#i hope at least one or two of these help!!
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
hotch being super touchy with bau!reader during a night out with the team and like cannot wait until they’re home or something ? (idk if this helps!!)
citrus
pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 1.5k c.w.: fluff!! suggestive content, established relationship, mentions of alcohol, needy touchy hotch <3
a/n: thank you so much for the request! i realize now while typing this that you may have been asking for horny hotch but instead i give you needy hotch with a touch of horny. not my best work but i hope you like it <33
You first start to suspect something’s wrong when Hotch sits next to you on the jet.
Not that Hotch sitting next to you was an abnormal occurrence, however ever since you two came clean about your relationship with the rest of the team, both of you made the effort to maintain as professional as possible. Which meant not sharing hotel rooms even though you’re sure the budget manager wouldn’t complain, no favoritism, and no PDA.
The no PDA rule was particularly difficult for you because, how could you not touch him?
The team had just finished up a kidnapping case in Florida. Nearly two weeks of suffocating in the humidity and dealing with swarms of mosquitos every time you stepped outside of the precinct. The relief from being in a familiar setting and the working AC is tangible when you plop down into a window seat facing the front of the cabin.
When you notice Hotch approaching you and taking the seat next to yours, you barely hide the surprise on your face. Hotch just merely raises an eyebrow at you before he jumps into debriefing.
Afterwards, when everyone has either fallen asleep or victim to playing chess with Spencer, Hotch knocks his knee against yours.
You look up from your book, a question forming on the tip of your tongue, when you notice Hotch hunched over his files and eyebrows creased in concentration.
It must have been an accident, you think. Except he does it again.
“You okay?” you ask, placing your bookmark and setting your book aside. It’s not like you were paying attention anyway, having had read the page at least two times by now.
“Fine,” he mutters, not unkindly, before scribbling something at the bottom of a file and moving onto the next one.
The past two weeks had been difficult for everyone, and the week before wasn’t any easier. You assume that Hotch was just itching to go back to your shared apartment to check on Jack before passing out in your bed.
And then he bumps against your knee again.
You don’t say anything this time, instead picking up your book and hitting your knee back against his. You just barely catch the corners of his mouth quirking up.
-
You could’ve sworn Hotch was going to decline tagging along with you when you decided to go out to O’Keefe’s with the rest of the team as soon as you landed. You were even expecting a glare, silently telling you that everyone needs to go home to get some rest and that he is driving you two back to the apartment whether you like it or not.
You start to think Hotch is really up to something now when he shrugs and agrees to tag along with you, promising just one drink.
And then, Hotch rests his arm on the console while driving, his hand worryingly close to your thigh despite Reid and JJ sitting in the backseat. Then, he’s placing a large hand on the small of your back when you’re walking into the bar, causing a shiver to run up your spine despite the warm evening air. Then, he sidles up next to you in the booth, thighs pressing against each other and his wide shoulder brushing against yours. It’s a lot of touching, which you’re clearly fine with, but touching from Hotch, at work, several times in the span of 30 minutes?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, having to lean in to be heard over the music even with his good ear.
Hotch raises his eyebrows at you over his drink. “I told you, I’m fine.”
And it’s like you’re able to see the idea form in his head, having spent so much time with him on and off the clock that you’ve luckily gotten better at reading him.
You still nearly jump out of your seat when Aaron places his warm hand on your thigh, underneath the table where nobody else was able to see.
You’ve gotten used to how touchy Aaron can be behind closed doors. At home, he’s constantly touching you—an arm around your waist, a finger tracing the curve of your jaw, or a kiss pressed at the crown of your head.
But this? A hand on your thigh at a bar in front of your coworkers?
You can feel the heat of his palm seep through your pants, annoyingly close to where you really want him the most. Is that what this is about?
“You two lovebirds alright over there?” Emily calls from the other side of the table, looking spectacularly sober despite you witnessing her downing shot after shot.
The sudden weight of 7 different pairs of eyes on you has you even more frazzled because Aaron’s hand only squeezes the flesh of your thigh while he glances at you casually, his free hand wrapped around an old-fashioned.
“Just talking about how I need another drink,” you say, hoping that your voice doesn’t sound as strained to them as it does to you. And technically it is true as you shake your glass to emphasize the ice cubes clinking around with no fruity drink accompanying it.
When you notice Garcia’s mouth open to volunteer to come with you, you scramble up out of the booth, glad that you chose the outside spot, and weave your way through the crowd to the bar. You try to ignore the way the right side of your body suddenly feels colder without Hotch’s body pressed up against yours.
You’re waiting for your drink when you feel a hand snake around your waist. The only thing keeping you from spinning around to maybe unethically flash your badge is the familiar weight of Hotch’s palm pressed against your hip and the citrusy smell of whiskey on his breath against your ear.
A giggle bubbles out of you, instinctively leaning back against his chest. You’re secretly glad that he left his suit jacket in the car, leaving you to ogle the way the crisp white dress shirt stretches over his shoulders. “Seriously, what is with you today?”
His lips ghost over your ear, the low tone of his voice making your knees weak. “I’m not allowed to touch my girlfriend?”
Girlfriend. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing that.
You lean even harder into him, one of your hands coming down to grab at his toned forearm as you reach for your finished drink. “Of course you can. I just can’t remember the last time you’ve been this touchy in front of everyone, or ever really.”
“I don’t hear any complaints.”
“I might start if you don’t kiss me.” And it’s mostly to just poke fun at him because Hotch hasn’t even held hands with you in front of the team, much less kiss you in a crowded bar with them undoubtedly watching and whispering amongst themselves.
You’re expecting Hotch to huff a laugh against your ear, letting go and stepping away from you. Maybe even him holding your hand while he leads you through the dance floor and back to your booth to humor you.
You don’t expect Hotch’s free hand to come up and cradle your chin, tilting your face towards his almost uncomfortably to press his lips against yours. It’s soft, chaste even, but the fact that he’s kissing you in front of your colleagues and strangers, in a crowded bar with the loud music nearly thrumming through your veins, makes you feel hot all over.
His arm tightens around you, spinning you around until you’re facing him, and he swallows the gasp you unintentionally let out as he deepens the kiss, your mouth instinctively parting. You’ve been dating for months but kissing him still feels like that very first time in his office, the hard edge of his desk digging into your hip and the glow of the sunset highlighting the clear affection in his eyes.
When you pull back, you notice a pink tinge high on his cheeks and the way his tongue peeks out to lick his lips, as if chasing the taste of your fruity cocktail. “What was that for?”
“Just letting you know that I can’t wait to take you home,” he says, pulling you until the entire line of your body is pressed against his. Your hand unconsciously comes to rest on his chest and you’re not sure if you can feel the bass line for the song playing or the thudding of his heart.
His hands start trailing down to your ass and you seriously wonder how touchier he can get.
But, like you realized earlier, it’s been weeks since you’ve had alone time with Hotch. So, you untangle yourself from him despite his protests and slip your hand in his pocket to retrieve the car keys. You grin when it’s Hotch’s turn to jump.
“I’ll meet you at the car?”
“I already said bye to them for us, let’s go.”
And then he’s pulling you towards the exit with his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist. You barely have the chance to peer over the moving crowd to see the rest of your team waving at you, wearing shit-eating grins.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds fic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#mine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner x reader fluff
565 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Maid - Part 2
Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*
Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*
18+ only, read at your own risk
Word count: 4705
Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.
AN: Thank you so much for the response to part 1! And thank you to everyone who was so patient and understanding for this part taking a while to write. I hope you all like it.
*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.
Wanda seems to be in a better mood lately, Natasha notices, probably because the two of you rekindled whatever complicated romance you had going on. And as sad and lonely as it had made Natasha feel, at least Wanda was being less rude to her, and that would always be a win in her book.
The grocery trips and errands she sends Natasha on are less demanding, although Natasha’s unsure if she’s becoming more comfortable or Wanda’s gotten less picky. Wanda still requests Natasha’s help for her weekly meetings, and Natasha cannot understand why someone who is unemployed goes so out of her way to find the most mundane, meaningless things to participate in. But it keeps Natasha paid and busy, and she still gets to see you a few times a week.
“What are you doing this weekend, Natasha?” Wanda asks while the two of them are in the kitchen. Wanda is on her laptop while Natasha stands at the counter, cutting vegetables for dinner.
“Um…” Natasha knows better than to tell Wanda the truth, which is that she’ll be sitting alone in her apartment for the next two days and eating ice cream on her couch. “Some friends invited me to go shopping with them at the mall,” she lies. She doesn’t have friends and she certainly doesn’t have the budget to shop at a mall after all the debt she still owes.
“I’ll be gone all weekend with some girlfriends,” Wanda says, not even acknowledging Natasha’s plans, which makes her wonder why she had even bothered to ask in the first place. “I’m not into wine tasting much, but the girls go nuts for it. I’m just going for the spa at the resort, between you and me.”
Natasha has no idea what to do with this information. But she’s spared from answering when the garage door rumbles open.
Wanda slams her laptop shut. “Oh, Y/N is home early.” She gets up to greet you. Natasha can hear your voices carry through the hall.
“You’re early tonight,” Wanda says. “I was just telling Natasha about my weekend plans to Vermont with the girls–”
“Your weekend plans?” you interrupt. “Since when did you have plans to go to Vermont?” Natasha has never heard you sound genuinely angry before. She stops cutting the carrots to focus on eavesdropping.
“Carol wanted to go for her birthday!” your wife says.
“Wanda,” you say, your voice lowering. “Our anniversary is this weekend. I booked us a stay at the Ritz and got us tickets to see Wicked–”
“Well, just ask for a refund!” Wanda hisses. Natasha is stunned that this is her first response to forgetting about her entire anniversary with you. “And we can celebrate when I get back–”
“‘Get back?’” you repeat. “That’s not the point, Wanda. Why don’t you ask for a refund for your trip–”
“I can’t do that to the girls,” Wanda says. “Carol’s been looking forward to this for months!”
You mumble something that Natasha can’t hear. She feels awful for you. Clearly, you had spent a lot of money and time planning a nice outing, and your wife didn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, she tried to put the blame on you for intruding on her plans. Natasha felt herself shaking with rage for you. You deserved so much better.
The two of you trudge into the kitchen and Natasha hastily goes back to cutting the carrots. Wanda is hanging onto your arm, tiptoeing to whisper into your ear but you shake her off and walk through the kitchen to the staircase. Natasha knows that Wanda is glaring at the back of her head, probably upset that she had overheard, but for once she doesn’t say anything and disappears after you.
The mood is particularly subdued when Natasha serves up roasted salmon with a colorful vegetable medley and mashed potatoes.
“Thank you, Natasha,” you say as she hands you a loaded plate.
Wanda doesn’t say anything when Natasha gives her a plate.
While the two of you eat in awkward silence, Natasha cleans up the kitchen, her final task of the day. She grabs her purse and heads towards the door, when she hears footsteps behind her.
It’s you.
“Can I walk you out to your car?” you ask. “I know it’s a safe neighborhood, but I don’t want you walking out in the dark by yourself.”
Natasha is so flattered by your offer she doesn’t stop to consider how Wanda might feel about this.
“Sure, I really appreciate that. Thank you.” She leads the way out of your house.
“Sorry you always have to park around the corner,” you add, maintaining a respectful distance from her on the sidewalk. “I’ve told Wanda the whole neighborhood knows you work for us. But she’s…” you trail off, clearly not wanting to speak ill of your wife.
“I’m sorry she forgot your anniversary,” Natasha blurts out.
You seem startled that Natasha had been eavesdropping, but quickly recover. “Well, it’s…it’s not the first time she’s done it,” you admit in a soft voice. “I don’t know why I bother trying to do anything special anymore. It’s just another day to her. And it seems like she’d rather spend it with anyone but me.”
“She’s missing out,” Natasha says, surprised by her own confidence. “You’re a wonderful person and you deserve someone who will appreciate the efforts you go to celebrate important milestones like that.” She stops before she can offer herself up.
“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”
The two of you stop at Natasha’s beat-up Nissan.
“Thanks for walking me to my car–” she starts.
“Are you busy this weekend?” you ask suddenly, in a rushed whisper as if Wanda is around the corner listening. “If you’re not, would you like to see Wicked with me at the Gershwin Theater? I told Wanda I could probably get a credit with the Ritz, but I don’t want to deal with the hassle of exchanging the tickets, too. You can come over Saturday night and I’ll drive us?”
Natasha is so shocked by your proposal she doesn’t even have the words to agree at first. Growing up, she had loved watching musical movies until the VHS tapes wore out, but she had never had the opportunity to see a live performance. Even now as an adult, she still didn’t have the time nor the budget to see a show. To hear you ask that you wanted her to join you, when you had bought the tickets for you and your wife to enjoy on your anniversary she had forgotten, sounded almost too good to be true.
But if Wanda found out you had taken Natasha instead of her…Natasha shuddered at the thought. Maybe this was stepping over the line of professionalism. Natasha wanted to keep her job (and her head), and as much as the opportunity was a dream come true for her, she didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness or weakness.
“Um, I’m supposed to go shopping at the mall with some friends on Saturday,” Natasha says, cringing at the patheticness of her life. “But really–thank you for inviting me. I’m sure you have friends you’d rather take over your maid.”
“I don’t have any friends,” you say, so deadpan that Natasha almost laughs but quickly turns it into a cough when she realizes you’re being serious. While you seemed more reserved than your wife, Natasha refused to believe you didn’t have a strong social network. You were in charge of your own company and clearly doing well if you lived in this neighborhood and could afford a personal housemaid like her.
“Good evening!” The two of you startle when a cheery voice comes out of nowhere.
“Hello, Mr. Vision,” Natasha says, spotting the eccentric man first as he walks by at a rapid pace.
“Late night walk, Vis?” you call out, and he nods with a wave, pumping his arms faster and milling away. The only thing Natasha knew about Vision was that he lived by himself at the end of the street. He had no wife or kids that she knew of, not even a job as he was constantly seen walking around the neighborhood at odd hours. But he never approached Natasha or made her feel uncomfortable, which was more than she could say for most of the people living here, so she was happy to ignore him.
When Vision moves out of sight, you say, “Well, if your plans happen to change…” You fumble in your pockets awkwardly, pulling out a bent business card and handing it to Natasha. “My cell number is on there. Text me before Saturday if you’re still interested.”
“Okay.” Natasha doesn’t want to get your hopes (or hers) up, but she still isn’t convinced this is a good idea. “Have a good night, Y/N.”
“Good night, Natasha.”
She loves the way her name sounds coming out of your mouth.
***********************************************************************
Natasha is still unsure she made the right decision to turn down your offer to see Wicked. She even called her only friend, Clint, to ask if she should’ve said yes.
“Well, you’re just seeing a show together. Think of it like a work bonus or something. Bosses give their employees nice stuff like that all the time,” Clint says as Natasha picks at a box of takeout in front of the television. Cooking at home was not her favorite chore after doing it all day for her clients.
“Yes, but it’s just the two of us,” Natasha stresses. “Y/N got the tickets to celebrate an anniversary and Wanda already hates me as it is–”
“Nah, she doesn’t hate you,” Clint says.
“You haven’t met her! You don’t see the way she treats me.”
“Exactly. Maybe this is Y/N’s way of apologizing for her behavior,” Clint says.
“I don’t know…” It was already Friday night. Natasha didn’t have much time now to change her mind if she was going to.
“Be nice to yourself, Nat. Let someone do something for you,” Clint goes on. “You work so hard for these people all the time. And I know how much you’ve always wanted to see a live performance.” Natasha feels tears well up in her eyes. She wishes Clint was here in person so she could give him a hug. “Nothing bad will happen. Just tell Y/N you want to go before someone else takes your spot.”
Natasha takes a steely breath. Clint is right. It wasn’t a date. It just was her nice boss treating her out to a Broadway show. Never mind the fact that you had intended to take your wife initially. Wanda would never have to know, right?
“Okay. Thanks, Clint.”
“Enjoy!”
As soon as she hangs up, Natasha goes into her texts. She already created a contact for you the night you gave her your business card. Her anxiety is through the roof as she types out a message to you, then deletes it and starts over. She gets more and more frustrated trying to find the right words, before she finally throws in the towel and clicks “Send.”
Less than a minute later, you respond.
Happiness explodes inside of Natasha. She can hardly believe her luck. Not only does she get to see her first Broadway show, but she gets to see it with you, and have dinner on top of it. She darts over to her closet, looking for the nicest dress she owns.
Wanda be damned. Natasha was going to have a great night with you.
***********************************************************************
“Table for two, please.”
“Did you have a reservation?” the blonde woman at the podium asks.
“No,” you respond.
“Oh, well, I’m so sorry, but we’re all booked out for the evening,” she apologizes.
Natasha stands behind you meekly. She can’t even pronounce the name of the restaurant and doesn’t know what kind of food they serve, but it’s probably far beyond anything she could ever afford. She’s wearing a dark green dress that almost reaches her ankles and is conservative in protecting her assets, and spent over an hour doing her makeup, and she wonders if strangers will look at the two of you and assume you’re a couple. She wouldn’t go out of her way to correct them.
“That’s okay. This was a last-minute plan for us,” you explain. “If Tony is working tonight, can you please tell him Y/N stopped by to say hello?”
“Wait, you know Mr. Stark?” the woman pales. “Don’t go anywhere. You said your name is Y/N?”
You smile and nod. The woman steps down from her podium and dashes into the back.
“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” Natasha boldly teases.
You turn and wink at her.
“Tony and I went to college together,” you explain, although this implies you shared a friendship of some kind. “And clearly, his business is doing better than mine–”
The woman quickly returns with a short bearded man wearing a gray suit with red-tinted glasses that match his tie.
“Y/N!” Tony shouts, embracing you in a dramatic hug. “You should’ve told me you were coming tonight! I could’ve put together a private booth in the back–”
“It was last-minute,” you say. “This is Natasha, by the way. She’s a friend.” Natasha is thrilled at the way you associate her with you.
“Hello, Natasha, I’m Tony.” He takes her hand and gently kisses her knuckles. He doesn’t seem surprised you haven’t brought Wanda along instead. “I take it you haven’t been here before, Miss Natasha? You won’t need a menu, I’ll have the chef bring out the best dishes we have tonight.”
“That’s very kind of you,” you say.
“Follow me! You can have a table in our east wing. Where’s Wanda?” Tony says rapid-fire, turning around and leading them deeper into the restaurant. You step out of the way and motion to let Natasha go first, and she feels your hand graze her back as she walks past you.
“She’s out with her girlfriends for the weekend,” you answer from behind Natasha.
“Your anniversary is coming up, right?” Tony asks.
“Yes,” you respond, your voice suddenly tense.
The restaurant is packed, every visible table filled with customers, until they turn around a corner to a quiet, completely empty area.
“Pick any table. I’ll have a waiter come out with some drinks shortly,” Tony says.
“Thanks, Tony.”
“Thank you, Tony,” Natasha echoes, unsure if she likes this special treatment. You pick a table near the corner and pull her chair out for her. As soon as the two of you are seated, a waiter in a vested suit appears with a few bottles of wine, making suggestions and pouring samples into the glasses. Natasha doesn’t have enough knowledge to understand what he’s saying or differentiate the tastes, but she enjoys the experience. It feels strange to have someone serve her, when she’s normally the one waiting on people’s every demand.
The two of you share several appetizers together. Natasha feels like she’s floating in a dream. You have been nothing but generous and respectful to her, but every time your left hand reaches across the table for the caviar, the wedding ring on your finger taunts her.
The dinner itself is a four-course affair, including a rich chocolate cake that Natasha devours faster than she can fully enjoy. When the bill arrives (which Tony has already chopped in half), Natasha still asks if she can chip in (despite knowing full well she doesn’t have the money to cover even her portion), but you push her card away and give the waiter your black card.
The theater is three blocks from Tony’s restaurant, so you leave your car in valet parking and ask Natasha if she’s okay walking. She had not planned ahead very well, so she only has a thin cardigan to cover her shoulders. You notice her shivering and offer her your heavy black jacket that completely engulfs her frame. Your scent completely surrounds her now and Natasha swears she won’t wash this dress ever again.
The line into the theater moves quickly and Natasha follows you all the way down to the front, where your seats are perfectly center to the stage. She crawls over a few people, feeling a little smug about getting some of the best seats in the house. You had truly spoiled her tonight and she was never going to forget this.
She leans over to whisper to you before the show begins. “Thank you for everything tonight. I’ve already had so much fun and the dinner was amazing.”
“You’re very welcome. Thank you for joining me, and thank you for all the hard work you do for my family,” you say and Natasha beams. “Me and Wanda really appreciate it.” Natasha deflates a little at the mention of your wife, but she pushes her out of her mind to focus on her time with you.
As they wait, Natasha props her arm up on the armrest between you two so she can hold the playbill at a comfortable angle to read. Suddenly, your arm drops heavily on hers and she looks at you in confusion. You’re reading your own playbill and don’t seem to notice that your massive arm is practically crushing hers.
“Um, Y/N?” she prompts, clearing her throat.
“Hmm? Oh!” You quickly move your arm off hers. “I’m so sorry, I thought that was Wanda’s arm,” you explain with a nervous chuckle. Natasha laughs too, although she isn’t sure if she should be happy or worried that she reminds you of your wife. She’d be happy to take Wanda’s place any day, though.
The musical is amazing, impressive beyond anything Natasha had ever expected. She cries when Elphaba defies gravity, and after the whirlwind of the second act, she is among the first to give a standing ovation. She’s floating on cloud nine as she walks with you out of the theater back to the car.
The drive back to your home is quick at the late hour. Just as you're about to pull into the driveway, you slam hard on the brakes, jolting everyone forward. Vision power walks past the beams of your headlights, only breaking the pump of his arms to wave in thanks.
“What is he doing out so late?” you ask, and Natasha is relieved to know she’s not the only one who thinks his habits are a bit odd.
“No idea,” she mumbles, watching you pull onto the driveway and stop.
“Thank you so much, Y/N,” Natasha says, still giddy with excitement.“This was the best night of my life. I’ve always wanted to see a Broadway show, ever since I was a little girl. I never thought I’d get the chance, even after I moved here–”
“You’re very welcome,” you interrupt, seeming almost shy with the praise.
“I’m sorry Wanda wasn’t able to join you for your own anniversary,” she adds, although she’s not sure why.
You shrug. “Nothing we can do about it now. Besides, I’m glad you were able to join me and had such a fun night. I don’t think this would have been nearly as fun by myself.”
There is a pause and Natasha has to force herself to stop looking at your lips. If she had no self-restraint, it wouldn’t have taken much for her to lean over the center console and kiss you.
“Have a good night, Natasha. Drive home safely,” you say as the two of you get out of the car.
“Thank you again!” Natasha doesn’t even listen to music on her way home, riding out the high of what was easily one of the most memorable nights of her life in over a decade.
***********************************************************************
A few weeks later, Natasha is working a double shift: the first one at Steve’s house, and the second at yours. You’re away at work, as usual, but she knows you’ll be home before she leaves for the day, and she never takes any glimpse of you for granted. Wanda is also back to being demanding and cranky, and Natasha has no idea if you told her about the night the two of you had together. She had felt the silent instruction from you not to blab about her taking Wanda’s place and was happy to keep the memories to herself.
She’s in the front hall, mopping while quietly humming “Defying Gravity” to herself, when Wanda clacks by in high-heels.
“Natasha!” she hisses. “Didn’t I tell you to start in the kitchen? If I slip out here because the floor is wet–”
“So sorry!” Natasha apologizes, hoping that she doesn’t finish her sentence. “I’ll put a fan on.” She rests her mop against the wall and darts off for the $300 Dyson fan in the closet. After pointing it towards the gleaming floor, she pushes her cart into the kitchen and continues mopping. She makes sure to open the window to air out the smell, and notices Steve across the street mowing his lawn.
She stares at him, wondering if he can see her, and her question is quickly answered when Steve waves to her. She returns his wave with a smile, then goes back to her task before Wanda can complain she isn’t working hard enough. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him back away from his lawn mower and answer his phone; he disappears into his house hurriedly.
“Natasha! Always make sure you open a window when you mop!” Wanda’s screech comes out of nowhere. “The chemicals you use give me a headache!”
“Oh, but the window is open–” Natasha tries to explain, but Wanda silences her with a wave of her hand.
“I’m on the phone!” she says, pointing to the cell phone held up to her ear. Natasha bites her lip, but holds her tongue. “Sorry, honey, what was that? No, I was talking to the maid,” she says. Natasha perks up despite the way Wanda titles her. You’re clearly on the other line, and maybe you’ll be home sooner than expected.
But Wanda disappears into a guest room (your house had so many of those), and Natasha can no longer hear her conversation. She dutifully continues to mop the floor, careful to fan the mop in a semi-circle pattern so as not to trap herself in a corner. She moves the chairs to the hallway one at a time, cursing their awkward shape that makes them difficult to carry and taking special care not to scrape the feet along the floor.
Wanda’s shrill voice carries through the house again, this time covering a topic that makes Natasha’s cheeks heat up.
“Oh my God, yes, I’m still thinking about last night,” Wanda says. “When you had my legs behind my head–”
Natasha tries not to picture Wanda folded up like a pretzel while you plow into her. But she can imagine herself in a similar position (she’s not so confident in her own flexibility, but she’d make it work for you). Your hands could probably fit around her whole thighs as you push her legs apart wider, thrusting your hips in long strokes to fit your big dick into her. Natasha is embarrassed to admit that the last time she had masturbated, she had thought of you the whole time.
How much more you’d fill her compared to the flimsy toy she was using. How you would feel throbbing inside her, your body pressed hot and heavy against hers as you beg for her permission to finish. Imagining having you like that, with that kind of control, brought Natasha to the most amazing orgasm of her life. If only you had been there to share it with her.
“I didn’t know if you’d be able to go another round, but you proved me wrong,” Wanda continues, and Natasha picks up on how breathless she sounds. She wonders if she’s touching herself right now, with Natasha mopping in the kitchen. Somehow, that wouldn’t be shocking to her. “You were still so hard when I put you down my throat.”
A lightning bolt of arousal strikes Natasha’s core. She can’t focus on mopping anymore, staring blankly out the kitchen window, lost in the new filthy fantasy playing in her head, guided by Wanda’s narration.
Natasha lies between your legs, her lips barely brushing your hips as she takes your cock down her throat. She prays her gag reflex doesn’t protest at the obstruction in her airway, but despite the slight discomfort, she wants to do this all day. Your pants and moans are like music in her ears, urging her on to suck harder and take you deeper.
“Please Nat,” your voice wavers. The muscle fibers in your thighs are visibly tensed and your back arches off the bed when Natasha pushes your hips down, trying to maintain some kind of control over you. But your body seems to have a mind of its own, with only one goal in mind.
“It’s almost like I can still taste you.”
