feel the heat of him pressing insistently against your entrance. "mmm.." escapes your lips as you wiggle slightly, coating him with your arousal.

he swallows hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he looks down between your bodies. he hooks his arms under your thighs, lifting your legs higher around his waist. he rubs himself against you again, teasingly, "last chance to stop,"

with his hands under your thighs, you don't have much leverage, but you push down onto him as best you can, your entrance parting slightly around the head of his length. he groans at the sensation as he bottoms out to meet you. "jesus christ," he growls softly in your ear, his lips brushing against your neck. he uses his grip on you to lift you back up — just enough to line himself up properly, then lowers you slowly down his dick. you both groan at the tight fit, your bodies finally joined completely.

he pants heavily against your neck, his body shaking as he tries to hold back from thrusting up too hard whilst you adjust. his fingers digging into your soft skin possessively.

after a moment of stillness, he unhooks his arms from under your thighs, letting your legs rest on either side of him. he grabs your hips instead, his large hands spanning your waist as he begins to move you up and down, setting a steady pace.

you let out a soft moan as he starts moving you, the new position allowing him to thrust up into you more forcefully. each upward motion sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, your walls clenching around him tightly. "oh," you breathe out, your head falling against his shoulder.

he watches you intently, his eyes burning with a possessive fire as he listens to your moans and feels your body responding to his touch. a smug smirk spreads across his face and he lets out a mocking "yeah?" under his breath, clearly loving the effect he has on you.

"like that, don't you?" he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he adjusts his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder and faster onto him. he moves a hand to press on the bulge he was making in your lower tummy.

"look at you taking me so well," he murmurs, his eyes flicking down to where you're connected, watching as his thick shaft disappears inside of your gummy walls only to reappear coated in your wetness.

you can't help but let out a desperate whine at his words, feeling so full and used by him. the pressure on your stomach makes you clench around him, your inner walls fluttering as he continues to whisper dirty nothings to you.

"so, so tight," he growls approvingly, his hips snapping up to meet yours, driving his length deeper inside you. "i can feel you pulsing around me, ma,"

your cheeks flush deep scarlet at his vulgar praise, embarrassment and arousal warring within you. you try to roll your hips, seeking more friction, but he maintains his dominant rhythm, pinning you in place.

"nah, let me handle it," he chuckles darkly, giving your hip a sharp smack. "keep them pretty noises coming though," his commanding pace becomes relentless, each powerful thrust pushing you closer to the brink as he takes what he wants from your willing body.

your voice is lost in a string of incoherent moans and whimpers as he pounds into you, the sound of your slick filling the car and mixing with your desperate cries. tears of pleasure prick at the corners of your eyes as the pressure builds to an almost unbearable level inside you.

"fuck, you're close," he grunts, feeling your pussy begin to quiver and tighten around him. he leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "cum for me, baby,"

the vulgar command proves too much, shattering the last threads of your self-control. your back arches dramatically as ecstasy crashes through you, your pussy clamping down viciously on him in rhythm with your racing heart.

"there it is," he growls triumphantly, slamming into you through your orgasm, making it last longer as he hits that sensitive spot inside you. "look at you falling apart," he adds darkly, reaching around to tease your clit as you ride out your climax.

as you come down from the intense high, he continues to move inside you, his touch gentle yet insistent. "again," he murmurs, his fingers rubbing slow circles around your swollen bud, "i want another one before I finish,"

"mm.. no, I can't.." you protest weakly, but your body betrays you as your hips shift slightly, allowing him deeper. you bury your face against his shoulder once more, muffling your moans as the stimulation reignites the fire in your lower belly. "y-you're insatiable,"

he chuckles, his breath warm against your hair. "you love it," he corrects, his fingers never ceasing their gentle torture. another orgasm eventually crashes over you, this one just as intense as the last, your vision blurring as you sob against his shoulder.

he knows your body all too well.

©nxsturn

[shoeistars]

— NO PHOTOS ! pt. 2

༺ feat. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

༺ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

༺ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

༺ pt. 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

— REO ! car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

— BAROU ! wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

— RIN ! under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

— SAE ! checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

— SHIDOU ! pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

[lay-z]

✨️ Day 4 ‒ Mama's boy

Synopsis: Captain Price knows he can count on his team; no matter what and no matter when. He knows it and his soldiers know it, too. 1–4–1. Still, to say you were shocked when he’d asked you to play his darling girlfriend at his annual family Christmas gathering, is an understatement.  

Pairing: John Price x fem!Reader  Warnings/Info: No smut. | military!Reader; humour; fake dating (or is it???); awkward flirting; sexual tension; cussing; fluff; happy ending; teammates to lovers 

Word count: 2.4k 

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

This is for the lovely @staytrueblue ! You've become the absolute Captain John Price expert to me. Hope you'll like it! 🩵

You pick at the hem of your dress; deep red velvet with elegant long sleeves, a tight top with a Carmen neckline which allows a peek of the soft curve of your shoulders, and a bottom that flows seamlessly into a skirt that reaches just above your knees.

A white pearl choker adorns your neck, along with the matching earrings. You’ve done your hair and make-up, and added a spritz of your most expensive perfume – and you don’t question yourself why you’re even doing this much, but perhaps it’s simply the all-consuming urge to please and impress your Captain, like an eager pup with its owner.

You’ve cleaned up nicely for tonight and you’d be more focused on that if it wasn’t for that tight ball of anxiety manifesting deep down in your gut since this whole ruse had taken root a few days ago. It didn’t help when Price gave you a genuine compliment after picking you up from your apartment on base, either.

Trying to relax back into the soft leather of the passenger seat, you decide to glance out of the window and distract yourself by watching the steady storm of snowflakes flutter furiously outside, covering the scenery in fresh powdery snow while the engine of the car purrs steadily.

Aston Martin Vantage. V8. British racing green. Jet-black rims. Sleek interior. Holy shit.

You’ve never sat in a car like this before, nor did you expect Price to own something fancy and flashy like this. Then again, you didn’t expect him to ask for this favour, either.

“Would you stop worrying, darling? You’ll be fine.”

Your eyebrow quirks as you glance at Price, giving him a side-eye as you hear how casually he drops that pet name in that gruff voice of his. It shouldn’t feel like this, this right, shouldn’t make the hair at the back of your neck bristle this pleasantly.

Darling.

“Getting into character already, sir?” You can’t help but ask teasingly, unable not to take the piss out of this whole situation you’ve found yourself in.

Your Captain and superior asking you, one of his Sergeants of all people, to accompany him to his annual family Christmas get together, and what a shit show it is going to be. You’re sure of it.

However, Price huffs, brows furrowing as he keeps his sharp eyes focused on the snowy road.

“Might as well,” he counters curtly, “and stop calling me ‘sir’, will ya? We’re not on duty and I need this – us – to be believable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you make a dismissive gesture with your hand, pondering for a moment before turning your head to really take a good look at him this time.

John looks handsome, too handsome and too civilian, wearing a dark grey chequered pair of chino pants that accentuates his firm rear a little too well, with black dress shoes and a simple black turtleneck sweater that stretches over his broad chest, shoulders and bulging biceps.

The cab of his car is cosy warm and filled with the scent of his tangy yet subtle cologne, a smell that makes you want to hook a finger into the hem of his turtleneck sweater, tug the fabric down to expose his neck and then bury your nose in it to take a sniff.

Yes, no, you’re absolutely normal about all of this.

Your eyelashes flutter as you blink those thoughts away at once, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“So, uh... W-What should I call you, then? Honey buns? Babe?” You quip and cringe internally at your own joke, though you’re gauging his reaction as he drives over to his parents' house.

“Baby? ... Good boy?”

His jaw clenches under his beard, you can see it in the way his temple twitches, and the leather of the steering wheel creaks softly as he grips it tighter. Interesting.

“John is fine,” he answers eventually, “Sweetheart or love if you’re feeling bold enough after a glass of wine, ya bloody lightweight.”

“Sweetheart... Love...” You repeat those pet names quietly, testing them out on your tongue regarding him, still your Captain and superior – and the man you’ve been harbouring feelings for, for the past few years, if you’ll finally start to be really honest with your damn self.

“Okay, I can do that.”

He reaches over and pats your knee; the warmth of his rough palm seeping through the thin fabric of your black tights, “I know you can, darling.”

The first few minutes were incredibly awkward, but that’s just you – being incredibly awkward in general.

Put yourself in any gunfight, jumping out of planes, fake dating Gaz or Soap for a mission, or stalking a target for days on end without a break – no problemo, – but social interactions outside of the field? One such as this?

Oh, boy.

However, you stick to the plan, to the detailed briefing John has given you prior to tonight, and it does seem to work.

His father, William, is surprisingly chatty, but you could also already smell the bourbon on his breath when he went in for a brief hug at the front door.

His mother, Margaret, though, she’s not an easy read, and you quickly realize where your Captain got his steadfastness from. A proper lady who’s obviously the head of this household. He’s got her piercing eyes and appraising look, and you know you’re being scrutinized thoroughly, but she’s friendly enough and gives you space, though you’re already anticipating the moment she’s going to herd you away from her son to put you through the wringer like a wet kitchen towel.

His older brother, Robert, wife Deborah, and two kids, Luke and Ben, are easy to fool, though it seems old Bobby gets a kick out of trying to make his younger brother and especially you flustered. It doesn’t work on John, but after a first glass of wine, you have to admit that it does work on you.

Robert is even less funny than John and that’s just because he’s trying too hard; trying too hard to make everyone like him, and you wonder why John lets him get away with it, but then again, Robert’s the firstborn son, so maybe it’s just the respect John is forced to have for his older brother that’s holding him back. Classical sibling and brother hierarchies, and all of that.

“Say, how did Johnny even manage to woe a woman like you? He’s as charming as an ice pick that one.” Robert dares to ask during dinner, and you actually get offended by that.

“Charming enough for me,” you retort, staring daggers at him and wishing you had an ice pick to throw right about now, “I prefer a straightforward man over some bootlicker.”

Deborah laughs while Robert looks bewildered, eyes flickering between you and John, who’s seated next to you. You cringe internally at yet another blunder, but then you see John’s smug smile out of the corner of your eyes, and his hand finds your knee again under the table, lingering there for the remainder of dinner.

His mother keeps watching and observing from her seat across from you at the long table, a small smile tugging at the corner of her red-painted, wrinkly lips.

John’s younger sister, Alice, shows up right after dinner, before everyone is moved back into the spacious living room to exchange presents; with the large, decorated Christmas tree looming in the corner next to the fireplace, where the birch wood is already crackling nicely.

Alice is an artist, a photographer, living in Paris. Her flight got delayed due to the weather, hence why she’s late. It’s clear by the way John pulls her into a tight hug while simultaneously calling her a muppet that he prefers her over Robert.

She’s a cold breeze of fresh air; a whirlwind full of buzzing energy, joy and kindness, and she would almost be too much for you in any other situation, but when she embraces you gleefully and welcomes you into the family, it’s too easy to get lost in that fantasy for a moment.

This whole ruse is starting to turn cruel on you, really.

Especially, when John’s large and warm hand comes to rest on the small of your back, just above the curve of your rear, once Alice demands to take a picture of you two in front of the Christmas tree. You glance up at him as he towers next to you, smiling boyishly at his little sister while he pulls you closer into his side, one arm curling around your waist and making you go somewhat rigid as you practically feel his strength and dominance radiating off his body, and there is a touch of possession in the way he’s holding you, too.

Or perhaps, you’re simply imagining it.

A sudden camera flash goes off, blindsiding you momentarily and you blink away the dots blurring your vision when Alice speaks up again.

“Alright, thanks for the mugshot, cherié,” she quips, snapping her fingers at you as if to wake you up, “Give me a good one now, aye? I need to capture proof that John actually brought a woman home for once. Look at your poor man; bloody sap’s completely infatuated with you.”

Infatuated? You blink dumbly and glance up at him instinctively as if to check for that yourself, acting as if you could tell how said infatuation would even look like.

And then, your stomach drops and the blood in your veins starts simmering, toes curling in your pumps to ground yourself as soon as your eyes lock with his slightly glazed, steel blue eyes, like a steady flow of ice melting in a rivulet.

Sometime, somehow, in this moment, your hand reaches up to rest on his chest, manicured fingers splaying over the fabric of his sweater to feel his strong heartbeat thudding against your palm–

... and then, Alice coos at you two – breaking the spell.

“Yes! That’s more like it, cherié!”

You excuse yourself after Alice gets the perfect picture to her liking, and before John can follow you, his mother urgently calls out to him, asking for his help in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you almost feel bad that Alice’s family photo album will have a staged picture of a fake relationship in it, one that will taint it with a big, fat lie.

It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be here tonight and yet, you are, after having agreed way too quickly and eagerly to the Captain’s request to play his girlfriend and help getting his family to back off.

Now, you find yourself wandering the hallways upstairs of his old family home, where he grew up in, you’d learned; sipping your glass of white wine absentmindedly while you study the rows upon rows of pictures littering the walls, like a walkway through time.

It feels like overstepping a boundary, but John should’ve expected you, a trained special forces soldier, to sneak off at some point to snoop around a bit; he never explicitly told you not to, after all.

You get stuck on graduation pictures of all three siblings, though your eyes linger on John, standing at attention in his dress uniform; tall, handsome, very beardless and fifteen years younger, at least, and you catch your smile before it can spread into something too fond.

Taking another slow sip, you feel a familiar presence behind you; still, you wait for him to address you first and maybe chew you out for being nosy.

“Don’t get caught up in the past, darling,” his gruff voice cuts through the peaceful silence, “I’ve long lost that youthful charm and vigour.” He chuckles gruffly.

Darling. There it is again.

“You can drop the act when we’re alone,” you mumble into the glass as you take another sip, trying to get rid of that damn flutter of nerves deep in your stomach, “I’m positive we’ve fooled them well enough tonight, sir.”

His footsteps are dulled by the carpet covering the hardwood floor as he keeps approaching you from behind, and your grip tightens around the wine glass, nearly shattering the delicate glass, when John’s powerful arms come to wrap around your midriff from behind; his buff body moulding against your back like it’s meant to be.

Admittedly, you go rigid again, holding your breath, stiff as a board.

His breath is warm, a hint of smooth bourbon catching in your nostrils as he leans in to murmur against your ear while his arms tighten around your waist, “I told you to stop calling me ‘sir’, haven’t I? Mhm, darling?”

You shudder involuntarily in his sudden embrace, this forbidden intimacy, breath hitching as your brain begins to short-circuit at once.

“Yeah… You did,” you croak out, voice coming out too breathlessly for your own liking, “But there’s no one to fool here right now, John.”

His chest rumbles and reverberates against your back with something like a pleased hum when you use his first name.

“Not trying to fool anyone, love. ’s just you and me now. ‘sides–”

He then nuzzles his nose against the exposed juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, trailing the tip of his nose along the smooth curve while his beard scratches over your skin pleasantly.

“My bloody mother knew the moment we stepped over the threshold of this house. Thought I’d trained ya better than tha’, Sergeant, or were you not faking any of this after all, hm?”

Despite your better judgement, you allow yourself to lean into his embrace, feeling his body heat seeping through the velvety fabric of your dress.

“Were you?” You counter-ask overzealously, tongue loosened by the alcohol you’ve already consumed, before biting down on your bottom lip, though you can’t take your question back to swallow the words like you probably should have.

“Faking it… I mean.” You add, clearing your throat awkwardly as you continue clutching your wine glass.

There is a heavy pause, one that has your pulse thrumming violently in your neck with each passing second of his silence, until John’s low, gravelly voice murmurs, his lips brushing over that sensitive spot right below your ear.

“Thought I was already being terribly obvious, darling.”

[thoseboysinblue]

Santa Baby

Mason Mount x reader

You and Mason welcome your first daughter shortly before the holidays.

Word Count: 8400+

Requested: No

Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), swearing, child birth (under 18 DNI)

A/N: This is an old draft I had for Mason and to be quite honest, I'm a bit nervous to post since it has been a while. I had every intention of getting this posted before Christmas, but it just didn't happen. Feedback always appreciated.

Mason had left for training early that morning, after you had reassured him several times that you were fine. You were sure the uneasy feelings you had were more related to Braxton Hicks contractions and the excitement of the upcoming holidays more than anything.

You were still three weeks from your due date with your and Mason's first baby and your midwife appointment a few days ago was uneventful and you were showing no signs of progressing towards labor at that time.

Christmas is next week and if you can just get through the last few things on your to do list you will be fine. However, the irregular pains you were feeling earlier in the morning have since become more regular and slightly more painful, enough so that you decided to give the midwife a call to ease your mind.

"How often?" she asks, trying not to sound overly concerned.

"Every seven minutes," you breathe.

"And getting stronger?" she follows up with another question.

"Yes, definitely getting stronger," you sway your hips standing at the kitchen counter, seeking any kind of relief you could get.

"Where's Mason?" she asks another question.

"Training, he should be home in a couple of hours," you wince slightly at the pain.

"Oh no," you gasp when your water breaks sending a cascade of fluid onto the floor.

"Y/N, can you still feel the baby moving ok?" she asks after you explained what happened.

"Mmhmm," you groan, "shit, that hurts a lot worse now."

"Y/N, you need to call Mason and get him home, I will meet you guys at that hospital. Congratulations mummy, it's baby day," you can hear the smile in her voice.

"Hi, Catherine," you grit your teeth through another contraction, "it's Y/N Mount, I can't get Mase on the phone, I'm sure he's still training, but can you track him down and have him call me, it's urgent."

"Yes, of course, is everything ok, dear?" she asks.

"Mmmhmmm, or it will be, I hope, just have him call me as soon as possible please," you beg before ending the call.

You do your best to clean up the all of the fluid out of the floor, changing clothes quickly and grabbing all of the things you had thankfully already packed the week before.

When Mason calls you back, you can tell he's out of breath and sounds like he's running still. "Hey baby, is everything ok?" he asks his voice full of concern.

"My water broke, Mase, I'm in labor," you groan as you hear him starting his car.

"I'll be there as fast as I can," he says nervously.

"Be careful, don't speed, I'm not going anywhere," you laugh softly, calming him a bit.