You poke at the back of her throat and Natasha can feel the hot throbbing of your cock in her mouth. She’s so eager to swallow anything you’ll give her, she’s almost embarrassed in her desperation, but when your hands cup the back of her head, pushing her down so she can fit the last inch down her throat, she knows the two of you are on equal planes of passion.
Your entire body flexes and the anticipation for Natasha is overwhelming. You finally inhale sharply as the first hot spurt lands on her tongue.
“Being on your knees for me is a good look for you.”
Natasha tips her head back against the wall, her fingers tangling in your hair. One of her legs rests on your shoulder while the other is spread far apart so you can kneel between them, your mouth pressed against her heat. Your tongue swirls around her clit and Natasha fears she won’t be able to stay standing much longer.
“Y/N,” she pants, clutching your head tighter and rocking her hips forward. “I need you.”
Your fingernails dig harder into her thigh to still her. You look up into her eyes and Natasha thinks she’s going to finish right there. “You have me, baby. I’m all yours.”
“But there’s really only one place you belong.”
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you grunt, almost sending Natasha headfirst into the headboard with every one of your thrusts. “I could stay inside you forever.”
Natasha hums at the praise. She’s holding on the bedsheets for life, spasming and clenching around you, trying to pull you in deeper. You fill her so perfectly, she’s convinced her body was made for yours.
“Tell me I’m better than her,” Natasha gasps, fighting to delay her own release.
“Fuck Wanda,” you grunt, pulling back on Natasha’s hips at the same time you thrust forward, burying your entire length into her. “I love you, Natasha. You’re the only one I ever want to be with.”
A noisy car engine pulls Natasha out of her head. Her face feels flushed with arousal, and she knows what she’s doing the second she goes home. Your green car suddenly pulls into the driveway but stops. You get out and walk to the street, grabbing one of the trash bins and pulling it towards the house.
“I can’t wait for you to fuck me again,” Wanda says in the background.
The realization crashes down on Natasha’s head like a cold shower. She watches you grab the second bin with both hands, carefully walking backwards with it.
You’re not on the phone and you’re standing 30 feet away from Natasha. If Wanda’s not on the phone with you, then who is she talking to?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
AN: Who do you think Wanda was talking to? 👀
To be continued...(hopefully)
Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰
#natasha romanoff#black widow#natasha romanoff smut#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff smut#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff x reader
437 notes
·
View notes
Text
01/20/25; 07:11pm
vi(olet) x fem.reader | modern au
[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]
alternate title: the five times you realized she has always loved you.
you couldn’t find the right term to describe your relationship with violet.
from an outsider’s perspective, they would simply label you as two girls who were the best of friends. sure, there were times where vi got a little too overprotective when it came to shielding you from your shitty exes-
but that’s what friends were supposed to do, right?
yet deep down, there was something nagging at the back of your mind. when you found out dirk was cheating on you, vi had made it her personal mission to beat the ever living shit out of him before proceeding to erase his contact information from your phone. she had no intention of telling you what she had done, but seeing dirk kneeling in front of your apartment door the very next day while begging you to keep vi away from him was more than enough proof that your best friend had willingly defended you.
the memory of it all was enough to cause a surge of heat to course through you. as you look down at your coffee, you couldn’t help but search through your memories, thinking back on specific moments where vi seemed to be there for you when you needed her the most…
i. becoming your roommate to help with paying the rent.
when you texted vi, telling her about the emergency you were facing the moment your roommate moved out, she had appeared at your place in just a few minutes. as evident from the sweat that ran down her forehead, it was clear that she had rushed over to you during your time of need.
with an apologetic expression on your face, you offer her a bottle of water and sit next to her on the couch. “any idea why your roomie moved?”
“she had a new job offer, and it’s located an hour away. i would have been more okay with the move had she at least paid her half of the rent for this month.” you sigh while twirling at the ends of your hair, listening to vi take a swig of her bottle before telling you, “how about i move in with you instead?”
vi’s casual question makes you do a double take, meeting her gaze with your wide eyes, “but… aren’t you living with your sister right now?”
she shrugs while taking another drink, “we’ve both got steady incomes, and she can take care of herself. in fact, i have a feeling she’s counting down the days where she can have the place all to herself.”
“b-but-“
setting aside the now emptied bottle of water, vi places a fingertip against your lips, “hush, cupcake. let me do this for you so you don’t have to worry about a damn thing. i’ll be completely moved in by next week, and you don’t have to worry about running behind on rent.”
a surge of hope courses through you, and you felt each and every one of your worries melt away amidst vi’s grin. unable to hold back your joy any longer, you toss your arms around her neck, nuzzling against her soft, magenta locks of hair, “oh vi, you’re the best! i love you so much!”
you felt the way your best friend suddenly stiffens from within your embrace, causing you to furrow your eyebrows slightly before relaxing when vi lets out an exhale.
“i love you, too.”
you wouldn’t realize the depths of her response until much later.
ii. staying by your side when you suffered from a bad fever.
there was something wrong with you.
your body felt too hot-
your stomach too nauseated as you could barely hold down the sips of water you had taken throughout the night. as you lay shivering and aching in bed, you had barely gotten a wink of sleep when night slowly morphs into the morning.
vi was already active, hearing her footsteps around the kitchen as she brewed her morning coffee. along with the coffee came the sounds of sizzling bacon as the scents of vi cooking breakfast made your stomach churn in response. you swallow thickly, trying to fight back the urge to vomit as you remain curled up in bed.
after what felt like an eternity, you heard gentle knocks coming from your door before vi reveals herself. “hey sleepyhead, it’s time to get up.”
you only manage a whimper in response, causing vi to take quick strides into your room. tossing back your comforter, she sees you huddled up in a fetal position, your face appearing damp with sweat as your bleary eyes met with her gaze.
she lets out a gasp of your name, kneeling beside you on your bed, “damn, you’re burning up with a fever. hang on-“
yet you stop her from leaving, taking comfort in her presence and the scent of her shampoo (the scent of lavender), “don’t leave… need… you…”
her blue eyes were filled with uncertainty, brimming with concern, yet you didn’t relent. “please… i couldn’t sleep last night because… i felt so shitty… and you feel so warm.”
in the end, she caves in to your exhausted demands, laying down next to you while wrapping her arms around your waist. she allows you to hide your face within the curve of her neck, basking in your soft breaths while running a hand through your damp hair, “you need to take some medicine… and eat something, you know that right.”
you hum, burying your face against her shoulder, “hmph… later… sleep… first…”
and with you clinging to her, you were blissfully unaware of how much her heart was racing from your close proximity.
iii. spending late nights with you during your days off.
when you told vi how you were eager to spend your day off with her, your best friend joins you in your happiness. with your favorite takeout already ordered, you settle back on the couch with her, trading the boxes of food with her with little regard to sharing your utensils with her.
with a series of your favorite movies playing on the screen, you bask in the way vi makes jokes with each scene, earning a series of giggles from you in between your bites of food. as the hours ticked by, you cuddle next to vi on the couch, sharing your blanket with her while basking in her warmth.
while you sit next to her, you felt a strange warmth within your chest, your attention slowly waning from the movie that was playing as you found yourself sneaking glances at her.
her blue eyes were focused on the screen, and you allowed your gaze to trace at the fullness of her lips while admiring the freckles that dotted against her cheeks along with the tattoo of her name. your hand itched with the sudden urge to reach out and touch her-
to frame at her face while your lips descended upon her in a sweet kiss-
yet you quickly banish those intrusive thoughts, slightly moving away from her on the couch. you cough the moment vi looked back at you, seeing her eyebrows raised in question at your sudden shift.
but instead of calling you out on it, vi places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you back to her before returning her gaze toward the screen.
she never once removed her hand from your shoulder for the rest of the night.
iv. buying a gorgeous necklace for your birthday.
after gorging yourself on a delicious dinner and some cake, vi pours you a glass of your favorite champagne as you both celebrated another year well spent.
“you’re finally twenty two, how are you feeling, cupcake?”
you roll your eyes at her nickname for you, taking sips of your champagne with a smile on your face. “i can’t complain. but i gotta say, it’s much better to share my special day with my bestie.”
a flash of something was seen in violet’s eyes, yet just as soon as it appears, it was replaced with a carefree expression. vi smirks at you, running a hand through her hair while rolling her eyes, “well, i can’t complain about spending the day with you, either.”
she tells you with a hum before setting her champagne glass off to the side. while you distracted yourself with finishing off your champagne, you were unaware of how violet had one more surprise for you.
you met her gaze when she calls your name, and you face forward to see a neatly wrapped present settled within the palm of her hand. “wha- vi, you didn’t need to get anything for me.”
“i know, but i wanted to.” she tells you with a shrug, handing you the present. your throat clogs up with emotion as you carefully tore open the gold wrapping, unraveling the silver ribbon as you revealed a velvet box. opening the box, you gasp at the sight of the gorgeously crafted necklace settled within the cushion.
it’s rose gold chain held a pendent that was of a rose made entirely of a pink tourmaline gemstone. the brilliant hue reminds you of violet’s startling hair as your hands trembled while picking it up. you were at a loss for words when you silently held the necklace out to vi, beckoning her to help you put it on.
with a tiny smile gracing her features, she takes the necklace and scoots closer to you on the couch. your back was facing her, and you remain still when she moves your hair away. you sensed a bit of hesitancy from her, only to stiffen slightly at the sensation of something soft pressing against the back of your neck.
yet as quickly as the sensation appeared, it was gone within an instant, replaced with the feeling of a slender chain surrounding your neck before being clasped into place.
“happy birthday.” you felt vi whisper within your ear, setting your heart aflame as you found yourself slowly falling for your best friend…
{ … }
you gasp when you felt vi ruffling at your hair, breaking you out of your reveries as she steps into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “hey, what are you spacing out for?”
you swallow thickly, staring at vi and how she was dressed in a sports bra with a loose pair of sweats. your heart begins to pound at the mere sight of her, and your hands now ached with a desire to run through her hair as she kissed you senseless-
“i love you.” you suddenly blurt out to her without meaning to, feeling the heat against your cheeks when she tilts her head back at you. taking a sip of her coffee, vi sits across from you while giving you a grin. “i love you, too.”
“n-no, that’s not it. i-“ you were trembling now, “i mean i love you, what i feel for you is something more than mere friendship. a-and i realize that you’ve always loved me, too.”
vi’s true blue eyes go wide for a brief moment before she shoves her cup of coffee to the side, the dark liquid spilling against your shared dining room when she takes quick strides toward you.
you let out a gasp when she picks you up, crushing your body to hers, “it’s about damn time, cupcake.”
her hands were wrapped tightly around your waist as she carries you effortlessly back into her bedroom, slamming her door shut before laying you back against her bed. no words were spoken when vi surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.
you moan the moment vi gently sweeps her tongue within your mouth, tasting you fully while allowing her hands to descend upon your oversized shirt. she lifts the large fabric from your body, tossing it aside as you were left with your breasts bare for her. with only a flimsy pair of panties covering your center, vi shudders while hovering over you. “you’re so damn pretty and perfect, princess. i’ve loved you ever since the day i first met you.”
your breathing hitches when you felt vi dip her hand between your legs, traveling within the waistband of your panties to trace at your slick heat. “i was so hopelessly in love with you that i tricked myself into believing that your friendship was enough- but it’s not enough anymore.”
in the midst of her confession, you feel her fingers sliding into your aching core, gasping when she pumps them in and out of you. the squelching sounds of your walls eagerly taking in her gentle ministrations echo throughout the room. “v-vi, oh my god, vi!”
“do you know what you just did, princess? now, i’ll never be able to leave you. you belong to me as much as i belong to you now… and nothing will ever change that.”
she sighs, removing her fingers from your soaked cunt, admiring the shiny quality of them before licking off the evidence of your arousal. she makes a show of cleaning her fingertips, causing you to press your legs together when you felt your walls clench painfully at the sight.
“you taste so fucking good, princess.” letting out a sigh of your name, vi spreads your legs, hands gripping at your panties before taking them off of you. once you were left bare for her, vi settles herself between your thighs with her lips engulfed over the entirety of your center.
your back arches against the bed, with you crying out to her as your hands delver themselves into her hair. she devours you like a woman starved, drinking everything you had to offer while introducing a finger within your slick heat. your back arches against the bed as you grind yourself on her face, losing all of your senses each time she gently pinches down at your swollen clit.
minutes later, you release yourself into her awaiting mouth, feeling her low moans send pleasurable vibrations across your body. “mmm, my sweet little cupcake…”
vi’s sultry voice sends shivers down your spine, with your mind going hazy. you became dimly aware of how she sheds off the rest of her clothes, not stopping until she remains just as bare as you before wrapping her legs around your own. the sensation of her swollen clit rubbing against yours makes you toss your head back in response, allowing vi to pin you against the bed as she finally acted on her desires for you.
and as you built on each other’s pleasure, you knew that your respective feelings had always been requited within this very moment.
end notes: an unedited fluff / thirst post pertaining to vi. i understand how hot she is, i truly do 🫠
all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!
#violet x reader#violet smut#violet x y/n#violet x you#violet arcane#vi smut#vi x reader#vi x you#vi x y/n#arcane x reader#vi arcane#writings 📖
415 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alright part 2 cause I need the serotonin this will involve Damian
Eventually after hours of work and vigilante shit getting done Jason aka redhood finally has some time to stop by and check on his kids safe houses though strangely he can't find any of them in they're usually places which is incredibly odd until he starts hearing lots of cheering and cooing coming from one of the side streets that lead to a dead end on one side of the abandoned alley.
What he finds when he walks over are the kids his kids in a circle surrounding a bunch of stray animals and some clearly abandoned animals, now Jason knows for a fact that these animals don't live in this part of town he's not adverse to feeding strays it's just he usually would notice the animals especially if he sees them frequently around Gotham and these aren't exactly what he'd call native to this part of town considering some of them looked freshly cleaned usually the strays would have dirty and muck allover there fur and paws covered in mud and the toxic rock salt solutions that have. Been used to prevent ice from covering the streets..
Eventually the kids then towards him with big hopeful eyes and says can't we keep them can't you take care of them I mean you said you just got a new safe house for everyone and that weird guy with the suit has been helping you take care of us we promise we'd train them well and keep them happy and fed and we'll walk them every day before and after school, WE COULD EVEN TRAIN THEM TO HELP YOU TAKE OUT BAD GUYS ESPECIALLY IF ANYMORE MEAN MEN COME AFTER US AGAIN...
Jason is taken aback he's never been in this situation before hell he can't even imagine Bruce or even Alfred in this situation he tried to think of what they'd do if faced with this decision but honestly both those options felt incredibly heartless, with a sigh he slowly pulled out his vigilante specific phone and looked at the weather for this week of Gotham and when he found that it'll be below freezing temperatures he found he couldn't say no at least not tonight, and maybe this could teach them some responsibility, but now here's the trouble what does he do if they decide they want the same pet he can't imagine theyd be willing to share one and animals tended to choose there owners as well ..
Eventually hood just sighed and goes, "alright guys you may take them inside get them warmed up and I'll see about getting some animal food and dog beds and blankets as well as cat toys, at least for this week since this whole week it'll be below freezing temperatures, beyond that I'm not sure if this is a good idea we're already on thin ice as it is especially with Gotham child services if they think for even a second any of you are living in filth with no supervision with an animal at that, one that could be labeled as dangerous or disease ridden I'm not sure that even Harvey would be able to bail us out this time so I want everyone to treat the next two weeks as a trial run show me your all adult enough to handle pet ownership, we're not putting them back out on the streets and we're definitely not going to allow anyone putting them to sleep if we cannot keep them i don't want any of you to be worried about that."
"Suzy you've recently been diagnosed with asthma and whole I have had you tested for allergies and it's all come back negative I want you to understand that in some people animal hair/fur can trigger your asthma quite badly, if that starts to happen I'd unfortunately be forced to take it away and re-home it and I'm not saying this to be cruel I'm saying this so you understand that your health is more important than owning a pet even if we love them dearly, though if that's the case whoever we rehome it to I'll ensure you'll be able to visit from time to time alright".
Each kid scoops up an animal one of which manages to pick up a fairly big pitbull and awkwardly waddles up the apartment complex stairs every now and. Again tilting ever so slightly to the side due to the weight of the animal meanwhile the entire time the dog seems to be happily drooling with it's great big pink tongue hanging out, a bunch of the younger kids have chosen to take in the kittens who seemed to be at least a year old, he's seen enough of Catwoman tending to stray cats over the years to recognize the older cats from the younger ones, one kid in particular seemed to have a fluffy bunny in one arm and a pug in the other, vaguely Jason felt as if he just opened a can of worms he was not qualified to deal with.. As the last of the kids and pets went inside he heard a crunching come from behind but when he turned around he saw no one
"Hey Todd it seems your delinquents have found my friends, I was taking them out for some air but they got away from me and when I was about to go out and look for them father had informed me that there's a new case he must work on and while he does so he needed me to patrol with dick, I had each of them chipped with my own specially designed microchips and tracked them to this location and I noticed your delinquents have taken a liking to them, maybe we can come to an acceptable agreement, your delinquents may keep and even care for my friends in exchange you allow me to teach them about the animals and proper animal handling and maybe this way they'll finally learn some culture, and you don't tell father I was bringing more friends to the manor".
"first off stop calling them delinquents they're good people, not soldiers, not delinquents, and most definitely not unworthy simply because they were born of lessor means, you don't see me dick or Bruce calling you an irredeemable monster that only cares for perfection simply because ra's is your grandfather, I thought you would've known better by now especially living In a place like Gotham and interacting with the people here, maybe Bruce has already failed you if this is how you see others of lesser means, I'm sure he'd be disappointed and so wouldn't dick".
...
Damian is caught off guard by how valiantly passionate Jason sounds when talking of those of lessor means, Damian did feel a bit of shame wash over him for calling the kids delinquents but how could he not feel this way they were all covered in dirt and muck and seemed to do nothing all day but chasing after an idiot like the red hood and not taking any real interest in creating a lasting legacy, or taking proper. Care if there appearances, it was barbaric how carefree they were running around, showing all those emotions, that was a weakness, a thing that could easily be exploited and used against you why couldn't they see that, why couldn't they see by openly running wild they were leaving themselves open to be hurt, it's dangerous to be this loud to take up this much space, they lacked discipline and-,..
Jason noticed that Damian's mood seemed to have changed from snarky know it all to his fake Bruce face the type of face Bruce would use when he's thinking really hard about a case but can't seem to quite crack the puzzle, and the type that usually resulted in bruce pulling out his own hair due to the stress and trauma, honestly in this moment Damian looked like a blank sheet in a sense facially it's a face he's seen before on other league members when a single free thought or word out of turn would lead to a severe physical punishment. Finally Damian looked up almost looking like a sad scared child honestly like Jason probably did when Bruce first found him all those years ago stealing tires off the batmobile, and running around the streets,
"Todd I... Apologize, the- .. your acquaintances aren't delinquents, but they are disorganized, and it's barbaric, I am concerned that them being so open will only lead them to painful lessons later on if they're not careful, though I see now it is not my place to intervene or say as much, but I'd still really like to teach them how to properly take care of my friends I also have treats for them"-..
"it's fine, you may teach them how to care for the animals if you wish, but please try not to go on for hours about the history of how they got here or there ancestors, they're not like you, so keep it simple at least at first and then if they have questions answer them as they arrive, they don't have access to real school or top educations like you or dick did, what they learn is mainly thanks to me and Alfred and a program that's slowly being implemented by the locals around here, alot of them are former teachers, midwives, ECT before they had to quit there jobs or leave due to active threats to they're safety, and they're helping us establish a small school for basic education and educational skills they'll need later in life, also I'd like for you to be prepared as they may make fun of the way you speak and your accent as there's not alot of people around here that speak like you".
Okay but like imagine Jason Todd living in Crime Alley and he has numerous safe houses in gotham some of witch just aren't for him and in fact are apartment complexes that he bought out for cheap possibly due to a little life-threatening scare by Red Hood and any time he's in crime alley and he notices that especially in the winter months that the kids are sick or don't have a dry place to live he just starts setting them up in the apartment complex, and none of the kids ever talk about where exactly that complex is because they love redhood... Also, I imagine that once a week Jason makes like a really big dinner and he just goes outside and serves it to the kids around crime alley, the kids all love him and feel safe with him. I imagine it gets to a point where if the kids are in danger or are worried or scared they just go running over to Red Hood some of the kids have taken to calling him dad, uncle, and other various family references.. And one day on the way back to one of his safe houses he just hears one of the younger street kids yelling dad and he turns to where its coming from and theres just this small kid holding another small kid in his arms and red's just like what happened and the kid just goes shes sick and idk what to do and red just kinda sighs and goes yeah alright follow me kid and he walks over to one of his main safe houses puts his bike away and gets the kids into the car but before continuing to the doc office he calls out through crime alley of if anyone's sick yall better come here i don't wanna do numerous trips and suddenly theres a small group of kids coming out of the shadows and he ushers them all into the car drives them all to gotham general and the receptionist doesn't bat an eye at the gaggle of sick kids or the fact redhood is checking them all in because he and the hospital have an understanding so he gets them all treated and seen and has to sit in with every nurse and doctor, at one point he gets a call from bruce asking why he's not on protrol and jason thinking nothing of it just goes i'm busy im at the hospital have dickface cover my patrol and then he hangs up to speak to the doctors and check on his kids..
bruce shows up at Gotham general just to find red surrounded by numerous children with various flu's colds coughs one of them has pneumonia and was just diagnosed with asthma and he's just taking notes while there's one child in his lap crying cause she's scared and he's just rocking her gently while writing down various treatment plans for each kid and what safe house he's putting them in because he'll be personally taking care of them... and one of the docs spot Bruce and is like excuse me mr. wayne you can't be back here patients only and redhood can be here because he's there acting guardian which makes Bruce's brain short-circuit entirely
Also alfred 100 percent knows about this and has helped red set up the rooms for the kids and everything and some of those big family dinners Jason has for the kids yeah he's using Alfred's recipes
How Jason got guardianship of these kids is because of Harvey dent he got the proper legal advice from Harvey
#batman#dc comics#comic books#batman comics#batfam#jason todd#jason todd is good with kids#redhood#redhood is a dad#the redhood#red hood#red hood dc#dc comics#under the redhood#under the red hood#bruce wayne#dick greyson#dc au#dc imagines#dc imagine#batfamily#crime alley#dc red hood#dc characters#batman detective comics#2nd robin#bruce and jason#dick and jason#batman alternate universe#batman au
867 notes
·
View notes
Text
made for this | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader
scenario: pregnant!reader has a doctor’s appointment and wants to help husband!salesman by recruiting some new players at the clinic. the salesman has a different idea in mind… setting: a couple months after the events of season 1; sequel to this but can be read as a stand-alone fic warnings: pregnant!reader; a bit of spice and a lot of fluff; both reader and salesman feel morally superior to others; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 931 notes: thank you all for the love on the first part! i hope i didn’t make the salesman too ooc, i try to keep things as accurate to the show as possible! but i think he is somewhat capable of having soft moments, although very rarely. i have at least one more idea for this series (if it can even be called that), so be on the lookout for that ٩>ᴗ<)و (also if anyone has any ideas for this ship, send them my way!) please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive
“Hey, can I borrow some business cards? I have an appointment at the clinic today and thought I’d pass some out.”
At your call, your husband walked into the bedroom to find you standing in front of the mirror next to your shared bed, adjusting your outfit for the day. He crossed his arms.
“I don’t think so. Any public involvement with the Games could endanger you,” his gaze lingered on your swollen stomach. He sighed, “You can’t defend yourself in your condition, no matter how much you think you can.”
You just rolled your eyes and shot him a piercing look.
“My pregnancy doesn’t impact my job, though. I can take care of myself just fine.” You took a couple steps towards him. “Who’s the one who befriended Gi-hun again? You?” You looked around the room before you pointed at yourself.
“Me, that’s who,” you grinned proudly, only for your husband to cover his face with his hands, his patience clearly running thin.
“Besides,” you shrugged, “it’s not like I’ll be playing ddakji and smacking people. No, my dear husband, that’s your thing.” You brought a finger up to your lips.
“I have my own ways to play.” You flashed a wicked smile towards your husband, causing him to shiver.
Right there and then, you knew that you had won the battle.
…or so you thought.
In the blink of an eye, your husband swept you off your feet and pinned you on the bed with only one arm. Your startled expression pleased him judging by the wild look on his face. His unoccupied hand came to gently press on your growing stomach, adding to the tense situation. He brought his lips up to graze your ear.
“See how vulnerable you are? Just think,” he lightly bit at your helix, “others won’t be so nice.”
It was your turn to shiver.
When you didn’t respond, he continued nibbling at your ear with his hand still firmly planted on your belly.
Soon after, he lifted his head and asked, “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He kissed you deeply, only breaking away to gasp for air. The most smug expression was plastered on his face.
“Oh wait, I do.”
How cheeky of him. And cheesy, too!
You huffed, “Wow, already starting with the dad jokes? And not even the good ones either.” His eyebrow quirked upwards before he bent down to press his nose against yours.
“Do you really want to play this game?” He whispered softly, causing you to shudder. “You know I always win.”
Turning your head to the right, you let out a small chuckle.
“Oh really?” You retorted, “Prove it.”
This sent him into a borderline frenzy as he started planting kisses down the side of your neck. You threw your arms around his neck, a smile on your face. Sometimes it was just too easy to manipulate him.
As he was about to leave a mark, a sharp movement stopped him in his tracks. He blinked, snapping out of his trance. You were both confused when there was another movement, although not as sharp as the first.
The two of you looked down at your rounded stomach, and your husband removed his hand. The baby’s kicks continued nearly every minute, while you both just watched, not moving a muscle. Then, your husband lifted himself up off of you, moving to sit on the bed beside you. You sat up and, taking one of his hands, gently laid it on your stomach. Your husband carefully wrapped an arm around you, now acting as if you were made of glass.
“They’re so active. Do you think,” he paused, then in a whisper, asked, “Do you think I hurt them?”
“No… I think they’re just making themselves known,” you kissed him on the cheek.
Both of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, only to soon realize that you were now running late for your appointment.
“Is there any chance I can still get those business cards?” You pleaded.
Your husband chuckled, “Absolutely not. In fact, I’ll accompany you.”
“I thought we weren’t allowed to be seen together in public?” You furrowed your eyebrows.
He let go of you and turned to open his briefcase at the foot of the bed. Pulling out some files, he nodded, “There’s quite a few prospective players residing at that hospital. You attend your appointment, I’ll recruit more players.” He flashed his signature smirk, putting the files back in his briefcase.
“Wow, I thought you wanted to come to my appointment with me!” You laughed, giving him a light shove.
Your husband gave you a knowing look, “I can’t do that. But I expect a copy of the sonogram.” He stood up, holding out a hand for you to take.
“What a gentleman.” You took his offer and stood up.