"Ok, I love you, see you soon," you hear the engine rev.

"I'm serious, Mason Mount, it won't do me any good if you don't ont get here in one piece," you say sternly.

"Yes ma'am," he chuckles.

"I love you, be safe," you sigh.

About ten minutes later you hear Mason clatter through the door, still wearing his training kit, boots and all.

"Hi baby," he smiles at you, coming over and wrapping you in a hug, gently rubbing your back when you groan as you have another contraction.

"They are about five minutes apart now," you breathe out.

"Go shower, quick, I don't want our baby meeting you when you smell like sweat and grass," you smile up at him.

A few minutes later he is rushing back down the stairs, freshly showered and changed. He grabs your things and puts them in the car and then helps you into the front seat where you lay a towel down trying not to ruin the interior.

He holds your hand and soothingly strokes over the back of it with his thumb as he makes the short drive to the hospital.

"Thank God, we picked somewhere close," you sigh as you pull into the car park.

He turns off the car and moves to open the door when you grab his hand, "Mase, wait, what if I can't do this, what if I can't get her here safely," you look at him, your eyes brimming with tears.

He leans his forehead against yours, "y/n, baby, you've done so well this whole entire time, you've been so strong, I know you can do this, everything is going to be fine."

He kisses you softly on the lips, "let's go meet our baby girl," he smiles at you when you nod.

Once you've settled into the delivery suite, your midwife comes into check you. "Already at 6cm, y/n, you're doing brilliant," she beams at you, "I would say this little one will be here in a couple of hours if you continue progressing this well."

Mason stays beside you, holding your hand, rubbing your back, and encouraging you every step of the way. He doesn't even wince when you hurl a few curse words his way for "getting you into this mess."

Once you're fully dilated and it's time to start pushing, the panic really sets in.

"Mase, I can't, I can't do this," you shake your head at him, tears slipping from your eyes.

"Baby," he says, brushing your hair out of your eyes and kissing you on the forehead, "you can do this, I know you can, I'm so proud of you, y/n, you've done so well, just a little while longer, yeah? She'll be here soon, I love you so much."

You nod and close your eyes, willing yourself to keep going, for him, for your baby girl that you can't wait to meet.

"I'm ready," you breathe out, squeezing his hand.

"That's my girl," he smiles proudly at you.

A short while later, cries fill the room as your baby girl enters the world and is placed on your chest.

Mason looks at you with tears running down his face as they ask him if he would like to cut the cord. He nervously takes the scissors and does the honors, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm so proud of you, you were amazing, look at her, she's perfect," he smiles at your newborn who is now quietly laying on your chest.

"I'm going to take her over here and clean her up and check her over," one of the nurses smiles at you as she removes her from your chest and places her under the warmer.

"I love you so much, y/n, thank you," he smiles at you before kissing you softly.

He stays by your side but keeps glancing over to where the nurses are looking your daughter over.

"Mase," you get his attention, "you can go over there," you smile at him.

"You sure?" he asks but his eyes keep wandering over to his baby.

"Yes, Mase, I'm sure, go see her," you nod at him kissing the back of his hand.

"I'll be right here if you need me," he says kissing you on the forehead again.

"Unless you've miraculously learned to sew, I think I'll be ok with the midwife," you chuckle.

He looks at you a bit puzzled.

"Stitches, Mason, she's putting in stitches," you giggle when you see his eyes widen once he realizes.

"Oh," he shakes his head at himself, "do a good job," he smiles at the midwife, "I mean, take good care of her."

The midwife chuckles at him as he moves around the end of the bed.

"I am so sorry," he says when he glances to where she's working, never even looking up to your face.

You and the midwife shake your heads at one another as he makes his way over to his baby girl.

"Dad, would you like to put her on her first nappy?" the nurse smiles at him.

"Yeah, sure" he says nervously.

"Have you done this before?" she asks handing him the diaper.

"Once or twice, but never when they're this new," he looks down at his newborn baby girl, gently starting to put the diaper on her.

"You're not going to break her I promise," the nurse chuckles at him.

He finishes up and she swaddles her in a blanket and hands her to him. "There you go dad, all yours," she smiles at him as tears well in his eyes.

"You're all mine," he grins, "you've got the best mummy in the world little girl, she's so brave and so strong and I hope you grow up to be just like her," he says as tears stream down his face.

You take a couple of pictures of them with your phone before getting his attention. "Mase," you smile at him when he looks up at you with the biggest grin on his face while you take a few more photos.

He moves over to stand next to you, "thankfully she has your nose, I think," he grins.

"But I hope she has your eyes," you smile up at him.

"She's got a head full of dark hair," he continues smiling at her, pulling the hat back enough for you to be able to see.

"Alright mummy, just going to clean you up a bit and put a fresh gown on you and get you some fresh linens," the midwife smiles at you, "then you can do some skin to skin with her."

Once you're cleaned up and have a fresh gown on and clean sheets, the midwife takes a few pictures of the three of you before placing your baby girl on your chest.

"She might be hungry soon, you can call the nurses to come help you with feeding her when you're ready," she smiles at you.

"She's beautiful, you both did a great job," she takes another picture for you before leaving the room.

Once she's left, Mason is standing beside the bed looking at both of you. He takes a few pictures with his phone and continues hovering over both of you.

"Mase, come here," you say scooting over in the bed and making room for him to sit with you.

He kicks his shoes off and climbs into bed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you cuddle into his side. He places his other hand over your baby's back as you both cradle her to your chest.

"She's so perfect," he whispers against your temple before kissing you there lightly, "I really can't believe she's here."

You both sit quietly, just taking in your first moments as a family of three until she starts to stir a bit and begins sucking on her hand.

"I think she's ready to eat," you say quietly as Mason calls for the nurse to come in.

He starts to get out of the bed when she comes in until you grab his arm, "just stay here, I'm more comfortable with you beside me," you smile at him.

He wraps his arm back around you and settles back at your side while the nurse helps you get your daughter latched on and eating.

"Let her eat as long as she wants to, if you get uncomfortable or need help switching her to the other side let me know," she smiles before leaving you alone again.

"You're so amazing, y/n, I'm so proud of you, I don't think I've ever seen you look as beautiful as you do right now," he speaks quiet words of affirmation to you while you're feeding her for the first time.

"Thank you, Mason, for everything, you've been wonderful this entire time, I couldn't have made it without you," you smile up at him.

"My girls," he whispers as he strokes his thumb over her head and squeezes you a little tighter before placing a soft kiss to your lips.

Once she's finished eating, the midwife comes in to check on you and offers to help you to the toilet.

"Mason, would you like to do skin to skin?" and before she even finishes her statement he's whipping his shirt off and tossing it across the room.

You both chuckle at him as you place her on his chest and cover them both with the blanket.

"I'm pretty sure you whipping your shirt off is what got us here in the first place," you grin at him.

"I think it was the other way around," he winks at you.

After you've been to the bathroom, the midwife brings in a couple of sandwiches and snacks for you both to eat.

"Mase," you say between bites, looking at him with your daughter sleeping soundly on his chest, "I know I just pushed a baby out not too long ago, but I'm so turned on seeing you with her right now," you smile shyly at him.

"I'll keep that in mind for later," he chuckles, watching as she wraps her tiny hand around his finger.

"I'm in so much trouble," he sighs, "she's gonna get away with everything, and I'm going to spoil her rotten."

"Well if you spoil her more than you do me, you might need another job or two," you lean against him, holding up one of the sandwiches for him to take a bite of.

"We should probably let people know she's here," he mumbles as he swallows his food, "I didn't even tell anyone you'd gone into labor."

"Let's wait just a little longer, I'm kind of enjoying having the two of you all to myself for now," you speak through a yawn.

"Why don't you take a nap, I'll be here, just staring at her," he says as he leans his head over on yours.

"Okay, but wake me up if you get sleepy, and I'll trade with you," you yawn again.

"Get some rest pretty girl, you've earned it," he kisses you on the top of the head before you drift off.

You wake from your nap a little while later when the baby starts to stir, you feed her while Mason makes a few calls letting your families and close friends know that she's here and everyone is doing well before you both settle in for the night.

The next morning, you are released to go home. Even though the midwife gives you the option to stay one more night, you want nothing more than to retreat to the comfort of your own home.

As you are filling in her the birth certificate prior to leaving you look over at Mason, "I guess it's really time for us to finalize her name," you smile at him.

While you'd both narrowed down a short list, you had decided you wanted to meet her before making the final decision.

"Would it be cheesy if we make her middle name something Christmas related?" you smile over to him while he balances her on his knees, just staring at her while she sleeps.

"So we've settled on Isla, correct?" he glances up to you before looking back down at her.

"Mmm" you hum in agreement, twirling the pen you are holding in your hand.

"How about Noelle as her middle name?" he smiles at her as she stirs slightly before smiling in her sleep.

"I think she likes it," he grins at you.

"Me too, pretty name for a pretty girl," you grin back at him.

The drive home is slow, as Mason refuses to drive the actual speed limit. You don't fuss at him, though, its incredibly sweet how protective he is of both of you.

Once you are at home, he takes over taking care of everything he can, refusing to let you lift a finger for more than feeding your daughter.

Mason misses a couple more days of training and a match to stay home with you, but you can tell he's getting antsy. He's not used to not being busy with work obligations and while you are grateful for his help and support, you also know he needs to get out of the house.

"Mase, I think you should go to training for a bit in the morning," you smile at him as you climb into bed beside him.

"No, I don't want to leave you," he shakes his head.

"I know, baby, but I can tell you are getting restless. At least go in for a couple of hours, we will be fine, I promise."

You watch as he mulls it over in his head.

"Maybe just for the outdoor work on the pitch, I can do the cardio and weight training here," he flashes you a smile.

Your days are consumed by caring for Isla, Mason does all he can to balance trying to get back into training with helping you at home.

He makes the extra effort to help with getting things together for Christmas, picking up groceries and trying to honor the traditions the two of you have.

One evening, as you are watching a Christmas movie and enjoying the cookies the two of you had baked earlier, he looks over and notices you've started crying.

"Y/N, baby, what's wrong?" he asks as he pauses the movie.

"I've just realized Christmas is only a couple of days away and I haven't finished my shopping and wrapping, and I didn't even buy her anything Christmassy to wear because I didn't think she would be here yet" you sob, suddenly overwhelmed.

He wraps his arms around you and kisses you on top of the head, "stay here, I'll be right back."

He disappears and then returns a few minutes later with a few bags in his hands.

"I picked up a couple of things the other day when I was out," he smiles at you, handing you the shopping bags.

You open them to find that he's bought matching pajamas for the three of you for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, as well as a Christmas dress for Isla, a few cream color baby outfits and a blanket that says "Baby's First Christmas" on it.

"I noticed you looking at those a couple of weeks ago when we were out shopping," he smiles as you admire the things he picked up.

"You're too good to me," you let the tears fall from your eyes again.

He wipes them away gently and kisses you lightly on the lips, "you've given me everything I've ever wanted, it's the least I could do, sweetheart."

"Thank you," you choke out, "I'm sure it's just the hormones making me emotional."

The next morning after he's left for training, you hear a knock at the door. You hear chattering outside before you can open it, but as soon as you do you hear "Auntie, Y/N" as Summer squeals and then wraps her arms around your legs.

To your surprise, you find Mason's mother and sister and nieces standing outside.

You usher them in before Jazmine wraps you in a hug.

"We're sorry to show up unannounced, but Mase called last night worried about you," Debbie pulls you into an embrace after Jazmine.

"He said you needed help finishing up Christmas things," Jaz adds.

You nod, "I got a bit overwhelmed last night, I'm sure it scared him."

"He just wants to take care of his girls," Debbie smiles at you, "so put us to work, whatever you need.

"Thank you both, I'm sure you've got plenty to be doing yourselves, you didn't need to make the trip up here," you smile, thankful for the trouble they've gone to.

"Nonsense," Debbie grins, "any excuse to come and see that gorgeous baby works for me."

They had been here a couple of days after you had gotten home from the hospital, everyone eager to meet the new addition to the family.

Your mom is planning to come and stay a few days after the New Year since that's when you previously expected to go into labor.

"Mum is going to stay here with you and the girls, I'm going to run into the city to finish picking up whatever you need, if you can just let me know where you need me to go," Jaz offers.

You chat while they admire, Isla and you finish up your shopping list before Jazmine sets off.

While she's gone, Debbie helps you to wrap the gifts you already have that aren't wrapped and showers you with compliments over how well you are doing with everything and you have to admit it is nice to hear.

She arrives back to your house with the items she's picked up for you as well as dinner for you and Mason.

She cuddles her new niece while you wrap the last few gifts and spend a few minutes playing with your nieces.

Once they are sure you are feeling better about everything, they bundle up the girls and leave, heading back home after serving as your elves for a few hours.

Mason arrives home in the early afternoon to find you napping on the sofa with Isla in the bassinet next to you. He takes a few minutes to admire you while you sleep, never having felt more in awe of you and the way you've handled transitioning into this new role so flawlessly.

On Christmas Eve morning you wake to find Mason gone from the bed, you glance around and realize he must have gotten up with the baby and left you to sleep a little longer. You make your way downstairs to the living room and find him sleeping on the sofa with Isla snoozing on his chest. You take a few pictures of them, both sleeping with the Christmas tree glowing behind them and you've honestly never felt so content and in love in your entire life.

You make coffee for the two of you and gently wake Mason up.

"Morning, daddy" you grin at him sitting your coffee down before taking Isla and placing her in her basinette.

You hand him his mug as you sit down beside him, "you know my brain realizes I'm actually someone's daddy now, but my dick doesn't," he chuckles before leaning over and giving you a kiss.

Later in the afternoon Mason's family arrive to celebrate Christmas Eve and stay the night just as they always have. You enjoy your normal family traditions with them over the evening and next day; eating, opening presents, making cookies and playing games.

As Christmas Day draws to an end, your heart is full from spending the day enjoying Isla's first Christmas surrounded by those you love. When Deb offers to be on baby duty for the night, saying she will bring her to you when she needs to eat but otherwise let you and Mason get some much needed rest, you reluctantly give in knowing you could use some alone time together.

"Babe," you call out from your closet as you make a final adjustment to the red satin pajamas you put on, you're not quite ready for lingerie yet, but you admire your post baby curves and the way your breasts spill out of the top of the camisole you're wearing, knowing Mason will enjoy the way you look as well.

"Yeah," he answers and it sounds like he's in the bed.

"Could you do me a favor and sit on the end of the bed and close your eyes," you call back to him, "I have one more gift for you," you grin in anticipation.

"Ok," he answers a bit puzzled.

"You there?" You call back.

"Yep," he chuckles.

"No peeking," you smile at him as you look around the door to make sure he followed your directions.

You walk over to him, gently taking his hands and placing them on your hips while you stand between his legs and rest your hands on his shoulders.

"Okay, you can open them" you whisper.

He opens his eyes and the look on his face is one that you hope you won't forget anytime soon. His eyes are full of wonder and love, mixed with a flair of lust and heat.

"Jesus baby, you look incredible, what's this all about?" he grins up at you.

"Well, I figure I've been on the nice list all day, but I kind of want to end the night on the naughty list," you wink at him.

"I didn't think we could, you know..." he trails off and knits his eyebrows together.

"We can't, yet, but I've noticed your showers have been extra long lately, and just because some things are off limits doesn't mean all things are off limits," you lean down to kiss him hungrily.

He raises his eyebrows as you pull a red satin ribbon from beside him and move to cover his eyes with it.

"One last look" you wink at him as his eyes rake up and and down your body before you blindfold him.

"You are naughty," he chuckles to himself.

"I haven't even gotten started yet, babe" you smile at his eagerness as you settle on your knees in front of him.

You kiss along his chest and abdomen, flicking your tongue along the smattering of hairs just below his navel before he jerks his hips involuntarily.

"Patience baby," you smile against him as you slip your hands in the waistband of his pajama pants and slide them down his legs when he lifts his hips for you.

"Have you not had on underwear all day," you ask him as you take his hardened length in your hand and enjoy the quiet gasp that escapes his lips.

"Nope," he breathes out stifling a moan as you flick your tongue over his tip lapping at the precum that has already collected there.

"If I'd have known that I would've given you your present earlier," you whisper before licking a stripe along the vein on the underside of his shaft.

"Oh god, baby," he moans as everything seems more sensitive without being able to see what you're doing.

"Mase you're going to have to try to be quiet," you chuckle, "we do still have guests."

"Got it, I'll try, but I can't make any promises," he groans as his head tips back when you take him in your mouth and begin to slowly work him just the way you know he likes it.

You alternate bobbing your head with swirling your tongue around his tip, working what won't fit in your mouth with your hands. He places one hand on the back of your head to steady your pace and to ground himself a little.

"So good baby" he breathes out, "so so good."

You glance up to see him with his head back as he's still blindfolded, his chest rising and falling as he tries to keep himself quiet.

You take more of him into your mouth, gagging as his tip hits the back of your throat.

You continue working him, letting him feel the tip of his cock in your cheek when he grazes his fingers along your jaw.

"So perfect," he bites his lower lip.

"Can you take a bit more for me?" he pleads as you relax your jaw and take as much of him into your mouth as you can.

"God, yes, that's it baby, so good for me," he groans when you hollow out your cheeks and suck harder as you pull back off of him a little.

"I'm close," his head falls back again as you drop extra spit down his cock and work him with your hands.

"Come on, Mase, cum for me, I want every drop of it."

You swirl your tongue around his tip again before taking him fully into your mouth and running your tongue along his shaft.

"Fuck, y/n" he moans as his abs contract and he shudders and releases himself into your mouth.

As his breathing slows you reach up and pull the ribbon from his eyes, allowing him to see you on your knees in front of him, with his cum on your tongue before you swallow all of if and wipe what spilled from your lip and chin with your thumb.

"Just when I didn't think today could get any better, you pull something like this out of your bag," he grins as he pulls you to your feet and then into his lap.

"I'm full of surprises," you chuckle before you kiss him deeply, allowing him to taste himself.

"This has been the best Christmas," he smiles as he lays his head against your chest.

"Because of the blow job?" you giggle.