Placing a hand on your husband’s chest, you teased, “Try to take it easy at the hospital, hm? Most of the prospects there are already on the verge of cracking. We don’t want to break them before the Games – it wouldn’t make for a good show.”
Wrapping his arms around your waist, your husband pouted, “But where’s the fun in that?”
“Giving them a tiny sliver of hope, only to eventually rip it away…” You looked him straight in the eyes. “The suspense is so thrilling, don’t you think?”
“And here I was starting to think you weren’t cut out for the job,” he chuckled. He checked his watch, noting the time.
“We should get going – it’s rude to be late.”
a/n: by the way, i don’t think i have it in me to write full-on smut, the most i can probably do is a bit of lime lol
tags: @preppyfella
#the salesman x reader#the recruiter x reader#squid game#squid game season 2#squid game x reader#squid game x you#the salesman#the recruiter#squid game fanfic#gong yoo x reader#reader insert#the recruiter squid game#the salesman fluff#the salesman x you#pregnant reader
337 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cravings
John Price x Pregnant!Reader
A/N: Based on THIS idea that came to me. This is most likely going to be an on going little interconnected one shot series as I already have other ideas for John and his cute lil' pregnant neighbor. Hope you all enjoy this one! Word Count: 3k Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant, fluff, soft john price. Next Part
The ceramic plate feels unusually heavy in your hands, but so does your fist as you bring it up to knock on the door in front of you before dropping it again, internally battling with yourself.
What the fuck are you doing?
That’s the first thought that runs through your head as you stand stupidly in front of your neighbors door, the smell of…something so tantalizing wafting through from the other side making your mouth water.
Ah, right - silly pregnancy brain basically forced you from your apartment with a plate in your hand because while you don’t know what your neighbor is cooking it smells so fucking good that you fear you might die if you don’t have some of it.
It’s silly, you know it is, it’s outrageous really - what were you planning to do? Waltz up to this man's door, knock, and then hold out your plate - “alms for the poor pregnant lady please?”
You sigh, dropping the plate by your side as the thought runs through your mind. You almost turn to walk back to your apartment empty handed, but then a faint memory surfaces for just a moment. Your neighbor isn’t a stranger, and while he isn't quite a friend, either - he’s been kind enough. You actually hadn’t run into him all that often, your first interaction with him being a couple months into your pregnancy actually.
You’d been grappling with a large box, trying and ultimately failing to get it up the stairs to your second floor apartment, stranding you on the landing between the stairs as you stared up at the last flight. You were leaning against the wall, hand on your slightly rounded belly when you heard John’s door open and close, him appearing around the corner shortly after, surprise coloring his features at the scene before him.
“Need some help with that?” He asked, a bemused smile on his lips.
You huffed out a small laugh, giving him a smile of your own. “Only if you’re offering.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to let you do it by yourself, not in your condition.”
You let out a soft ‘hmph’ at that - hating when people refer to your predicament as a condition. You’re pregnant, not bedridden.
“Where is your better half anyways?” He’d asked, picking up the box with such little effort it made you jealous, “I outta teach him a thing or two about manners-”
You wave him off, the mention of your baby's father leaving a sour taste in your mouth.
“Not in the picture,” you say simply, quickly putting an end to the line of questioning.
Your neighbor paused at that, but decided not to push it, staying silent until you reached your door. You unlocked it and told him he could leave the box at the door but he’d insisted on at least putting it inside the apartment.
“Do you…” he paused for a moment, rubbing his beard chin in thought. “You need help getting it put together?”
You glance down at the box, it’s just a crib, it’ can’t be that hard.
You give him a warm smile, shaking your head. “You’ve been plenty of help, I should be able to get it from here.”
He nods, turning back towards the door before stopping just past the threshold and holding his hand out towards you. “John Price. I’m over in 2C if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask.”
You shake his hand, and smile before he heads back down the stairs.
John Price…
Your interactions past that had been spread thin - although you did end up asking for his help with the crib - it was in no way a one person job. But other than that…it was just friendly conversations or waves as you passed one another in the hallway or stairs.
But as you stand here, the smell of food getting stronger and more inviting, his words replay again.
“Don’t hesitate to ask…”
Fuck it.
You reach up and knock on his door before you can stop yourself, clutching the plate against your chest as you hear a faint call from inside, and then the smell of whatever the hell he’s cooking is hitting you full force as the door swings open.
Your name falls from his lips as he looks at you, that slight look of surprise on his face once again as he takes you in on his doorstep. You probably are a sight - leggings, oversized sweatshirt, only in your fuzzy socks and a plate in your hand.
“Look, I know this is going to sound so stupid,” you begin, rushing to explain yourself. “But I was in my apartment and I started to smell whatever it is that you’re cooking and it just smells so good, and I tried to just make something else but it didn’t seem nearly as appetizing and I just-”
You let out a frustrated huff, holding out your plate in shameful defeat, “Can I just…Can I just have a little of whatever it is that you’re making? because now I’m craving it and I don’t think I will be able to stop thinking about it.”
The silence that follows your request makes you want to shrivel up in embarrassment, but it’s soon washed away as gentle laughter meets your ears. You watch as John has to almost physically support himself on the doorframe as he tries and fails to contain his laughter. Heat rushes to your cheeks, but before you can protest or bite back, he’s stepping back into his apartment, opening the door a bit wider.
“Why don’t I do you one better and invite you in for dinner?” He says, eyes bright with amusement.
Pulling the plate back to your chest in a mock hug, suddenly unsure. “Are you sure?” You ask, voice small, “I don’t want to intrude.”
He shakes his head, reaching an arm out to guide you inside, “Nonsense, I made too much for one person anyways,” he says, closing the door behind you once you enter.
“I hope you like Indian food,” he says, moving to slip past you towards the kitchen, “Does spicy food bother you?”
At the mention of Indian food, you can feel yourself practically drooling. You’ve had an affinity for spicy foods as of late, and curry has been your go to.
“God no,” you practically groan, moving to follow him into the small apartment kitchen, “Spicy food is the one thing I can’t get enough of as of late.”
The kitchen in this apartment is identical to your own. It’s attached right to the living room, separated only by a half wall breakfast bar type set up, so you’re able to watch as John turns his back to you to tend to the food still on the stove.
There’s a small empty space off to the side of the kitchen and living room - clearly meant to be a small dining area of sorts but John has turned it into a makeshift office. A small desk littered with papers and folders haphazardly stacked together and an open laptop, screensaver up on display.
“Make yourself at home,” John calls over his shoulder, the soft clinking of dishes accompanying his words, “food’ll be done in a moment.”
Put slightly more at ease by his words, you finally set your plate down on the breakfast bar top, taking a moment to look around the space.
The living room is sparsely decorated, clearly a man’s apartment - but it’s more than that. It’s utilitarian, almost…cold. You’ve started to notice that John is sometimes gone for long stints of time, maybe that’s why it’s so impersonal, he doesn’t spend much time here. Yet, despite the lack of decor or personal touches, you do notice small things that just scream John - at least from what you know of him.
The fancy crystal ashtray on the coffee table, half smoked cigar sitting unlit in the well. The half empty glass of dark amber liquid sitting right next to it, condensation pooling on the coaster beneath it. There is a simple leather couch up against the back wall of the living room right across from an entertainment center and TV. Two small bookshelves bracket the entertainment center, and without thinking, your feet carry you over to them.
They’re filled with books of all sorts - mostly nonfiction - but you catch some classics among the plethora of autobiographies and self-help books. Catcher in The Rye, The Nickel Boys, and Moby Dick, to name a few. But the one that draws your attention the most is one book sitting on the shelf closest to the door, lying face down as if he had been in the middle of reading when he was interrupted by something.
The Hobbit.
You smile, turning from the book as you turn to walk back towards his makeshift office space and thus, the kitchen.
“Didn’t take you as a Tolkien fan, John.”
He turns to look at you as you come to the entrance to the kitchen, giving you a small smile, and a sheepish shrug before turning back to stir the pot.
“One of my coworkers recommended it to me,” he defends, before adding, “although I’ll admit it’s growing on me.”
As he was speaking you turned and took a few more steps into his office space, eyes drawn to the screensaver on the laptop. It’s four men in military gear, arms around each other’s shoulders, and it only takes you a moment to spot John among the bodies. He’s smiling wide in the photo, arm wrapping affectionately around the neck of a dark skinned man to his left, while his other arm is wrapped more casually around another man to his right. This man is also smiling wide, piercing blue eyes crinkled in delight as he seems to be laughing, the sides of his head are shaved and he has a short mohawk. Your eyes finally trail to the last member of the group, who’s one arm is around the man with the mohawk, while his other arm is rested casually atop the rifle hanging around him. But what stands out the most is the stark white skull mask on his face, hiding everything but his dark eyes.
“You’re in the military?” You ask, moving to stand up straight once more, wincing at the slight twinge in your back as you do so.
You hear John approach from behind you, footsteps muffled by the carpet as he comes to stand next to you.
“That I am,” he says, and you don’t miss the way he tucks some papers beneath other folders. Not for your eyes apparently.
You smile when you look at the picture, “You look happy here,” you say, pointing to the screen.
John nods beside you, smiling fondly again. “It was a good day,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders, “mission went well for once.”
He reaches out and points to the man on his left, “That’s Gaz,” he moves to the one to his right, “Soap,” he finally moves to the man with the skull mask, “and that’s Ghost.”
You hum, slightly confused by the names, but recalling a faint knowledge of military personnel getting nicknames sometimes. You choose not to question it, instead giving in to your teasing nature as you point to John in the picture.
“You skipped over the handsome one,” you say, voice teasing.
You watch in silent triumph as John clears his throat, and if it weren't for his beard, you’re sure you’d see red adorning his cheeks. He waves his hand at you, shaking his head as he chuckles.
“Oh, come off it,” he chastises lightly, “Dinner’s ready.”
You turn and move towards the kitchen where John already has two plates of butter chicken and rice plated up and ready for you both. You move to help him but he brushes you off with a small ‘tsk’ sound before sliding past you and leading you back into the living room.
“I hope you’re alright eating at the coffee table,” he says sheepishly, setting the plates down, “Never got around to getting a proper dining room table.”
You smile at him, trying to be reassuring as you take a seat on the couch, “perfectly fine with me. It’s where I eat most of my meals too.”
He seems to relax at that before disappearing back into the kitchen and returning shortly with two glasses of water, setting one in front of you and then his own plate before taking a seat next to you. You wait, not all that patiently for him to get comfortable before you finally dig into the food that started this whole silly debacle, and the moment you do, you can’t stop the groan that slips past your closed lips as you chew.
It’s fucking amazing.
Better than the Indian restaurant you frequent, and much better than anything you’ve ever tried to cook. The seasoning is perfect, the curry is the right consistency too and it’s just-
“Holy shit, John,” you manage after swallowing another bite of food, taking a sip of your water as he laughs around his own bite.
“I take it you approve then?” He asks, blue shimmering with amusement.
You hum happily, taking another bite before replying. “More than approve, this is phenomenal, better than any indian take away I’ve had.”
He smiles at that, “I’ll take the compliment then.”
You nod, now trying to force yourself to slow down and savor the dish in front of you. “As you should.”
It’s quiet for a moment before John reaches for the remote laying on the table. “Fancy anything in particular?”
You think for a moment before shaking your head, “whatever you usually watch is fine.”
He nods, turning the TV on and switching to a streaming service before flicking through the various ‘recently watched’ shows. You can’t stop the way your brow raises when you see The Great British Baking Show among the list.
“You watch baking shows?” You ask, unable to keep the surprise from your voice.
John chuckles, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “call it a guilty pleasure,” he jokes before clicking on the most recent episode.
The rest of the meal passes in an air of comfort, the only sounds at first being the scrape of utensils against plates and the show playing on the TV. Neither of you really notice when you both finish eating and lean back into the couch, eyes glued to the screen and critiques falling from both your mouths.
“She forgot the fucking eggs!” You cry at the TV, incredulous that one of the contestants forgot a key ingredient in their cake.
John practically groans beside you, “it’s probably for the best,” he says, cringing slightly as it switches to another baker whose cake is crumbling apart as they try to decorate it. “She tried to pair pickles with a chocolate mousse last episode-”
“She what?” You look at him surprised for a moment before sinking back into the couch. “Wait…that actually might not be that bad-”
This gets another laugh out of the man beside you and you hear him mumble something about ‘weird pregnancy cravings’ before you both go back to watching the show.
The evening passes much like this, both of you watching a few more episodes before your eyes fall to the clock on your phone, eyes widening at the time.
“Oh my gosh it’s late,” you say, sitting up straighter, hand falling to your belly when the movement causes a twinge.
You must make a face because, John is sitting up now too, eyes falling down to where your hand lays. “No need to rush,” he assures you, moving to stand and offer you his hand. “I’m not kicking you out.”
You smile up at him as you take his hand, fighting the heat that rushes to your cheeks, “Well you could have,” you say softly, “I definitely overstayed my welcome.”
The man before you just shakes his head, “none of that now,” he assures you, “If I’d wanted you gone, I would’ve said something. I..” He trails off, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “I liked having the company.”
Now you really blush, ducking your head as your hand rubs absentmindedly over your stomach. “I..I liked it too. Nice change of pace. Thank you for inviting me in,” you tug your lip between your teeth before continuing. “I know it was a weird request and you could have turned me away - should have probably but…Thank you.”
You look up then only to see John giving you that warm smile you’ve come to be familiar with, blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Anytime,” he says softly, before he shifts, as if remembering something. “Almost forgot-”
He hurries back to the kitchen, pulling something from the fridge before returning to you. He holds out a Tupperware container, obviously filled with leftovers from dinner.
“Saved some for you,” he says, urging the container into your hands when you don’t take it immediately.
“John I-” you shake your head, looking down at the container, “You already fed me, I don’t want to take your leftovers too-”
He waves his hand sharply, cutting you off. “I made plenty,” he promises, “I still have some. There was plenty left to give you.”
A small silence falls over you, gratitude and warmth filling your chest with a fuzziness you haven’t felt in a long time. Not since your last relationship, not since you got pregnant. It’s been too long since someone cared for you instead of the other way around, and the simple gesture makes your eyes burn with the threat of tears.
Not now, pregnancy hormones!
You smile, clothing the container tightly to you before looking up at John again. He still has that soft look on his face, and before you can think better of it, you lean up on your tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you, John.”
And then you turn and exit his apartment before either of you can find time to feel embarrassed about your actions.
But, you left so quickly you missed the blush on John’s cheeks, and the way he brought one hand up to touch the spot you kissed.
Fuck.
He’s a goner.
#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#john price#captain john price#tw: pregnancy#cod#call of duty
217 notes
·
View notes
Text
in sickness and in health, ch. 1 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader
ah, look at that. have some omegaverse angst inspired by this post here <3 if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!
well, this turned out to be miles longer than i expected it to. there's not really a solid ending, so let me know if you want more! have so much fun getting your heart ripped out <3
word count: 4,764 chapter two masterlist ao3 link
Three years ago, you and Simon got married. It wasn’t anything flashy or big - fuck, how could it have been when you didn’t even love each other? But, military law forbade an unmated omega from joining the ranks, and Simon was seen as a wild-card alpha, too headstrong and violent, too hard to control. So, the brass laid out an ultimatum: mate, get married, or be discharged. Both you and Simon had worked too hard for too long to get where you were, so discharge was entirely off the table. There was no courting, no dates, and the wedding, if you could call it that, was little more than signing papers - three signatures on a thick piece of A4 government paper, one from you, one from Simon, and one from your witness, Captain John Price. You didn’t even exchange rings or vows. It took less than five minutes.
After all was said and done, you and Simon went back to your lives. Sure, you were respectful to one another, and you spent one or two heats and ruts together, but you both maintained a distance away from each other. Neither of you were thrilled with the idea of being tied down, of being mated. The mating bond between you felt more like the neck of a too-tight sweater than it did a comfort, feeling each other’s emotions more of a chore than something you looked forward to. Sure, you worked well together, fluid and deadly like a well oiled M2 on the field. Always had. But there was a stark difference between working well together, and being mated.
So that’s how you ended up here. You had lost twenty pounds. Your skin was sallow and pale, your eyes sunken in. When you looked in the mirror, you could count your ribs, the knobs of your spine, even when they were hidden under the bruises that bloomed across your sickly skin.
You had thrown yourself into work, and when there was no work, you were challenging any living thing to go for a round with you on the sparring mat. But, you were weak; the bond sickness sapped all of your energy and strength faster than you could ever hope to replenish it. Your scent, which was once a warm and spicy caramelized vanilla, now smelled like sugar burnt to the bottom of a pot - acrid and rotted. You were dying, and you knew it. But your pride was far too great to ever go crawling back to Simon, the very man who caused the sickness to infiltrate every cell of your being. It had been months of this torture. Simon, your alpha, had all but abandoned you. You had been without his touch, his scent, anything and everything that the very base instincts of your omega craved from its mate for far too long. It didn't matter to your omega that this marriage, this mating bond was nothing more than a way to keep both you and Simon in the service. Instincts couldn't be fought with fact, and now you were reaping the consequences of the neglect of the bond. You had thought bond sickness was a myth, a fear-mongering tactic to keep alphas in line. However, you were now aware that there was far more truth than you could have ever imagined to that story that is told.
You had seen the concerned looks of your team as they watched you haunt the halls of the base like a spectre. Soap had started to bring you chocolates and drinks, anything in hopes to get you to eat. Gaz took a different approach, always being the one to take you up on your sparring requests, the beta knowing that at the very least he could be gentle with you while still giving you an outlet. The Captain had made sure to keep you off any truly strenuous missions and tasks, mainly relegating you to the medbay or to training recruits. If you were any stronger, you would be pissed, but right now you took it as a blessing. At least he hadn’t kicked you off the team for your weakness. But Simon? Simon was nowhere to be found. He continuously was the first volunteer for the most dangerous missions, keeping him away from base for weeks to months at a time. When he came back bloody and bruised, he would avoid the medbay like the plague, only coming in to get fixed up by another combat medic when he knew Soap or Gaz had forcefully pulled you away. If you two happened to be walking in the same hallway, Simon would duck out of your sight without even so much as a word. You had long since given up on running after him.
So color yourself surprised when you were standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom and the screen of your phone lit up, a text from Simon blaring on the too-bright screen. You had every intention of ignoring it, but your pride was no match for the dying ache of your omega.
Come to my quarters.
The text was simple. Demanding, even. And all it did was make you angry.
You quickly tugged on a pair of sweats and forced a tank top over your bruised and feverish skin. You thought briefly for a moment about tugging a sweatshirt on over your mottled skin, but, fuck it, let him see all that he has done to you. Maybe he would give you the one blessing you had hoped for over the last few months of neglect, and finally sever the bond between you.
You trudged through the hallways of the base, every soldier you passed giving you a wide berth. You were certain you looked like death froze over, and the rage-filled expression set over your brows and your lips certainly did not help. When you reached his door, you didn’t even bother to knock. You just shoved your copy of the key in the door and slammed the door open.
Simon barely even looked up from where he was lounging on the bed. His shirt was off, a rare sight, even for you, but even more shocking was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask. He didn’t look much better than you - his once-bronzed skin paled, his own scars raised and reddened, and he had a poorly bandaged bullet wound wrapped, the white medical wrapping blossoming with a red mark. Pulled stitches, definitely.
“Close the door,” came the rough demand as his arms lazily opened in an invitation to lay with him. “And c’mere.”
You, in all of your rage, just stood stockstill in the still-open doorway. Even as your omega side cried to jump into his arms and let his scent and his touch wash away all the pain, you refused with a defiant jut of your chin. You didn’t know why he had called you here, and the only thing your mind could conjure up is that Price, or Laswell, or fuck, even Soap, had sat him down and forced him to do this. And you wanted nothing to do with this or with him if he actually was not trying to change.
“I don’t want your pity. And I sure as hell don’t want your affection just because Price told you that you had to fix me,” you replied, your voice shaking with weakness and pain, even as you tried your damndest to keep it steady, strong.
Simon growled, the sound of an alpha not used to not getting his way, as he rolled onto his side to look at you more squarely. His arms were still open, but you could see the way his muscles clenched, his own anger rising. “It ain’t about pity. It’s about basic biology,” he bit out, the words short and angry.
That made you laugh, the sound short and sardonic before it morphs into a cough that shakes your entire, frail being. You brought a shaking hand up to wipe your lips before you fixed him with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean. “Basic biology?" you mocked. “Yeah, for sure. But it’s also basic biology to not let bond sickness even be a worry for your omega, but looks like you fucked that one right up, didn’t you!?”
Your words made something in Simon snap. Your rage, the vitriol, clenched his hands into fists as he quickly swung his powerful legs over the edge of the bed, crossing the space between you in the space between one of your breaths and the next. He was in your face now, just enough space between you to not be pressing completely against you. You averted your gaze, knowing that if you didn’t, you might continue yelling at him, or worse.
“Look at me,” he ordered, using the same tone he does on the battlefield. His hands are still clenched into fists, but they are shaking. Why?
That tone made your eyes harden, the instincts of a hard-bred soldier kicking in. Even through the fraying of your bond, your sickness, you knew that voice. You listened when given an order. You allowed your head to loll back to look up at him, but your expression was still set in that same hard glare. You weren’t on a battlefield. You were on base, far away from the acrid explosions and hot gunpowder. How dare he pretend otherwise? “Why?” you bit back in response. “This isn’t some tactical decision, Simon. Don’t treat me like one of your fuckin’ rookies.”
He took a sharp breath through his teeth, obviously trying to control himself. He knew you were weak, the bond sickness taking so much more from you than it ever did him. But your defiance, your spirit despite the bond sickness was making his alpha go crazy. Even with you glaring up at him, he stared down at you with fierce eyes as his hands gripped your hips, shoving you out of the doorway and pressing you against the wall right beside it. Taking one hand off of your hip, he shut the door with a resounding click before his grip, and his attention came back entirely to you. “I ain’t treatin’ you like a goddamned rookie,” he growled out, his cold brown gaze entirely focused on your own broken one as one hand slams into the wall by your head. Even through your rage, he can see it. Feel it. He had broken you. And that knowledge caused his alpha to writhe in pain. “I’m treatin’ ya like my fuckin’ omega.”
As he caged you in, growled those words at you, your own expression hardened. Your lips curled up to reveal your smaller omega fangs, a low growl of your own reverberating from your chest as your hands clenched into fists. It’s hard to ignore the sheer size difference between the two of you as he towers over you, his head dipped low to keep your attention. However, that did nothing to stop your rage, in fact, it increased it tenfold.
“Oh, right. I forgot. Being your omega means less than being one of your rookies, silly me.”
You knew the second the words left your mouth that you just opened a Pandora’s box. You saw it in the way his eyes instantaneously darkened, in the way his hand left the wall before you could even blink, his fingers crushing your jaw between them in a bruising grip, forcing your head back against the wall as he brought his face ever closer to yours. However, as his face got closer, you could see the glint of something else in his eyes. Triumph. His alpha was revelling in watching you snap and get fiery again. It was a victory, in his mind, to see you able to be so angry after the bond sickness had taken so much from you. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. “I know that attitude of yours will always be there, but careful.”
His words sent another wave of anger through you, and as he forced your head back, you jerked your neck, snapping your teeth at him, your small omega fangs glinting in the low light of his quarters. It was a clear message. Fuck the bond sickness, he had no right to touch you right now. You did not forgive him, and he has to work to even begin to earn that, and if he won’t? You would dissolve the bond without him, whether or not it risked your life.
“Don’t sweetheart me,” you growled out, glaring up at him even as the bruising grip of his fingers squished your cheeks together, slurring your words. “Not after everything.”
His alpha instincts flared again, the desire to force you into accepting his help clear as his eyes flashed in irritation at your anger. He pressed you further into the wall, his body now flush against yours as he snarled right back. “Then do something about it,” he challenged. “Get mad. Fight me. Let it all out. But, you’re not leaving this room until you let me fix this.”
As much as you hated it, hearing Simon’s permission gave you the ability to let it all out. No matter how much you wanted to pretend that you were unaffected by him, the knowledge that he wanted you to fight, wanted to fix this broken bond between you, allowed you to finally and truly get all of the anger out, and maybe, just maybe, give the bond a chance to heal.
And so you did. Your body jerked against his, your sallow cheeks flushing red as you bared your omega fangs and growled at him again. Your eyes held the faintest spark of life, a far cry from what they used to have, but there’s something there now.
When Simon saw that spark, the faintest hint of his omega coming back, he chuckled gruffly, his eyes glinting with a possessive heat.
“Yes, spitfire. I want you t’ fight me. Hit me, scream, yell at me, tell me how shit of an alpha I’ve been. I don’t care. Just don’t. Hold. Back.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the dam inside of you broke. Months worth of anger, agony, grief, pain, and aching sadness flooded your veins like a hot, volatile drug. It felt like a living, breathing thing as the emotions curled around your lungs, your muscles, your heart. Tears pushed at your lash line, the aching pain making itself known through the rage.
You held his cold brown gaze for a moment, your eyes searching his. When all you saw in return was steely determination, you did the only thing you could think of. Before he could even move out of the way, you shut your eyes and cranked your head back as far as it would go, and drove your forehead straight into his nose. It wasn’t nearly hard enough to break it, but definitely hard enough to hurt and make the blood start flowing.
He staggered back from you, his hands coming up to cup his nose, but the alpha was far from angry. In fact, he was grinning, the blood pouring from his nose coating his lips and teeth. A low growl of approval rumbled from his chest as he stared at you, approval glinting in his eyes. “Good girl,” he muttered lowly, the praise slipping through so naturally.
As his praise washed over you, you felt your stomach flip. It shouldn’t feel that good. Not after the months and months of neglect so bad that you were literally dying. But, you couldn’t help the small ember of warmth that bloomed through your chest as that muttered praise of good girl flowed through your veins like a warm blanket settling over you.
But, you were still angry. And hurt. And countless other emotions that you couldn’t even begin to name, all just culminating into a neverending ache. And as you saw the blood marring the plush flesh of his lower lip, something inside of you snapped.
He had made his worst mistake. He had let go of you, and now you could truly fight.
You crouched down, using your smaller stature and power legs to kick your leg out, and you swept it across the ground, knocking the much-bigger alpha off of his feet. You watched as his massive frame hit the ground, shaking the walls, a bloom of satisfaction erupting in your chest. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins now, the only thing allowing you to move, and before he had the chance to become reoriented, you were on top of him, straddling his hips as you punched at his chest. Your tears of anguish were falling freely now, sobs breaking free with your yells.
“You have broken me! Broken! I used to be so strong, so happy, and you destroyed that! Ripped it away from me! All because you were too fucking caught up in your own shit, your own fucking fear, that you couldn’t even be half of the alpha you needed to be!”