"Well, I mean, I've got no complaints there, but because it's just been such a good day with our new little family. You're so incredible, you've handled everything so well and I'm so proud of you and fall more and more in love with you every single day," he glances up to see the tears in your eyes.

"I love you, Mase, I'm couldn't do any of this without you, you've been amazing," you lean down to kiss him gently.

"Merry Christmas, baby" you smile against his lips before he falls back on the bed and pulls you close to him.

"Merry Christmas, love," he whispers.

Taglist:

@neverinadream @chilwellsancho@pulisicsgirl @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @xjval

[pennylane-dreams]

In 1962, George Harrison sent a 3-page letter to a fan named Susan, thanking her for sending gifts to his family and the rest of the letter was a set of instructions on how to wash a car and dump dirty water on Paul's car. Transcription: 42 BRODIE AVE. MOSSLEY HILL LIVERPOOL 18 Dear Susan, I hope you had a good chrimbo, and have a happy nuclear too. Thank you for giving my mum flowers and chocs. [ it was you wasn't it] Thanks also for the card, in fact THANKS A HEAP SUSAN. "Your too kind". Instructions for washing car: - 1. Use plenty of soapy clean water, preferably warm. 2. When car is [though it may take a lot of water] - clean, leave to dry off for about 20 minutes. [ You can have a cup of tea now]. 3. Now ask mother to find some dusters [2 each] and with the polish, apply with No. 1 duster over an area of about 1 sq foot at a time, in a circular motion. Dont leave it too long before polishing off. This should carried out until the car is spotless, and gleaming clean. [Dont forget the wheels!] 4. Take 1 brush or vacuum cleaner, and have a bash at the carpets. They too can be made to look like new. 5. The Windows [interior] should be polished new, after which you can retire for another tea. 6. Before returning home, i suggest you look over the car again, for any parts you may have missed out, on finding, they should be cleaned accordingly. 7. Now proceed to 20 Forthlin RD. with about 6 buckets full of dirty muddy greasy water, where a shiny ford Classic will be seen. Spread contents of the buckets evenly, so as to leave a nice film of muck over the car. You can now return home knowing you have done your deed for the day. Thank you!!! Proceedings should be carried out about the 8th of January, Thanks again for the card cheerio for now dont forget Ban the Bog love from George [Harrison] xxxxxx

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part four ]

[ part one & part two & part three ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1531

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

it took you about a half hour to get ready.

okay, maybe you spent a solid five minutes screaming into a pillow, but that’s besides the point.

descending the staircase of the inn, you emerged in the lobby, dressed up and dreamy. stan pines has spent years perfecting his poker face, but when he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping.

he was so glad that he gambled on a ‘yes.’

“sweet moses.” he breathed, rubbing his face with one hand before taking another good, long look at you.

“how do i look?” you carefully pushed a stray hair back into place, glancing expectantly at your flabbergasted date.

“like you fell from heaven.” a smug grin grew on his face. he was smitten. “i’d offer you my arm, but you look too perfect to touch.”

his charm was working wonders on you. you chuckled softly, rosy cheeks hinting at the feelings that raged within. “i’m far from perfect, you know.”

he held out his hand to you, his voice low. “not in my eyes, doll. i call you angel for a reason.”

you took his hand, and he led you out to where his car was parked. he made a point of opening the passenger side door for you, shutting it after you were situated and coming around to the driver’s side.

you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke that stubbornly clung onto the car, but he had totally cleaned up the interior, having crammed all his things into the trunk and scrubbed away troublesome stains. there was even a small pine tree air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

“i hope y’like the place i picked. it ain’t much, but i figured it’d be nice.” starting the engine, he snaked his arm around the back of your headrest, looking over his shoulder as he reversed out of the parking lot and made his way out onto the road. you could feel yourself practically buzzing with excitement and curiosity, smiling and folding your hands in your lap.

it was about a five-minute car ride, and neon lights illuminating the bustling cityscape made for a nice view. you found yourself pulling into the parking lot of one of the nicest restaurants in town. wait a second …

your brows rose. “stan, this is—”

you were cut off as he shushed you, waving his hand dismissively. “don’t even think about it. don’t worry about it. just let me do this for ya, alright?”

“but—”

his hand gently pushed your mouth shut from underneath your chin, tilting your head towards him. “it’s my turn t’ be the nice one. ya got it?”

all you could do was silently nod your head. you wanted to question how much this was costing him, but it was obvious that he didn’t want you to know that.

a moment later, you walked into the restaurant, and a waiter led you to your table. sitting down across from stan, you looked around the place, fascinated.

“you know, i’ve always wanted to check this place out, but i’ve just never had a reason to.” you smiled, returning your focus to him. “this is exciting!”

“oh yeah? huh, musta been a lucky guess.” he sighed, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at you.

the waiter came around, and you placed your orders. stanley could barely take his eyes off you the whole time, and they stayed just as glued in place after the waiter left.

“so, i’m gonna cut to the chase …” he paused, fidgeting with a fork on the table, never breaking eye contact.

“... i wanna know everything about you.”

you felt your face heat up. he was staring at you with a lot more intent than he had the last time you’d gone out to eat together.

“you do? … everything?”

“you heard me.” his tone was soft, but serious. “whatever you’re willing t' share, i’ll gratefully take.”

your heart beat louder in your chest. this man genuinely wanted to get closer to you.

“well … my mom is a schoolteacher, and my dad works for the bank.” you stroked your chin thoughtfully. “i’ve always been told i’m good at hosting people. i think that’s sort of what inspired me to open an inn in the first place.”

you continued to infodump about your life, your passions, and whatever else came to mind. stanley was loving every single second of it. he’d occasionally pipe in with a comment on something you’d said, but for the most part, he just gazed dreamily, leaning his head against one hand.

the conversation kept on going throughout the meal, and the two of you took turns talking while the other took a few bites of food. you hadn’t spent quality time with someone like this in so long—you’ve only been worried about minding the inn for the past few years—and you found that you were totally captivated by him.

you wanted to stay like this forever.

after swallowing a mouthful of food, you met his warm brown eyes with your own. “hey, stan?”

“hmm?”

“how long are you staying for?”

he paused, setting down his utensil and straightening in his seat.

“i mean … i wanna keep doing this with you.” your voice was quieter. “getting to know each other, just … talking. but … i know your stay with me is probably temporary …”

his bit his lower lip for a moment, looking down. the bill came, and he scribbled a signature, handing the waiter a few folded bills along with the receipt.

“let’s head out, yeah?”

“okay …”

the car ride back to the inn was silent, save for the ambience of surrounding traffic and the low hum of the radio. there was a certain tension hanging in the air.

pulling into the parking lot, stan put the car in park, taking the key out.

“look.”

he shifted in his seat, turning his body towards you. nervously, he reached one hand out, placing it on your arm and capturing your attention.

“i’ve been walking a tightrope for what feels like forever. and … i don’t know if i’ll get the privilege of keeping you in my life.”

your heart skipped a beat.

he took a deep breath. “i know damn well i don’t deserve you. hell, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. when i’m with you, i feel like i can be appreciated by somebody …” he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“... nobody has ever made me feel that way before.”

tears welled up quietly. he clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his composure, but ultimately failing.

“i … i had no … idea how much i needed that. how much i needed you.”

a single tear rolled down his cheek, succeeded by another … and another. he was choking the words out.

“i … know we haven’t known each other that long, but … do you … feel it, too?”

there was desperation in his voice, in his eyes.

it was as if he were asking for a miracle.

tears were already clouding your vision. turning in your seat, you gently wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, which he quickly returned.

“i feel it too, stanley.” you murmured, biting back a voice crack as you felt the tears falling. you just squint your eyes shut. he held onto you even tighter, as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

“hah … so i’m not crazy …” he laughed weakly, sniffling and pulling his head back to look at you. his thumbs gently wiped the tears from your face. his touch was so delicate … almost reverent. “i knew there was something between us.”

you sighed quietly as he held your face, smiling upon hearing his laugh.

your next words escaped your mouth before you could process it.

“i love you.”

stanley’s eyes went wide.

“you … what?”

“i … i lov—”

you didn’t get the chance to repeat yourself, as he had leaned in and pressed his lips against your own.

stunned at first, you gradually returned the kiss, letting your eyelids shut on their own. it was sweet and sincere, as if it held the meaning of a thousand words.

after a moment, he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed.

“i love you, too.”

he shifted closer to you, moving his head to rest on your shoulder as he pulled you into another hug.

“please … no matter what happens, please promise me you won’t ever forget about me.”

“oh, stan … don’t say that. i couldn’t forget you, even if i tried.”

his strong arms tightened around you even further. you could feel his heartbeat through the rise and fall of his chest, and it lulled you into a trance.

“... my love. mine.”

he kept mumbling vaguely into your shoulder, refusing to let go of you. you smiled to yourself, bringing your hand up to his ponytail and undoing the hairtie so that his mullet fell loose.

and for the next half hour, you ran your fingers through his hair while he clung to you like a magnet.

end

[ part five ]

author's note:

i said goodbye to my sanity in the middle of writing this chapter

also THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ?!?!? the first three parts collectively have over 750 notes DANGGG

part five is happening. >:) lmk if you want in on the taglist

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002 @samanthastarss @bumblingbriars @arya-eats-chips @bihexualandferal @hello-i-like-owls @blurryface505 @ryethebrokengae @skeet-2 @thisisprettymuchafanaccount @loleeness @mothie-jpg @ryoiii @ghostieballs @dinsfire24 @put-a-cork-in-it-nork

[dekustowel]

[12: that time she met the parents]

synopsis - in light of a major controversy that causes his fan support to dwindle significantly, katsuki bakugou is forced to do anything possible to garner back the affection of his fans before the announcement of the year's hero rankings. katsuki has two options: either "date" japan's most-adored social media star, in hopes of her amazing reputation bringing up his, or kiss that #1 spot goodbye. it's a no-brainer what he chooses. and it shouldn't matter at all, right? it's a fake relationship. nothing more, nothing less.

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masterlist | previous | next

*there’s a written piece of this chapter*

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Your eyes quickly darted up from your phone catching on to something that would leave anyone that bled red speechless.

now to make something perfectly clear - you never thought katsuki bakugou was ugly.

not in school, when you'd see him in the hall. bakugou was unapproachable in his own right - and believe it, your friends tested that theory often. there was an unspoken beauty about him, said in a whisper from lips that knew they would never meet his.

he was not ugly when you lived separate lives and only saw him on billboards and your television screen. there are enough people in japan with bakugou's face plastered across their shirts, their rooms, and their bodies, that you could never deny his beauty had only amplified over the years.

you could always appreciate that the boy wasn't ugly.

'not ugly' isn't how you would describe seeing him today, leaning against the nicest car you've ever seen, with a grimace that would make anyone smart enough turn in the other direction.

today, katsuki bakugou stands tall and striking, with blonde hair that catches the light just right, framing a face carved with sharp, almost ethereal features. his eyes, a vivid and unsettling shade of red, holding an intensity that made it hard to look away. he's definitely a little more than 'not ugly'.

when the fuck did you start noticing details about his fucking eyes?

you pushed down any semblance of a reaction to the masterpiece before you as you wearily approached him.

"you look good," was not supposed to be said out loud, but your body's doing all kinds of weird gymnastics today, so you accept that you've said it and search his crimson eyes for a response.

katsuki doesn't dignify what you just said with a response.

instead, his eyes rake over you in what appears to be fucking disgust, as he opens the car door, feigning any illusion of a gentlemanly bone in his body.

you're barely able to get all your limbs safely in the car before bakugou slams it closed and walks around to the driver's side.

it's going to be such a long afternoon.

the car ride is mostly silent other than the low hum of an unrecognizable artist playing over the radio.

you take a moment to look at the interior of katsuki's car. black, like his fucking soul, and absolutely spotless. leather seats, probably so it's easier to clean the blood of his sacrifices off of. manual, because bakugou obviously wants you to know he's better than you in every way.

he probably never even stalls.

you laugh to yourself before your eyes zero in on his radio.

he listens to music, like the rest of us. this shouldn't surprise you, he's human. but it's an insight into the katsuki bakugou novelty. and your next move lines up with all the other impulsive ones so far for the afternoon.

you reach over and turn up his radio to just about max volume.

I thought that I was dreaming When you said you loved me

"you like Frank Ocean?!" you just about yelled, causing katuski to jerk the wheel a little bit.

"are you fucking insane, don't do that!" he scolds, turning down the radio to a more manageable volume, "and what's it to you?"

"i love Frank Ocean."

"not very uncommon, most people do."

"i guess, i just didn't realize you fell into the category of most people," you look out of the window as the sunset cascades down one of musutafu's nicer neighborhoods, "it's refreshing. you're human."

"get out of the car, y/n." you hadn't noticed the car come to a halt in front of a particularly nice house. it looked like the kind of house that loved poured out of. the sort of house that contains and produces well-rounded, delightful members of society. how katsuki bakugou lived here his whole life, you don't fucking know.

"so, this is where you grew up," you mutter, folding your arms over your chest, and leaning against the car door.

"what's it to you?" he snaps, his voice cutting through the air just as the driver-side door slams shut with a hard thud, matching the edge in his tone.

"nothing," you say, letting a smirk slip as you stand upright. "i just didn't know you were a little rich kid," you add, your tone light but taunting, a crooked smile playing at your lips as you glance his way

"have you realized im god's favorite yet?"

you laugh a little at his comment before mindlessly slipping your hand into his as he walks by. bakugou stops, turning to you with—well, it's hard to place his reaction—you've never seen it before. it’s agitation.. but softer?

it's convoluted, like everything involving katsuki bakugou.

"what’re you doing?" he demands, his gaze fixed on your interlocked fingers. despite the edge in his tone, he makes no move to pull away, his hand staying right where it is.

'holding your hand?"

"why?"

"for your parents, so we look like a couple?" you ask, voice midly irritated as you start to pull your hand away, "do you want me to let go?" But just as you begin to slip free, his grip tightens, holding you in place. suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the warmth and solid feel of bakugou’s hand, more comfortable than you'd expected.

his grip is firm as he drags you toward the front door, his strides confident and unfaltering. meanwhile, your stomach twists with nerves, each step making you more aware of how close you’re getting to his parents’ house. you try to keep up with his pace, but your pulse races, and you find yourself squeezing his hand a little tighter—hoping he doesn’t notice just how nervous you really are.

"callm down," he says simply.

you swallow, the anxiety tightening in your chest. "what if they don’t like me, katsuki?"

he scoffs. "doesn’t matter, ‘cause we’re not actually dating, idiot."

unhelpful.

you don’t even look at him, too consumed by the dread pooling in your stomach.

this was a bad idea. im going to kill Mina. this was a terrible idea.

"hey," he says more gently, an arm slipping around your shoulders. a warmth spreads through you, chasing away the knots of fear. "relax," he murmurs.

you glance up, eyes wide. "everyone likes you. just calm down, all right?"

you're barely even able to process the interaction you were just a part of before the front door comes swinging open, presenting the clear explanation for bakugou's good looks and charm.

she really is a milf. fuck.

"jesus, katsuki! it's fucking cold, you're gonna just stand there gawking at her and let her catch a fever?" the woman, who you can easily assume is bakugou's mother, beckons for you both to come inside.

"the pictures don’t do you justice; you’re absolutely breathtaking," she beams, pulling you into a warm embrace. as you bask in her warmth, her eyes sparkle with mischief. "but why are you with my son? you could do so much better, sweetheart."

"thanks, mom." bakugou deadpans.

"shut it, twerp. im talking to your girlfriend," his mom snaps back, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"matsukawa, come meet your future daughter-in-law!" she calls out, her voice echoing through the room. A deep blush creeps up your neck at the thought, and you nervously scan the space, trying to steady your breathing.

your gaze accidentally locks with bakugou’s, and in that fleeting moment, something in his expression takes you completely off guard. there's an intensity there, a mix of vulnerability and warmth that absolutely floors you.

but as quickly as it happens, he turns away, leaving the moment hanging in the air.

completely unacknowledged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

FUN FACT: Mitski and Matsukawa already googled everything they'd need to know about y/n before Mitski messaged Bakugou. they already liked her! they really just wanted to see their bratty son ;)

thank you for reading!

@teacakes06 @pinxeajin @eitelle @kaldurahms-lover @daughteofaphrodite @sara4uuu @f0und-heaven @azamii0 @vitanicheney666 @twinnintwink @kara062284-blog @astraea-lunar @neoclb @apple9i3 @thekookiecorner @beatr2x @lovra974 @justbepeace @luvrluvrr @kyluskaye @nottherealslimshady @punicorn999 @itgetzweird08 @iamaconfusedpan @yoonights @shotos-angelic-whore @nnnyxie @nachofrien @bakunianadecorazon @spilled-coffee-cup @minetaphobe @y-n1simp @enterdivinity @sweetblueworm @kovu-bunnbunn @gsyche @nerinefy @missmanda511 @m-0ona @bbybubbles @tokeposts @jiyuu-zou @ch3rry-bombb @living-in-a-veil @lainlovelain @prentisswig @marsbars09 @iluv-ace @prentisswig @haychhans @awkardnerd @peachystea @lover-no-lover61 @emma-sometimes-writes @irenne-stans @themultifandomgirl @fuckassinstincts @rv19 @centerhabit @strwbrrykthv

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

RED IS THE COLOUR OF

KINKTOBER DAY 1 - BLOOD WITH JACKSON RIPPNER

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - Jackson returns home covered in other men’s blood. He’s too impatient to shower first.

Warnings - noncon! dead dove do not eat ! forceful, abuse, blood play, blood tasting, p in v, oral! m receiving, drawing blood, biting, bondage, abduction.

Word count - 1.4k

Notes - Starting kinktober off strong with my sweet baby boy Jackson. This is quite dark and mentally disturbing so be warned.

The heavy slam of the front door woke you up. As you jolted up, the short chains locked around your wrists yanked your body back to the bed frame. In the darkness, your senses focus on your hearing. The familiar pacing footsteps crept towards the bedroom. Goosebumps formed on your trembling naked skin as you curled up into a ball waiting for your captor to walk in. 

The door creaked open, you could only draw out his figure as the darkness shadowed over his features. Jackson’s breathing was heavy, likewise to an athlete’s aftermath of a marathon. His hand slid up the wall, his fingertips searched for the switch. 

“You almost got me killed tonight baby doll” Jackson spoke quietly, his tone filled with frustration and disappointment. 

Your eyes narrowed to him, mouth ajar opened as your heart pounded with anticipation. When the light snapped on, you let out a piercing scream. If you could sink into the wall, you would have. The muscles on your back were quickly turning a shade of bright red. 

Jackson smiled at you innocently, the lower half of his mouth painted a crimson red. His expensive grey suit ruined by the repercussions of human blood. As he closed the distance, he easily kicked off his newly polished shoes and slipped his jacket off to the carpet. You whimpered his name as he slowly crawled up to you on the bed, his piercing blue eyes never inching away from you once. He was the wolf and you were the lamb awaiting slaughter. 

“Let’s have a shower, get you all cleaned up” you suggested timidly, your breath hitching, It was motivated by desperation mixed with fear, your eyes darting over every inch of his crimson skin. 

“Shower later, need you now” he declared through a grumble with a gentle nod as his dirty hands wrapped around your ankles, swiftly pulling you down flat on the mattress. 

Jackson didn’t care that he was already permanently staining his sage bed sheets, or that his clothes were ruined, definitely not that he’d have to spend all of tomorrow morning cleaning the interior of his car. Most importantly, Jackson didn’t care how horrified you were right now. 

With your arms unwillingly raised above your head, your teary eyes watched Jackson fearfully. Under his still damp clothing, your bare thigh squirmed around. He rubbed his mouth in thought, slowly his metallic tasting lips brushed over yours like a soft breeze. Jackson pressed his lips up to your ear as he breathed in your sweet scent.

“Your daddy didn’t want to cooperate with me baby, now I’m covered in him” Jackson admitted shamelessly, a dark chuckle quickly followed. 

Impulsively, you thrashed underneath him, your restrained hands tried to claw at him but it was hopeless. The wicked smile on Jackson’s crimson lips was sinister as he pinned your wrists onto the mattress. Those baby blue eyes of his were full of darkness. Immediately your lips were wobbling, you could see the honesty as clear as day. 

“You’re lying!” You gasped out in denial, your fragile body being thrown into a wave of shock. 

“Unfortunately I am not, babydoll” Jackson sighed. 

It was fine, Jackson was never going to let you go anyways. But now he was going to miss out on a hefty paycheck. Oh well, you’d be able to make him feel better. You’ve succeeded at it every time so far, Jackson’s sure you’d be more than willing to keep up your efforts. 

Like a baby, you were blubbering underneath him, pleading him for mercy. It always got him painfully hard when you’d beg for your life. As if Jackson would ever dare to kill his favourite girl, no matter how badly you could act out of line. 

He was comforting you, coaching you to take in deep breaths and to clear your mind. As his red hands massaging your scalp, his needy hips humped against yours. After your cries had mellowed into whimpers, he moved his lips closer to yours. 

“Come on, taste him” he encouraged. The smell of bloodshed made you feel sick as your lips were a mere inch apart. 

“Jackson please!” you pleaded hopelessly, the nozzle to the waterworks twisted to full power. 

Menacefully, Jackson shook his head towards you slowly. With wide eyes and a trembling mouth, you mewled to him pathetically. Gently, his lips pressed against yours. 

“No, no… This is all you have left of him baby doll” he stated before deepening the kiss. 

It was human to react in pure disgust. Without forethought of the consequences, you bit onto his lower lip, with a force that pierced into his skin. The horror was the lack of reaction Jackson had initially. A dark laugh echoed up his chest, his lip still caught between your teeth. 

Suddenly, he smacked the side of your head, your latch snapped. Time slowed down momentarily, the ringing in your ears numbed your thoughts. The blood that spilled from his mouth painted polka dots onto your heated face. 

Blinking hard, you jolted underneath him, but Jackson held you down easily as you swore beneath him. “Don't fight me, you’re all worked up from having no control” Jackson spoke calmly, ending with a sigh. But when you didn’t obey his order, his string of patience snapped. “Are you listening to me!” Jackson roared as he backhanded your already stinging cheek. 

You laid stiff below him, like a ragdoll, his perfect babydoll with glistering doe eyes. 

The stinging in your eyes made you feel like they were on fire. The restraints on your wrists will show fresh bruising and cuts in the morning. The blows to your cheek will certainly leave a mark. Jackson huffed at your broken expression and stood on his knees on the mattress. His fingers fiddled to take off his bloodied shirt and undertop. 

“So fucking ungrateful” He hissed as the belt slipped out of the loops of his pants. 

You turned your head to the side as he hovered over you to wiggle out of his pants. When he was completely free of his clothing, he shuffled his lower body up to your face. Stroking his throbbing length over your lips, you dared to look back to him.  

“Go on then, put your mouth to better use. Fuck, you think I really want to hear you whining after what you got me into? I almost died for you. You know how many men I killed tonight!” he bellowed, roughly pressing his tips to your closed lips. 

Guilt struck over you, as if any of this was ever your fault. It was always so easy for him to break you down. Submitting to him, you shuffled up the bed. Looking up to him, your mouth slowly opened. 

“There’s my good girl” Jackson praised cruelly through a groan whilst your tongue swirled over his tip, a whine ran down his shaft.  

His bloody hand massaged your aching cheek whilst you took him in further and further with each bob. Holding onto the top of the bedframe, he crouched over you as he fucked your face thoughtlessly. The sounds of your gags were always music to his ears. 

Pulling his salvia coated cock out, he moved back down to hover over you. Jackson stroked his wet cock with his bloody hand, the moisture lubricated the dry blood and gradually painted his cock red. His hand wrapped around your throat as he tiled your face up. 

“You’re completely mine now, baby doll… No one will get in our way again” Jackson spoke softly as he pressed himself in your all too eager cunt. 

The smile was sinister, the sensation of how wet you were sent his nerves through the roof. You mewled out and scrunched your expression. But Jackson wasn’t taking it anymore. 

“Shut up before I fuck your ass” he threatened harshly, his eyes rolled back dramatically whilst burying his dick inside of you.

You followed his orders and remained silent. Rapidly, Jackson pounded his cock into your pussy. Accompanying that action by kissing you deeply. The stench and taste of him made your stomach curl over. His fingers circled over your clit, you whined out as you felt your body betray you once more.

“There you go” Jackson murmured, a wicked grin on his face as he observed the pleasure rise on your expression. “Remembering who you belong to” he groaned when he felt your velvet walls squeeze him.

Suddenly, his teeth sunk into your upper lip, drawing just as much blood as you did. You cried out, tugging at your restraints but didn’t dare to fight him. Jackson rubbed his face all over yours, making sure that both of your faces were covered in blood, inch by inch. He smiled at your pretty red face, his cock throbbing inside of your clenching walls. 

“Babydoll, did you know that red is the colour of love?” He asked quietly, smiling like a fool in love.

[lostintransist]

Boys' Home - Part 3

AO3

Simon worked the rest of the day with the guys, hauling out as much junk and stripping back walls as much as they could before dark fell. They would be buying a generator and more tools the next time they were in town. The sun had started to dip in the sky. Before Soap and Gaz hopped in the car with Price to head for the hotel for the night he asked them to look into you.

“I’m staying back to observe tonight. I don’t like that a woman that young has four boys.”

Soap put up a hand before Gaz could ask the question clearly in his face.

“You got it. We will bring breakfast for you in the morning. Come on Gaz. Let’s go.”

Soap knew him well enough at this point to know that kids were a hard line for him. He would explain it to Gaz. Simon turned and jogged into the twilight stealing trees and followed the trail to the edge of your yard. He settled in until the darkness left the only light seeping from the windows.

He watched you in the kitchen, windows cracked to let a breeze through the old house.

A boy’s voice followed you around as you shifted and spun around the kitchen, presumably to get dinner ready. The fourth time you ran into the boy you yelled.

“Seth!”

The boy jumped and Simon straightened, ready to get involved. To his surprise, you covered your face with your hands and took three deep breaths. That done you moved your hands to your hips and looked at the boy.

“I am sorry for yelling at you, that wasn’t cool of me. I would love to listen to you but right now I need you out of the kitchen so I can finish getting dinner ready.” Simon is wary of your calm and even tone.

“But why did you have to yell at me?” The boy has tears in his voice.

You let out another breath and glance at the ceiling. “Do you remember how I told you that my parents hit me as a kid?”

“Yeah,” Seth sniffles.

“They also yelled at me. So sometimes when I get overwhelmed my brain does something that it thinks will fix the issue before I can get ahead of it.” You pause looking at the boy. When he nods you continue. “That is sometimes why I ask for space when I am angry because my brain is saying that hitting will make the problem stop but you and I both know that won’t fix it.”

“Right because that is not kind and hitting people makes bigger problems.”

“Correct. Now, can I sit down with you after dinner and listen to you tell me about your Minecraft world?”

“I guess.” Seth sounds dejected even from across the yard.

“Do you want a hug, a wave, or a high five?”

He sighs big, “A hug.”

You pull the boy in instantly, hugging the boy who reaches your shoulder tight. He returns the touch before disappearing further into the house. Simon watches you, narrowed in on the movements he can see from the distance he has.

Pulling your hair tie out of your hair you redo your bun, somehow making it look worse than before. Leaning both hands on the counter you talk to yourself.

“Okay, we only have a few more hours until bedtime. You can do this. You love your children. You will love them more in the morning when everyone has had some sleep.”

Distant plinks have your shoulders drooping in defeat. You turn to face the interior of the house and shout.

“Boys! You clean those marbles up! I told you to stop sending them down the stairs, that can break them!”

A chorus of ‘Sorry Mom’ reaches Simon’s ears. He doesn’t know what to think of you. Every opportunity for compliance via punishment with your children had been met with honesty and empathy. He wanted to walk away now, his skin stretched too tight across his bones.

Simon watched for hours. You bit back more yelling and apologized to more of the children while gently guiding them through their routine. Shower, brush teeth, bed, no you don’t care if you take a tablet to bed they will all turn off at ten, yes even in the summer. When at last the only lights on in the house belonged to the kitchen Simon watched you pour yourself a drink and slid into a chair just beyond the reach of the kitchen light.

You stared into the darkness, eyes sweeping over him again and again. When at last your glass is nearly empty you set it down to the side of your chair. Scrubbing your eyes you talk to yourself again.

“The first week is always the hardest. They will get back into the groove of summer soon. We are going to Costco tomorrow. That will help with their jitters out. We can get a Lego set and the muffins. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Hot dog and a drink for them and then they should pass out on the way home and play outside until dark so I can finish pulling the lathe out of the top room.”

You continued to mutter to yourself as you gather up your glass and head inside. Simon watches you drift through the house by the change of lights on the windows. When you finally settle he decides that must be your room.

Seeing no better option Simon turns the chair you had used to stare into the forest to face the house, settling in to doze for a few hours.

He opens his eyes because a light has turned on in the house. Must be a bathroom light, the small window positioned between the two rooms in use. After the light flicks off your shadow against the darkness traces through the house. After placing a basket on the back step you shut the door and head back to bed without turning on any lights.

Curious Simon lets you settle before he creeps up to the step. He smells it more than three steps away. One of the boys had peed the bed.

The only time he had ever felt this discombobulated before had been when as a boy he had been tossed from a horse. His grandfather’s neighbor had a horse in the field next to the house. No one had told Simon the old mare would rather murder than nurture. She sidled up the rock fence and let him climb on her back before taking off like her ass was on fire.

The wind had been knocked out of Simon and he stumbled home. Thinking about it now he is sure he had a concussion from how hard he hit the ground. He cuts off the train of thought before he has to relive the memory of his father coming to drag him and his mother back. That would be the last time she tried to leave her husband.

🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏🍎🍏

Soap delivered on his promise of breakfast. Gaz brought a change of clothes and a pack of wet wipes. Price only delivered him a shake of the head before heading inside.

“What did you find out?” Simon asks as he wipes the back of his neck. He had already removed his shirt and would be cleaning himself up the best he could before starting another day of tearing out walls.

“She’s got a killer playlist,” Gaz offers.

He and Johnny both look at Kyle.

The man catches their stares.

“What? You said check her out, you can learn a lot about a person from their music choices.” He settled the new tool belt on his hips and continued, “She has all the kids legally, is listed as their legal guardian with the state. Can’t figure out how they ended up with her since none of them have original birth certificates, just delayed ones.”

“House was an inheritance, and she is a teacher at the local school like she said. She teaches science and auto shop.” Johnny adds. “What did you learn last night?”

Something in his stillness must alert them. Both men pause their respective tasks to look at him.

“She doesn’t hit them.”

Kyle and Johnny glance at each other before settling back on him.

“She apologizes when she yells. One of the kids wet the bed in the middle of the night. There was no screaming or hitting, took less than ten minutes to get the kid back to bed, and the laundry settled for later.”

Simon stretched his pecs before stretching his shoulder blades, trying to dislodge the pain between them.

“Huh,” Kyle looked at the ground, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t know that was an option.”

Johnny ran a hand over his mohawk, jaw working back and forth.

“If you grannies are done gossiping there is work to be done in here,” John yelled out from the second floor. He effectively filleted the tension that had risen in each man.

They didn’t pick the conversation up again until Price had taken his turn in the shower at the hotel. Every bit of your life that had been recorded in an accessible way had been poured over. They were looking for what witchcraft made you a better single mother to four boys you didn’t birth than any of the biological parents that beat and ruined the three men who ran from their problems with bullets and tactical vests. They didn’t find the answers they were looking for.

Part 1 | Part 4

Masterlist

[asteroshearts]

My Type

Oh no! Nanami's wife is just Itadori's type!

Or the story of how, upon meeting Nanami's wife, Itadori just can't take his eyes off her.

Nanami x Reader

Tags: this story was referenced here, but can be read completely alone, she/her pronouns, discussions of body types, Itadori's a bit of a pervert here (but he doesn't actually see anything!! Nanami, however, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)), typical anime flashing

Hey Ken: How are you feeling?

You: Like shit My fever got worse after you left

Hey Ken: I'll be home soon. Please take ibuprofen, drink lots of water, and rest as much as you can. I'm finishing up now.

You: I just checked our cabinet We ran out of Bufferin UGHHHH I feel terrible I fucking told Daiki from accounting that he should go home if he was coughing but he said it was fine AND COUGHED IN MY FACE And now look at me

Hey Ken: We're out? I'll pick some up on my way home while I grab our other groceries. Please wait for me until then. Take a nap if you can. You're just going to get more exhausted thinking of the idiots in your office.

You: I looked online, delivery is going to take over an hour I'm getting dizzier I don't want to wait I'm going to go to the Matsukiyo near us to get it myself

Hey Ken: What?

Hey Ken: Don't go. I'll pick it up.

Hey Ken: Darling. Read my messages.

Hey Ken: Pick up the phone.

(10) Missed Calls

Several moments ago…

Itadori already thought that today got off to a weird start.

To begin with, it wasn't Ijichi in the driver's seat to pick him up today, but Nanamin. It also wasn't the Jujutsu Tech standard vehicle, but a nice, sleek, and expensive Porsche.

"W-Woah! Nanamin!" Itadori called then. Eyes wide and bright at the polished paint that glistened in the heavy sunlight. "Nice ride!" he said giddily, running his fingers across the aerodynamic doors. Popping his head up toward Nanami's window, he said, "This must've cost you a fortune!" And he thought that Gojo-sensei spent crazily.

"It was a gift," Nanami flatly said. The boy gaped at him like a fish. But who would just give away a car like this? They had to be really close — or maybe he had saved some rich guy and he thanked Nanamin by giving him a brand new car! The boy's eyes shone. Maybe one day he could get a nice gift like — "Get in." The doors unlocked.

"Hiya, Ijichi-san! Must be nice not driving for once, huh?" While marveling at the car's clean interior, he hopped into the back seat, feeling the leather under his hands and the cool blast of the AC hit his sweaty hair after being in the summer sun.

"Good morning, Itadori-kun," the dark-haired man said with a nervous smile. The car rumbled beneath them as Nanami turned the engine back on. "Nanami-san is surely giving me a nice change of pace — "

"Our duties will not change," Nanami stated, turning the wheel. "Ijichi-san is still required to do his job, as well as you, Itadori-kun. Don't get distracted." The pink-haired boy pouted in the backseat. "It just so happens that I have urgent errands to run after this, so time is of the essence."

Turning into an alleyway, Nanami smoothly hit the brakes and put the car into park. "Let's go."

Luckily for him, the curse was a low-level one mostly used for teaching Itadori the ropes, and the two of them managed to exorcise it in record time. For someone who was just thrust into the world of curses several weeks ago, he was doing well. As well as anyone could in his situation.

The boy was still a bumbling newbie, but he had a good head on his shoulders and was a strong opponent for most curses that they dealt with on a daily basis. Lips twitching into a frown, the blond thought that if Gojo didn't poison the youth's mind, surely Yuji would continue having a nice and mature head on his shoulders.

Nanami had to drop Ijichi off at his next assignment, but other than that, all he needed was to drop Itadori off at the college and then he could return to his sick wife. Paperwork still needed to be done, but luckily he could finish that at a later time. Unfortunately, last night you had a major headache and showed signs of an upcoming sickness this morning.

He had just barely convinced you to not do remote work and just take the day off to rest instead. However, as he checked on his messages with you, he found out that you were insisting on double — no, triple mask to go to the pharmacy yourself. All while you had a 37.5-degree fever.

He tried to call you once, thrice, and all of them were left for voicemail.

Cursing inwardly, Nanami leaned his head back on the headrest. Normally, the blond man was the arbiter of restraint and level-headed thinking, but all of that went out the door at the mere thought of his sickly wife dragging herself out in the street to get some medication. Why did you have to be so stubborn?

"My apologies, Itadori-kun." Nanami pushed up his glasses. "I need to take a detour before I drop you off at your dorm. I apologize for the inconvenience."

The boy blinked owlishly. "Oh that's alri — GH!"

Without another word, Nanami quickly turned left, jolting the teen to the side from the momentum, increasing the speed of his vehicle, and raced down the streets.