Simon grunted in pain as his back collided with the cold, hard tile of his quarters, his hands automatically coming up to grab at your hips. Not to shove you off, no, but to keep you on top of him. He knew he deserved this. Every punch, every pointed word, every tear. It was his penance for all of the pain and agony he had put you through, even if it was ripping his heart to absolute shreds.
“I know, I know,” he growled softly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I did.”
You shook your head, tears and snot flying from the force. You were so angry, so hurt, but the adrenaline was quickly running its course, leaving behind only bone-deep exhaustion and pain. Your punches slowly weakened, until you were barely able to lift your hands. Instead, they came to rest on his bare chest, your omega claws digging sharply into the thick muscle that covered his chest, one of your hands digging directly over his heart, needing him to feel a fraction of the agony that coursed through your own.
“Don’t you agree with me! Don’t you dare! Gods, you do this to me for months, and you… you have nothing to say for yourself!? I tried! Tried to be a good spouse, a good omega! I tried to give you your space, to be unobtrusive, even though that killed my omega! And all I fuckin’ got in return is this fucking bond sickness that is killing me! Tearing me apart from the inside out!”
His body shuddered as your claws dug into his chest, his skin breaking under the tiny points. It hurt in every way that it could, but the tiny pinpricks of blood that welled around your claws were nothing compared to how he had hurt you. He knew that he deserved this, every inch of your wrath, of your anger, and the pain it brought for him. It was the least he could do - to bear this for you. But, Gods, it didn’t stop your words from tearing into his heart in a way your claws couldn’t even begin to touch.
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he repeated, his words thick with the guilt that was threatening to choke him. “And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
His apology broke what little strength you had left. The bond between you was fraying, seconds away from snapping completely, and you had never felt more lost. A sob broke free from your lips, the force of the sound causing your body to lurch forward. But, Simon was there. For once, he was there. His chest caught your head, your tears wetting his skin almost instantaneously as your claws scratched down his torso, leaving thin, raised red lines down his scarred skin.
He hissed softly in response to the pain, but he made no attempt to move, to shy away from it. You had completely given up on your ego, your omega so desperate for your alpha, no matter what he had done. But, you were still so hurt, your omega so wounded that you had no idea how you were going to come back from this.
“Just… just tell me why. Why did you do this? Why did you treat me like this?” you sobbed out into his chest, your sour, distressed omega pheromones wafting around him like a shroud of despair.
His alpha writhed in pain at your scent. It was wrong, so, so wrong, but he had done this. His neglect, his apathy, had taken his once strong, ferocious omega and reduced her down to this. He had never seen you like this. And he never wanted to again. He could feel the bond between you slipping between his fingers like shards of glass digging into his very being, and fear rose to take its place. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling your tiny, trembling form against him, his nose burying into your hair as he pressed a featherlight, shaking kiss into it. He swallowed harshly against the lump in his throat, his heart clenching in fear. In pain. In anger at himself. “I was a coward, love.”
You sobbed harder against his chest at his admission, shaking your head jerkily. Your body felt like it was freezing and burning up at the same time, as the frayed edges of the bond dug into you like poisonous thorns. You could feel your mind shattering, your heart stuttering as the bond sickness continued to take hold. You were dying, and you knew it. But at this point, you would almost take death over the amount of pain you were in. “That’s not a good excuse,” came your shaking reply, the words thick with tears and agony, but they were strong with conviction. “Tell me why, Simon. Tell me why, or break the godsdamned bond.”
The words that left your lips felt like they were suffocating the alpha. Break the bond. His arms tightened around you until you were completely pressed against him, and he could feel every shudder, every quiver in your weakening body. A low growl rumbles from his chest, the sound full of pain but also a desperate desire to comfort. He had to try - to even attempt to explain, even if he wasn’t sure it would do anything. But the thought of losing you without even trying made his heart shatter, his alpha howl in protest.
“Because I was afraid,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret and honesty as his knuckles ran across the knobs of your spine. That caused him more pain than you would ever know, feeling how you had atrophied from his neglect. How his dismissal, his abandonment had caused his once strong, beautiful omega, to waste away before his very eyes. “Afraid of getting caught up in you, in this. Of loving you, of giving you part of my heart. I didn’t know how to keep you safe. I didn’t think I was worthy of having something like that, like you. I still don’t.”
“Then break the bond,” you whimpered out, the pain of the bond sickness, of your own emotions, and what little of Simon’s you could still feel through the barest threads of the bond ricocheting through your body, reduced you to little more than a husk lying on top of Simon. Your heart was shattering along with the bond, the broken edges of each splintering in a way that made it hard for you to breathe. Your breath pushed and pulled achingly slowly through your chapped lips like broken glass, just another thing ripping your very being apart.
“If you can’t do this… I’ll… I’ll figure it out. The brass’ll let me stay, at least for a little bit. But, I can’t… I can’t keep doin’ this. ‘M not asking for love. ‘M not asking to be a real marriage, but I can’t be apart of a bond where ‘m not… where ‘m not bein’ taken care of. I can’t.”
Your words were slurring, little more than a broken and pain-filled whimper against his broad chest, and Simon could practically hear the way his heart shatters beneath you. He did this. He did this. And yet, the selfish part of him couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, no matter how much pain he had put you through. The alpha snarled as he wrapped his arms around your ever-weakening frame impossibly tighter, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t hold you tight enough, you’d slip away from him forever.
“No, baby, no,” he replied softly, but the words were filled with a growl of conviction, of promise. “I was stupid. I was so stupid, and I hurt you. Let me… let me fix this, okay? Please, baby. Lemme fix you. Just for right now.”
Simon was begging. You didn’t know if you had ever heard him beg before, but here he was, begging you to allow him the chance to fix you. Your exhausted, wounded omega perked up a bit at his conviction, but you couldn’t help but feel like this was far too little, far too late. “I… I don’t know, Simon. How can you… how can you fix this?”
The pained gasps between your words drove a stake of fear through Simon’s heart, his alpha whimpering painfully. He swallowed harshly against the ever-growing lump in his throat, as he knew that he had to be the pillar of strength. If he broke right now, there was no hope for you. His lips brushed against the top of your head as he inhaled your sour, rotted scent in despair, his hands running up and down your back in a vain attempt to soothe you.
“Let me… let me have a chance,” the alpha, your alpha, pleaded. “Please baby, let me fix this. I’ll do better, I promise. Gods, I’ll do anything. Just… just let me get you better, baby, please. And then, if you still want to break the bond, we can, okay? Just… I can’t lose you. I can’t let you die. Not like this. Never like this.”
You felt, more than heard, his words wash over you. You could feel your body failing, the bond sickness taking what little was left of you. Even with Simon’s touch, with his promises, you had a brief moment of clarity where you just knew that this still might be it, that the bond had been strained too far, the cavernous distance between the two of you still too great, that this bond sickness might still kill you, despite his promises to fix you.
You were so tired. So, so tired. The pain is too much, your eyelids too heavy, and it felt like what was left of your shattered heart wasn’t pumping nearly enough oxygen through your veins. You were teetering on the edge, and all you wanted to do was sleep.
“Just… just let me sleep. In here. With you. Please?” you mumbled, the words soft and slurred. Any fight, any pride you had just a few minutes ago was long gone, and if you were going to die, your omega wanted it to be right here, in your alpha’s arms, taken peacefully in your sleep. “I need… just, please, Si.”
Simon’s resolve shattered at the nickname that fell past your lips. He instantly sat up, gathering your frail, fragile body in his arms as he nodded, his own tears finally breaking free.
His fault. All his fault. Always his fault.
He quickly stood up, your body light (too light, too light) in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He was terrified. He could feel how slow your heartbeat was, how weak your body was, how slurred your words were. He shushed you softly, gently, but the sound warbled against his own tears.
“Shhh, shhh, baby. I got you. I got you. Just… just sleep, okay? I’ll be right here. Right here. Never leavin’ your side again. I promise. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Just sleep.”
He gingerly laid you on the bed, surrounding you with blankets and pillows, anything he could find that was drenched in his alpha scent, before his body came to blanket you. He couldn’t lose you. And he will keep his promise, even as his own silent tears fell down around your now-unconscious face. What’s that old saying? Oh, right. You never know what you have until it’s gone.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x reader au#simon riley fanfic#cod fanfic#ghost fanfiction#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#simon riley#alpha!simon riley#alpha!simon#omega!reader#a/b/o#a/b/o dynamics#tf141 omegaverse#omegaverse#omegaverse au#fake marriage#simon riley is really bad at emotions#bond sickness#angst#angst angst angst#in sickness and in health#starlit-writer
208 notes
·
View notes
Text
『 sweet little thing p.1 | b. barnes x reader 』
pairing: bucky barnes x afab!reader words: it's real long okay, it even has parts summary: what happens when the guy you have a crush on happens to have a dad, who is older, hotter and rougher?
fluff ; angst ; smut
When you saw Andy he was simply... phenomenal. His eyes were big and blue, and the way their corners creased when he smiled was simply too much to bear.
You made it a point to become close to him - you swore up and down that your classmate would fall in love with you if he spent just enough time around you.
So you pretended to be dumb, and, because Andy was one of the top students in the university, it was only logical to ask him for help and form a study group.
It was all going well and dandy - you two hung out together nearly every day, studied and partied, and eventually went from colleagues, to friends, to very close friends.
Your plan was working perfectly... until one day. Until that one awful, magical day in which he invited you to study at his house.
Your whole body was trembling and the butterflies in your stomach wouldn't sit still as you drove to Andy's place, but the smile plastered on your face would let anyone know that, despite the nervousness, you were thrilled.
You took a deep breath and opened the car door, shutting it behind you before skipping over to the house's front porch and ringing the doorbell.
Silence. Nothing. Not a "I'm coming", not a "one second!", not even a single footstep. You checked your phone to make sure you were on the right address and that you had gotten the date correct before ringing the doorbell again, while anxiously biting your lip.
Suddenly, you heard heavy footsteps coming from the inside, and the white wooden door swung open.
"Who the f- oh, who are you?" The man's voice was rigid at first, but it softened and quieted as his eyes landed on your figure, in a little skirt and books tucked against your chest.
Your eyes widened in surprise. That man couldn't be anyone other than Andy's dad. His eyes were just as blue, and his voice was just the right amount of soft and rough as well. But there was something about him... Something that made your heart pound out of your chest. Maybe it was the short beard, the sweat dripping down his forehead, or the way his shirt hugged his biceps, but you were feeling something just about everywhere.
Andy was good looking guy but that... that was a gorgeous man.
"S-sorry sir, I'm Y/N. I'm Andy's friend he uh- we were supposed to study today."
"Were you now?" He grabbed the rag that was tucked away on the waist of his jeans and wiped his forehead "I'm sorry darlin' but the little shit hasn't come back yet, feel free to come in and wait for him though." The man said, stepping away from the door and giving you space to walk inside.
His tone wasn't rigid, but there was definitely an aura around him that demanded respect and that imposed authority. The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, but you smiled nevertheless.
"I wouldn't want to impose, I can come back later, Sir!" You shyly replied, as it was clear that the man was working and he had no idea he was about to receive visitors.
"Aren't you a sweet little thing, I wish all of Andy's friends were like you. It's no trouble, really. It's the least I can do for you in this situation." He said with a chuckle.
You smiled and walked into the house and right past the man, hoping he missed the blush that crept up on your face and the nervousness that made your legs shake.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Barnes!"
The man nodded in response and pointed you to the living room before disappearing somewhere in the house.
Minutes passed by and the clock on the wall ticked as you were left by yourself for who knows how long. You had plenty of time to look around, although there was not much to look at - the house was barely decorated, only a few framed pictures here and there, everything else was the strictly necessary furniture. The living room was but a couch, a reclining chair, a nice plasma TV and a coffee table with circular stains (from the lack of coasters, no doubt). Andy had once mentioned that his parents were no longer together, and that was obvious from the looks of the house - it was clearly a man-cave.
An hour had passed by when Andy's dad emerged from the back of the house once more, his forehead shining with sweat as he wiped his greasy hands on a rag.
He lifted his head and the man's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes met yours.
"Where is Andy?" He simply asked, in a monotone voice.
You swallowed thickly, almost nervously, as if you had done something wrong.
"I... I'm not sure, Sir. He hasn't answered my texts."
The male sighed and his features softened - you couldn't tell if he was annoyed that a stranger was still in his house or if he was irritated that his son had invited someone over and left them alone.
He opened his mouth to say something else but, as if on cue, Andy burst in the door.
"Hey dad there's a car in the- oh hey Y/N, what are you doing here?" The boy asked when his eyes landed on your figure sitting on the couch.
"We had agreed to study today." You said, holding up the books you had brought with yourself.
"No, we had agreed to study on Tuesday."
His dad walked over to him and smacked him on the head - it wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it was rough enough for Andy to understand he was being reprimanded.
"Which is today, dipshit. And where's your phone?"
Andy's eyes widened and he facepalmed.
"Aw man, is it!? I'm so sorry, Y/N!" Andy knelt in front of you, staring at you with those steel blue eyes "I will make it up to you, I promise."
But suddenly, those turquoise orbs that you came to love so much, did not have the same effect on you, as you had somehow found a more beautiful pair to stare into.
You had spent the week getting flashbacks of the small exchanges you had had with Andy's dad - the way his muscles flexed at every little movement, the way his hair fell over his face ever so slightly, and his piercing blue eyes, that gave such a rugged man an almost angelic look.
You felt guilty for the amount of thoughts you had about the man, especially when you were constantly hanging around Andy, but you couldn't help the effect he had on you, it was like poison slowly taking over your body.
"Why don't you come over for dinner, Y/N? I'm cooking tonight and I still owe you an apology for the other day." Andy invited, as you walked to your class.
You bit your lip - free homecooked food was not something you wanted to decline, but you wondered if stepping back into that house was wise, as more interactions with "Mr. Barnes" would bring your infatuation to a new level, you were sure.
"Come on! If you decline free food it means you were never really angry at me."
You rolled your eyes and eventually agreed, convincing yourself that it was nothing but a stupid schoolgirl crush that would eventually go away.
You were nervous throughout the rest of the day, for no reason at all. You didn't even know if Mr. Barnes would be home, you didn't even know if you were going to interact with him, but for some reason that beautiful gaze of his was burned into your mind.
Andy didn't find your silence too weird, as he just thought you were still angry at him - and he hoped that that night's dinner would bring your friendship back to normal.
After classes were done, you stopped by your place so you could shower and change clothes after a whole day of sweating. You stood in front of your closet, towel wrapped around your body as you wondered what you should wear, your eyes landed on a miniskirt. Usually you'd wear something sexy to catch the eyes of a certain boy, but this time you knew you'd be wearing it to catch someone else's attention. It felt wrong, it made you feel somewhat guilty, for some reason, and yet you still picked up the skirt and put it on.
Andy must've been busy with the cooking, because when you rang the doorbell it was Mr. Barnes who opened it for you. It hard to contain the smile (and the attraction you felt for him) as his eyes traveled down your body and landed on the little skirt you wore.
This time he wasn't as sweaty and dirty (to your slight displeasure), he wore a dark pair of jeans and a light shirt, with its sleeves rolled up until his elbow.
"Hello, Sir." You greeted politely.
The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he stepped away from the door, granting you passage.
"Hello, darlin'. You can just call me James." He said as you entered the house.
You can just call him James. You didn't know how to feel about that, there was a certain appeal in calling him "Sir", as if you were recognizing that he was somehow superior to you, more worthy of respect and authority.
"Of course S- James." You said, nonetheless, correcting yourself immediately.
"Andy's right down there in the kitchen." James said with a smirk.
You thanked him and followed the direction in which he had pointed to, and you found Andy, and a mess of onion and potato peels around him, as well as chunky and uneven cut carrots and a poorly de-boned chicken.
As you watched the boy struggle, you felt a presence behind you - James Barnes. You looked up at him, to find him staring at his son with a mix of confusion and disgust on his face.
"Hey, buddy, the chicken is already dead." He mocked.
Andy looked over his shoulder to find the two of you staring at him, and he looked... stressed, to say the least. It was clear that he didn't know how to cook whatever he was trying to cook, that the only reason why he asked you over was to impress you, and he had failed.
His dad laughed and walked over to him, patting his shoulder.
"Go wash up kid, I can finish up."
Andy looked like he had just seen his guardian angel, he thanked his dad and glanced at you.
"I'll be right back just- I'm going to take a shower." The boy ran past you and you couldn't help but giggle at the disheveled state of the ever-composed Andy Barnes.
However, when he left, you were painfully aware that you were once more left alone with the man you had been picturing in your mind the whole week.
"Do you need help, James?" The name rolled off your tongue with such ease, it felt natural, and for some reason it aroused you, as if calling him by his name expressed some sort of closeness.
The man glanced at you, and then at the counter - you could see the conflict in his eyes.
"You're a guest, don't worry about it."
You had been invited by his son, and the last thing he wanted was to have someone invited over to do housework, but you couldn't stand back and relax while he looked so overwhelmed. So, you rolled up your sleeves and began pooling together all of the peels and unusable parts that were laying on the counter.
"It's no problem, really." You told him with a smile as you carried the stuff you had collected to the trash.
Unbeknownst to you, the male's eyes fell to your legs as you walked away, and he muttered a small "fuck" under his breath as you bent over the trash. Your skirt rode up dangerously, and he had to force his gaze away from your figure. Obviously your outfit hadn't gone unnoticed by the man...
There wasn't much of an exchange between the two of you before Andy came down the stairs running, hair still slightly damp. The man focused on finishing dinner and you set the table, to pass time and fill in the awkwardness.
"Sorry! Sorry for leaving you with him again." The boy said as he came into the room.
"I will ground you." The man retorted, playfully.
You giggled at the joke and glanced at how mesmerizing Mr. Barnes looked, even from the back.
"Sorry Sarge!" Andy said and you cocked your head to the side.
James turned around to put the food on the table, and Andy took it as an opportunity to hook his finger around the chain around his neck, bringing the dog tag that was hidden under his shirt forward - you didn't miss the way it flashed some of the male's naked chest.
"He was an army brat and then joined the army and became a Sergeant. I wanted to join too but dad didn't let me." Andy explained, as you all began taking your seats around the table.
A soldier... That would explain the brooding and the serious expression, and it would further explain the way his presence alone demanded respect and exuded authority. It somehow made him even more desirable, if that was even possible.
"What would you even do there, Andy? You couldn't chop a carrot, never mind shoot a gun." You joked.
Andy's face grew red with embarrassment and his dad left out a hearty laugh.
You couldn't stop the smile from spreading on your face, for some reason you felt proud for making the male laugh. Andy protested your joke, but you didn't listen, as your eyes were glued to the dog tag, trying to read it.
"James B. Barnes..." You said to yourself, as you thought about what the "B" stood for.
"Bucky."
You eyes snapped up and you met the male's gaze, it was piercing and there was a mixture of emotions to them, they were curious and had a glint of playfulness, like a big dog staring at the newly arrived kitten.
"S-sorry?" You asked, not gathering what he meant.
"The 'B', it stands for Buchanan, or Bucky for short."
You blushed deeply, and you could feel the heat on your face as apparently you had said his name quite loud.
The glances you exchanged throughout the dinner were brief, and both of you wondered if there was something more to them, but, due to the fact that he was you dad's friend, the two of you just dismissed it as fragments of their imagination.
The dinner had been disastrous. Well, it had gone wonderfully, which was terrible, because your head was filled with constant images of your supposed crush's father.
Your head was spinning constantly, and your (romantic) interest on Andy had been reduced to basically nothing. You couldn't stop thinking of his eyes, his smile, his gaze, his muscles, his... everything. And the thoughts only got dirtier and dirtier as the clock ticked, each hour making your mind delve deeper into your perverted fantasies.
You refused to touch yourself to image of your close friend's father, it was wrong, but one day the images in your mind seemed too real, you were so desperate you could swear you almost felt his rough hand softly exploring your inner thighs, travelling upwards and upwards. You flipped the covers off of yourself and put on a pair of shorts as you headed out for some air.
You walked with no destination, but you remembered there was a convenience store nearby, and you decided to stop by - maybe a late night snack and a late night walk would make you sleepy enough to fall right asleep once you headed back, but oh how wrong you were.
You greeted the cranky cashier as you walked in and made your way around the store, looking for something that would catch your eye, but, to your surprise, you found a different kind of snack hidden in the back.
Standing in front of the beer cases was none other than James Buchanan Barnes, with one hand on his hip as he brushed his hair back with the other hand. His jeans were riding terribly low, and when he lifted his arm to fix the rebel strands of hair, he revealed the waistband of his underwear, like the ribbon of a gift you desperately wanted to unwrap.
He lived nearby, and you wondered if you had crossed paths before and you just hadn't noticed him, or if it was the universe toying with you.
You realized you had been standing there, staring like a creep, and he had probably noticed someone was in the same aisle, so you decided turned on your heels and walked towards the cookie aisle.
You had spend a couple minutes biting your lip and admiring all of the different flavours, before deciding on the Oreos at the very top of the high shelf.
Just as you struggled, standing on your tippy toes and reaching for the item, someone came behind you and grabbed a pack. Their hand was on your waist, and their chest directly behind you. You turned around, coming face to face with none other than Bucky, the man you were trying to hard to avoid. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you wanted nothing more than to grab the hand that had grabbed your waist and place it lower on your body.
You breathed in deeply, inhaling his manly musk, a faint smell of fresh laundry and deodorant, nothing too strong like most guys in your college whom you could smell a mile away.
"Hey darlin', what're you doing out here so late?" He asked as he took a step back and handed you your snack.
"Hi! I couldn't sleep, it's uh... it's too hot." It wasn't entirely false, but he didn't need to know where that heat resided, or who was the cause for it.
Your fingers brushed against his as you took the Oreos from him, and adrenaline shot through your body. Every single one of his touches left a fire in your body, one that he started and only he could put out.
"Yeah? Me either." There was a certain sadness in his tone, but he quickly changed the subject. "Are you here all by yourself?"
"Uh, yeah, I am."
Bucky's eyebrows furrowed together and he seemed to be deep in thought for a second. He had it in his nature to take care of everyone around him, and the situation simply didn't seem right in his mind.
"Let me drive you home, it's getting real late and it's dark out there."
You desperately wanted to take the offer, but you couldn't - not only did you not want to be a bother, you also didn't want your forget-about-Bucky walk to turn into a more-Bucky-content walk.
"Thank you, Mr. B- James, it's okay, really."
"Are you sure?" Bucky asked, feeling uneasy.
He had no authority over you, but it didn't feel correct to let a young woman walk alone in the middle of the night.
"Yeah, no worries James, thank you for the offer."
"Have yourself a good night then, darlin'." He said, with a small smile.
"You too, sir!"
You mentally cursed yourself for calling him "sir" again as you turned around and made your way to the cashier - old habits die hard.
As you left the store, you glanced back to steal another look at Bucky's ethereal appearance, and you wondered if you should have just given in and let him take you home.
"Hey there, wanna do something fun, princess?" A voice snapped you out of your fantasies, and, when you realized, three guys had surrounded you.
They weren't huge or muscled by any means, but they were tripled in number, so you felt a little uneasy in their presence.
"Come on baby, why don't we take you home, huh?" The tallest one of the trio asked, stepping forward.
"I'm- I'm good, thanks."
"Don't look so scared, we don't bite." He got closer to you, so that he could whisper "Not unless you want us to."
As you stood there, frozen in fear, the crew shared a collective laugh. The laughing stopped rather quickly, and their faces morphed from entertained and amused, to serious ones. You didn't understand what was happening, but as you took one step back, you bumped into someone's chest. You looked up to find none other than Bucky. His eyes were devoid of that twinkle and glisten that you fantasized about, they were dark and clouded by rage.
He said nothing before taking your arm and pulling you to stand behind him.
"I wanna do something fun. I think I know just how much fun the four of us can have." The male said, walking towards them until he was face to face with the guy that had whispered in your ear.
There were three guys versus just one Bucky, but their three scrawny figures stood no chance against a man like James Barnes.
"Ay, let's- let's bounce y'all." One of them said, in the back, pulling his friends back by the forearm.
"Yeah, I think it'd be best if you three 'bounced'." Bucky mocked, never letting go of the eye contact.
Once they were out of sight, the man turned around to face you, placing his hands on your arms.
"Are you okay? Darlin'?" One of his hands slid up your body as he grabbed your chin and tipped it upwards, so his worried eyes could look into your shocked, fearful ones.
"F-fuck..." You finally said, brushing your hair back in frustration.
You could finally breathe, and you felt like Bucky had just rescued you from the claws of a wolf.
"Thank you s- James. Thank you so much." You muttered, and Bucky breathed out in relief. "I shouldn't have-"
"Hey, none of that. You were living your life and what happened isn't your fault. Let's get you home, okay?" The man said, cutting you off and preventing you from potentially blaming what happened on any of your actions, which made you smile shyly and nod along to his question.
You followed Bucky to his truck. He offered you his hand so you could get on the seat as it was quite high, and his eyes shamelessly trailed down your body once more. The man had to turn his head to the side until you had climbed onto the seat.
Aside from giving him directions to your place, the trip was rather quiet.
"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, as he took one of your hands and placed his free hand on your hip while helping you out of his truck once you had arrived to your house.
"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks for... that, back there."
"No need to worry darlin'. You uh- text me, or call me, if you're ever in trouble. Andy told me your parents live away from the university, so hit me up if you ever need anything."
Andy had told him... You wondered if Bucky asked or if the son had simply volunteered that information. Nonetheless you took the card he extended you - it was a business card with Bucky's Garage written on it, and his phone number under it.
You blushed intensely and your mind became foggy for a second, as you acknowledged that the man had just handed you his number.
"Thank you. I will, James."
After that encounter, you didn't see Bucky for over a week. The frequency with which he visited your mind, however, increased by the hour. It seemed like the saying "out of sight, out of mind" had no real meaning when it came to dirty thoughts involving James Barnes.
Nine days after the fact, Andy asked you and a couple other people over to watch basketball. It was a small group of four boys, including Andy, and two girls, you and a really sweet girl whom you had grown closer to, since you hung out together often because of the guys.
You knew Bucky would be there, which made choosing an outfit much more difficult. Should you dress normally!? Should you try to tease him further? Would you want to continue feeding this silly fantasy of yours?
Your eyes skimmed the closet, eventually landing on a cheerleading outfit - it was a small skirt and a long sleeved crop top, both with a colour scheme that matched your town's basketball team's. You had bought it for halloween once, for an undead cheerleader look, and you were seriously considering it.
Your mind raced with several contradicting thoughts, but you eventually picked it up and tried it on.
"Should I? Maybe it's too much... I mean, they will be wearing team jerseys, so it wouldn't be too farfetched to wear this. Or would it?" You were talking to yourself like a crazy person as you looked at your reflection in the mirror.
Eventually, you decided to text the other girl who was invited, in hopes of getting some honest feedback, before asking what she was thinking of taking as an outfit. You snapped two photos, one from the front, and one from your back, so she could properly see the length (or lack thereof) of your skirt.