Within five minutes, Itadori felt like a dog left in the car as his "owner" raced into the nearest grocery store to grab medication, vegetables, and grains for the upcoming, proverbial storm. Even as the cashier tried their hardest to ignore the intense stare of the tall blond man before them, every second that ticked by as they scanned his purchase felt like hours.

As soon as he nearly threw his money on the tray and took all of the grocery bags under his toned arms, Nanami was off again, shifting into drive and ignoring the speed limit all the way back home.

Nanami could've nearly run into his apartment's chain-link garage doors if it had lifted any slower, allowing him access to his own underground parking before he landed in his designated parking spot within three seconds.

Racing out the car, he took all of the grocery bags over one muscular arm and was prepared to run off until he remembered he had a teen in the backseat.

"Itadori-kun," he said hurriedly. "Can you — " The man stopped himself short.

He originally planned to tell the boy to wait for him in the car, but caught sight of the boy's skin gleaming with sweat, reflecting one of the garage's low lights. Summer was brutal right now, with insane humidity that made Itadori's hair damp as if he had just taken a dunk in water. Even though the parking garage was cooler than it was outside, it was still unbearably hot, not to mention cruel, if he had forced the teen to just sit here and deal with it. Itadori had already waited in the hot car when he went out to grab groceries, and although he rolled the windows down, suddenly Nanami remembered all of the articles of puppies and toddlers dying in the back of cars during the summer.

Sighing, the man pushed his glasses up. "Behave yourself. Come with me."

"Ken?" Eyes wide, you held the door open. Keys were lifted up in the air in the man's hands, but you had beat him to the chase and opened the door before he managed to get the key in the keyhole. "Oh! I didn't know that you were bringing a guest." Stepping back quickly, you realized another person was standing behind your husband. "If I had known, I would've worn a surgeon mask!" Alert, you said. "Hold on, I'll go grab one right now — !"

"No need. We'll make this fast." He was about to take a step forward, but then realized that the student hadn't moved an inch ever since you opened the door. "Itadori-kun?"

As still as a statue, pink slowly rose from the boy's neck all the way up to the tips of his ears. He couldn't rip his gaze from you for even a second. Although your hair wasn't done and your face was covered, he could tell just how beautiful you were.

Furthermore, you looked just like the pin-up models he had in his room — you were just his type! Your little chemise barely ended at the middle of your thigh, and although everything important was covered up, it left little to the imagination with how the fabric hugged your waist and hips. As you held the door open for them and leaned forward, the loose triangle top of your nightgown was teasing him with the exposed curves and valleys of your chest.

You were too hot!

"Itadori-kun," Nanami repeated, irritated.

Way too hot for Nanamin!

"Nanamin! You didn't tell me that you were married!" Eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets, Itadori almost thought they had gotten the wrong apartment when you had just opened the door. While his mentor was an attractive man, it was like a mountain and a molehill to the teenager. Not to mention that this strict and serious ex-salaryman was hitched! To a babe no less!

Certainly, you didn't marry for personality!

He couldn't imagine what your daily life was like while Nanamin talked about doing the bare minimum and never smiled.

Raising an eyebrow, Nanami followed Itadori's stare to your state of dress. You weren't even wearing your indoor slippers, and you were absolutely breathtaking even if you had a dark clay mask over your face. He wasn't an idiot, and he could feel his blood vessels pumping harshly. Trying to remind himself with mantras of how Itadori was just a stupid, hormonal teenager, and you could dress how you wanted, and that he especially couldn't beat up Itadori. Pinching his nose bridge, the man couldn't even look at the boy. "My personal life and my work life are completely separate. I wouldn't anno — !"

"But you don't even wear a wedding ring!" Itadori insisted.

"Why would I wear my rings when my daily job involves fighting and getting messy?" Nanami rhetorically asked, stepping through your door with all the groceries in one go. "Wedding and engagement rings are investments, and I'd be damned if I lose my rings and be forced to inflate the wedding ring industry any more than I already have."

Grinning, you beamed at Itadori. Only you really know how seriously Nanami took the "three month's salary on rings" tradition, especially on his sorcerer's salary. "Now you know, Itadori-kun! If you catch him committing adultery while he's out without his ring, you'll shank him for me, right?" Placing both of your hands on your husband's waist, you laughed when you playfully tried to shake him. Of course, that didn't do much. Your man continued to stand there like a stone statue, as if you tried to rock a brick wall while he remained wholly unamused.

From your weak roughhousing, all that managed to do was drop your spaghetti strap from your shoulder. With your dress threatening to slip, Nanami sighed and quickly stood in front of you, blocking your body from Itadori's gaze. He carefully and slowly pulled your shoulder strap back up your body before you managed to flash the poor teen. When you looked up, his brown eyes met with yours.

Gently rubbing your bare shoulder with his large hand, he asked, "I thought you said you were going to Matsukiyo?"

"I was," you rasped out, voice raw from all the coughing you did. "But then I took one step outside and it was too damn hot." Laughing weakly, you said, "I slunk back like a vampire the second the humidity hit me."

The man sighed deeply, and his shoulders dropped in relief and exhaustion. While he ran around like a chicken with its head cut off from worry, he was glad that you ended up not going out after all.

"Why didn't you pick up my calls?" he said deeply, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.

"I was making okayu with kombu," you explained. "Sorry," you said genuinely, "that's all I managed to make for our dinner today."

"I'm upset that you cooked in the first place," Nanami scolded. "You should be resting. I said I'd take care of it. Why were you in the kitchen when the hot fumes could make your fever even worse?" Turning away from his nagging, you pouted.

"I'm hungry though…" you mumbled, far too much like a spoiled child, and Nanami was sure, in some way, that you were spoiled, of his making too. He always prioritized you and let you have your way. "And I already ate the miyeok guk you made."

"You could've ordered delivery," the man countered.

"Nothing interested me there."

Inhaling deeply once more, Nanami tried to calm the upcoming headache he felt. There was no point in arguing with you, not when you were coughing and sick like this. "Stay here. I'm going to whip up a bowl of okayu to have with your medicine," the man ordered before he picked up a blanket you had draped over one of your couches and wrapped you in it like a burrito. When you opened your mouth, your husband only sternly repeated, "Stay."

Playfully rolling your eyes when he left to go to the kitchen, you puffed out your cheeks in mock irritation. Closing the door to your apartment so the AC couldn't escape anymore, you turned to the teen who was standing awkwardly in your home.

"Aw I'm sorry," you said, voice sounding like sandpaper again. "You know, Kento's kinda strict, but I assure you he's a good man," you said gently. "Thank you so much for taking care of him."

"M-Me?" Itadori sputtered. "I'm not the one taking care of him! He takes care of me! Um…" The boy grew demure when he realized he had no way to address you.

"Oh," you realized you didn't introduce yourself. "I apologize! I totally forgot! I know you since Ken talks about you and Ino all the time, but I didn't realize you didn't know me!"

Itadori gasped. "He talks about me?!"

"Of course! All good things!" you assured. "Even though Kento seems like a meanie, he's a genuine person and wouldn't exaggerate, so he wouldn't praise you unless he absolutely meant it." You knew that this was the teen that hosted Sukuna, the King of Curses. It was a heavy burden for someone who wasn't even an adult yet, and your heart grew heavy at the thought of this boy's fate.

"Before I forget…" Quickly, you ran to your bathroom and cleaned off your clay face mask before you returned with your bare face wet and a cloth Pompompurin headband keeping your hair out of the way. "I need to introduce myself."

Now Itadori was sure that you two were married with the way you introduced yourself nearly identically to your husband. With your back straight and shoulders squared, hands flat, and arms straight at your side, you closed your eyes and bowed.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Itadori-kun." You acquired your business card out of thin air and held it out for the boy. "My name is Nanami [Name], and I'm a senior project manager at Yurukawa Corp. If you or your friends ever get tired of exorcising curses and want to look into engineering, you can ask me!"

Huh?

It was too silent.

When you rose and looked up, you realized that your husband had suddenly materialized out of nowhere. Standing in between you and Itadori, your husband's stern expression could freeze hell over as he stared down at Itadori with a frown, arm outstretched and his hand held up — right where Itadori's eyes would've seen your cleavage when you bent over to bow.

"Itadori-kun."

"Y-Yes!"

"We are going. Now."

The car was completely silent the entire way to the dorm rooms. Quickly shifting the car into park, Itadori jumped at the sudden stop.

No one said a word. The entire ride felt like the air was heavy enough to drown in.

"Itadori-kun." Nanami's eyes were hidden by the reflection in his glasses.

"…Yes?" the boy squeaked out, pressing his index fingers together.

"Never ogle my wife again."

[stuckinthesun]

༝༚༝༚ Tic-Tac-Toe ༝༚༝༚ — Part Two

Part One

Black suit mod!Leon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: nsfw mdni, drunk sex, p in v, semi-public sex, pet names, riding, spanking, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (please wrap it jfc)

wc: 2.8k

Ashley got dragged away from you again by another group of people just dying to know about her experience. You honestly felt bad for your friend and you would’ve stayed with her, but with how much you’ve drank you couldn’t trust your mouth right now.

So instead you decided to get some air.

The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped out of the banquet hall, instantly making your head feel clearer.

Well, almost clear.

It seemed no matter how many glasses of champagne you drank, you couldn’t get Leon out of your head. How good he looked in that dark suit, the sound of his laugh, the feeling of his fingers trailing up your thigh.

God, you’re blushing just thinking about it!

Subconsciously you look down at your leg, at the unfinished game of tic-tac-toe still marking your skin. The one X he left on you stands out against all your markings, and you brush your fingers over it.

“Hey, there you are.” A deep voice startled you, making you jump and turn around.

Leon stood there with an easy smile and a half-empty glass of champagne. He looked the same as before, except his tie was loose and his cheeks were tinted pink with alcohol.

So sexy and disheveled, great.

You blink at him for a second as his words sink in, “Were you looking for me?”

The pink on his face deepens, “Well, I wanted to know if you were up for finishing our game of tic-tac-toe. Would hate to leave it unfinished on your leg.”

You look down at your leg again before smiling at him, “Well I hope you brought a pen because I left mine back inside.”

“I have one in my car,” He shrugs, looking out into the parking lot of the hall toward where you assume his car is.

“Mr. Kennedy,” You say dramatically, pretending to be scandalized, “Are you inviting me to your car? Alone? In the middle of a party while we’re both intoxicated?”

Leon lets out a surprised chuckle and you notice the color on his face deepen more, “You’re making it sound like high school.”

That makes you laugh before you shake your head and smile, “Alright well, as long as you don’t plan on driving, then I’d love to join you in your car for some leg tic-tac-toe.”

“I promise I won’t be driving,” Leon smiled back at you before nodding his head in the direction of his car.

“I’m surprised you were able to escape the vultures inside.” You joked as the both of you snuck away toward Leon’s car drunkenly.

The blonde smirked, “I’m damn good at my job, Miss. If I couldn’t escape a bunch of drunk old men, then I wouldn’t have been able to save your friend.”

“I guess you have a point,” You hum, noticing the nice car you’re approaching.

Leon pulls out a set of keys from his dress pants before unlocking the vehicle. Stepping up to the sleek black car, he opens the passenger door for you.

“Thank you,” You blushed slightly before slipping inside, and you made sure your dress was completely in the car before Leon carefully closed the door.

You looked around the interior of the car as Leon jogged around to the driver's side, it was fairly clean. So clean in fact, it made you wonder just how often Leon was away on those scary missions like the one to save your best friend.

The car door slamming shut brings you back to the moment and you look up to see Leon placing his champagne glass in the cup holder, “Oh my god, did you steal that?”

“No? I’ll probably take it back,” He shrugged, opening up the middle console and pulling out a pen, “Besides we know the President, it’ll be fine.”

“This is true,” You nod and shimmy yourself in your seat so you can once again prop your legs up in his lap. The stretch across the console was uncomfortable but you would make it work, “Alright Kennedy, enough chitchat. It’s game time.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re competitive?” Leon raised an eyebrow as he popped the cap off the pen and grabbed your leg.

The awkward angle made it difficult for him to see the game of tic-tac-toe, so you tried to shift yourself again, “I’ve always been competitive, you just didn’t see it before because we were so rudely interrup- huh?!”

You were cut off mid-sentence by Leon, apparently frustrated with the angle of your legs, leaning forward to wrap an arm around your waist, the other around your leg, and pull you to straddle his lap.

“That’s better,” Leon hummed, quickly marking your skin with another X before looking up at you with a smirk, “Your turn.”

You stare at him, completely caught off guard by his actions. He just continues to smirk at you, pushing the pen into your hand as he indicates toward the game of X’s and O’s.

A blush heats your skin as you feel his hands on your thighs, his fingers once again tangling in your tights and making your breath hitch.

“This okay?” Leon asked, voice teasing but you could tell the question was genuine. If you said you were uncomfortable and wanted to get off, you truly believe he would let you without a second thought.

This thought brings you reassurance for some reason and you smirk back at him, “Course, just need to get comfortable.”

Leon doesn’t get to reply before you’re sitting up a little, and pulling the skirt of your dress out from under you. Honestly, it had been uncomfortable, the fabric pulling tightly against your skin since Leon hadn’t bothered to adjust it before moving you. Now the skirt of your dress pools around your waist, and your warm center sits on his lap only covered by your panties and some string.

His grip on your thighs tightens, making his fingers tug at your tights and tearing them ever so slightly. Your smirk just deepens, “That’s better.”

Finally, you take your turn drawing an O right below his, successfully cutting him off. You hand the pen back to him with a triumphant smile.

“Don’t get too excited,” Leon says, quickly drawing an X across from his previous one.

“Why not? I’m obviously going to win.” You quickly take back the pen and make your move.

“Oh you think so, do you?” Leon’s marking your skin again, the drag of the pen almost hurts.

“Yeah, I do!” You cry out as you draw a messy O and look up at Leon who’s already looking at you with something close to wonder.

Then suddenly, he’s kissing you.

Leon’s hands grab the sides of your face and tug you closer, smashing your lips together. You kiss back without a second thought, dropping the pen in your hand to run your fingers through his hair, pulling him into you.

The kiss is desperate, it’s exactly how both of you have felt since the first time you met inside the banquet hall. His tongue runs along your bottom lip and you're quick to give him access, opening your mouth and moaning at the feeling of his tongue against yours.

Leon’s hands slide along your body, feeling every curve of your smooth skin. Your hands slide down his shoulders, pulling his suit jacket with you. Understanding, Leon sits up without breaking the kiss and quickly shrugs out of his coat.

Flinging the article of clothing to the back of the car, Leon leans back into his seat. His hands glide up your back, following along the teeth of the zipper until he finds the handle.

You feel him start to pull on the small piece of metal, exposing your upper back, before he pulls away from the kiss, “Is this okay?”

It’s the same question he asked before, except the teasing tone is replaced by a breathy grunt. Your answer is the same as before too, just instead of answering verbally, you nod frantically as you tug his tie off from around his neck.

You throw the piece of silk into the passenger seat as Leon finishes unzipping your dress, letting it hang loosely off your shoulders as he kisses your neck. A soft sigh passes between your lips and you tilt your head to the side to give him better access.

“Oh fuck,” You moan, rolling your hips down against his and feeling his bulge pressing against your barely concealed center.

“Fuck baby,” Leon groans, his head thumping back against the headrest, “Don’t roll your hips like that till I’m inside you.”

“Then hurry,” You whine, reaching between the two of you to start undoing his belt. The straps of your dress slip from your shoulders as you do so, exposing your bra to Leon.

As you make quick work of pulling the leather strap from the metal buckle, you feel his large hand cup your breast. You whine again and push your chest out so he can get a better feel, and you can’t help but close your eyes when he squeezes.

“God you’re really beautiful,” Leon whispers, leaning forward to press open-mouth kisses against your collarbone as you finally pull his belt free from his dress pants, “I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you. When I first brought Ashley back.”

That has you pausing. You open your eyes and lean away from him furrowing your eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yeah.” Leon nodded, looking at you with lust-filled eyes, “I didn’t say anything for obvious reasons.”

“You didn’t even know my name earlier,” You pointed out, frowning even more.

“Like I said before, you never told me your name!”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you ask anyone or I don’t know get your spy people to look it up?”

“First off, I’m not a spy.” Leon said chuckling and you just rolled your eyes, “And second, I wanted you to tell me your name.”

Your eyes widen as your chest fills with a sudden warmth. A line like that shouldn’t be all that romantic, and yet for some reason you’re blushing.

Throwing the belt next to the tie in the passenger seat, you grab the collar of Leon’s shirt and pull him into a kiss. It’s messy and heated, much like the first one, but it doesn’t last as long. You quickly pull back, leaning away from the agent as he tries to chase you for another one, and beg, “Please fuck me.”

Leon stops in his attempt at trying to capture your lips again and smirks, “I will, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

Suddenly your dress is over your head and being thrown into the back of the car. You shiver a little, at both the air on your skin and the feeling of being exposed, before you pull his vest off.

His hands glide along your thighs as he kisses your neck and collarbone, stopping at your ass and squeezing. You moan, unbuttoning his pants and untucking his dress shirt.

You feel his fingers lace in between the wide gaps in your tights, and you barely have a second to realize what he’s going to do before he pulls. A loud ripping sound fills the car as you feel Leon rip the crotch of your fishnets wide open.

“Been thinking about doing that all night.” Leon hums, pushing your panties to the side through the gap he made, exposing your dripping pussy.

You gasp, rolling your hips to push back against his hand and you feel him slip his middle finger inside of you, making you cry out, “Already so wet and I hadn’t even touched you yet.”

“Please Leon,” You beg, rocking back against the digit inside of you.

“Need to get out of these pants first.” Leon mumbles, bucking his hips up as if to remind you that his cock is still tucked inside his pants.

You nod, leaning your forehead against his as you look down and begin unbuttoning his slacks. His finger inside of you begins to thrust, curling up just right and rubbing against your G-spot. You let out a long moan, your fingers stuttering against his zipper, causing Leon to hiss and thrust up.

“Come on honey, pull me out so I can get inside this pussy.” Leon says, pushing another finger inside of you and making you see stars.

Quickly you pull Leon’s cock from his dress pants, him lifting his hips slightly so you can pull both the slacks and his underwear down his thighs a little. Once he was finally free from the restraints of his pants, you spit in your palm before wrapping it around his shaft and pumping.

Leon let out a surprised groan, his grip on your ass tightening and his fingers inside of you suddenly reaching deeper, “S-shit baby. Won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

“Then fucking fuck me,” You huff breathlessly, impatient and so turned on.

A loud smack sound rings out, followed by a burning pain on your right asscheek that makes you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Leon spanked you. Leon just fucking spanked you and you moaned.

Leon looks at you with amusement, “You’re the one who wrapped your hand around my dick instead of your cunt.”

“I can’t exactly get your dick inside me with your fingers in the way,” You glare at him, squeezing the base of his cock just to see his face pinch in pleasure.

“Fine,” Leon grits, removing his fingers from inside you and pulling your hips to align better with his. Your hand fell away from his cock and you quickly gripped the back of the seat as Leon pushed himself inside of you without warning.

Both of you cried out, you louder than him, as he bottomed out, seating himself fully inside of you. Neither of you moved, you trying to adjust to the size of him, and him trying not to cum instantly at the feeling of your warm, wet cunt wrapped so tightly around him.

“There, that better?” Leon asked after a moment of silence and all you could do was nod. You felt his hands on your thighs again, rubbing up and down, every once in a while pulling at the fishnets and letting them snap back against your skin, “Yeah? Then why don’t you try moving those hips for me like you did earlier.”

Slowly you begin to roll your hips around his cock buried inside of you. Leon’s hands instantly stop to rest on the juncture between your hips and thighs, fingers squeezing into the meat of your skin and encouraging your movements, “Fuck there you go, good girl.”

The stimulation and the praise make you moan and ride him faster, your hands move to grip his shoulders as you begin bouncing a little. Leon curses and thrusts up into you, somehow reaching deeper and pushing against your cervix.

“Holy shit,” You moan when Leon pushes a hand between you and begins rubbing your clit, his other hand cupping the back of your head as he presses kisses to your jaw, “Leon, I’m gonna- fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum baby, cum on my cock. Show me how good I make you feel.” Leon groans against your skin, his fingers moving faster against your clit and his hips thrusting up harder.

With a shout of the agent's name, you came, hard, your body tightening up and shaking from the amount of pleasure you felt. Leon fucked you through it, trying not to cum until he could pull out, but the feeling of your walls clamping around him was too much and he was tipping over the edge right with you.

You felt Leon’s hot cum spill inside of you, filling you up and causing another wave of pleasure to shoot through your body. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer and the two of you sat there together as you came down from your highs.

After a moment you pull away from the embrace and look at the man beneath you. Leon’s blue eyes were hazy as he stared at you and puckered his lips, asking for a kiss. You giggled and gave him one, hand sliding up his neck and cupping his cheeks.

“I have a hotel not too far from here if you want to get cleaned up,” Leon mumbled into the kiss.

You smirked, “You have an entire hotel? What exactly do they pay you?”

“I have a hotel room, smart ass.” Leon huffed, rolling his eyes and pulling away from you.

A chuckle escapes you, “Yeah I’ll go to your hotel room with you, on one condition.”

“Oh?” Leon raises an eyebrow, his hands resting on your thighs, “And what’s that?”

“We actually finish this game of tic-tac-toe.”

Taglist : @cassiecasluciluce @ymrai @admirxation @chessysourcandy @cinnamonminni @uriynne @rottenrosethorns

I did it guys I finally finished it!!! Hope it was worth the wait😭

[muntitled]

Eunseok's Restraint

Bodyguard!Eunseok x Fem!Reader

Summary: Seducing the man hired to protect and serve

Warnings: Language, Violence, Organized Crime, Smut +18 (Minors DNI)

A/N: Do not read this it's not good. I just needed him out of my head

A door slamming shut in the distant driveway underneath your window rouses you from a disturbing dream. A dream you're all too happy waking up from. This had been odd because you had never stayed up past the tenth hour and as a result, have never had a sleepover with any of your past adolescent friends.

You fell asleep when your father conducted his shady goings on like a good little girl because that is what was expected of you. And if there was but one thing that you knew, it is how to be good.

As of recently, however, your usual, robotic if not, blind obedience was thawing slowly and it only takes one single solitary evening for that clean pure streak to become poisoned with an inky blackness.

But something in you was screaming with molten excitement because he was back…

"Just one peek," You're not entirely sure who you're trying to reassure. You certainly had no friends and you couldn't have been talking to any of your stuffed animals, you had put them to bed long ago.

You ought to be in bed yourself- but your mindless feet drag you out of bed. You're aware enough to slot them into the pink, fuzzy slippers but that is where your sensibility stops. You trot across the carpet, as silent as a lamb, stepping into the sliver of moonlight shining in through the window.

The window.

It was an ancient, ghastly thing, much like the rest of your home. Your room was the only architectural exception with its pastel interiors and soft finishes. The rest of the ostentatious manor belonged solely to your father. Ivy clung to the building like a sickness, crawling up the foundations of your window. It is against those windows where you now sit perched like a bird, watching the beasts that prowled down below. You watch with bated breath as those neatly arranged cars snake down the gravel pathway, circling around the fountain and stopping at the myriad steps. You're not too hidden and perhaps you should be, but every sliver of rationality left, disappears as soon as he uncovers himself from within the jet black luxury car.

It all happens in slow motion, really. Your breathing stammers with unfamiliar lust, steaming up the pane as you watch Eunseok, one of your father's fiercely loyal workers, readjust the lapels of his dark blue suit. He looks impeccably dressed, actually, along with that stone cold visage that only adds to his ‘brooding, emotionless bodyguard, exterior. He's so finely dressed, in fact, that you suspect it had been terrifyingly easy to blend in with the normal working class in his outfit. Absolutely nothing about his countenance alluded to all the blood he'd voluntarily spilled for your father and that's the problem.

At least Sungchan beside him had the decency of appearing like the common criminal he was. Something in his pitch-black suit and that garish display of jewellery pieces just screams 'illegal activity.’

Not Eunseok though.

As if feeling somehow that he was being watched, Eunseok’s eyes flit to the highest level of the piss-rich manor as if compelled by some other worldly force. You suppose this is why your dad had hired him. His senses had to have been immaculate to catch you watching him from up high.

His eyes however, do not react as he watches you watching him from up there, your night gown clinging to your shoulder by a single silk thread and sheer fucking will. A low whistle rips through Sungchan’s mouth and just like that, the spell is broken.

"Quit it," Eunseok says, breaking eye contact to stare straight ahead at the manor instead. "Quit thinking about fucking his daughter."

Eunseok could feel Sungchan's eye roll as he whined "Since when did you become so fucking boring?"

"Since our entire lives depended on completing a job without our dicks getting in the way." Eunseok locks the car door with the tinted windows before continuing towards the manor, Sungchan walks in stride.

It is only when the men disappear inside the building when you realise you were straining your neck immeasurably, just to catch one fleeting glance.

You're never usually so easily coaxed out of the confines of your quarters but this is an exception. The corridor is dark and deserted when you creep out, your fuzzy slippers muted along the floor. The end of the corridor opens to a mezzanine flooded with a rectangle of golden artificial light and you quicken your steps. Your stomach already set alight with the inevitability of seeing him again. And him seeing you.

"I hope he didn't give you too much trouble," the voices in the downstairs living room travel towards you while you're still clinging to the darkness of the corridor like the ivy outside. You’re smart enough to cling to the mahogany bars of the mezzanine, overlooking the scene below like a hopeless voyeur.

Even now you could tell you'd probably get eaten alive if you were to get caught. Such talk of unsavoury business is no place for any dignified lady. All machismo and grit rising from the stems of celebratory whiskey glasses. You creep closer.

"No trouble at all," Eunseok speaks up but Sungchan is quick to interrupt, "-Although there was just a disgustingly wayward spray of blood that I rather not have had to deal with. I've got blood on my cufflinks and It's just not-"

"He's joking, Sir... of course" Eunseok adds with a quickness, causing you to slap a hand over your mouth to stop you from laughing involuntarily. It is that one movement that illuminates your frame right in Eunseok's line of vision. He watches you from above your father's head as you skulk, quite effectively in the shadows. His eye sparkles in the knowledge that he had made you laugh and your presence alone, albeit unseen, charges the room with something new.

Your father remains quiet for one suspicious moment before murmuring a low yet audible, "Of course," before veering off on his very own tangent.

From atop the mezzanine, you could see every part of the man in your father had hired to protect you. And he was damn good at his job if he was able to spot you so embarrassingly quickly.

None of the other men in the room had any inclination of your presence and that only fuelled your hunger and your confidence. A dangerous combination for a woman indeed. Your hand is already dipping between your legs the second conversation resumes. The shadows are a thin and inconsolable veil but a veil nonetheless. No one that wasn't looking for you would ever see you. Sungchan was engaged in a mind-numbing conversation with your father and as luck would have it, Eunseok seemed to have been the only soul keeping an eye out. So you decide to put on a show.

His breath quite literally hitches in the back of his throat when you lift the hem of your nightgown, up. Ever so slowly lending a patch of skin to the chandelier's warm glow. He watches your hands disappear under your pink cotton shorts with wretched anticipation. His swallows thickly, attempting to nod along to what your father was saying especially because a part of him knew the risk that came with entertaining your disobedience.

The threat of getting shot in the head for ogling his boss's kid, whom he swore to protect, doesn't seem all that daunting as Eunseok let's his gaze drift once again to the balcony above.

Eunseok only catches what the light allows and that's significantly less than what he wants, what he deserves. Your cotton panties are a fleeting, quick sight and he fights the groan off honourably, that wishes to slither through.

"I hope his exit was not too cruel, the old dog." Eunseok does not initially register your father's words, his eyes are piercing into your visage, watching every flit of emotion as you rub yourself through the fabric of your panties. He's bursting with the need to help you, to pull you against him and show you how it should be done. He needs you so bad.

"He did not suffer in his final moments?” Your father asks, stealing Eunseok's gaze from you once again. “I'm sure his wife will be glad to hear this."

Eunseok veers his eye from off of your frame, blinking as if reminding himself of the other people present. "We used the silencer.” Eunseok replies robotically.

Sungchan laughs knowingly from beside him. "-like a virgin in church-OOMPH!" Sungchan could not save his ribs from Eunseok's elbow in time.

As quick as the lighting, your back is once again plastered to the corridor away from the light and any prying eyes. You didn't need to use your eyes to know Eunseok had socked Sungchan in the ribs and you nearly laughed once again. "Jesus Christ, it was only a little metaphor!" Sungchan grumbles.

Your father is quick to excuse their antics for the blatant waste of his precious time that it was. He waves a hand dismissively as he says, "Your work is highly revered and will not go unrewarded, gentlemen. For now, you may retire to the west wing for the evening. We are expecting a storm, driving through the countryside is far more treacherous under these conditions." Your heart accelerates with your father's announcement and you feebly peek from around the concrete corner. Eunseok is already looking at you, and what you find in his eyes strips you of your confidence. His eyes are locked within a promise, drowning in the surety that something, beyond the tempest, was definitely a foot. "We appreciate the hospitality sir," Tan mutters under his breath as he watches you sink into the shadows once more.

When you make it back into your room, you leave the door ajar.

If, by some miracle invoked by an ancient power, you had gotten Sungchan to divulge even the tiniest of details about his partner, he'd tell you that, quiet as he may appear, Eunseok was a fucking whore and that it is of paramount importance that you not pursue him in the slightest. Still, it sets your heart aflame when your bedroom door creaks wider only an hour later and your arms grip the stuffy impossibly tighter.

You're tucked away in bed when you hear a voice speak up behind you, "You should be asleep," His words seem to pierce and excite you. A torrid combination as you peer aimlessly ahead. Your mattress feels weightless beneath you, and every particle in the air only seems to be so completely electrified.

It was interesting that he had maintained such a respectable distance. Everything you knew about the man your father had hired was limited but one thing that remained undeniable was Eunseok's restraint. He was restraining himself quite well.

You sit up to face him, your head haloed by your pillows and stuffed animals like a princess. Eunseok's cock all but twitches at the sight of you. Eunseok hates to admit that he had been nursing a boner ever since your little show on the mezzanine and it made his blood boil. He hated to feel 13 again, with no restraint on his hormonal adolescent hormones.

Even now, under the darkness of your room, shrouded in nothing but moonlight, Eunseok sees everything.

Your nightgown has shifted over the course of your tossing and turning and a nipple peeks out from the gown. His voice is gruff as he whispers, "Spread your legs for me. Spread them like you did before." His cock rages against his pyjama bottoms, begging to see the action he had commanded of you.

"All I could do is scream,” you say instead, always preferring to piss him off even in your most fire moments, “and my father would have a bullet through your skull the very second anyone laid their eyes on you,"

"I'm well aware of that, yes," His voice is laced with monotony and he looks completely inviting as he slams his head back against the wall adjacent to your bed. His lips quirks up ever so slightly as his hand lazily rubs over his hard and aching bulge. "Do you know what else I'm aware of, Dove?"

"What?"

"If you truly wanted me dead, I'd be a heap of blood on guts on this pretty little floor already.” He whispers once again, “Pull the sheets down and open your fucking legs."

His command triggers the obedience lodged in the confines of your brain like a switch. You shift and glide over the soft covers as you watch him across from you. Despite the warmth in your cheeks, you humph and open your legs tentatively for him, the cold air crawling up your heated thighs.

"Good,” he says, “Very good," delirium was fueling his every breath and it only causes the throbbing in between your legs to intensify. You whimper unintentionally but the sound causes his eye to snap up to you.

"Do you need instructions, Dove?”

The most you can manage is a broken, pathetic whimper once more as your hand slides over the swell of your breast to tweak your exposed nipple. A rush slams through your body causing you to clamp your legs shut, much to Eunseok's chagrin. He's so desperate to watch you fuck yourself, so undeniably desperate to just fucking cum and you're still making it completely difficult.

Eunseok's cold eyes snap away from your breast up to your face and you freeze in the snow storm of his glare, “You're not stupid, are you? Listening shouldn't be this fucking difficult-" Eunseok is quick to restrain his frustrations once more, when he notices the slight tension in your shoulders and your wide sad eyes in the wake of his degradation.

"I'm…” Eunseok sighs loudly “Sorry," he says so painfully, monotonously it almost makes you smile. Abandoning his post against the wall, Eunseok trudges to the foot of the bed. A war wages within his emotions and you see it in his face, but the right side (or wrong side) wins as he lowers himself at your feet.

A rough calloused hand finds your soft, supple skin, electing a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It's almost magnetic, the way his large hand travels up and down your leg. "I just need you to do something for me. Can you manage that, Dove?" You nod meekly, and the sight of it only makes Eunseok's cock ache even more.

He hadn't thought it possible to want something this bad, to want to feel anyone this bad. Whenever his need arose, he fucked whomever he wanted to at that very moment, but you had introduced a new set of rules. It seemed sacrilegious to pounce on you like he had done with so many other girls. You seemed so incredibly fragile. So breakable.

"Open these legs for me,” he wiggles your toe causing you to let out a quiet giggle, “Just a little? It'd make me so, so fucking happy. " He presses a soft kiss to your steepled knee and the brush of his soft lips on your skin causes a small moan out of you. The bed dips and the covers shift as you move your feet to accommodate your opening legs. "So good, you're doing so good for me, Sweetheart,"

He shifts in unprecedented anticipation and soon, both his hands find your knees to help coax you open. He breathes in deeply at the sight of your drenched cotton panties. "I'm going to help you just a little. Is that alright?"

"I'd really like that." Your voice is high pitched and small, drenched with the thickness of being caught in the height of subspace and all Eunseok can do is marvel at it all.

"Of course, baby," He delivers soft, ticklish kisses along your thigh as his hands hook into the sides of your underwear and he drags them slowly down, against his animalistic and torrid will. "You're so fucking gorgeous." He melts against your legs and his reaction elicits a wave of butterflies.

"You're so fucking perfect, 'know that?" He asks, still spraying kisses over your leg as he discards your panties into the pockets of his pyjama pants. "But you need to do something else for me alright? I need you to-" Eunseok inhales sharply instead of finishing his sentence.

Your hands had operated with a mind of their own, one hand parting your swollen lips while the other rubs lightly over along your clit. Your head is thrown back at the overwhelming rush of ecstasy that flows through your body and you're only spurred by his heated gaze.

"You're not such an innocent little girl, are you?" His thick vibrato sets your skin alight with need and you moan rather loudly into the night air. "Say it," Eunseok taunts. "Say 'yes daddy, I've always been a little slut for you,'” he was testing you.

Your legs cramp with grating tension and your other hand finds your nipple once more. Your gaze is firmly locked on Eunseok who watches you while seated at the foot of your bed with absolute focus.

"Say it!" He barks and the words slowly mesh out of you like a spewing waterfall.

"I've always been…” you squeeze your eyes shut, letting an unprecedented wave of shame intermix with your arousal, “I've always been a slut."

“For who?” Eunseok's voice is sharp.

“For you.” Your voice is quivering.

“For me who?”

“You, Daddy-”

Eunseok’s restraint drains so completely he wonders of it had even really been there as he grips your ankle and violently pulls you underneath him.

"My good little slut,” he whispers as he makes quick work to replace your flimsy hand on your breast with his strong one. Your backarches as Eunseok hovers above you, as if unconsciously giving your entire body to him. “My little fucking whore. Does that feel good baby?”

All you're able to do is nod with your eyes squeezed shut as Eunseok's hands, which are much more experienced and much more reassuring, tweak your nipples in a way that actually has you gasping into the air.

Through the haze of your delirium, you stop his movements. You guide his hand downwards, to wear he’s needed most.

Once Eunseok's cold calloused fingers make contact with your weeping cunt you immediately detach your hand from his, urging him to make magic out of you.

Your hands could never accomplish what he can and you're immediately shot into hyperspace once Eunseok gets the message and begins to rub your cunt at snail's pace.