You: is this too slutty to take to his house or does it look good? (2 attachments)
You put your phone down but it vibrated again as soon as it touched the mattress.
"I don't think the text was for me, darlin', but for the record, it looks good."
"minors do not interact" banner credit: @cafekitsune
#bucky barnes#bucky smut#bucky fluff#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fluff#bucky x reader#bukcy barnes x reader#marvel smut#bucky barnes x reader#marvel#winter soldier#bucky#bucky fanfic#bucky reader insert
167 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bottled Up (Satoru Gojo x Reader)
MDNI SMUT 18+ CONTENT
Gojo can’t cum. Too much on his mind, not enough time to himself, not enough chances to indulge. It’s becoming a matter of personal hygiene. He can't go on like this. He needs help. Your help.
Ao3 Masterlist.
WC: 7.4k Warnings: casual sex, raw sex, penetrative sex, kissing, kissing SLOPPY, oral m!receiving, discussion of anal but not present really, improper use of cursed energy, doggy, begging, crying, desperate whiny Gojo, brief mention on former satosugu,
------ Wow can you guys even believe? I actually wrote something about Gojo!! Tbh writing about/for him intimidates the fuck out of me but i have some longer form ideas about him so this was a good exercise. I hope y’all like it. -Doodle
Satoru can’t cum. He’s broken. His balls dried up. His dick died. His cursed energy overloaded and rendered him impotent. Limitless misfired and clogged him completely. It was the only way to explain why he hadn’t cum in two months.
He used to be able to cum. Fuck, he used to cum too easy. Ten years ago he would jerk off before hooking up so he didn’t cum too fast. He was so fucking sensitive, every touch or graze could send him shivering. Now he would have given anything for his days as a quick draw. That life was over.
Do people have cum caps? Like a finite amount of times they can orgasm and an excess of masturbation and experimentation in his youth had burned through his chances. He wants to believe that if he had known how wasteful he was, he would have acted differently, but it was a lie. He was too instinctual, everything in his nature, his upbringing, had taught him to trust his instincts above all else. They kept him alive, kept him going, kept him satisfied. But now, a vital piece of the puzzle was missing.
It was the sixty-sixth day in a row. He got home around eleven pm, an earlier night than most. His apartment, with its spotless, professionally tended, interior that betrayed the depraved chaos burning inside of him. Dropping his keys and shoes at the door he groaned into the silence at the way his work pants shifted against his throbbing erection trucked down his left leg. This was the part that was growing painful. The sensitivity. It started just around his pelvis, any brush of fabric or misjudged distance between himself and curses, near his hips would send a shaking beat of pleasure up his spine. But it spread, and spread. Even the car seat against his back was starting to turn him on. Last week Principle Yaga touched the back of his neck by mistake and his eyes rolled back. His black blindfold was working finding more work by the day. He started leaving limitless up constantly, well, more constantly. Only dropping completely after he had crossed the threshold of his home. Anything else was too risky.
Today had been rough, he woke up aching between his legs, the coldest shower he could stand helped to bring it down, but not for long. On the way to work he had to cross and re-cross his legs, a difficult feat at his height, over and over until he got to the school. Because of his existence in the good graces of the universe, there were no classes, only a brutally endless string of meetings. Not good, but at least…seated. By the time the final meeting was dismissed he thought he could bite through a cement support beam. On the way out, one of the higher ups patted him on the back, limitless blocking it from making contact, but he found a tantalizing urge to let it pass through, just for the contact.
He was fucking ruined.
Passing through the mainroom, up the staircase to the bedroom, he pulled his blindfold from his eyes, blinking a few times, snowy eyelashes relaxing from their position pressed against his eyelids. Finally in his bedroom, he pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor, already breathing hot and deep. He passed his bed into the ensuite bathroom, clicking the light and taking in his own reflection.
Fuck, he looked rough.
Skin sallow. Muscles strained and tense. Still handsome, of course, but drained. Like he had been wrung out.
And alone.
Satoru clicked the light off. He couldn’t go there.
He walked himself over to the bed, lithe hands finding his belt and unfastening it, slipping his pants down his legs. A relieved sigh left his mouth as the tight garment was removed. He sat on the edge of his bed, palming his desperate erection. He was shivering, the stimuli so overwhelming already. He wasn’t hopeful, but he was too desperate to stop. Keening back onto the bed, he let his eyes close. He didn’t want to see, the only sensation he wanted was to feel himself, touching himself, bringing him to the peak that felt so insurmountable. He was diamond hard now, finally he pulled himself free of the confines of his briefs. Taking his length into his hand, circling his palm over his barren tip.
He couldn’t even precum anymore.
He groaned in frustration, scooting back further on the cushy mattress, his briefs joining his discarded pants on the floor. He spit onto his hand, coating his dick from base to head, easing his strokes. He let his head fall back against the pillows, dredging up memories of past lovers to try and aid his efforts. He wasn’t really a porn guy, not above it, certainly. But it was overstimulating, bright lights, too colorful, just overwhelming to his already heightened senses. He preferred to rely on his own mind, he was in total control there. Or at least he used to be. His mind was too full of other bullshit to wander into the salacious. Work, always work. Lesson plans, missions, reports, meetings.
Fuck.
He reset, turning over onto his knees, moving one of his silken pillows under him, opting to rut against the soft cushion. One hand underneath pressing it against his length. His head hanging heavy under his shoulders, sweat dripping down the slope of his nose. The cold silk pillowcase against his cock, making his sweating body erupt into goosebumps. He slid his hips, gasping out shuddering breaths. It felt so good, so cold and soft against his begging erection. The muscles in his back rippled, swelling and beckoning under his frosty, even skin. The light of his bedroom cast gorgeous shadows on his back and hips, bringing out his excellent physique. The shadow of his spine, the lat muscles under large, perfectly worked arms, almost appearing as angel wings in the low, soft glow.
He brought his thoughts to long shapely legs, thighs shaking under his touch. Lips, wet and swollen, against his own. This was working, his breath was starting to catch in time with his hips against the pillow. He let his mind continue to wander and increased his speed. Glute muscles flexing hard as images of bodies he once held, some with features he knew well, some less familiar but still worth remembering. Some too familiar, silky, long black hair falling into his mouth. Dark violet eyes, full, strong arms.
No. Not that. He couldn’t go there either. There was nothing left for him anymore.
It killed his momentum. Still aching below but too stormy on top. Stilling his hips, slouching over the mattress. He took a few deep breaths, trying to take in the room around him in pieces, grounding himself in the present. In reality.
He wiped his wet hand over his face then on the sheets below him, gripping hard. This was getting ridiculous. He felt pathetic. Tears burned behind his blessed eyes. He felt broken. He felt shame bubbling behind his navel. He couldn’t live like this. He needed to cum. He needed to release all of this build up and get himself right.
Satoru pulled his phone from the discarded pants and tapped it a few times. Until he found just what he was looking for.
Your phone screen illuminated your dark bedroom. Your humidifier was on, your lights had been long turned out. You had just fallen asleep after some restless tossing and turning. The screen lit up again, this time chiming out a text notification. That jarred you from the warm grip of dream and made your head spring up. You glanced at the screen, trying to read the too bright notification with sleep still coating your eyes. But before you could, it changed to the dimmer incoming call screen. It vibrated on the nightstand, suddenly too loud to ignore. You sighed, and retrieved it.
It was Gojo. He was calling you. You hadn’t seen him in months. fuck was that right? You thought back. You hadn’t seen him in…six months. The last time you left his gorgeous, perfectly styled, agonizingly well put together apartment, it hadn’t been on bad terms, by any metric, but it wasn’t like you were falling into each other's arms either. There hadn’t been any blow out or agreement not to see each other anymore, it just fizzled out. You were sure you had been disappointed when the calls and texts slowed to a trickle, but it wasn’t like you were dating or anything. You had hooked up a few times earlier in the year. No more than four times total. Okay, six times. Okay, nine times. Okay, you lost track somewhere in the second month. What really qualifies as hooking up these days, anyway? Just penetration or sexting? Oral? Hand stuff? Hand stuff in public? Other stuff in public? What should even qualify if you were keeping track -- which you weren’t! You answered the call.
“Do you know what time it is?” You sighed out, smiling through your feigned annoyance.
He purred on the other side of the line, “hmmmm, what are you wearing?”
“Pajamas, because it's almost one in the morning.” your voice was hoarse, sleep having laid your vocal cords to rest.
“Sounds hot.” You could hear his stupidly sexy smile, “You should come over. Can’t waste an outfit like that at home.”
You laugh, already planning how quickly you could pull yourself together, and whether or not the trains were still running, “You’re kidding me. I haven't heard from you in months. You call at an ungodly hour and expect me to come running over at the drop of a hat?”
“You don’t have to run, I’ll send a car.” He coos.
You laugh again, stretching in your bed, letting out a soft groan.
“mmmm, do that again.” His voice grew heavier, there was some suspicious sounding rustling on his end.
You stayed quiet, wanting to see if you would hear anything else and wanting to deny him.
“Now don’t be like that, baby.” He whines, he sounds pathetic “I need your help. It’s an emergency.”
You got out of your bed, still taking your sweet time, savoring his helplessness, “An emergency, huh? Nothing fatal I hope.”
His tongue clicks on the other side, “hmmm, it’s hard to say. Could be a fever, I’m feeling…hot.”
You hate that a line so corny is making you bite your lips to keep quiet. You slipped into a cuter, but still comfy lounge set, a bit more versatile than your pajamas “Sounds contagious, maybe it would be best if I stayed home…”
“Please!” His voice changed, cracking and almost panicked, “I need you, please.”
There was no version of this conversation that ended any other way, “Send the car.”
“Already outside.” You heard his face split into that gorgeous smile you couldn't resist, not even over the phone.
When you arrived at his front door, you didn't even have a chance to knock before he swung the door open. And fuck he looked good. Bad, but good? Not bad, just…disheveled. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, inhumanly muscled torso glowy and flushed, his hair matted and unkempt, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The long, angled white scar healed from an injury long past going from his shoulder to his opposite hip. You traced the line with your eyes, recalling the first time you had seen it, how he had moved your fingers over it, getting you used to the feeling of it under your touch, assuring you that it was long healed and nothing to fuss over. Every inch of him was perfect, despite his pain, his history. You couldn’t resist the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Your ogling did not go unnoticed, looking up to his face you saw the smile you had heard so much of recently.
“Miss me?” He opened the door wider, allowing you to enter, ducking under his arm.
“Yeah.” You admitted rolling your eyes and stepping inside, leaving your shoes at the door.
You took in the sleek, cavernous town house around you. His decor hadn’t changed at all, a lovely front room, a staircase along one windowed wall, leading up to his bedroom. If you were to press further into the main floor, peeling back shoji screens you would find more bedrooms, frozen in time just as they were last left by their former inhabitants, his office, barely ever touched, a gorgeous bathroom complete with a personal sauna. For someone who spent nearly no time at home, he really did have the house dreams are made of.
“I can get you something to drink if you want.” He offers, shutting and locking the door.
“That’s okay. You sounded pretty desperate on the phone, I’d hate to keep you waiting.
He wasn’t totally ready for this part. Having to explain what was going on with him. He shifted a bit, he wanted you so bad. He needed it. He needed every part of you right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“Come on Gojo, you got me out here. Don’t get shy on me now. What’s the big emergency?” You set your bag down on his expansive kitchen island, not subtly eyeing the absolutely incomprehensible bulge tenting the front of his sweats.
“It’s been so long, why the rush, Sugar?” He plays coy, approaching you with a suave gait, moving past you to the refrigerator, “Sparkling water? Still? I can go down to the cellar if you want something stronger?”
“Gojo…” You raise your eyebrows.
“I have tea or coffee if you prefer. Some sodas, you like diet right?”
“Gojo come on---”
“You know i'm not great in the kitchen but if you’re hungry I could---”
“Satoru!” You cut him off, finally pulling his attention from the icebox, “What’s up with you?”
His white eyebrows knit together in the center, making his eyes droop pitfully, “I can’t cum.”
You can barely hear his confession, and you must have heard him wrong so in earnest you ask, “What?”
“I can’t cum. For weeks, nothing. I try and I try and just…nothing.” He blurts, simultaneously relieved and mortified.
You know you shouldn't stare, that you should say something, but you’re dumbfounded. There was once a time, not too long ago even, where he had you bent over this exact counter pushing through his own leaking orgasm to bring you to tears. And that had been the third round that night. You always thought he was the untouchable man, a paragon of self control and pushed limits. To think of him unable to even pleasuring himself, it felt impossible.
“You can’t cum?” You say dumbly.
“Well now that you have repeated it, I think I must be cured, you can go now.” He rolled his eyes, leaning his shoulder against the fridge, fighting the hiss that bubbles in his throat from its chilling surface against his heated skin.
“I’m sorry!” You put your hands up like you had been caught, “It's just a little hard to believe! I never expected you to….struggle…in this…area.”
Gojo’s eyebrows flew up, every word you said made it worse. You could feel it but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were apparently determined to put every foot possible in your big stupid mouth.
“I just mean because you’re usually so good! How could this happen, are you sick? I don’t know why I would even ask that! Obviously you’re not sick, you're just….having some…dysfunction.”
“Why would you say dysfunction?” He stared at you, ego bruised but still amused at how poorly you were handling this.
“I didn’t mean like that! I Just---”
“Any other word. Any word in the world you could have said, and you go with dysfunction.” He chuckles, his own embarrassment now vacated completely in wake of how flagrantly you had just shit the bed.
“That was super dumb, and I’m really sorry. I have no idea what to say.” You just gave up on the second half of the sentence, knowing nothing you were saying was going to help.
“I don't have erectile dysfunction, the erection is not the problem,” He doesn’t have to gesture below his waist, the subject of conversation stands perfectly at attention, pushing against the flimsy fabric, “It won't go away, I’m stuck like this, and I can’t think about anything else, and I can’t get anything done. I need your help, you have to help me get rid of it.”
Your chest warmed a bit, a sly canary eating smile crossed your face, “So you called me, huh?”
“Yes I called you.” He sighs.
“Out of everyone you could have booty called to help your infinite boner, you call little old me? Gojo, I'm touched!” You sound like you're accepting a Nobel prize.
He rolls his eyes, “I knew you were going to be annoying about this.”
You took a seat at one of the bar stools at the counter, resting your head flirtatiously on your perched hands, “So like when you were choosing who to call, what made you pick me…am I just that good?”
You were, fuck you really were. He had thought about you so many times, Your perfect body, your pretty eyes, your soft hair, your legs around his hips, your fucking mouth. It had been too long over all, but it had been far too long since he had been with you. He called you because he knew you were great, and because he trusted you. He could be honest with you without judgement, your current reaction notwithstanding. He knew that he could count on you to be discreet and up front. There weren’t any guessing games when you were together, he didn’t have to guess or grasp for clues at how you were feeling. He knew you.
“That’s right.” He nodded, willing to let you have this.
You let out a teasing school yard oooooooooooooh. Batting your eyelashes and grinning widely, feeling like the absolute queen of the universe.
But he was growing impatient, “You gonna help me out, or what?”
“Sounds like I have quite the reputation to protect, how long has it been exactly?” You eyed him up and down.
“Still about twenty centimeters. Give or take.” He answers, “Oh! You mean--two months.”
“Months? Two MONTHS?” You gawked and then caught yourself, “I’m sorry I know that doesn’t help…I just can’t believe you’re upright. How are you not hospitalized?”
“If this conversation takes much longer I may have to be.” He crosses the room to you, leaning over where you are seated on the counter, putting his arm around you to grip the back of your chair.
You lean back, taking in a breath as he leans closer. Fuck, he’s so handsome. Perfect pearly skin, hair soft and fluffy, those fucking eyes holding you still under their gaze.
“Come on, Sugar, help a guy out. We’re friends right? Friends help each other.” His breath is sweet against your face.
You feel hypnotized, looking between his eyes and lips in a dizzying circle. His cocky demeanor you were so used to was crackling, you could see beads of sweat that had formed on his brow, his tongue wet and heavy kept his lips parted, drawing you closer. He smelled like him, warm and clean, the whole place smelled like him. You were completely in his arena, but you still had all the power. The Strongest asking you for help, begging even, you felt high. You tilted your head up, close to his face, catching his eyes,
“What are friends for?” You closed the distance between you, locking your lips together.
He is quick to pull you closer, making your breasts press hard against his chest, drawing a moan from both of you. His tongue slips past your lips, and maps the interior of your mouth quickly. Reacquainting himself with your taste. Even just a kiss, a real kiss, made his body shudder. His left hand holds your face, his long fingers splayed over your cheek, from your neck up to you temple, his right hand held the back of your neck, keeping you firm in place against him. You are far handsier than him in this moment. You can’t stop yourself, you missed his body, his kiss, him. Feeling his toned stomach, around his hips to his back, digging your nails in just enough to see if he gasps. He does not. Far too focused on the sloppy, dripping kiss he waited so patiently for. He’s leaning over you, pushing you further and further back, making you dangerously close to falling off the stool below you. But of course, his hand grabs your back, holding you still, right where we wanted you. Just past the point where you would have to engage your abs, but not far enough for you to want to hold yourself up. Muscles right on the precious of passive ability and focused contraction, forcing to to rely on his hold, trusting him completely, and he could feel you would relax into his palm, melting into his touch.
“Fuck, Gojo. You really are desperate.” You giggled as his kissed moved down to your jaw and neck.
He moaned against your skin as your nails clawed at his lower back, nodding his head passively, running his tongue over your pulse point.
“You’re so pretty.” He hooks your leg over his hip, pressing the problem child erection right against yours clothed cunt, drawing a shaky gasp from you.
“Not here.” He pulls himself away. “Upstairs…do this right…let’s”
He’s not finishing any of his sentences, you almost worry if whatever problem that resides in his cock could be spreading to his brain. But maybe it was contagious because you can’t bring yourself to care. Holding your hand a bit too tight, he pulls you forward and up the staircase to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother shutting the door, no one else has lived here in a long time. The house is quiet, bar from the panting breaths that drip from both of you, the rustle of clothes, and the reconnection of hot, desperate skin. You kiss him again, pushing him back toward the bed. He allows you to push him onto the mattress, disconnecting your lips.
“So?” You flirt, standing naked before him, letting him see all of you, “how do you wanna fix this?”
He has shed his sweatpants in the shuffle, propped up on his elbow, the other hand giving himself long, slow strokes.
“I’ve been dreaming about that mouth, baby.” He chews on the interior of his bottom lip, “show me if you’re as good as I remember.”
He spreads his legs, allowing you a good long look at how hard he really has become. Angry, pink tip swollen, veins along the shaft straining against the skin. The lower ab muscles are so strained you think they might pop. You had almost forgotten how fucking big he is. Everything about him was too big. His broad, strong body, his long spindly legs, built, strong arms hanging below his hips, those big hands with their knuckly fingers, his long, thick cock and the ego that accompanied. Seeing all of him, how big he was, made a shock run up and down your spine.
How the fuck had you fit this thing inside of you before?
“Oh, don’t be shy now,” he echos your earlier words, “you can take it.”
Not to be out foxed, you steel yourself and sink to your knees in between his spread legs. He stops stroking himself, leaning against both elbows now, waiting with held breath for you to begin.
Your put your hands on his knees, massaging them down and up, feeling the taut muscles of his thighs, the soft hairs under your hands.
“You think about me a lot?” You kissed the side of his left knee.
“Mhm.” His head hung backs exposing his delicious, wiry throat.
His adam’s apple bobbed as he gasped, you ran your nails down his legs, making his hips jerk upward.
“Don’t tease baby, it’s bad enough already!” He begged.
Fuck he sounded good like that. No one could swing the pendulum of pathetic and cocky quite like Satoru Gojo.
“Two months huh?” You carried on, giving open mouthed kisses up his thigh between thoughts, “you must be sooooo sensitive. Poor baby.”
He nods, his eyes squeezed right, trying to focus on every sensation you’re giving him.
Finally you reach the divot between his hip and the base of his pelvis, the internal hinge of his thigh. You ran your tongue along the muscle, tasting the salt of his body. His hips jerk again.
“Please!” He cries out, the lamp at his bedside flicker off and on again.
“Careful Satoru.” You warned, “all you had to do was ask.”
You swirl your tongue around the swollen, aching tip of his dick. Looping around the underside of the head and sliding your mouth down further.
Satoru was in heaven, his eyes rolled back in his head, he fought to keep his hips still, he didn’t want to hurt you, but fuck he wanted more.
You slide your tongue along each beautiful vein, making a perfect map in your head of the topography of his penis. Pulling off and sinking back down again you could take him all the way to the base, coarse white hair ticking your nose as your relaxed your throat to accommodate him he fell back against the bed, one hand moving your hair off your forehead so he could see your pretty face. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more, relax into the pleasure and let it wash over him, or watch you take him further. He leaned up to watch, just as your peeked on eye open to see him falling apart. But the eye contact was too much for him to bear, he felt his cheeks erupt in a blush, and he fell backward again, using one arm to shield his eyes.
You tutted, running his cock along your lips as your spoke, giving it sloppy kisses to make the syllabals, “oh Satoru, look at me, baby. Doesn’t it feel good?”
He nods but doesn’t look up. He can’t bear it. Your weepy eyes filling with tears from the lack of breath, your lips swollen, encasing his cock head. Your hair pulled to one side, giving him a perfect view of your hollowed cheeks as you suck and pull at him. With your spit coating his cock, the sensitivity has doubled. Wet, schlucking sounds fill his bedroom, alongside your haughty moans. Or wait…that’s actually him moaning like that. He doesn’t even recognize himself, he’s panting, sweating, begging. He didn’t even realize he was talking but the praises have been spilling from him continuously:
Yes
Baby yes just like that
Fuck you’re so good
You’re so pretty
Fuck you’re doing so good
Feels so good
Baby
Fuck
Sugar
So pretty
So good
I can’t I
Please baby make me
Fuck you’re
Agh
Oh
Fu
Oh
Ah
O
I
All he can manage by the time he looks back at you are open vowel sounds. It’s feels fucking incredible, perfect, if this were three months ago he would have cum in an instant. This was the closest he had felt, but it still wasn’t enough. He had to be inside you. The hand keeping your hair back rounded your face, his thumb pushing against your lips.
“I need to fuck you.” He says breathlessly, “I won’t cum until I fuck you, please.”
You pull off of him, a little disappointed that you wouldn’t get to brag about your head game, but you push it aside and join him on the bed. Clingy as he is, he pulls you close, kissing you hard again. Your mouth is wet with saliva and pre cum. He didn’t have the time to be impressed at your skill bringing forth the pearly substance, he coveted so greatly. He was too focused on being as close as two people can be. You move to straddle his lap, but he shakes his head, breaking from your lips.
“Bend over.” His mouth is wet now, both of you wet from lips to chin.
You grin and climb off him, stacking a few pillows to give you something to rest on and presenting your hips to him. Satoru is getting his bearings back, he feels more in control now that he has moved onto his knees behind you. Desperate as he is he can’t resist brushing two feather light fingers down your spine, watching you arch as he drags them further and further down. Your spine snakes, your hips sway, his fingers find the cleft where your spine meets your ass, a perfectly little dimple, waiting for his hands to paw at, your breathy moan eggs him on, sliding further down, feeling your tight asshole clench from just the lightest of contact.
“You remember when you let me back here?” He circles it, reminiscing, “you were so tight. fuck, you felt so good baby.”
“Remember when you let me back there.” You tried to sound tough but your position bent over with your head buried in your hands made it difficult.
“Mmmmhm.” He felt his dick twitch again, remembering when you had fingered him open, sucking him in tandum, he swore he saw an angel that night.
And here you were again, having rushed over in the middle of the night just to help him, trembling under his fingertips. Maybe you really were an angel. His very own guardian angel. If anyone could bed a steward of the divine it would be him.
“I thought you needed my help.” You whined.
He giggles, leaning over you, close enough that his lips touch your ear, his heavy cock pressing against your slit,“Just making sure you’re as needy as I am.”
He runs his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you squeal. Of course he remembered all your sensitive spots. He returned to his knees behind you, spreading you open, marveling at the mess you had made. Dripping honey onto the bed, onto your thighs, on his hand. His mouth floods, the desire to bury his head between your legs quickly matching his desire to cum.
“Later.” You whimpered, having read his mind, “you need my help.”
He beams, “so selfless.”
Finally, after an hour of build up since your arrival, the agonizing time waiting for you to get here, and the two months of celibacy that had brought him here, he aligned himself at your drooling hole, your spit was still shining along his cock but he ran either side though your folds anyway, making sure he was wet enough. He had fucked enough and had a big dick for long enough that he knew taking it all required some specific anatomy or a lot of prep, usually both. And while you were familiar with him, and giving yourself so willingly to him, he didn’t actually want to hurt you.
“Satoru please just—-“
The rest of your sentence would never see the air of his bedroom. It’s conclusion stolen from you and replaced with a pathetic scream as he pushed inside. He had meant to ease in but as soon as he started he couldn’t stop himself, he bottomed out in his first thrust. A loud smack of your ass hitting his hips still resounded in the room as he pulled back and thrusted in again. Your back arched evilly, dangerously close to snapping your spine in half. Despite his tunnel vision, Satoru eased his hand up your back, effortlessly smoothing it and gripping your shoulder for more leverage.
“Yes! Oh fuck yes.” He grunted, thrusting in an evil pace.
You couldn’t even speak, he was so deep, you were willing to bet his made an impression agains the front of your stomach. On your pillow pedastule you sank further, and reached up one formerly supportive hand to grip his on your shoulder.
“Sa…sa…” you panted out, not even able to string his name together.
He moved to long, languid, but devastatingly deep thrusts, the hand on your shoulder holding the side of your neck now, “that’s it, sugar. Say my name. Say my name, baby, come on.”
You tried, you really fucking tried but the letters wouldn’t come, “S—Sa—-sss.”
Your eyes rolled back, crumbling completely into the silken pillowcases, not caring if your spit or tears ruined the fabric. He spanked you once hard, making your head shoot up.
“I said say it.” He grunted.
Cocky for a man who was nearly in tears over the phone because he couldn’t bust.
“Satoru!” You finally spilled, his cock pushing hard against your g spot, “Satoru! Satoru please! Be gentle!”
Now that your voice had found you again it was hard not to beg him for mercy.
“Please baby, please! Fuck that’s so good.” You babbled, bringing a sick smile to his face.
He fucked harder, deeper into you, reveling the way your walls fluttered around him. You were so tight he had initially worried he was going to split you in two. But you are his angel, he should have known better than to deny your divinity. Satoru could hear your moans increasing in pitch and becoming choppy. He reached around your hip, finding the perfect pearl between your lower lips and circling his middle finger around. The clench that followed sent you both keening. His fingers brought forth an orgasm you didn’t think was nearly as close. Your hips shaking, biting into the pillow to keep from screaming.
“No baby, let me hear you.‘I need it.” He panted, not stopping his fingers on your clit or his evil thrusts, seeming deeper and deeper every second.
You tried to lift your head but felt dizzy, your vision wasn’t right, your clit throbbed beautifully but made you aware of how fast your heart was. Gojo pulled out turning you on your back, reinserting himself with a kiss to your cheeks.
“Don’t pass out on me, okay? I need you baby, I need your help. Help me, please.” He thrusted slower, only moving a few inches at a time as your came down from the mind fuzzing orgasm.
You nodded, coming back to yourself, you pulled your legs over his hips, your hands moving down the curves of his body. He slower thrust gave you time to admire him. He really was so beautiful. Looking at the sun and having to look away beautiful. His skin was reddening from effort and arousal, splotchy flushes that still couldn’t take away his perfection. The divots on his shoulders, the smell of his sweat, the taste of his spit. Fucking him felt like being completely encompassed in perfection incarnate. And you couldn’t feel luckier to have the chance to be so. He opened his pleasure screwed up eyes, those glowing blue irises, that contained so much of what everyone thought he was, looking down at you with so much trust, so much vulnerability, your heart lurched into your throat.
“You okay?” Satoru scanned your face.
You nodded, pulling him in to kiss you again, feeling his soft hair under your fingers. You held on as he increased his thrusts again. Speed, depth, power, all of it ramped back up to fainting orgasm levels.
Satoru was on the verge of tears, he couldn’t do without again. He couldn’t not cum one more time. He wouldn’t make it. He would bury himself into any hole you offered him again and again and again until he was free from this. Reaching back and pulling your leg over his shoulder, he allowed himself even deeper into you. He watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, your mouth drop open to catch hot, stolen breath from him. He wanted to make it easier, slotting his lips against yours and kissing you deep, tasting your pleasure. He swooned, his heart felt so tight and full it could burst, he was so grateful for you. For your body, your generosity, your care for him that you made look so simple. He knew he wasn’t an easy person to care about, but it seemed to him like you had never considered it cumbersome. Kissing you he felt the tears long built up by restriction begin to fall, wetting his own cheeks as well as yours.
“Satoru are y—-?” You worried against his lips, your hand in his hair moving from. A harsh grip to a soothing pet.
He shook his head, although you were right, “it’s okay. Thank you. Just thank you.”
He kissed you again and carried on thrusting, long and deep. He found your other hand and took it in his own, interlocking your fingers. Hips hard and fast, the friction not enough, he needed to touch every inch of you with every inch of himself. Your pressed against his chest as you moved to match his thrusts, putting aside the emotions that had arisen and remembering your purpose for being here. He had to break away from the kiss, pushing his forhead against yours, gasping out as you synced your thrusts together.
Oh.
Like a dim lantern in a barren desert, a non phosphorescent illusory light in a cave, the shine of climax came into his view. Still holding your hand, one of your legs over his shoulder, bending your body into a bizzare position, he chased it with everything he could. Drilling himself into your drooly, puffy pussy, again and again, causing you to cry out.
“Baby almost, cum with me, please! Pleasepleaseplease.” He squeezed your hand a bit too hard, your fingers felt cramped.
Well, they would, if you could feel them. And your leg would likely feel strained, if you could feel your hamstring still. But you couldn’t feel anything except the white hot pleasure bursting inside of you everytime he pushed against your gspot. Not breaking away from his hand, your other shot between your legs circling your clit, making you tighten up around him. Satoru cried out, the devilish squeeze of your walls felt like the last barrier between him and total bliss.
“Please baby, please.” He can’t control his voice, he doesn’t care, nothing matters when he is this close, “yes, cum around me. I need it. Cum.”
Your eyes flutter back, your head pushes against the pillow, your body erupts into cooling, overwhelming bliss.
Finally, his torment turns, the ache in his stomach unraveling. He can’t believe it, it’s finally about to be over, he feels your body shake underneath him, your hand gripping his so tightly, your cries filling his bedroom. Just at the precipice Gojo, steals one last look at your pleasure struck face, and he falls.
The lights in his bedroom bloom, swell, and overload. Bulbs bursting as he pumps himself through the most earth shattering orgasm he has ever known. Line after line of thick, long stored cum spilling from him into your waiting cunt. The room is plunged into darkness, he buries his head in your neck, panting hard.
You smile as you feel him filing you, and continue filling you. He had always cum a lot, he joked that it was his lineage begging him for continuation. But this was, beyond. Load after load of hot, desperate cum. He pushed his hips closer to you, his body yearning to become fused to yours. To never separate again.
You move one careful hand up his back, feeling the cooling sweat at his neck, the soft hair at the nape. His breath slows against your skin, but he doesn’t yet push himself off of you, keeping his heavy frame collapsed on you. But you don’t dare complain, committing the heat of his body to memory. The moonlight from the window is now, thanks to his discharge of power, the only light in the room. Your eyes adjust slowly, his features glowing in soft blue-white light. The air in the room is thick and full of both of you. Had you an eternity to indulge yourself in this moment, it would still feel too intangible to recall. But you try anyway.
Once his eyes have stopped spinning in their sockets like some knock out cartoon, Satoru pushes himself off of you, staying inside, just hovering above your body. His misty blue eyes look over every inch of you in a second. Taking in everything about this moment, how your skin reflects the moonlight, your eyes heavy and half lidded with sleep and bliss, your soft smile waiting for him to say something. But he wasn’t ready yet, he pressed his lips to yours again, firm but not desperate. He’s kissed you lavishly and with no burning sense of time. It could be called lazy if it weren’t for the focused decadence behind his mouth. He finally separates, thin silks of spit still unbroken between you two.
You brought your unheld hand to his face, cupping his cheek, watching as his eyes flutter shut. You could see tears drying on his cheeks, overwhelm and gratitude thier origin. The moon brought them forward for your viewing, you swiped a thumb under one eye. They both open under your touch, filling with something unreadable. He let go of your hand, opting to mirror your hold on your face, using one long finger to brush away a hair gelled to your sticky forehead.
“Thank you.” He reiterates, the frantic gratitudes from before nullified into a sincerity that made you nervous despite the juxtoposition of his cock still inside of you.
“Anytime, Satoru.” You can feel your cheeks heat, but your bliss doesn’t waver.
He slid out of you slowly, careful not to jostle his tingling, overstimulated length.
You both are left panting once he has been removed completely. He moved onto his side next to you, on his back, breathing up into the dark ceiling. You realize that you had no way of knowing what time it was. The thoughts of work and responsibility tomorrow we’re beginning to gnaw at the edges of your mind. You should get home soon, leave him to his new sexual freedom. You’d imagine he would be ready to pass out if he wasn’t asleep already. The expulsion of cursed energy enough to knock out the lights, enough to send him comatose.
You should know better than to underestimate him. Gojo sits up, stretching his long arms in front of him, allowing the formerly clenched back muscles to reset. Leaning back against his hands he looks down to you.
“I gotta change the bulbs and reset the fuse box. You wanna stay here? Once I’m done we can go again.” That flirty smile quickly irresistible, “orrrr, if you help me I’ll be done ever faster and I can thank you properly.”
You rolled your eyes, giggling, “I’m still recovering from the last favor I did for you. Come get me when you’re done.”
You settle back into his bed, the luxe duvet the perfect cloud-like weight on your shoulders. The smell of him clinging to every stitch of his sheets.
He moved off the bed, slipping on his underwear and making quick work of changing the burst light bulbs. This wasn’t the first time a miscalculated charge had knocked out the electrical system of his house. He had a private grid, it wasn’t that elegant but between the solar panels on the outside and a small self sustaining aquaphir underneath, it was nearly entirely self sufficient. So it was simple enough to fix when it did happen. When he switched the fuse box, the electric hum returned. Back in his bedroom he found you sleeping, curled up in his bedding, snoring softly. He moves some hair off your shoulder, fingers gentle on your thin, soft skin. Bare except for the duvet pulled over your shoulders. He crouched next to you silently, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. He was lucky to have you, someone who would help him so readily, so selflessly. Someone he could trust and confide in. It had been a long time since he could trust someone like this. Still standing over you, he watched as your stirred, sleepy eyes opening to take him in, squinting against the refreshed lighting.
“Coming back to bed?” Your sleep riddled voice charmed.
“Oh I’m not done with you yet.” He moved into bed beside you, taking your body in his arms once again, his lips fighting home under your jaw.
He really was insatiable.
YAY!!! I hope y'all enjoyed this one. It was fun to write and fell together really easily. I am a lot less intimidated by writing gojo now. But I would love to hear yall's feedback on how it came off!! PLEASE! again, i have a much longer, more structured idea for him that I am wanting to build up to eventually so i would really love to know what yall think. Doodle <3 <3
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#doodle talks#jjk smut#jjk imagines#jjk oneshot#jjk fic#jjk me#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jjk fanart#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#gojo headcanons#gojo smut#jujutsu gojo#gojo saturo#satoru gojo#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo smut#gojo x reader#jjk satoru#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu satoru#satoru x you#satoru smut#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x y/n
292 notes
·
View notes
Text
teach me p. jisung
bff!park jisung x fem!bff!reader
in which your best friend jisung needs your help learning how to please a girl after being 'rejected' at a party.
smut drabble :3 cw: smut, MDNI!!! unprotected sex, high sex, bulge kink lolll cause we all know he's big, this one's not too bad tbh... this is ALL consensual by the way! it might be able to be seen as a bit pushy? i suppose, but he's only just really desperate and you want him bad too c: wc: .8k
Imagining Jisung being your best friend and asking you to teach him how to kiss.
Growing up next to Park Jisung, it was hard not noticing the endearing gazes he’d send your way, or the manner in which he stumbled through every word of a sentence if you held eye contact as he spoke. To any others, it would be clear as day that he was utterly in love with you. Whether it was a blessing or a curse for him, though, you were as blind as a bat to his feelings.
That’s why it shocked you greatly when Jisung pulled you aside at one of Na Jaemin’s house parties, near tears and with a shaky voice, telling you he had just gotten rejected by a girl because he was bad at kissing.
The night had started normally, a small joint passed around quickly by the two of you in the backyard. If you looked close enough, you’d see a shine of lipgloss on the inner corners of his lips as he took a hit or two. He insisted you two stay together outside after, but the vision of a boring night wrapped up in the swing in the cold started to dwindle in your mind, and before you knew it, you had been swept away by Jaemin who made you dance with him to a song he knew none of the words to. When you stepped back outside after, Jisung was gone. You didn’t catch wind of him for twenty minutes or so, until he jumped on you, panicking and dragging you away to tell you what had happened privately. According to him, bad was an underwhelming word compared with what the girl used to berate him. So naturally, in his words at least, as his best friend, it became your responsibility to cheer him up – maybe teach him a bit of what he had been missing.
That’s what led the two of you to stumble onto the bed of Lee Jeno, a roommate of the party thrower who was probably downstairs, one beer away from severe alcohol poisoning. Jisung’s hands were spread upon your face, pulling you into him in an act of unadulterated lust. Your kisses weren’t able to match his suspiciously strong fervor, eyes widening in shock as he lightly pushed you onto the bed, following soon after.
You had never expected yourself to ever know what Jisung looked like during sex, truth being that although yes, your best friend was hot, you didn’t see him in that way and didn’t desire to; yet it was beginning to look like you’d find out, if the open mouthed kisses he planted on your neck were anything to indicate.
It wasn’t that you doubted your friend, knowing you were safe as long as he was near, yet the contact became a lot quickly, and you feared it would deteriorate your relationship the day after. “Ji, are you… sure? Isn’t this a bit… much?” You pulled away, planting your feet against the blanket in hopes of worming away for a second, simply enough time to gouge his reaction and see if this was something serious for him as well, or just a way to indulge in your body, yet Jisung followed you closely, soon enough hovering over your figure that sat against the headboard. “Why would it be too much?” His response was hushed, leaning in again until you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady him, his lip pouting slightly at your resistance. “She said you were bad at kissing… not… umm, not having se-” “N/n, please. This’ll help me… Please.”
A toothy grin escaped the taller male as you nodded your head, leaning in and encompassing your lips once more. This time, though, his hands were on the buttons of your shirt, slowly revealing more and more skin. Jisung swore he wouldn’t be able to erase the memory of you fully bare in front of him, squeezing his hand as you laid on the bed. You probably wouldn’t be able to forget his sickeningly loving gaze on you as one of his hands pulled down your panties agonizingly slowly, either. It was only when he finally closed the distance between you two, fully sheathing his length in you, that he let out a purposefully loud and pathetic moan, disproving all of the small doubts in your head that this wasn’t real. The stretch was new to you, not the most experienced either.
Jisung could feel your sweat on him, shifting the arm that held him up so it would awkwardly lay next to your head, widening his view of you, accompanied by the small shake in your ribcage as you took heavy breaths. Your eyes shut close as you bit your lip, hoping to muffle the sound of your whines and failing painfully. You looked like an angel, all he’s ever wanted in his life, as your cunt swallowed him in fully.
Love began to overflow the room, confidence building up until Jisung’s thrusts grew calculated and strong. You’d clench around him when he’d go overwhelmingly hard, not used to the feeling of his dick so deep inside of you, leaving a bulge that his free hand ran over in awe.
He felt so good on you. Skin on skin, moving in sync like it belonged together. Sucking him in so good, and only when you both came and he collapsed on your tired figure, Jisung let himself grin, knowing that there was never any other girl, and your relationship would be developed slightly tomorrow when you’d wake up naked, with his arms around you. He couldn't wait to finally acknowledge the elephant in the room, and hold you in his arms as more than just your best friend.
#nct x reader#nct#nct dream#nct dream x reader#park jisung#park jisung x reader#jisung x reader#park jisung smut#jisung smut#nct dream smut#nct smut
307 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi!! Hope ur having a good day! Could I ask u to write something abt caitvi x fem!reader who forgets to take care of herself (bonus points if she's a workaholic)
hi i’m SO late i’m so sorry baby
(reader is a student because i’m an overworked student and this is self-indulgent like everything else i write also this is nsfw sorry if that’s not what you wanted anon! no use of y/n)
it’s not new for you to work yourself to the bone. whether it’s pulling more than one consecutive all nighter to get papers finished on time, or spending full twelve hour shifts in the library pouring over your books and notes, you slip easily into an all-work and absolutely no play mindset (not that showering or hey, eating, counts as ‘play,’ but anyways)
usually, nobody notices. so what, you disappear sometimes (for weeks), but you always pop back up looking normal, so it doesn’t draw attention. everyone knew that you were a dedicated student. the only reason caitlyn notices you’ve stopped caring for yourself is because she sees the trait of obsessively working until you drop reflected in herself
you started dating caitlyn and vi in the early summer, so they had ever seen you in your element. when the academy starts back up in the fall, your girlfriends are excited to see the sparkle in your eyes when you tell them about your passion, hands moving animatedly as you talk at a rapid pace. vi often teases you for being a nerd, but cait is much the same, so it’s two against one there
anyways
i think cait would bring it up to vi first, asking if she’s noticed how you’re starting to pull away a little, and when they do get to see you, you’re not yourself. usually, you keep your appearance well put together, hair down and outfit chosen to bolster your look-good feel-good attitude. lately though, the bags under your eyes have become prominent, and some nights you don’t come home, saying you’re gonna work late at the academy, but then not going home at all
at first, vi is just super proud of you, for working hard at what you love. she understands what it’s like to want something so bad that you can’t help but “stay in the grind.” she sends you texts in the group chat often throughout your busy days, pictures of her at the gym or a gif of little cat, always with a message saying she’s so proud of her girl, that she loves you
after cait mentions how worried she is, vi starts to notice that you’re not as cheery as before, on top of the eye bags an disheveled appearance that is starting to become your staple look. she’s frustrated with herself for not noticing and taking care of you, and with you a little for not taking care of yourself. cait convinces her to let her try and help first, as someone with a more similar academic experience
caitlyn starts showing up at the academy, at least once every day. she brings food, and coffee, and sometimes she gets jayce, but more often viktor, out of the lab to accompany you. she always takes your hand, dragging you from what you’re doing to sit with her and just talk. she’s subtle about her worry, not wanting you to feel guilty, but wanting to change your habits slowly without you noticing (cait is so conniving i love her)
as the semester continues, you only seem to get worse, despite cait’s best efforts. cait is consistently holding vi back from saying something blunt, because she doesn’t want to upset you, or to cause you to give up on what you love all together out of guilt. in the end, you end up coming to them, having completely exhausted yourself and tilting your last straw
it’s late when you get to the kirraman household, knowing you girlfriends are there. you don’t know what time it is, the sun having set some uncounted number of hours earlier. you knock on the door (even though you know you can just walk in), embarrassed about how bad you’ve let yourself get. cait opens the door and envelops you in a long hug after taking one look at you, standing on her porch in a big sweatshirt, sniffling a bit, unwashed hair piled onto the top of your head
“oh my darling, come inside”
she’s warm and so soft with you, and you’re already feeling better. cait shushes every attempt you make to apologize, for showing up out of nowhere after not really showing up at all for a little while. she brings you up into her room, where vi sits on the end of the bed
vi nearly knocks you to the floor with the force of her hug. she’s strong, and she’s whispering to you about how much she loves you, and how proud she is of you for coming to them for help when you need it, for recognizing that in yourself. her words bring you to tears, and her arms wrap tighter around your torso. you feel cait join in on the hug, tucking you and vi under her chin and squeezing her arms around you both
they bring you to take a bath, and vi gets in first, hissing at the hot temperature of the water. you sit between her thighs, and she wraps her arms around your torso, calloused hands covering your entire stomach. cait sits on the edge of the tub, asking you about your work, and sternly but lovingly detailing how much time you’re allowed to spend at the academy from now on, until you find an appropriate balance between your work and your life. vi hums in agreement with everything cait says, punctuating every particularly harsh sentence with a soft kiss to the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder
they leave you in the bathroom to wash your hair in he shower, and when you come out of the bathroom, you’re wearing one of vi’s hoodies from her gym, and cait’s too long pyjama pants, and you look more refreshed than you have since the summer. you look so cuddly and cute that cait starts cooing at you, and you giggle, batting her hands away when she squishes your face
vi is sitting on the bed, manspreading in that way that she does, and she’s smiling softly at her two girls
(NSFW NOW BTW)
“c’mere baby”
and you do, standing between vi’s legs as she wraps her hands around your waist. you lean down to kiss her, and soon enough her tongue is licking at our b otto’s lip, and you’re opening your mouth to let her in, your hands draped loosely around her neck. you sigh into the kiss when vi’s hands starting palming at your hips, your waist
vi pulls you into her, lifting you effortlessly into her lap so you’re straddling her. the kiss gets deeper, and you whine when vi pulls back. she smiles at you, and tilts her head towards the top of the bed
“how pretty is our girlfriend, huh baby?”
you turn to look, and there’s cait, wearing your favourite set of pink lingerie and sitting up against the headboard, hair down and legs spread open only slightly. you flush a bright red when you see her, mouthing parting slightly when you lick your lips. vi bounces you on her lap for a moment when you don’t say anything
“tell her baby”
“cait, you’re gorgeous”
vi leans into mouth at your neck, murmuring to you about keeping your eyes on caitlyn, and you do. you’re still blushing, silly in your position, but you can’t help it, with how caitlyn is staring at you while vi sucks marks into our soft skin. vi shimmies further onto the bed with you, and hooks her hands under your thigh to lay your down softly on the bed, your back pressed to cait’s chest
cait is immediately sweeping your hair to the side and digging her teeth into the side of your neck, causing a sweet little noise to slip out of your mouth. vi groans at the sound, pressing a strong thigh up against you as your hands make purchase on her biceps. cait’s mouth on your neck is teasing, a nip followed by soothing kitten lick, and vi is holding herself up above you, her free hand hooking under your knee to bring your leg up over her hip as she pushes her leg against you more firmly
eventually, you’re getting desperate and whiny, and vi gives in as soon as she hears the first “vi, please,” slip from your beautiful mouth. she pulls your (cait’s) pyjama pants down, panties too, and your immediately rucking your hips into nothing, searching for some friction to help you out. normally, vi is a lot more teasing, but not today
“vi is gonna take care of you, okay sweet girl?”
and vi does. she presses her hands onto the backs of your thighs, pushing them open and up. without any prelude, she gets to it, licking through your wetness and groaning at the taste. you’re arching away from cait, whose one hand has taken to holding your hips in place to help vi, the other tucking itself underneath your (vi’s) hoodie to pluck at your nipples
it takes no time at all for your girlfriends to have you a whimpering, squirming mess, begging to cum. cait is whispering softly to you, hot breath slipping over the shell of your ear, shushing you and telling you how good you’re being for them, how much you deserve to feel good, and could you cum for them, please?
you do, of course. it cracks through you, hips stuttering on vi’s mouth, legs trying to clamp shut but stopped by vi’s strong hands. vi works you through it until you’re whining and pushing at her head, overstimulated. you collapse in heavy breaths, thoroughly sated and exhausted
caitlyn is instantly tugging at you to turn around, head resting on her chest. she pulls you tight to her with a hand on your waist after readjusting your sweatshirt to be comfy. her spare hand comes up to run through your still-damp hair. vi slides your panties back on but abandons the pj pants, kissing her way up your bare legs and rewinding you of how well you’ve done, and again how proud she is
vi tucks herself up behind you, spooning you, arm thrown over both you and cait. that’s how you fall asleep, pressed tightly between the two of them. you drift off instantly, and over your head, vi and caitlyn smile at each other
you don’t overwork yourself again
#anon ask#anon answered#caitvi arcane#caitvi x reader#caitvi x you#caitvi x reader smut#caitlyn x reader#caitlyn kirraman x reader#vi x reader#vi x you#vi x reader smut
185 notes
·
View notes
Text
so american 𓇼 ⋆.˚ op81
note… im sorry i know that this song is about all those london boys but my man oscar deserves some appreciation, and i think it turned out really fun, i wrote this in like a day so it’s not proofread, but i hope all my Oscar girlies enjoy. <3
warnings… mentions of alcohol if you like squint very very hard, and implications of smut.
summary… you’re all about those chick-fil-a and parties in the usa, but also all about a driver named oscar piastri who shows you that maybe australian food is better than all the taco bells in the world, you’re so very american but also so very in love.
word count… 1.5k (shortie but goodie)
—
You’re standing in the middle of a stage in some shady karaoke somewhere in Japan, he’s sitting right in front of you, smiling, completely mesmerized like he always seems to be when it comes to you.
“Driving on the right side road…”
—
“Please be careful, please.” He begs as he covers one eye, you’re obviously smiling completely amused by his freak out behavior as you pull out to the road.
You’re a new team ambassador, and have been for a few months now, the team completely thrilled to have one of the most famous singers in the world and the newest it girl of the generation wanting to spent so much time at their paddock and shooting content for them.
But of course you’ll do it if it means you get to be with Oscar.
“Will you calm down? I’ve driven before you know.” You joke, while he paces himself, you’re in some deserted roads near the McLaren headquarters, and he looks completely miserable.
“Yeah I know, but I can’t help but freak out when you’re driving on the wrong side of the road in my two hundred and forty thousand euros car.” He says, his hand grabbing the steering wheel slightly, pulling the car in to the right side of the road.
“Oh shoot, I forgot, it’s not my fault everything here is backwards Osc.” He laughs, rolling his eyes, while you bite your lip, completely ashamed and blushed too.
“Jesus, you’re so American.”
—
“Chick-fil-A is better than any Australian restaurant.” You say matter of factly, Oscar staring at you like you just murdered his entire family.
“No it’s not, take it bac-“
“-Is that Oscar’s sweater?” Lando interrupts him as he stares at you, more specifically at the sweater you’re wearing, one that he is certain he has seen Oscar wear at least a hundred times.
You blush as you nod. “Yeah, Osc let me borrow it back at the airport.” You explain, bitting your tongue as you beg to god that Lando believes the blatant lie you just told.
Oscar, just smiles innocently, clearly entertained by the situation, like you didn’t have to borrow the sweater in the first place because last night he gifted you hickey in your collar bone the size of Europe.
“Doesn’t she look pretty?” He asks, Lando still pretty much confused and lost of words, while you cover your blushed face with your hands.
“I’m not really understandi-“
—
“You have the coldest hands, it’s not even funny” you joke, while you feel his smirk right against your neck, making you giggle softly.
You’re in a cramp up supplies closet in the McLaren garage, his hands sneaking under your shirt, the coldness of them making you shiver and laugh as they unbutton your Bra.
“Well, you certainly seemed to love them last night, and this morning too.” He teased, removing your shirt completely as you pushed him slightly, pulling him back almost immediately to kiss him.
“I hate you” you managed to say in between kisses, your mind completely reduced to pout as your head is thrown back while he nips your jaw and then your neck and then-
"-Where the hell is Oscar?! Practice starts in ten minutes” the voice of one of the McLaren engineers interrupts him, your eyes shoot open, pushing him away almost immediately, because you’re not about to be caught half naked and making out by one of his engineers.
“Aaaand we’re done here” you declare. Oscar groans in frustration, his head placed in your naked chest. “Kill me now”
You pressed your lips together, knowing you won’t be able to continue your little escapade, your hands leaving soft pets all over his hair.
“You need to go babe.” You whisper, lips against his head, leaving one soft kiss there, as he hands you your shirt and bra from the concrete floor.
“I hate it here” he complains, as you put your clothes back on and he guards the door so that no one walks in to watch you naked.
“Kiss” you say, puckering your lips at him.
He smirks. “No” he jokes with a killer smile on his face but he’s already leaning in to kiss you.
—
“You were supposed to take that exit!” He exclaims, pointing at the exit that you just passed.
“You told me in 1.2 miles! That wasn’t 1.2 miles!” You exclaims, clearly stressed as you tries to switch lanes while Oscar covers his face with his hands, laughing. “I said kilometers baby, not miles”
“You know that I don’t do kilometers!” You protest clearly frustrated because you hate driving in highways, while he smiles at you sweetly, his feet on the dashboard and his head pressed against his hands behind his neck.
You turn around to see him, just for a second, he’s smiling brightly, like he always is, UK’s sun shining into his face, making him even more dreamy than he already is. Oscar is someone you sometimes feel like he isn’t even real, like you just made him up, an old poem you’d wish you’d wrote.
“It’s okay baby, I’ll just be late to the meeting.” He smiles, as you take the next exit, so he can drive and you can admire him a little longer.
—
“I might just be in love guys” you tell you’re friends, who look at you completely astonished and completely lost of words, at you and your heart eyes face.
“I mean he’s cute, but in love? Girl, is he that good? Your best friend asks, and you nod, an amusement expression setting in her face.
“I’ve never seen you like this” your other friend says, and it’s true, because no one’s ever make you feel like Oscar does.