,”You're so good you know that?” He flies his gaze from his hand in between your legs to your blissed out face and he plants a kiss to the side of your head as if trying to distract you from his fingers sliding into your cunt.

“Fuck, you know you're making Daddy need you, right? He needs you really badly,” His praise is god and it's all that guides you to your inevitable orgasm. Eunseok's lips against your ear while his index and middle finger fuck you open has you fighting the urge to scream into the night air.

“Your fingers couldn't make you feel good like Daddy's can-” it wasn't a question, you don't think. Thinking proves to be exceedingly difficult as you lift your hips to meet his thrusts while his thumb plays with your clit. All this control from one hand is so fucking impressive to you. Watching him strum you like an instrument as if he were in charge of your entire body has you nearing your edge quicker and quicker.

Eunseok begins to rub furiously at your pussy and you fight to keep your eyes on him. In his billowy shirt and sporting an impressive bulge-his eyes wide and showering you with all the attention, it proves to be far too much."C-Can I-"

"Cum for me, Dove. Cum all over my fingers, baby." And your orgasm is quite literally ripped out of the skies. Your legs quake and your voice quivers as you are flung over the edge. His reassuring murmurs and soft affirmations guide you through it all.You slump against your pillows, basking in the afterglow as you watch the millions of thoughts swim through Eunseok's head.

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (03/10)

The Complicity

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: the time has finally come and you together with Aemond pretend the relationship taking into account the aspects of the previous contract.

word count: 7.1k

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God, I had so much fun writing this and absolutely loved it. hope you enjoy it too, I loved it and will look forward to your opinions. there is still much more to come, so look forward for it🤭

thank you for reading and enjoy!❤

It takes no time at all to see Aemond's car pull up in front of your house.

Pursing your lips and you already feel the nerves tensing your body. You adjust the strap of your backpack on your shoulder and say goodbye to your father, then leave your house and head towards the car.

Aemond has already rolled down the passenger seat window and keeps a small grin on his lips as he watches you, but you deliberately ignore him and especially that grin on his face.

But what you don't ignore is his car. It's too modern and expensive, exactly what you would expect from him. Besides it's his style, black and extremely clean. And when you get in and settle into the seat, the interior smells like him, rich, masculine and nice.

"Hey," you say to him, as you close the door and fasten your seat belt.

"Hey," he returns your greeting, watching you intently, "How are you?"

You frown, slightly confused by his question.

"I'm good," you say nonchalantly, "You?"

"All good, yes," he nods, letting his hand rest on the steering wheel. Then he watches you carefully, now with some hesitation, "Are you ready?"

"Hmm... yeah, I guess," you reply, nervous and hesitant, trying to appear normal, as you absently place your backpack on your lap, "Just..." you watch him pleadingly, reminding him, "When you're going to do something, you know... in front of everyone, let me know."

He puts back his soft smile, starting the car.

"Yes, ma'am."

The car starts up, an awkward silence developing in the air, where at first you both look for something to say to break the silence, but eventually you become immersed in your own thoughts.

And you at all times try to control your nerves and prepare yourself more mentally for everything that is coming today... and also for the next almost five months.

The music on the radio eases that slight tension between the two of you but when you least expect it, Aemond arrives and parks in the school parking lot, which is flooding with students.

"Thanks for the ride," you say, unbuckling your belt and he gives you a soft look.

"It's nothing, don't worry," he replies calmly.

You exhale deeply, peering through the windows of his car at the students outside, immersed in their groups of friends or their own worlds. But you know that soon enough all the attention will fall on you and him, so you continue to fight it, the nerves.

"So..." you return your gaze to him, attentive, "What exactly are we going to do now?"

"We just have to walk to the building together," he points to you as if it's the simplest thing in the world, which it is, but now you're both a 'couple', "We'll hold hands, I can walk you to your locker, we'll play a little, and then we'll head to our classes. Nothing more."

As simple as it sounds in his words, the prospect of performing as a couple in public makes you feel a mixture of nerves and anxiety. But you don't really have a choice so you just nod and go back to watching everyone out there one last time.

When you suddenly feel his warm hand place on top of yours, an unexpected gesture that surprises you and makes you focus on him again.

"Hey, I'm with you, okay?" he says softly, "You're not alone. And I promise you that everything will be fine, nothing bad is going to happen," he assures you, "You just need to relax, let yourself go and follow my lead. That way it will be easier, I assure you."

He tells you as his gaze conveys a sense of trust and understanding, wanting to reassure you in the midst of your nerves, reassuring you that everything will be okay, supporting you.

And even though you still feel a little nervous, with the assurance he conveys in every thing he says and every gesture, you decide to trust his words, managing to comfort you just enough.

Then he gives you a few more seconds, understanding that you should feel completely calm and finally you put the strap of your backpack on your shoulder, deciding that you want to get started and also get this over with once and for all.

"Ready?" he asks you with his reassuring look.

You nod, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

"Yeah, I'm good."

He nods too and finally you both get out of the car. And as soon as the two of you step foot outside, a few glances land on you and Aemond.

You wait for him to circle the car and once at your side, without hesitation your fingers intertwine with his, where as you watch his face, you find that assurance he seeks to convey to you, assuring you that everything will be okay.

And together, you begin to walk towards the main school building.

Aemond's presence at your side offers you comfort as you see hoy everyone looks at you, looks of surprise and curiosity, all watching you both attentively.

And at the same time you see how among the same groups of boys and girls talk to each other, seeming to wonder about seeing the two of you together.

At this, as you advance, you swallow hard and try to control your nervous look and keep your composure, also the slight fear you feel inside you and your heart that beats strongly, aware that every step you take is closely followed by the looks of everyone.

And as you feel the slight squeeze Aemond gives your hand with his, he gives you that small comfort amidst all the stares and emotions that invade you and you internally thank him for his gesture.

So you decide to concentrate on the comforting touch of his hand intertwined with yours, reminding you that you are not alone and you follow his lead, remembering his words from the beginning.

He, in comparison to you, seems serene and confident in all of this.

And despite the discomfort you felt with him at first and wanting to run away from him, now his presence begins to be comforting and you feel that you will panic if he leaves your side now.

And with every step you both take, you seem to attract more stares, as if you are a magnet for attention. There seems to be no end to the amount of curious stares on both of you, and that feeling increases more as you both walk deeper into the bustling hallways of the school.

You just hear the constant buzz of conversations and the attention focused on both of you becomes even more apparent. But regardless, you follow Aemond's lead, letting him guide you through all this overwhelming attention.

Eventually you both reach your locker and he stays by your side, as you begin to grab the books you will need today and people continue to watch you.

"It's a good start," Aemond says next to you, leaning toward you just so you can hear him.

"Only if you like the attention," you mention.

"Please, it's not so bad either," he says and leans closer to you, where with delicate gesture he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, watching you intently, beginning to act on the plan.

His movement catches you a little off guard, but you play along. You lean your body towards him, trying to keep a relaxed face and put a discreet smile.

"The whole school is watching us."

"Exactly what we wanted or not?" he says to then drop a kiss on your forehead that also takes you by surprise but you continue to skillfully feign, "And you're doing great."

A real genuine smile settles on your lips and you continue to organize your backpack as Aemond takes one of your hands and begins to trace it with his fingertips, then absentmindedly and also discreetly observes around him.

It is true that everyone is watching you both, but what catches his attention is seeing his ex-girlfriend, Alys, in this same hallway with her group of friends also watching.

You can't read much of his gaze, as he focuses back on you, especially when you finally close your locker door and give him your full attention, as he places a small smile on his lips.

He pulls you into his body as he leans against the back lockers, hugging you and placing you between his legs, and you let him, as obviously everyone is watching you at that moment.

"I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

He whispers into your face and you open your mouth to speak, instantly lifting your face up to him to watch him, but when you least expect it, he is already kissing you.

You stifle a slight gasp in the middle of the kiss, feeling one of Aemond's hands gently caress your cheek and the other he keeps it on your waist, pulling you closer to him in a gentle way, as he presses his lips against yours gently and carefully, almost adoringly.

His lips feel soft and warm, so you kiss him back as best you can, closing your eyes and letting your hands rest on his chest.

Thankfully there's no movement and it's just pressing lips against lips, but the kiss is prolonged, Aemond more than anything else wanting to make sure everyone sees.

And when you both pull apart, he keeps his smile and his hands on your body as you try to disguise the surprise and daze.

"I'll see you at break," he says, letting go of your body slowly.

"Sure," you nod and smile, aware that more people are watching.

"Everything will be fine and if anything happens, text me," he tells you softly before separating you from his body and you nod again, feeling grateful again.

He leaves one last kiss on your forehead before he walks away, giving you one last comforting look. You watch as he walks away down the hallway, heading to his first class, just as the bell rings throughout the school.

So now feeling all eyes on you, you too quickly head towards your first class too.

And from that moment on, everything explodes.

The only topic of conversation going around the school is how the hottest and most popular guy in the whole school, Aemond Targaryen, is dating you, a girl not entirely... known.

You also hear how he and Alys' breakup is briefly mentioned, they also talk about how she cheated on him and that's when you come in... you and this unexpected news of the two of you dating.

It's clear that no one was expecting it, so there are a lot of questions as well. And eventually, the questioning begins.

"Y/N?" asks Aegon, confused, watching his younger brother intently, "And who is Y/N? I've never heard of her."

"Aegon, that doesn't matter," interjects Helaena, watching him grimly.

"She's my girlfriend," Aemond declares with a firm tone as he puts away some books in his locker.

"What matters is why you never told us anything... until now that the whole school knows too," Helaena says, confused, "We didn't even know you were interested in anyone after—

"That crazy of Alys," Aegon interrupts, not even bothering to lower the tone of his voice, also looking at Aemond with confusion.

Aemond looks up from his locker, noting back the questioning looks from his brother and sister.

"The thing with Alys is over," he says nonchalantly, "We both ended badly, she got satisfaction from it, I moved on and now I met someone new, what's wrong with that?"

Helaena exchanges a glance with Aegon and crosses her arms over her chest.

"No Aem, there's nothing wrong with it," she clarifies to him in a soft tone, "But at least you could have told us before the whole school found out."

"Yeah," Aegon says beside her, supporting her in her words, "And you never mentioned her," he says still with his confused face and tone, "Why?"

Aemond exhales deeply, feeling the pressure of they stares and questions, trying to keep his face composed.

"I've known her for a while."

He begins to say, clearly lying but trying to hear himself sound as convincing as possible, understanding that he must later tell Y/N about this if they and anyone else ask her the same question.

"She's in almost all the same classes as me. We did some projects together, started talking, hanging out a few times and well... things happened really fast. Even I didn't expect it, neither did she and it just happened, you know?"

Aegon watches him curiously, while Helaena examines him with full attention.

"And mom knows?"

"No, she doesn't," he says instantly, attentive and alert, "And listen, please don't tell her anything yet."

"Why not?" Aegon says confused, "She is your girlfriend and she should know her, no?"

"Yes, but we've just started dating and I want to give her a little more time until she's ready," he says in a soft, almost pleading tone, watching them both carefully, "I don't want to rush things more than they've already been rushed, so please.... let me tell mom when I've talked to Y/N."

Both are silent for a few seconds, where again the two exchange glances, and then Aegon nods in his direction with a more disinterested and more typical Aegon look. And Helaena, after analyzing his words, nods as well.

"Fine but be sure to tell her soon. You know how mom is with this sort of thing and if you let too much time pass, she'll be upset with you."

"Yes, I will, I promise."

Again silence engulfs the three of them and after a few seconds, Aegon breaks the silence with a smile.

"Well, now I want to meet my little brother's new girlfriend."

"Me too," nods Helaena, "Even without knowing her I already like her better than the witch."

Aegon lets out a laugh and Aemond just rolls his eye with an amused look.

"I'll try to talk to her if I see her," Helaena adds.

Shit.

Aemond thinks instantly.

"Fine but don't ask her too many questions, don't harass her and I'll find out if you tell her about my embarrassing stories," he warns her, "Same goes for you," he points to Aegon as well.

"Easy," he tells him confused, raising his hands in surrender, "I just want to meet my sister-in-law."

"Yes but watch that mouth," he warns him once more, "I'll see you later."

He closes his locker, the three of them say goodbye and he heads off to his next class, leaving behind his siblings and the growing curiosity that hasn't stopped from the other students in the hallway.

Certainly the news of his new relationship spreads quickly throughout the school, creating a buzz of gossip among all the hallways, because when he met with his friends, they too question him about the unexpected news.

The same goes for you, that even though you have no friends, or at least not close ones, when you are in the library, someone unexpectedly question you about your... 'boyfriend'.

"So...

A voice begins to speak in your direction and you look up, meeting Alysanne Blackwood, a classmate just as introverted and quiet as you, sitting at the other end of the huge table you're sitting at.

"Who knew you liked rich, popular boys," she says with a small smile.

"Oh... hi Alysanne," you say, putting a small smile, discreetly ignoring her comment.

That doesn't stop her, however, as she rises from her seat and takes her place in front of you, completely commanding your attention with her energetic presence.

"The truth is, I never imagined seeing you with someone like Aemond, "she says, evidently trying to start a conversation on the subject, "I never even saw you two talking together before."

And there you start to feel the knot of nerves in your stomach as you try to find the right words to explain the unexpected situation.

"The truth is, it was all very... discreet and... unexpected," you say, starting to think fast to come up with something convincing.

"And I bet Alys freaked out," she say with an amused smile, "God, I would have paid to see her face. She obviously wouldn't expect to see her ex with you."

You cocked your head to the side, watching her with curiosity and some confusion.

"Don't get me wrong, it's obvious that you and I are similar but a different type of girls like Alys," she explains, "So of course she must have been furious."

"Oh, um... I really don't know," you reply with a shrug. "I didn't notice if she saw us when the whole school did."

"Oh believe me," she says without wiping off her smile, "She did see you and she's furious," she assures you, "And that's okay because she deserves it. I can't stand her and I can't stand her stupid group of pretty girls who don't have a single neuron in their brains."

Alysanne, with her playful smile, seems to enjoy the awkwardness you find yourself in, so she leans a little closer to you, as if sharing a secret.

"Anyway, how do you feel about it? With Aemond, I mean," she asks, changing the tone of the conversation.

"Oh, well... he's different, I guess," you admit, searching for the right words, "I didn't know him much before this, but he's kind, funny, and.... yeah, different."

God, this is harder than I thought.

Talking about Aemond in this way is not entirely untrue, as he is nice and a little funny, but only a little. But still, you don't really know him and you think that's what you both need, to get to know each other better.

And that way, maybe this won't cost you too much.

"Well, at least you're not hating it. Although, truth be told, I think it's refreshing to see you dating someone outside of your comfort zone. And I'm also saying this from my own experience, it's... rewarding."

You watch her more interested than before, a little surprised.

"You have a boyfriend now?"

"Nah, it's been a while since we broke up," he says with a disinterested gesture, "But that's what he left me with and I hope you enjoy it, just don't be afraid."

She tells you and that particularly gets your attention more.

"And by the way, if you need advice on how to deal with girls like Alys, you know where to find me," she adds with a soft laugh.

Despite the strange situation and the fact that your talking about your 'relationship', when it's not even real, her words make you feel something and you realize that the conversation with her has become more enjoyable.

And you also realize that maybe you are not so alone in this unexpected moment of your school life.

So classes go by normally, you don't really see Aemond much, except in the hallways and when lunchtime comes, you take a seat alone at one of the cafeteria tables and turn your back on all the piercing stares.

"Hey, babe."

You raise your gaze and Aemond has a radiant smile on his face, turning animatedly toward you.

You place your best smile towards him, especially since there are still many pairs of eyes watching you, especially the eyes of Alys and her entire group of friends, who haven't stopped watching you as if they were going to kill you with their gaze since you arrived.

Aemond leaves a soft kiss on your forehead and takes a seat next to you, creating a space of privacy between the two of you, making sure no one else hears what he will say.

"How have you been?" you ask him, popping a strawberry into your mouth.

"Great. Everything is going perfectly, everyone is believing us and I hear Alys is furious and dead jealous," he says, with his little smile, "I've played her same game and now she knows how it feels. And the next few weeks will only get even better."

"As long as you keep me out of it, it's fine," you decide to joke, focusing on your food.

And when he answers your silence, you look back at him and he's watching you with a seriousness that isn't quite true. You let out a small laugh and he taps his shoulder lightly with yours, smiling.

"What are you talking about?" he asks you playfully, "Of course you'll be in for it."

You both share a brief complicit chuckle and he takes a strawberry from your bowl and savors it with a satisfied expression, then gives you a playful look.

"I'm actually enjoying this more than I thought I would. We seem to have caused a little of a commotion here," he says, averting his gaze to the bustle of the cafeteria.

"A little commotion?" you repeat, incredulous, "I think more like a big commotion, Aemond."

"Oh, and also..." he begins to say, more serious and in a lower tone, leaning towards you, "Aegon and Hel have already asked me some questions," he says, catching your full attention, "So if they try to talk to you, just say that we met and started talking in class. Also, that everything between us happened very fast and we decided to be discreet, nothing more."

And even though it's nothing difficult or anything out of this world, you can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by the sudden complexity of the situation. You also can't help the nerves in you.

Being part of all these lies and still having to create more lies, that's what makes you uneasy and you feel that in the moment you will ruin everything. And Aemond seems to read your thoughts, noticing your slightly worried expression.

"I know that they can be a bit nosy, I know that and I'm sorry. But it would have been too risky to tell them the truth and—

"No, no, it's not that, Aemond," you interrupt him instantly, "I just feel nervous and a little... scared," you confess, "I feel like I'll ruin everything if your sister or brother talk to me, because of the nerves, but I'm sure I can handle it."

"Yes, of course," he nods, nonchalant and speaking to you in a soft tone, taking one of your hands to entwine with his, "Just... if they ask you something specific, wing it, but keep the story general. I know you'll be able to do it."

You nod in his direction, his soft, comforting gaze making you feel better and more capable of being able to handle this. When you remember an also very important point.

"And you asked them not to say anything to your family?"

"Oh yeah, that too, yeah," he nods, "Don't worry, it wasn't hard. So we're good with that."

"Good," you say relieved.