“I mean, he’s just so charming, and pretty, and nice and a gentleman in all senses of the word, he laughs at all my jokes, buys me flowers when there’s no special occasion and even sends deliveries to my apartment with just the food I like. I mean who could I not be in love?” You try to explain yourself, as they all mock you.
“Oh yes Oscar! I’ll go to fucking Azerbaijan with you!” One of them says in a high pitched voice, the whole table laughing, making you throw your French Fries at them.
Because yes, you did ditch them for a race weekend in Baku with him, because how could you not.
“Well guys, when you guys have a handsome f1 pilot of a boyfriend you’ll understand why I’ll go anywhere he goes.” You tell them, completely defeated against their teasing. “I’m sorry if I’m being a little too much just a little too soon”
You apologize, but you’re 100% not sorry.
“About that, because I too want an f1 pilot of a boyfriend. Can you do me solid with the Charles Leclerc guy? Because man he can get it”
“Oh my god!”
—
“I’m telling you guys! They are totally sleeping together.” Lando tells Carlos and Charles, as the three of them share lunch, the Ferrari pair not believing a word of what he’s saying.
“Man, there’s no way Oscar scored the hottest chick in the planet” Carlos says, taking a bite of his pastrami sandwich, Lando completely frustrated at the fact that absolutely no one believes him and his theory that you and Oscar are sleeping together.
“Yeah dude, forget it, even I wanna sleep with her.” Charles adds, and Lando groans in frustration pulling his hair out and also offended for Oscar.
“You’re telling me you don’t think my boy has game?” He accused the pair, the both of them nodding like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“To pull that?” Charles points with his head one of your advertisement with McLaren. “Definitely not.”
—
He’s just won in Hungary, and it makes you feel something that you’ve never even felt before as he blows a kiss at you from the podium, your stomach fluttering like a 16-year-old kid.
You feel your heart grow with pride and love, smiling at him from the pit, champagne splashing you everywhere.
You made your relationship public just a few hours ago, a very hard launch as he posted a picture of you eating breakfast in his hotel room.
Lando wins five hundred bucks, Carlos, Charles, Lewis and two McLaren engineers lost a hundred each.
You’re ecstatic, even with the media and the gossips talking about a possible pr relationship you’re pretty much happier than ever.
And you don’t know if what you now have is forever, but something in your gut tells you it is, because he’s the most real thing you’ve ever found, not even fair or close to what your past relationships had been.
That night, you celebrated between drunken kisses and twisted sheets, and for now it’s more that enough.
But you do promise yourself that one your so american ass, will marry him.
#f1 one shot#f1 oneshot#f1 series#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri f1#mclaren x reader
151 notes
·
View notes
Text
honey goes to chris's hockey game.
collab with @stvrnioloslvt !!! and the angst begins...
baby and matt version here!
chris had mentioned to you earlier about his game, but didn't say anything about you coming. you had asked earlier if he could come over and all he texted was, "sorry, honey. i gotta game tonight, but i'll see you later."
baby had mentioned to you earlier how she was going, and had invited you. you had never been to a hockey game and thought it was a great idea to come see chris and matt play, and surprise him.
you and baby got dressed in your room together, and you picked a simple cropped school shirt, and a pair of baggy jeans with some airforce 1's.
the both of you started heading to the stadium your school had, along with many more groups of students around you, most of them from your college, some others from the college you guys were going against.
strawberry ice smoke released from your lips and filled the cold air around you as you and baby talked about whatever was in your minds. despite your shy personality, you always felt comfortable around baby and she helped get you out of your shell.
besides her, it was nathan. nate and you had always been close and he was there whenever you needed him, he was like the brother you never had, and you love him like one.
you guys got to the stadium, being met with nate and a couple of his friends at the front. “baby! honey!” he says, waving and clearly drunk. you laugh softly as he pulls you into a tight hug, muttering about how he missed you so much and how he didn’t know you were coming.
a small shrug comes from you. “decided i would come with baby and see chris and matt play. don’t you usually play too?” he nods, clearly becoming a bit more upset.
“yeah- *hiccup* i got injured though 2 games ago and now im on rest.” he points to his knee that was in a knee brace, and you nodded. “i hope you feel better.” he smiles at you, his eyes lingering a bit longer than needed. you teared your eyes away from his drunk face, looking at baby awkwardly and she just shrugs and laughs. “cmon. we’ll see you later guys.” she interlocks her arm through yours before nodding to nate and his friends, before pulling the two of you away.
“y-you saw that right? i’m not crazy?” you whisper softly to her as you keep your gaze low to the ground, avoiding any unwanted eye contact and letting baby bring you through the stadium. “no, i definitely saw that. he is either drunk out of his mind, or has the hots for you.”
a shiver runs through you at the thought of it. the cold air outside and inside of the stadium doesn't help either. you both get to your seats next to a couple of baby's friends, and you politely smile at them softly, before sitting down.
you listen to the giggling and loud voices of the girls talking next to you, and zone out looking at the chair in front of you. your thoughts are interrupted at the sound of a familiar voice you heard not even 10 minutes ago.
you look up to nate and the same friends that were outside as he gives you a sloppy smile, plopping down in the seat next to you. he wraps his arm around your chair, dropping his beer in the cup holder in front of you.
"hey, hon. y'excited for y'first hockey game?" he tries to whisper in your ear, but messed up completely causing a small laugh to come out of your mouth before nodding. "yeah, i am." he smiles back at you before turning back to his friends next to him.
being in the middle of 2 loud groups is a big red zone for you. but you're grateful for at least being in between your best friends. you pull your phone out of your pocket, checking the time. 2 minutes till the teams come out.
you hear the announcer yell something you can't really pick up, but nate can. he and the guy next to him stand up yelling some chant along the lines of, "cmon team! let's fuckin' go!!" nate looks down at you, signaling for you to stand up which you quickly deny as he playfully rolls his eyes, plopping back down, and actually whispering in your ear. "party pooper."
"im not a party pooper, you know this isn't really my environment." he nods, tilting his head. "so, you and chris a thing?" he abruptly asks which makes your breath hitch. "w-what? i mean, i guess." he nods, his mood slightly diminishing as he leans forward, grabbing his beer once again, taking a big swing.
your eyes widen as you watch him basically down the almost full bottle to only a few drops left. he finishes, practically throwing it back into the cup holder as he sighs, leaning back once more. "y'know he ain't good for you. he'll play the fuck outta you right before your eyes."
your head spins at nate's words, looking back at him, to which he was already looking. you scoff as you notice his serious face. "chris wouldn't do that." he scoffs, just like you a moment ago before letting out a dry laugh. "yeah? watch that shit." you roll your eyes at his words, looking away from him, and moving your body a bit to face baby's direction.
she notices this, giving a small confused look before you shake your head, not wanting to talk about it. she nods a bit before looking at nate behind you, then rolling her eyes. he must've said some dumb drunk shit.
the lights flash across the stadium as a loud horn gets blown through the speakers, the crowd around you bursting into cheers, that including nate and his friends. he purposefully shoves you as he stands up, not even giving something as small as a look to you as he jumps and cheers.
you roll your eyes, getting dragged up by baby so you could properly see. the teams skated out onto the rink, your college taking the right side, skating around in circles, then the other team on the left, doing the same. she leans into your ear, bringing you close to her as she yells and points to 2 specific players. "there's matt and there's chris."
you nod in acknowledgement as your eyes follow chris. his swift movements, how he hits the puck with such force, and how he looks so damn good when he takes off his helmet, his hair already sweaty.
you hear baby laugh softly next to you, wiping your lip. you look at her as she laughs again. "you were drooling." your face flushes in heat as you shake your head a bit. "no way. i was not!" "you definitely were, honey." she smiles at you, looking back to the rink for a second before pulling you back down softly into your seat as the crowd starts to settle down.
the announcer says his usual chants, announcing the players, whatever. his voice going in and out of your ears and you pay solely to chris, who was standing on the side of the rink now, talking with matt. after what feels like forever, the game finally starts.
your eyes are glued to chris as he starts skating at what seems to you, super speed. you're more invested into this game more than almost anything in your life. this causes time to move faster than you think, 10 minutes, 30 minutes, then an hour, and then finally intermission. your eyes came off chris maybe twice that whole hour.
"having fun?" baby asks from besides you to which you quickly nod to. "i can tell. you haven't taken your eyes off the rink the whole time, let's make sure your eyes don't get stuck now." she jokingly says, laughing. you roll your eyes playfully, finally taking a breath as you lean back into your chair.
nate's arm hasn't moved from his place on your chair, evidently causing you to partially lay on it as you lean back. you don't mind it though, and he doesn't either. he's chatting it up with his friends as his fingers absent-mindedly start to play with the ends of your hair as his body still faces his friends.
you look down to your shoulder, seeing his fingers play with your soft hair, and a blush slowly creeps to your cheeks, and baby notices. she doesn't say anything though, letting the moment sink in for you. you look back to the rink, the game starting once again.
your eyes once again find chris, but he didn't get called into play yet. you take this small amount of time to check your phone, once again no notifications besides a couple grades updating, great.
you look back up, chris finally skating in. about 2 minutes in, a player from the other team shoves chris to the ice, and steals the puck, a clear penalty. the crowd bursts into yells as the ref doesn't call it, letting the game continue. you rise from your seat as you can basically see the anger running through chris.
he gets back up, but he's not skating towards the puck, no. he's skating to that bitch who pushed him right before he was making a goal. once he was close enough, he threw his stick wherever, throwing off his helmet in the same movement, before throwing a punch to the guy. he manages to take off the guy's helmet, another penalty.
one punch, then two, then three gets thrown to the guy, all from chris. worry rushes through you as baby stands up next to you, both of you seeing matt rush toward chris, trying to pull him off, but chris shoves him off. chris is seething at this moment, punches repeatedly getting thrown as he gets the guy to the ground. usually refs are supposed to let the players fight it out, but this was getting too violent. chris was getting too violent.
the refs finally managed to get chris off, leaving the other guy with a bloody nose, and a couple teeth missing. as chris got pulled off the rink, curses emit loudly from his mouth. your face grimaces at the sight of seeing chris so violent.
you don't notice when, but nate leans over to you, asking a small, "you good?" once he notices the discomfort in your face. baby also looks over at you, both of them full of worry. "y-yeah. just didn't expect chris to get so violent." both of them nod, understanding. "yeah, he gets into fights, but this was definitely his worst one yet." nate manages to get out of his drunk self.
all of your eyes watch as chris gets pulled to the penalty box, his coach yelling at him as chris runs a hand through his sweaty hair. what you don't miss though, is a girl running to the box pounding on it to get chris's attention. he faces her, his face softening a bit at the sight of her. he stands up, opening the door so she can get in, as he pulls her into a tight hug, kissing her head in the process.
a small gasp comes out of you as you watch the whole thing. nate and baby both look at you, and then follow where your eyes are. "no fucking way." baby says, in a tone you've never heard her use. nate doesn't say anything like you thought he would. baby talks to you, but you can't hear a thing she's saying, her voice replaced by a painful ringing in both your ears, flooding your head.
tears start to build in your eyes as you quickly push past nate and his friends, making your way to the stairs, your feet moving faster than your brain. you don't notice baby and nate following after you, both in pure worry.
you make your way to the penalty box to where chris and the girl are, just staring at the both of them. they don't notice you before baby comes next to you, banging on the glass to get their attention. chris's eyes look at her in confusion, before looking at you, his face dropping. the sight of salty tears falling from your eyes down your cheeks and neck don't go unnoticeable.
"honey.." he says softly, almost so quiet no one heard it, but you did. he's all you could hear, all you could see. "chris." you reply, a choked sob coming from your mouth. you couldn't deny that you felt many eyes on the two of you, but you didn't care.
chris looked different. sure he looked sad, but it also looked like he had no regret, at all. the girl finally speaks up, her high pitch voice making the ringing in your ears worse. "so, who the fuck are you?" she says with a disgusted tone in her voice as you tear your eyes away from chris, now looking at her. she looked absolutely nothing like you, she was a completely different person.
"i'm honey." you say softly, trying not to show the sadness in your voice, which was clearly inevitable due to the state you're in. a sarcastic laugh falls from her. the game behind you all becomes a blur, now the 5 of you in a whole completely different environment, even if you guys didn't actually leave the stadium.
"well, honey. i'm addison. chris's girlfriend." it almost seems like the stadium crashed from around you, burying you in debris, with no way to get out. you're suffocating in your own tears. "girlfriend? what the fuck?" baby speaks out, her tone laced with disgust. "yeah, bitch. what's it to you?" addison quickly replies back. with her eyes looking away from you and now to baby, which quickly erupted into an argument, your eyes look back to chris, to what seems like he didn't look away from you once. matt came up to the glass, listening in and watching everything go down, his gaze lingering on baby.
"so, this is why you didn't invite me. you invited your secret girlfriend instead." your voice similar to baby's, a tone chris has never heard from you. he stays quiet, before nodding. "yeah." you scoff, nodding and looking away. "fuck you, chris." you finally say, before turning around and walking away from the group.
you don't miss the way you catch peoples' gazes from their seats, to which you look away quickly, your pace fastening. you feel a hand interlock into yours, to which you flinch, but look over and see baby next to you. "those assholes." she mutters as she drags the both of you out of the stadium, her feet walking towards your apartment building.
your steps abruptly stop, your hand pulling out of hers. she slows her steps, looking back at you. sobs pour out of you again, the tears never ending now. she pulls you into a tight hug, rubbing her hand over your hair as you sob into her shoulder.
"chris is an asshole, honey. i'm so sorry." she says in between shh's and soft words. you sob again, your throat for sure scratched up. "i just don't understand." she shakes her head softly. "me either, hon. i wish i could beat his ass right now, and that dumb bitch addison or whatever her fuck ass name is. she's ugly as fuck, too. he downgraded." you laughed softly, standing up straight, trying to wipe the mascara off your cheeks.
the tears don't stop though, they just come out less aggressively. "cmon, i don't want some creeps seeing you cry in the middle of the street." she takes your hand as you nod, following after her. you don't miss how your phone is vibrating every second with a new notification. you look down, taking your phone out of your pocket, seeing dozens of texts from chris and nate.
chris❣️:
"honey im sorry."
"i didnt know u were coming tn, i shouldve invited u instead."
"she had no right speaking to you like that"
"i told her we're breaking up and to leave"
"please come back kid im sorry."
“please honey come back ur my favorite girl in the world.”
"nate really cares for you. him and matt are yelling at me right now."
"honey cmon please."
"i know you're getting these, y/n."
"y/n, cmon. you didnt think u and i were dating right?"
"text me when you're not in a bitchy mood, ight?"
nathan💯:
"where didd you gi?"
"im stilk drunik as fuck i cnt drive"
"plz cme back."
"that bitch id ugly antwsys."
"i luv u kid i hopy you feel beter"
the sudden change in chris's texts make a weird feeling run through you. "baby, look." you softly say to her as you hand her your phone. she turns around, taking your phone, reading chris and nate's texts as she continues walking you both, the two of you significantly closer to your building.
you watch her face distort into every emotion, her reacting with the same wave of emotions as you as she hands back your phone. "chris is a fucking weirdo. the switch up was crazy. at least nate was nice, i guess."
you nod, stuffing your phone back into your pocket as the two of you get to the entrance of your building, you quickly stepping forward to type the code in. the both of you make it up to your room, to which you unlock it, rushing in and immediately running to your bedroom, flopping onto the bed.
"i'm staying here tonight, okay? i'm not letting you be alone." you nod, looking up and seeing baby search through your closet, throwing you a pair of your pj's and grabbing herself a pair.
after some time, the two of you end up in your bed, searching through netflix for a movie. "so, you and matt?" you ask softly, looking at her. her eyes widen as she looks at you, practically disbelief in her eyes. "i am not talking about a sturniolo right now. tonight is for us, only." you rolls your eyes, looking at her while tilting your head. "cmon, i saw you looking at him the whole game. so, is something happen between you two?" she sighs, accepting defeat. you're actually making her talk about him.
"i don't know. there's some tension, i guess. but it's nothing besides that. at least not yet." she smirks softly at the last sentence to which the both of you burst into laughter. after that, the both of you end the night with the lorax and leaving the sturniolo name out of your mouths.
you still haven't responded to chris or nathan.
@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @sophand4n4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris @ilovedanielcaesar @sofieeeeex @chr0mehrts @cockettechris @iloveduckssm @stvrnioloslvt @sturn777 @priscillaog @allylovescody @sturniolo101 @mattssslutbby @mattybsgroupie @mattysketchup @m11rx @slut4brunettes @trevorsgodmother @chrislova @slut4christopherr @sturns-mermaid @oopsiedaisydeer @conspiracy-ash @p1mpactivities @sweeetbabysblog @brooklyncameron comment to be added or removed.
#alexis talks#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo fic#chris sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturnslutz#=hockeyplayer!chris#=shy!reader
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
Writhing
Day 4 {Challenge Masterlist}
A day away. The end is near, but they get closer. Too close.
[Yandere Batfam x Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]
[Warnings: Mentions of suicide (only mentioned in dialog), cult, occult like activities, rituals, implied human sacrifice (in dialog), sort of implied gore?, body horror, violence, blood (minor), bodily fluids (minor), flesh, general mild gore, gross description (?).] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)
Oops! A little late on this one, my bad! Body horror elements come in at the end of the chapter, when Selina says something to Bruce. It's over when Jason says "Thank god, he finally shut up-"
If there is such things as 'partial'/'soft' dead dove, that's how I would describe the end of this day.
-------------------------------
The day is hotter than it’s ever been for fall in Gotham, and nearly everyone could feel it. Yet, strangely enough, a noticeable amount of people seem perfectly fine with it – even if some are practically sweating in their clothes, they still go about their lives almost scarily unbothered.
Most would think that Duke would be complaining, or at the very least breaking a sweat with how long he’s been in his suit, but strangely enough, he feels comfortable like this. Almost content, but he couldn’t be – not while being so far away from you. A window was the only thing truly separating you from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it and slip in. Almost like something deep inside of him was telling him you wouldn’t like it if he did, and Duke couldn’t understand why. You’ve been so nice to him up until this point, so welcoming – so you wouldn’t mind if he popped in extra early, would you? Sure you wouldn’t, Duke couldn’t imagine if you did, but he’s sure you’d understand anyway. If only he could explain it to you. Explain how he’s been feeling and that he had to be inside. Then you’d understand, forgive him, and everything would be okay.
Yet, something was still keeping him out, and it was honestly getting on his last nerve.
How Duke managed to slip out of the Batcave didn’t matter – not like he remembered, anyway. What mattered was figuring what was keeping him out so he could get in-
The young vigilante watches as you slowly, almost painstakingly begin to rise from your bed to sit up. For a moment, he holds his breath, hoping and nearly pleading with all his heart that you’re awake – only to see that your eyes are still closed, and it’s still hours away from when you’d usually be up. The only difference being is that your body moved in accordance to the sun, and you rose as it did. Almost as if you two were in sync somehow, and Duke couldn’t help but find that endlessly interesting instead of strange.
Even so, he had hoped you would have actually been awake – but he could be polite, so he waited. It wasn’t very comfortable being perched on the fire escape like this, but for something like this? Duke didn’t mind, especially not when he got to spend so much time with you. When it was just the two of you, alone, together.
Duke couldn’t even feel himself sweating in his suit, but even if he could – he didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not with you in his sights.
Time passed by like sand slipping through his hands, with only the smallest bits remaining under Duke’s nails and in the lines of his palm. Since he could feel it pass, albeit faintly, and could acknowledge its passing as well, but the actual length was lost on him – as if only minutes or seconds had flown by in the place of the few hours that escaped his memory.
Not that it mattered, as once Duke saw you begin to stir and wake up, he couldn’t help but feel all giddy as he practically jumped to your window sill, and tapped on the window despite the nagging feeling that tried to stop him. He watches as you rub your eyes before glancing over to him.
Another feeling washes over Duke, one of denial – and he finds himself panicking. You had to let him in. You would, right? You wouldn’t turn him away, would you? You couldn’t leave him out in the heat like this, you had come here for you. You can’t turn him away. No. No Duke can’t accept this – who are you? Where did you go? Did someone replace you? Was this a fake? Just what was going on-
The young vigilante’s thoughts are cut off as you open the window. “What’re you doing here, kid? I don’t remember making a call… unless there’s some trouble nearby?” Duke almost forgot he was in the suit, and he almost wanted to rip it off now, but he managed to keep it on… even if he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe despite how his own cowl was designed. Thank god, you were fine. Normal.
“I was just on patrol and, uh, decided to swing by? See how things are going, especially with all the activity around in the city as of late–” Duke is quick to reply, clearing his throat before admitting. “And I just wanted to see how you’re doing, y’know? Can’t imagine that things have been exactly easy these past few nights.”
You raise a brow, but just sigh and shake your head at his words. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but I got to get on with my morning, Signal.”
“I- I know! I just wanted to… do a search.”
“A… search?”
“Yeah, like- do you have any plants or anything around here?”
“Well, yes-”
“Perfect! Gotta check them and make sure they’re all good and healthy. It shouldn’t take long, and I won’t get in the way of anything, I promise!”
You can only raise a brow, but eventually relent and give a tired but amused, “Fine, do what you have to, then.”
So, you go on with your morning. Just getting ready, and keeping an eye on Duke – especially as he tries to make conversation. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but considering where you’re supposed to be standing, it is odd. Though, it only made you feel better as you decided to entertain him a little. Answering his questions, holding the position you’ve managed to maintain for the past few days, and keeping up appearances. It was easier during the day for countless reasons, a good night’s rest being one of them. Staying up was really taking a toll, and you needed your energy for what’s to come.
Nevertheless, it quickly comes to a point where Duke is obviously trying to stay, and you can’t figure out why. You feel like you’ve dropped enough hints at this rate, and so you try to confront him about it gently… only for him to stumble over his words and struggle to speak for whatever reason. It’s honestly a little frustrating, but you can work with this. You’ve dealt with worse than a clingy kid in a costume.
So, putting on a more natural smile as you remember to compose yourself, you make the same offer that’s always worked for you time and time again.
“Say, why don’t we have a bit of breakfast?”
— — — – — – — — — — — —
Barbara was beginning to regret taking Dick’s advice on getting some air, especially now that she was a few ways away from the only useful computer they could use at the moment. She appreciated the effort, but given the countdown and the list of questions they still have to answer – well, they didn’t exactly have a lot of time for a break.
Still, it was nice getting out of the clock tower for a bit. That much Barbara could agree with, even if it was strangely hot for fall… it couldn’t be the work of another villain, could it? They had their hands full enough as it is, and this cult wasn’t helping with that – not to mention the fact they didn’t know if it was just that.
“Ugh, why’s it so warm? I don’t remember fall being this hot.. did the news even mention something like this?”
Dick hums for a moment, and gives a shrug as they continue down the street, “Hm, I don’t think so! Just said something about today being nice?” He snickers slightly, “A little ironic, huh? It’s almost like they’re trying to downplay it! But who knows? Maybe they don’t even notice!”
Barbara can only huff in response, “How can they not? It’s almost like spring out here, or even summer, honestly-”
[“Oracle, focus.” Bruce’s voice so rudely pierces through the moment.]
“I would be if someone hadn’t taken me out.”
“Hey! It’s not a crime to get some fresh air every once in a while! Especially when on a tough, grueling case like this… you know that if we keep going at it with no breaks, we’ll all drop before that countdown even finishes.” Dick tries to defend himself, and Bruce at least acknowledges his point by staying silent – the only sign of him still being on the line being a gruff exhale he lets out.
Barbara just shakes her head and rolls her eyes, not bothering with a response as she waves off Dick’s words and usual antics. Though, it was a nice change of pace compared to how the last few nights have been – even if they somehow managed to avoid any more deaths last night. Tragedy was to be expected in their line of work, and Gotham’s reputation only made that more apparent, but this was… something else. It didn’t feel like they were any closer to figuring out the answers to questions they had even at the start of all this, or only had half of a possible answer. Like how they knew the other groups Clark was able to track are heading towards major cities, but they still didn’t know why aside from the Red Dawn you had mentioned.
At this point, it almost felt like a goose chase! And if they didn’t get anything concrete fast, who knows what could happen-?
“... Hey, what’s with all the people in front of that book store?” Barbara points out as she taps Dick’s shoulder, grabbing the officer’s attention.
Humming, he looks over to where Barbara was gesturing towards, and shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe there’s a sale or something? Some famous person released a new volume?” The very idea nearly makes her laugh, and as much as Barbara wants to – she’s getting a weird feeling about it. Like something important was going on over there, and that she had to check it out now.
“Well, it couldn’t hurt to check it out, right?” She suggests, only for Dick to remain where he was, which only now she realizes that they’ve stopped moving all together. Huh, when did that happen?
Nevertheless, Dick gives the shop a once over, his eyes narrowing slightly at the crowd that’s formed in front of it, and is continuing to grow as the seconds pass. Some still walk past, and seem to mind their own business – but for some reason, others seem drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and there could be only one explanation for it.
“Nah, I think we’ll be fine right here.” He says, sounding almost a little too sure of himself.
Barbara raises a brow and looks over to Dick, curious but also a bit annoyed for reasons even she can’t place. “Why do you think that-?”
Before she can even finish, you come strolling out from the alley just a few inches ahead of them, and Barbara blinks in slight surprise. What were you doing awake-?
“Hey, [Last Name]!” Dick greets without missing a beat, an odd sort of smile making its way across his face. “Where were you last night?”
You look over to him, blinking as well before straightening yourself out. “Oh! Officer Grayson, what a surprise… and Ms. Gordon? What are you both doing out?”
Barbara’s brows furrow, but before she could speak up, Dick spoke up again. “I asked you first, [Last Name]. Where have you been? I can’t imagine you’d take the night off in the middle of a serious situation.”
“I’m… sorry, but something had come up- and I apologize, but I don’t remember anyone mentioning you looking for me?”
“So you were on duty last night-?”
Barbara nudges Dick’s arm, “I’m sorry for my friend here, you’re one of the officers that came in from Metropolis, right?" She interrupts, surprising you a little more. Though, you take the opportunity and give a nod, offering a hand - one that Dick eyes before looking back at you.
Not once does he even attempt to glance at his supposed ally.
"Yes! Officer [Last Name] at your service, ma'am. It's been an honor working with your father."
Barbara nods, taking your hand... which gives her an oddly tingly feeling. One that makes the hairs on her arm stand, but she hardly notices. "Really? Well, I wouldn't get too used to that - wouldn't want to stay in Gotham for longer then you'd have to, right?" She laughs lightly, "I hope the city hasn't been too much of a handful, Officer."
"Oh, there's no need for that, Gordon! Everything's gone... well, as good as it can. We're doing all we can to resolve things as quickly as possible- I assure you." You try to reassure, and while Barbara appreciates the effort - she was still getting the funniest feeling that you were down playing the situation too much. To say you were calm felt like an understatement, you're more laid-back then anything, and for a case like this? That didn't feel like a good thing.
Still, she plays along as well. "Is that so? Then is there anything you know about the case?"
"Well, I don't think we know more then the commissioner's friend per say, but the detective's coming in later and-"
"Wait, the detective-?"
It's only then that you notice something, and already try to take your leave.
"I really wish we had more time to discuss! But I must be going now, please forgive me, Gordon- ah, and of course you, Grayson."
"[Last Name]-!"
Dick's plea is swallowed by the sizable crowd that passes them, and almost seems to go in the direction you were headed in. Yet, when trying to catch a glimpse of you - you're nowhere to be found.
Folding his hands into fists, Dick's nails dig into his palms - something he doesn't even seem to notice or feel. "Damn it." He curses under his breath. So much for that, now he'll have to-
"What was that about?" Barbara can't help but ask out loud, looking at the crowd that was already disappearing before glancing up at Dick. The expression he wore making her worried, and she reached out a hand. "Hey, you okay?"
He shakes it off, and just gives a nod, smile strained. "Just peachy, Babs."
Again, before Barbara could another word out - her phone buzzes, and it's only then that she realizes her commlink was disconnected for... whatever reason? Nevertheless, she picks it up, and tries to gesture to Dick that they should go, which... takes a while. Almost too long, considering how they've got less then twenty-four hours left on that countdown.
Selina's on the line, and she and Barbara try to figure out what they can - and Barbara can't exactly place it, but it feels like only her and Selina are even somewhat level headed. It makes no sense, and she doesn't have time to dwell on it, so Barbara just pushes it to the side for now.
Somehow, they're still having trouble getting the Batcomputer up and running, so Tim and the samples are going to be at the clock tower for the time being so they can continue to work despite the 'hiccup'. Until nightfall comes, Bruce is looking into what he can while trying to get the Batcomputer even semi-functional, and is talking with everyone he can, sharing all the information they have at the moment - trying to see if anyone else knows something they don't.
Meanwhile the other's seem to be doing... something. What exactly? No one's totally sure, but considering the time they've got left? Well, they can only assume it's something useful.
Which... made Barbara remember something just as the call ended. Sighing, she just sits back as her wheelchair continues down the sidewalk. "Where even is Duke, anyway? I can't believe he managed to slip past everyone before his patrol... and before we could come up with a plan too." She can't help but grumble, but really only hoped the kid was okay.
Dick, who had been quiet even since they turned back around - let his silence linger for a moment longer, as if thinking before responding. "Something tells me he's on patrol."
Barbara glances at Dick once more, "Oh yeah? And how can you figure that out when he left without his phone and commlink somehow?"
Dick only gives a smile, one that Barbara had never seen before that gives her... mixed emotions at best. His eyes closed, and though the rays of sun only made him look better, Barbara couldn't deny the way his heart paused at the sight. What kind of smile even is that-?
"I've just got a really good feeling. So let's go back to the tower, m'kay?"
For once, the chirp in Dick's tone did little to ease Barbara's sudden feeling of dread. One that all too quickly turned into something similar to comfort, and she couldn't even fathom why.
— — — — — — — — — —
Before the moon even has the chance to fully rise, a certain mishmash family of vigilantes is still hard at work. Whatever a few of the others were working on in the batcave, Duke joined them the moment he got home - but after his suit was put aside, and practically put on quarantine with how much of the red stuff it had on it. It was like sand and had gotten into every small crevasse it could - and not just in the suit.
When asked about it, Duke just didn't know. Claiming he didn't remember even losing the suit, but knew he had it on this morning because - well, why wouldn't he? The questioning seemed to confuse him as much as everyone else, and Dick eventually put a stop to it... strangely enough.
Nevertheless, Tim was able to find a bit more information, and when asked he simply said, "Well, I don't think it'll help us right now but... these guys- the group, at least- has been around for a while now. Not like Ancient Egyptians or anything, but they've definitely been around longer than just a few months. It's hard to pinpoint when they were exactly formed or founded, but I'll give it a few years. Maybe even decades."
Chipping in, Barbara adds, "They've got their hands in just about anything you can imagine. It's hard to tie them to politics, but they've got banks, industries, and so on that have supported various churches that are around some of the areas Clark marked before... well, the black out last night. Thank god a backup was sent to the Clock Tower's database."
Tim hums in agreement, "Exactly. And, to add on to that- but even some businesses have given to a few of these churches or groups, but most seem to have their own way of spreading... whatever this is. Though, if only certain banks from these companies support the 'cause', or the company itself supports it is harder to figure out."
"Again, not super helpful, but definitely gives a better idea of who these guys are. Wouldn't be surprised if for most, this is a legitimate religion disguised as another."
Well, Tim was right - it didn't help them immediately, but it gave a bit of insight. These guys have been around for a while, but now the question is why they're popping up now, and if it's because of this 'Red Dawn', then they absolutely have to find out what that means before time is up. However, amongst the investigation, another question eventually pops up, and one that almost feels foolish to skip over.
Where are the bodies from the people who were involved with this cult, but ended up killing themselves when caught-?
Then, Bruce's phone rings just as he's about to contact Gordon. It's not a number he recognizes, but something, for some reason not even he can explain, compels him to pick it up.
Before Bruce himself can even try to resist, the button is already pressed.
[The person on the other end clears their throat before speaking. “Hello? This is Detective Greenwood, and to my understanding, this is Batman’s number?”]
Of course, naturally, Bruce doesn’t say anything. More or less just… confused. Was this even real? How could anyone expect him to believe that the detective that’s been absent for nearly four days, maybe even longer, is only now trying to show up? Talk about convenience. Not to mention priorities and dedication.
[The man on the other end sighs. “Well, if this is the right number or not, I’ll find out soon enough. I’ve heard you're not exactly a patient man, so I’ll keep this short- just for you. Meet me at the diner on fifth. It’s getting late, I know. Place is about to close, but I’ll be here until it does. If it’s closed when you decide to come by? I’ll be at the station, cleaning up the mess.” A beat of silence passes, and a small clinking sound could be heard before he adds, “I’m sure you’re aware we don’t have much time, but hey. The choice is yours.”]
With that, the call ends, and Bruce is momentarily left in silence. Everyone else is doing their own thing and trying to figure out a plan of action they all agree upon but this… this could change things – but that all depends on what this detective knows. The timing itself is a little more than suspicious, and while you had apparently mentioned the detective’s arrival earlier, being gone for so long, and during a time like this no less… almost nothing could make Bruce any less trusting of this. While he trusted your credibility somewhat – and that’s mostly due to Clark being able to back up the information you’ve been able to provide thus far – there’s no telling if this detective had any new information they haven’t figured out already.
… Yet with the time they have, and their lack of knowledge of what it even means, they didn’t exactly have the time to be nitpicky – and though it was highly unlikely, having someone explain or give a clue as to what this ‘Red Dawn’ even is would also be useful.
A rough sigh escapes Bruce, and from that alone, the room goes quiet. Glancing at the timer on the holographic screen of the Batcomputer, he takes a second or so before getting to work. “Dick, you’re coming with me to see this… detective. Selina, go with Damian to see where the bodies are. Jason and Cassandra? …Don’t follow too close behind.” They didn’t exactly have time to argue, and with Duke, Stephanie, and Tim doing something else? This’ll have to do.
Regardless, even if some disagreements and such are made, they all set out, and into the unforgiving city once again.
Knowing the area like the back of your hand certainly had its perks, and finding the diner itself isn’t very hard. Though before they can even think about stepping inside, the sheer emptiness inside the establishment is… not one any of them are familiar with. Not during a time like this, and especially not when there’s a bar inside the establishment. To say they’d stand out would be putting it nicely, but the invitation is already given once the single patron in the diner notices the only two visible figures outside and for them to come in.
Playing along never feels good, but what choice do they have? Besides, as if knowing something, Dick is the one that takes the first step forward. Bruce slides into the booth last.
Conversation sparks up, and it goes about as well as one would expect. The obvious questions are asked, but nothing notable or of any real importance is given. Greenwood only apologizes for his absence, gives little reasoning for it aside from ‘being caught up with something’ – as that’s something noteworthy, and yet not even Bruce has been informed of it. So, things are off to a great start.
Almost seemingly out of habit, Greenwood offers anything he can, only to be declined – something he just shrugs off before taking a stip of his coffee, or what looks to be something like it, as despite the hint of color Bruce swears he can see in the mug, it’s too dark to be much else. Still, all too aware of the time limit they’re working on, Bruce gets straight to the point, and Greenwood follows right along. As if to ease things, he even offers for the pair to call him John. Hm. That’s the first name he’s gotten out of the new batch without looking through records.
Strangely enough, Greenwood takes the time to even reassure them, saying of the waiter – the only employee visible at the moment, is blind. So they won’t have to worry about anyone spreading any rumors about seeing the Big Bat and Nightwing themselves in a diner late at night. When Dick remarks about passerbys, Greenwood only says, “A friend of mine’s got that handled.”
When Bruce understandably asks, “And who is this ‘friend’ of yours.”
Greenwood strangely responds with, “Well, I can’t say much for a list of reasons. But they’ve got a way with people, and even got me your number. That’s all you’ve got to know.” Pushing up the shades he wore all the while. There was no need for him, but the detective never made a move to take them off. Like they were a part of him.
To say the conversation got any more useful from there would be a lie. Greenwood treats it too casually, almost infuriatingly so considering the situation they’re in, but Bruce is able to remain patient despite it all, and Dick looks like he’s biting his tongue. Though, as if catching wind of this, the detective decides to finally move things in a meaningful direction, and offers for them to head to the station – which is conveniently when the diner was about a minute or so away from closing. Which, Bruce takes notice of how Greenwood pays as they move to stand. A Rose Bank card, huh? That’s… new.
Even as both vigilantes readily take the opportunity to meet the detective at the station, and in his office, the quietness at the city gnaws at Bruce.
Of course it bothers him more than he’ll ever let on, but it gets to him all the same. It doesn’t help that Bruce can’t explain it, but the silence itself feels like a taunt of sorts. Like a jab at him specifically – a show of how in all his years of being Batman and trying to look after this city for as long as he has, it’s only now, under mysterious circumstances and in the midst of this disaster of a situation, is the city finally quiet. Even if it’s not in the way Bruce wants it to be. Especially since it’s not the way Bruce would have wanted it to be.
Whoever’s behind this has got a real funny sense of humor, Bruce will give them that.
… Eventually, Greenwood reappears and greets the pair – seemingly unfazed by the fact that they’re already in his office, even if he does make a show of acting a little shocked. Hm.
“I assume you’ve gone through the files I’ve had out already?” It’s a promising start, at least. Especially when compared to being offered coffee just moments before.
Still, Bruce just narrows his eyes, and Dick remains… oddly quiet – something that’s starting to make Bruce question if he made the right choice with bringing him along. Though, there’s no time for regrets now, is there? “Among other things. Your investigation has been…”
“Confusing? Nonsensical? Well… I can’t really blame you there. Everything dealing with them seems odd at best. Alien, perhaps, at worst.”
Bruce raises a brow under the cowl, only for them to furrow a second after. “Alien?”
Greenwood nods, “Put simply, yes. Some of the rituals performed by this group in the past have made little to no sense, and can vary in… well, intensity, so to speak. I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened the other day? It’s unfortunate and upsetting, yes- but it does tie into a theme this group seems to exhibit with everything they do.” Opening a file, he lays it out on the table, and the pictures shown are not for the faint of heart. To even say they were grotesque is putting it lightly. “Sacrifice.”
“... The human sacrifice kind?” Dick asks, but for a strange reason, Bruce already gets the feeling his son knows the answer – something that only makes him more unsure of all this, even if, strangely enough, a part of him is starting to almost accept it?
Regardless, Greenwood shakes his head. “Not quite, even if I don’t blame you for jumping to that straight away. Their version of sacrifice seems more… personal, or at least to differ greatly depending on the ritual. It’s hard to say what people are making these sacrifices for- but if you’ve talked with anyone who may be in this group, their reasons tend to differ. Like they were all promised something that caters to them specifically, and thus whatever it is, through these rituals- they are making the necessary sacrifice for it. Such as their eyes, legs, arms, heart, soul-”
“Life.” Bruce finishes, and Greenwood nods. Though, with all of this, only one question seems obvious. “How does the head of the group even know what someone would be willing to make such big sacrifices for? Especially if they’re all personalized.”
“That’s where the weird part comes in, since… well, in all my time as a detective working on this case- I haven’t been able to figure that out. At a certain point, they seem to just know.”
Bruce’s brows further knit together, and his eyes narrow further, “That doesn’t make any sense-”
[“Hey~ Bats? Yeah… you know those bodies you had me and the kid snoop around for-? Which, you owe me big time for this, just fyi.” Selina’s voice rings through the commlink.]
Bruce pauses, left staring at Greenwood while Dick glances at him. The detective raises a brow.
[“Well, we’ve only got a couple of empty caskets from the couple of thugs that were from Gotham, just a bunch of that weird powder you’ve been obsessing over.” There’s a brief pause before she adds, “Kid thinks this is how they make the stuff. If so, with all the followers they have, and assuming they’re just as ‘devoted’ as the one’s we’re looking for? I think we’re way in over our heads here, B.”]
The vigilante didn’t even get a chance to respond, as an odd smirk grew on Greenwood’s face. “That’s the signal, huh? Damn, and here I thought I’d get a few more minutes in. Such a shame, you folk are really on top of things. Reminds me a bit of myself in my earlier days, honestly.” A sickening pop sounds, followed by the sickening echo of cracks and grinding bones as John’s arm extends unnaturally long.
His fingers become as thin as pencil tips, only to get filled as some sort of mass builds from the inside, and grows so large it strains the skin until it pops. Strings of nerves try to reconnect where they shouldn’t, muscle moves to almost reconstruct a stronger, larger arm - with bits of left over skin and flesh moving with it. Nothing ever stops moving, like it can’t ever settle in one spot, and the sheer mass of it all can be seen moving and writhing under John’s skin. Trying to spread itself over parts of his body with its gift.
Finally, he removes his shades, and reveals irises with a pale star pattern that shouldn’t be possible. Something that flickers and moves, with the sclera pulsating with prominent, red veins that only seem to be itching their way closer to the iris with each growth of flesh his body manages to create and sustain. Like a parasite itching to feed, and having been left to starve, it latches onto the side of his face, and practically devours his eye lid - revealing the muscle underneath, and using the mass of the skin to add to the muscular arm – which can hardly hold itself at the end, and comes undone in a pile of fleshy, squelching tendrils that wiggle and inch towards the heroes.
“Well, it’s as they say.” John chuckles, voice already breaking apart, and already beginning to sound wrong in every way. “It’s parents who make the ultimate sacrifice for their children.”
With that, the amalgamation of flesh in human form vaults over the desk, and grins as it launches itself forward, ”IT'S TIME FOR ME TO SEE MY LITTLE GIRL! You surely understand, don’t you, Man of BATS?!” A giggle in too high of a pitch escapes it, and more teeth could be seen peeking out from its gums.
Bruce and Dick are quick to dodge out of the way, and Cassandra is quick to use her cloak to cut all the lights in the station, but the office itself is left in a darkness only the blackness of space could replicate. Jason quickly jumps in, and the four get to work to subdue the creature.
The fight itself is a gross sight for numerous reasons. Acid is spit from the bellows of the organism's stomach, and yet sticks to any surface like a thick layer of pus. The flesh that makes up its arm travels along the body it now puppets, and tries to grab and become a part of all who come into contact with it. Even as shots and countless blows are done to it, all it does is laugh as it continuously launches itself forward haphazardly – as if chasing some sort of high. The fat of the torso is taken for tendrils that shoot out of its back and more flesh to enhance its own combat ability. The muscle and bone of the legs is consumed to enlarge the ribs and spine - making a whole other mouth that’s all bone and made vertically come out of it, and where the organs have moved to? Who’s to say.
Even as it’s thrown through the glass of the office, and the scratches make the thing bleed, it moves to stand and continue the fight – as if it can’t feel anything else, or, rather, it’s so focused on chasing that it’s able to ignore the pain? It’s hard to say, but laughs begin to mix with shrieking screams that ripped its throat and ruptured the stomach.
It was all messy, sloppy, and at some point, most were rushing to find a means to light it on fire – and when the opportunity came in the boiler room, and the most unlikely of them flicked the match as he tried to catch his breath? The nightmare refused to go down without the last say, despite never being given such a luxury.
“IT’S TOO LATE! THE NEW DAWN IS BOUND TO RISE, AND ONCE IT DOES WE WILL ALL BE REWARDED!! THE SUN, DRESSED IN RED SEES ALL, AND NOTHING CAN STOP IT! ALL PREPARATIONS HAVE ALREADY BEEN MADE! THE WATERS ARE BOILING! THOSE NOT AWAKENED WILL SEE! THE CHILDREN WILL SING ONCE AGAIN! AHAHA! THE EARTH COULD STOP ON ITS AXIS AND IT WOULDN’T STOP THE RE-”
Only for its violating, cries of praise to its lord and religion to swiftly be cut off by nothing but a bullet to its melting head that's flesh was tearing away at the skull of the human that once remained underneath.
“Thank god, he finally shut up-” Jason scoffed, only to cough as the smoke began to rise and he rushed out – following the others.
Outside of the station, they all tried to catch their breath. Beaten one way or another, but alive, and untouched. Still human, in spite of everything, and breathing through their own healthy lungs that weren’t nearly pulsating out of their chests.
The quiet streets remain, leaving only them. Yet, it didn’t seem to bother them now. They almost don’t notice it, and despite no words being spoken, they all come to a collective understanding.
When the commlink crackles to life, Bruce hardly reacts, and when he hears his youngest son’s voice – he feels like he knows everything just before he speaks.
[“Father?”]
“Yes… we understand now, too.” So, with this new information, and more being fed to them, they all head back home together. Now knowing what must be done, even without all the pieces put together. Almost as if, in a way, they just know now. Like something is telling them, and the more it gives. The more they need it.
The waters of the Earth begin to boil as it prepares to cry, one last time.
#yandere batfam#yandere batfam x reader#yandere dc#yandere dc x reader#gn reader#yandere x gn reader#yandere duke thomas#yandere batfamily#yandere batfamily x reader#yandere dick grayson#the red dawn
99 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader
Chapter Specific Warnings: fluff
Word Count: 553
A/N: Epilogue of Ink & Needle
Simon reflects on the life before him, and the future is bright.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist
One Year Later
Simon runs his gloved hand over the transfer paper. It adheres to your skin, the temporary stencil bleeding through the flimsy film as it sits.
“Ready?” he asks, glancing up.
Anticipation is a tightly wrapped coil. It weaves around the bones in his chest, twisting until it’s all he understands. It’s not anxiety or fear or a sense of impending doom. This anticipation is steeped in joy—of a bright future.
Your answer is a smile, one so full of affection that Simon temporarily loses himself in your beauty. Finally. Finally. He’s inking your skin in more than just his kisses and touches.
“Ready,” you affirm.
Slowly, Simon begins to peel back the paper, leaving a temporary stencil behind. “Have a look.”
Shifting in the tattooing chair, you slip off and approach the full-length mirror. You turn several times, admiring it from all angles. While he’s trying to remain professional, he’s far too distracted by how you’re beaming. Elation and excitement are clear in the way you carry yourself.
“Can I show them?” you ask.
As if Simon would deny you anything.
“Course, love,” he chuckles.
With a gleeful giggle, you rush over to Evie. “What do you think?”
Evie, engaged in conversation with Johnny, turns. Eyes widening slightly, she leans in as you show off the stencil. “I love it.”
“What about the placement?” you ask. “Should it go somewhere else?”
Evie shakes her head. “I think it’s lovely.” She glances at Johnny. “What do you think?”
And Soap blushes—actually blushes under Evie’s attention. “Looks good.”
Lillian sits on the floor at their feet, lightly tugging on Bravo’s ears. The German Shepherd remains passive, allowing her to crawl all over him.
“Dog,” she says. “Dog.”
Bravo gives her little fist a lick, sending her into a giggle fit.
Simon observers this small group of people. The family is not complete, and yet there is wholeness in Simon’s heart—a sense of relief. Contentment.
As you return to him, Simon cannot help but offer up his hand, the need to touch you—even for a moment—is far too precious a thing to ignore. When your hand slides into his, Simon’s thumb lightly brushes over your ring finger. It’s empty. For now, at least. One day soon, he’ll ink your skin there, and you will do the same for him.
“Happy with this?” asks Simon as you slide back into the tattoo chair.
“Very,” you beam.
All that work, hours of sketching, of not knowing what you might like. To drafts, references, and back to drafting again. But you’ve selected one, made a decision, following through on that offer you made all that time ago when you first arrived back into his life.
How grateful Simon is.
A treasure.
All his.
Tugging the rolling cart closer, Simon flips on the tattoo gun, the subtle buzzing filling the air. He dips it into the ink, ready to bring it to skin.
“Ready Mrs. Riley?”
Simon’s voice is a gentle tease, a soft thing that’s only meant for you. It’s a snapshot. A flash of a moment. Everything he hopes for, and the future the two of you will share together all wrapped up in a few words and a name.
You soften then upon hearing your new last name.
“Ready.”
taglist:
@glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @lialacleaf @creamwhxre @theshrikeandcanary
@knight4xmas @jupiternighties @corvusmorte @darling006 @carma-fanficaddict
@emmylous-world @i-feel-violated @mileyraes @miaraei @cherryofdeath
@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @waves-against-a-cliff
@eternallyvenus @cinnabeanz @beebeechaos @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk
@smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41 @randomgurl2326
@webmvie @aykxz98 @xxkay15xx @saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36
@ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg
@yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim @voids-universe @iloveslasher
@talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307 @itsberrydreemurstuff @kylies-love-letter
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley#simon ghost riley fanfic#simon riley fanfic#simon ghost x reader#simon riley cod#simon riley fluff#simon riley fanfiction#simon riley fic#simon ghost riley x fem!reader#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley x fem!reader#simon riley x female reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley fluff#simon ghost riley fic#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x you#ghost x female reader#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#simon ghost fluff#ghost fanfic#ghost fanfiction
94 notes
·
View notes
Note
#16, Alex/Henry?
(Also requested by @firenati0n. I feel like there were two obvious options for this one: post-leaks in canon, or post-rescue mission of some kind. You can probably guess which one I chose. 😂 read all the hug ficlets)
Firstprince, 16: The “it’s okay, I’m here” hug.
Add’l note: This is more or less a tiny sequel to So Close to Something Better Left Unknown. You don’t have to have read the fic to read this ficlet, but it does contain minor spoilers for the very end of said fic.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
When Henry gave him the watch, it was half a joke and half because Henry’s in love with him and his hopeless heart latched onto the slim chance to keep an eye on him, at least from a distance. He’d expected Alex to leave it behind, or disable the tracker, or at the very least not wear it, but as far as he can tell, Alex had done none of those things. The tracker bops around the globe, giving Henry far too much information on CIA missions merely through its location. Not that Henry would ever pass on that information to his own agency, or anyone else for that matter.
That Alex trusted him not to, to keep his secrets… Well, it means a lot.
He assumed that at some point his own work would bring him within striking distance of Alex again, and he’d make use of the tracker to find him and… oh, hell, he doesn’t know. Say hello? It sounds absurd for a spy, but it’s pretty much all he could hope for. But before that happens, the tracker gets stuck for a week in a remote part of Guatemala, and Henry starts to get worried. Maybe Alex just lost the watch, or abandoned it for some reason. That’s the most reasonable explanation. Even so, Henry quietly requests recent satellite images of that area and zooms all the way in on the watch’s coordinates.
It’s a high-security compound of some sort. Not good.
He tries not to let his imagination run wild. The tracker he’d left in the watch is extremely high resolution, and he watches it occasionally move around the compound, as if someone was wearing it, though mostly it stays in one place. Alex could have traded it or gifted it as part of an operation; it was a valuable watch, after all. Still, it nags at Henry. He’s not going to be able to rest until he finds out what actually happened. The most straightforward way would be simply asking, but he has no way of contacting Alex except a burner phone he has no reason to believe Alex would be monitoring.
He sends a message anyway, but after a few days without a response, he can’t take it anymore.
It’s completely mad, he knows it is, but he makes up an excuse about tracking down a lead on a long-cold operation and books a ticket to Guatemala City. He covertly watches the outside of the compound for three days, keeping track of the men who come and go, and sends photos of them to Bea with a request to run facial recognition and not ask any questions. (She does, of course, but she doesn’t push, even when they come back with the names of some very bad people.)
Finally, once the compound’s primary resident leaves and takes with him what should be the majority of his armed muscle, Henry makes his move. The watch is still inside, and Henry follows the tracker’s signal down into the basement of an outbuilding, taking out a handful of guards with tranquilizers as he goes. The building is dark and dank, and the series of locked metal doors he finds do nothing to help the cold, hard knot that’s settled into his stomach. His hands don’t shake as he picks the lock on the one the watch is resting behind, but that careful composure slips when the door finally swings open to reveal a miserable lump curled on a thin mattress, a head of matted curls just visible through the murky darkness.
Alex flinches away when Henry first reaches out for him, scrambling into the corner, but then his eyes land on Henry and his mouth drops open. He blinks rapidly, scrubs frantically at his eyes, and blinks again.
“Henry?” he croaks in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for you, love,” Henry tells him, holding his hands out in front of him as he slowly moves closer. “I’ve come to get you.”
There’s a beat of silence, then another, then Alex surges toward him. Henry almost shies away himself, unsure of what Alex means to do, but then Alex is grabbing him and wrapping him up in a hug so tight it squeezes the air out of Henry’s lungs, and Henry can do nothing else but curl his arms around the trembling man now occupying his lap.
“It’s ok, I’m here,” he murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand down Alex’s back.
“How?” Alex chokes out. “How did you…?”
His voice trails off as he raises his left arm and looks at his own wrist, where a bit of watch strap peeks out beyond the filthy cuff of his shirt. Inexplicably, his captors had let him keep it, though that becomes more understandable when his sleeve slips further down and Henry sees how he’s smeared it with mud. The exquisite Patek Philippe now looks like a beaten up piece of junk.
“I didn’t want to lose it,” Alex says, his voice cracking over the syllables. He drops his arm and tries to bury his face in Henry’s chest. “That probably sounds dumb.”
“No, love, it doesn’t,” Henry says, holding him tighter. It’s torture to pull away, but eventually he must. “Come on,” he says, tipping Alex’s chin, now covered in a scraggly beard, up so their eyes meet. “Let’s get you out of here.”
#rwrb#red white and royal blue#firstprince#firstprince fic#rwrb fic#my fic#hug ficlets#sctsblu#i reserve the right to expand this later lol
83 notes
·
View notes