You don't let go of his hand and go back to focusing on your food, while he stands next to you and watches you silently, saying absolutely nothing, watching you with a soft, calm gaze and trying to transmit that love just by watching you.

And his gaze on you while you eat starts to make you feel uneasy, so you watch him and put on a small nervous smile, not understanding the way he is looking at you.

Actually you do know but just like him, you have to play.

"What?"

Aemond lifts both corners of his lips a little higher.

"Everyone is looking at us," he says expectantly, in a low, soft voice, glancing around for a second to refocus on you.

And you roll your eyes playfully.

"I told you not to abuse that."

"But you said at extremely necessary times and right now seems like an extremely necessary time to me... love."

And there it is again, those nicknames that make you feel weird and Aemond enjoys watching you shiver at those words, smiling playfully.

"And I think it's only fair that now you're the one kissing me."

"You know, I'm already regretting this."

"I'm waiting," he says expectantly, never taking his eyes off you attentively for a second.

And you roll your eyes again and then lean into him with no choice and leave a soft kiss on his lips, in front of everyone, which he reciprocates instantly, only increasing his smile even more when you pull away from him.

"Thank you, love."

"Please," you look at him pleadingly, "Stop saying that."

He lets out a small laugh.

"Whatever you say, love."

You stare at him for a second and then he goes back to stealing one of your strawberries.

"By the way, wouldn't you rather go to lunch with my friends?" he points to the table of his friends who also belong to the lacrosse team, "They've also asked me about us. And I think having lunch with them, will make it all more believable."

You let out a long breath.

"It doesn't have to be now," he hasten to say.

"No, no, it's fine," you assure him, "I think it will make the relationship more believable too."

"Okay, but we have to stay here, at least for this day," he says, enjoying all the attention and you don't fight it, "Oh, and before I forget this, I have a match on Friday."

Oh no.

So soon?

You can't help but think, watching him completely intently.

"Really?" you ask starting to feel nervous and you don't even know why.

"Yeah, obviously you have to go and support me, shout my name, some cheers and all that," he says visibly excited, "The whole school is attending, so Alys will be there too," he says quietly.

"You also want me to wear a T-shirt with your last name on it and carry signs with your name on it like in the movies?"

He lets out a laugh.

"I'd actually love to see that," he says more excited than before.

"Aemond, I-I really don't know how to act at that kind of thing. I don't even know if I'll do it right...and if it looks too forced?"

And then there he again takes advantage of everyone watching you to place his hand over yours.

"Listen, there's no right or wrong way to do it. Just be yourself. There are no exaggerated expectations and it's not about impressing anyone, least of all me. I just want you to be there and let's have a good time together. Also at the party."

"Wait, what?" you inquire, "There's going to be a party after the game?"

"Hmm," he nods, "At my friend's house, you know...for celebration when we win."

"And if you don't win?"

"Even so, the party will be held," he says with a shrug, "A way to lift our spirits and better prepare us for the next game."

Of course, typical.

"And if I don't go to the party?" you try to persuade him with a worried expression.

"Y/N," he tells you with a serious look, "Remember our contract?"

"You're seriously bringing that to this?" you reproach him.

"Yes because it's in the contract," he tells you with a playful look, making it clear that he won't let you get off that easy.

And you sigh with resignation.

"But I don't think—

"Come on, Y/N. It'll be fun," he tries to encourage you, "And if at any point you feel uncomfortable, I promise we'll leave. What do you say? Sounds good?"

And even with the discomfort through your body, you nod, since you know there's no way around it.

"Fine," you murmur.

Aemond nods with a small smile.

"I'm sure it'll be fun, you'll see."

The rest of the week is spent with the stares and whispers intensifying whenever you and Aemond are seen together in the hallways or anywhere in the school.

Even the stares are not discreet, boys and girls stop in their conversations to stare at you as you walk by and when you move on to your respective classes, the attention seems to follow you, also in the cafeteria, when you and Aemond enjoy your lunches together, everyone stares at you.

It becomes annoying and also overwhelming for you, as you not only deal with the stares of all the students, but you especially deal with the stares of Alys Rivers and that of all her friends.

They are like hawks looking to melt the back of your head with every death stare. You feel like you're the prey and you don't doubt that they must surely say horrible things about you.

But honestly, Aemond has somehow helped you endure it.

In the cafeteria you are not alone, as you follow his idea of sitting at the table with him and his friends, who turn out to be very nice and funny, so their occurrences make you feel more comfortable during the whole break and lunch, forgetting for a moment about the stares and whispers.

Also Aemond never takes his hands off you, wanting to hug you and hold your hand all the time, wanting to make the relationship look as genuine as possible, this also distracting you.

And in those moments you just realize how you really hate being the center of attention, especially since the school seems to be watching your every move.

And you and Aemond couldn't agree more on the huge commotion you both have caused.

When the weekend finally arrives just as quickly as the day the match will take place, where you immediately decide to ask Alysanne for help getting ready, since you don't have a clue how to do it and make it look good.

Your dad is still at work, so you and Alysanne in your room make as much noise as you want, while she picks out your makeup and you put on some black jeans and the dark blue with white team shirt you borrowed from Aemond with his last name and player number printed on it.

And Alysanne, in her friendly and honest spirit, is excited to help.

"It looks great on you," she comments as she watches you adjust your shirt so it's not baggy, "Although I honestly don't understand why people like to attend these types of games. It's too boring for me."

"Yeah, for me too, but nothing I wouldn't do for Aemond," you mention like the girlfriend in love you supposedly are with him.

"Now come here."

You take a seat and she stands up, instantly helping you place Aemond's initials with blue paint on each of your cheeks, AT, while you finish touching up the rest of your makeup and also your hairstyle.

And when you're both done, Alysanne has something else for you.

"Now you're missing this," she announces, taking from her backpack something.

And when she holds it out to you, you confusedly take a cheerleader pom-pom.

"And what's this for?"

"What do you mean, what for? To support your boyfriend, obviously," she says incredulously, "I have one too," she announces proudly, taking another from her backpack.

"And where did you get them?" you ask inspecting it in your hand.

"I stole them from a girl who's on the cheerleading squad. I don't like her so I said, why not?"

You look at her still confused for a few moments, especially after that statement, but you decide not to give the matter any more thought and focus on what really matters, which in fact is already too much for your head.

So ready, you observe yourself in the mirror.

"I look like an idiot," you say as you look at yourself, "I've never done this before."

Alysanne laughs softly.

"Oh, dear, that's because you're an idiot in love. And also because it's the things love makes you do."

But you're not really in love with Aemond and that makes this whole thing even harder.

And that not being enough, she teaches you some pom-pom waving moves and suggests some simple cheers to cheer on the team and Aemond more than anything else. And even though you shouldn't, you can't help yourself and take a good few minutes practicing all that.

And finally you both leave your house in the direction of the school.

You've never been to one of these games before either, so when you and Alysanne arrive, the lacrosse field is full of energy and excitement as you both find seats in the stands.

The truth is you know absolutely nothing about how lacrosse works, it was never something you were interested in but if Aemond is now your 'boyfriend', you know you'll have to pay attention.

So in the meantime you do what everyone else does, like clapping and... nothing else.

"Girl, what are you doing? You're supposed to be cheering for your boyfriend!"

Alysanne yells at you above all the other yelling, shaking her own cheerleading pom-pom with the moves she taught you earlier.

"I know but I feel... embarrassed," you confess, "I've never done this. Besides... they haven't stopped staring at me since I got here."

"Who?" she asks you confused and attentive.

You point discreetly behind you and Alys along with her group of friends are a few seats over from where you stand with Alysanne, who snorts in amusement.

"Please, do they really intimidate you?"

"No," you lie a little, shrugging, "I just don't like that they're looking at me like they're going to kill me at every turn."

When you arrived they all inspected you from head to toe with questioning, mocking and expectant looks, which ended up destroying your confidence.

But Alysanne nudges you lightly and snorts derisively.

"Ignore them. They are not important. What's important is over there," she points her index finger at the lacrosse field, pointing at Aemond, "You're here to support him, not worry about poisonous snakes. So let's start yelling and supporting your boyfriend with the cheers I taught you, got it?"

You let out a sigh and finally nod with a resigned gesture.

You force yourself to concentrate as much as you can on the match, you also tell yourself that you're here to support Aemond and not to deal with the stares from his ex-girlfriend and her whole group of friends.

As well as you push away the idea in your mind that you feel weird and uncomfortable with that if you shout Aemond's name, everyone will notice and see you.

And you immerse yourself along with Alysanne and everyone else at the game in the charged atmosphere of anticipation and the screams of the crowd mingling with the air.

The whistle blows, marking the start of the match and Aemond and his team are in action as well as the opposing team, all moving nimbly around the field.

The game is fast and dynamic, you don't understand but you watch as Aemond stands out on the field, showing his skill. He and his team perform coordinated movements, well-executed strategies and impressive resistance against the opposing team.

And without paying any more attention to Alys gaze, you immerse yourself in the atmosphere of the game, clap and cheer along with Alysanne.

She encourages you to shout his name and that's what you do. You follow Aemond's every move intently, cheering with enthusiasm, jumping in place along with Alysanne, waving the stolen pom-pom along with her and shouting with fervor.

You feel more of Alys and her friends' gaze behind you, but you ignore it completely and concentrate on the game.

And as the game progresses, Aemond begins to notice your animated efforts from a distance. You can't see his face because of his protective helmet but he smiles when he sees you jumping, waving the pom-pom and shouting his name.

Your choice to wear his shirt with his last name and number, his initials painted on your cheeks, and the cheerleader pom-pom, all don't go unnoticed by him. He's honestly flattered and grateful that you actually did it.

And you and Alysanne keep cheering, both of you fully immersing yourselves in the intense and competitive atmosphere.

You don't know how much time passes until finally the referee blows the whistle. And since you don't understand lacrosse at all and had to pretend you knew what was going on, you just know they've won.

Thunderous applause and cheers break out in the crowd, and Aemond and his teammates celebrate on the field.

Alysanne gives you a friendly nudge as you both make your way to the corner of the field where the players are standing. And Aemond, instantly looking for you among all the people, when he finds you, with an expression of triumph trots over to you.

His gaze sweeps over you from head to toe, his smile engulfing you, as he removes his helmet and you smile and clap in his direction.

"You've won!" you exclaim happily.

He doesn't take off his smile and hugs you tightly, to which you reciprocate, trying to get that 'love' in front of everyone like in the movies of the couple of a boy captain of the team and the cheerleader girl.

You're not a cheerleader with a stolen pom-pom in hand but it's something like that.

"You look amazing," he says in your ear.

You let out a nervous laugh, as you both pull apart and Aemond, subtly seeing that everyone is watching you, keeps his hand on your waist, leans in and leaves a soft kiss on your lips, sealing the victory.

Obviously you can't blame him since everyone is watching and you place your hand on his cheek, reciprocating his kiss as everyone around you continues to celebrate in the stands and on the lacrosse field.

Once you both separate, you just notice more how everyone is watching you and you can't help but be a little embarrassed by this, feeling too many stares on you which in comparison, Aemond doesn't mind at all.

He tells you he's going to go change and talk to his coach, you nod, he leaves a soft kiss on your forehead and trots off back to the field with his teammates and you're left alone.

You hug yourself and look around briefly, then walk over to Alysanne, feeling a little overwhelmed.

And God, maybe this is costing you more than you imagined.

"You were fantastic, everyone was looking at us," Aemond says excitedly, driving, "And your outfit just made it all the more believable."

"Yeah," you let out a small laugh, "Alys and her whole group of friends kept judging me. But this just further confirms to us the fact that this is working."

He lets out a sigh.

"Alys has always been like that, she always has to judge someone to feel superior. She even did it with me during the time we were dating too."

He says with a disinterested tone and you look at him slightly surprised, not expecting to hear that.

"But if she makes you more uncomfortable to the point that you can't even stand it anymore, please tell me," he tells you more seriously, "She'll be at the party too and I don't plan to leave you alone but I'm telling you... you know, so you won't be surprised."

"I'm sure I can handle it, but yeah, I'll tell you," you tell him softly, nodding.

"Good," he nods too, not taking his eye off the road.

Right now he's driving to his friend's house where the party will be. You invited Alysanne and offered her to come along with you and Aemond, but she told you she's not a fan of parties and in fact she's had enough of the game.

So she ordered an Uber and went home. And you don't blame her. As much as you would have loved for her to have come to help you survive the party, she already helped you a lot before and after the game.

"So you understood the game?"

He asks you, summing up the game conversation, with a smirk. And you let out a snort with a mocking, incredulous look.

"No," you confess, "I don't really know anything about sports. I just know that on that play of yours in the second half it was awesome because everyone was talking about it," you let him know.

He lets out a laugh.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you."

"I just know you were great. I don't know exactly what you were great at but you were great," you say sincerely, "And I was great too, as much as I hate it, but did you see my animated cheer?"

"Yeah, it was amazing," he says just as honestly as you, only more enthusiastic, "But there was something missing from your whole outfit."

You frown.

"What?"

"The sign with my name on it like in the movies," he says and you snort again, as he laughs, "I would have loved to see that."

"One step at a time, Captain. It was already too much for me to fulfill my role as a cheerleader girlfriend supporting her boyfriend."

"I really enjoyed it," he says, watching you for a moment with complicity.

"As long as there aren't any more games so soon, I think I can handle it."

"And what about the parties?" he teases you.

"Let's correct the contract, because I think I'm only going to accompany you to one party per month. So that will be five parties total during the whole farse, but with this one that makes four."

"Oh yeah? Then I think I'm only going to drive you to school once a month, so that will be five rides total during the whole farse, but since three days have already passed where I've done you the favor, now you only have two left."

"That's not fair!"

"Oh I think it's more than fair."

You both sink into soft laughter and the conversation between the two during the ride is light, talking about the match and the farce more than anything else.

Until finally Aemond arrives in the neighborhood where his friend's house is located and soon enough he parks near the house, where from this distance you hear the music and also see other cars parking and boys along with girls walking down the street heading towards the party.

You let out a sigh as you anticipate all the people already inside the house and how the party must be, as you and Aemond unbuckle your seatbelts.

"Well, are you ready?" he watches you slightly expectantly and with a soft look.

"Promise you really won't leave me alone," you urge him once again, serious.

"I promise," he says honestly, making pinky promise with you, "But here we must be together and I mean really together. Pretend we're crazy about each other. Remember, in places like these, a couple never stops being all over each other, so we have to pretend and pretend real good."

You swallow hard and he gives you a reassuring look, while you take a few seconds and finally nod. You place a softer face and lightly bite the inside of your cheek.

"Yeah, okay, I get it," you say softly, licking your lips.

"I'm not going to leave you alone. I'm going to be with you always," he assures you one last time before getting out of the car.

And you let out a heavy sigh, you get out of the car as well.

The pretending isn't over yet and this time, you're sure you and Aemond are going to take it to the next level. And it's still a lot to process but reluctantly and because you signed a contract, you enter the party together with him.

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[fandomwritingbit]

William afton x (fem)reader - scarf

Warnings: smut basically just Will wanking. Dark themes - pervert William, inappropriate relationship. The unfortunate use of a good scarf.

Notes: minimal plot, I wrote this on the train, its barely proofread lmao

"See you later, Mr Emily!" you call over your shoulder, half slinging your jacket and handbag on your arm. It's been a long day, and you were much too eager to get out of this place, making you forget the scarf you'd worn this morning, that hung on a hook shared by some of the staff. It was a thin silky fabric, a gift from a friend and you've worn it pretty much every day since.

"Monday, y/n?" A voice calls after you, stopping you from slipping away out the fire door. You turn to see your other boss, clearly on his way out for a fag, cigarette in hand and all.

"Yeah. No worries. See ya, Mr Afton." You smile politely, hating to be reminded of the extra shift you'd picked up. Then finally making it outside, ready for at least several hours of sleep.

~

Yeah, you will see him on Monday, where hopefully you'll wear that cheeky little skirt again, Afton thought to himself, smirking. It really had been a pleasure to see you on your hands and knees cleaning up something some trainee had dropped, it left very little to his imagination and that could be a dangerous enough tool on its own. You were fast becoming his favourite thing to see rushing around the restaurant, but he hadn't quite worked on cornering you yet.

He was about to follow your path outside and spark up, but glancing to the left, he saw your forgotten article. Now, what had he done to deserve this? He couldn't help himself from grinning wide, fuck the smoke, he had a better idea. Snatching the scarf from the peg he struggled with the impulse to press it to his nose. Restraint, William, he reminded himself. But that had never been his strong suit.

With it in hand, he left through the fire door, scanning the empty car park, left for his car and Henry's, somewhat appropriately at opposite ends. Henry's right under a light, his in a pitch-black corner which just couldn't be better for what he was about to do. Tucking the now undesired cigarette behind his ear, he slipped in his car, locked the doors, and waited for the interior light to turn itself off.

It was then in the complete dark that he inhaled the scent of you on this scarf, pressing it to his face as his head leant back against the seat rest, sneering into the fabric. The smell of you drove him wild, God he'd been wasting time not calling you into his office and seeing what kind of knickers you had on under that fucking skirt. Holy shit.

Dirty thoughts materialised in his head and with a grunt he unfastened his belt, pulled down his fly and took his cock out. It had been a surprising fair while since he had last done this and in consequence, he found himself impatient. Breathing in your smell, he could almost taste you. You sweet, pretty little thing, you probably had no idea how just the small 'how are you's had driven him to stroking his cock with your scarf in his face like some kind of creep. Feeling himself close, his pace was rough with himself. God he was a fucking pervert, but he didn't feel the guilt he should, he'll he celebrated it because he knew he had a talent for making cute pieces like you into perverts too.

It was easy to imagine you on top of him, his hand on your throat, moving your body just how he wanted it. You clawing at him. He could make you scream, hate him and thank him all at the same time.

Pulling your scarf from his face, he bucked into his hand, biting the inside of his cheek to muffle the groan of him falling over the edge. He hadn't thought to get a tissue or something to the liking and shoved your garment into his lap to collect his release.

His head hit the headrest again, a half-smirk half-scowl on his face. He chuckled, well, you certainly weren't getting this back now.