#let people hate rich thin white women | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lapetitechatonne · 2 years ago

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Can I have this dance?

i am so obsessed with this ship, so here’s some more content.

ao3 link here

Kate’s Masterlist here!

Dani would never admit it, but she enjoyed being able to dress up on occasion. No matter how much she denied it, her time with Vlad made her like the finer things in life. Now, don’t get her wrong, she didn’t crave it like he did, but she could appreciate it.

Still, it felt odd, looking at herself in the mirror.

Her velvet, emerald dress was a simple silhouette, just slightly hugging her curves and a long slit up the leg. Her favorite part was the straps, which less resembled straps and more resembled a diamond necklace. They were a simple chains with beautiful stones that sparkled when she moved.

She put on the thin necklace that matched the straps, as well as a pair of dangly earrings Pamela insisted on. Not that Dani minded, Pamela was a bit much but the woman liked Dani better than any of Sam’s other friends, so she wasn’t unbearable. That was why Dani was going to the gala in the first place, Sam demanded to bring a friend and Dani was the only one Pamela could stand.

Dani slipped on a pair of long pearl-colored gloves and gave herself another once over. Her dark hair was pinned up, curls perfectly falling to frame her face. She liked the contrast against the white of the gloves.

“Are you ready?” Sam asked, her own silky plum dress catching in the light.

“As I’ll ever be.”

---

Mar’i could think of ten thousand things she’d rather be doing than attending another stupid gala. It was so unfair that Mar’i was the only person in her family who knew how to act at them. Like, get it together people, it’s just embarrassing at this point.

Whatever, not that it would change anything. The press was enamored with her every move as not only the first baby to be born into the Wayne family in how long, but also because she was the daughter of a model. Anytime she didn’t show up there were articles about it. Which, rude, where were the articles about Damian and Tim not being there?

Sexist press, with their stupid double standards and their stupid obsession with her.

She hated it here. But at least she got to wear a pretty dress. She liked pretty dresses, even more so if they twirled nice.

“So, any lucky boy yet?” Gag her with a spoon. “You know, your dad used to be quite the heartbreaker in his day. I always thought he’d end up with that Barbra girl myself. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

Mar’i focused very hard on not breaking the glass in her hand. God, didn’t these old women have anything better to do than gossip about her love life?

“No, I’m focusing on my studies right now,” She flashed her charming Grayson smile and the old ladies huddled around her cooed about her being so focused.

Mar’i spotted her dad out of the corner of her eye and excused herself. He was retreating to the snack table—not without her damnit.

That was until she collided with another person and spilled her drink on them. Fuck, this was going in the paper, wasn’t it?

---

Dani had no idea this would be so goddamn boring. She was going to die of boredom, again.

Everyone here was old. And annoying. And Sam had been whisked away the moment they got here, so why was Dani even here.

Dani ate another very small snack that she didn’t even try to pronounce, and contemplated just, phasing through the walls. Would anyone see her? Probably not, and Sam was preoccupied so it would be forever until she noticed. But neither of them had their phones so she couldn’t let her know she left without actually talking to her. Damn.

A waiter with a tray of champagne passed her and Dani was tempted to grab one but decided she should probably just find Sam. Escape plan or not, Dani was tired of being alone with these stuffy losers.

Why did they all have to smell like that? It’s like she’s walking through the worst perfume store ever, honestly, you’d think being this rich they could afford something better—

“Shit—” Dani bumped into someone and their drink spilled on her arm, soaking her glove and almost knocking her over. Damn, they were strong.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Dani looked up and immediately felt her body freeze.

The girl’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern, her dark wavey hair half pulled up and half falling down her back. Her lilac tulle dress shimmered in the light—she looked like a fucking fairy.

The most beautiful fairy Dani had ever seen.

“Let me help you clean up, gosh I’m such a klutz.” The girl took Dani’s hand, and she could feel herself blushing.

Dani let the girl pull her through the crowd, careful to not trip on her own goddamn dress. The girl weaved through the crowd with practiced ease, her own t-length dress fluttering with each step. Was it weird that Dani liked the way she walked?—she’d have to ask someone later. Probably Tucker. He’d make fun of her the least.

The crowd started to thin, and suddenly they were in a hallway. They made a couple of turns that Dani didn’t retain at all—Pandora would be disappointed—before stopping at a bathroom.

The girl pulled out a washcloth—from where?—and ran it under the faucet. Dani took that as her queue to take her glove off.

“I really am sorry,” the girl pouted, and Dani could feel her heart beat a little faster.

“It’s okay,” Dani let out a strained laugh, “I was looking for a way out anyway. I’m not great in crowds of people.”

The girl looked up, her bright green eye almost seemed to glow while the glitter around her eyes shimmered in the bathroom lighting. Her smile was warm and welcoming, like she had all the love in the world to give.

“It can be a bit overwhelming, it’s it your first time?”

She put the washcloth down and picked up a hand towel, lightly drying Dani’s arm.

“Yeah, I’m here with a friend, well, really, she’s more my brother’s friend—but I um, I lost her. A while ago.”

She laughed, and Dani decided it was her favorite sound. God, she sounded like one of those bad romance books Jazz thought she hide well. She could practically hear Danny teasing her.

“I’m Mar’i, by the way. Hand me your glove?” Dani fumbled for a second before passing it over.

“I’m Danielle, or Dani—with an i—if you um, want.” Dani blushed, again, god what was wrong with her. Surly she was coming down with something because it was way too hot in here.

“My name’s spelled with an ‘i’ too, isn’t that funny?” Her heart skipped a beat. “Well, it shouldn’t stain,” Mar’i said as she ran the glove under steaming water, “but better to wash it out just in case. My dad’s lost quite a few shirts that way.”

“Well, um, thank you. For helping. Pamela would never forgive me if I ruined her gloves,” Dani laughed, and tried not to be as awkward as she felt, but it was hard with the way she could hear her own heartbeat. Usually, she couldn’t even tell if it was beating to begin with.

She was definitely coming down with something. A ghost sickness? Was the Gotham smog just finally getting to her?

“Well,” Mar’i turned off the water and rung out the glove, “that should do it, but you can’t very well put it back on.” She scrunched her nose and Dani had the sudden urge to reach out and soothe the line on her face. Because that wasn’t weird or anything. “I suppose we can hang it in the kitchen for now, we’ll just have to get it back to you before you leave.” Dani’s heart thumped at the idea of seeing Mar’i again. “Is that alright?”

Dani nodded and Mar’i beamed. Dani found herself grinning back.

“I’ll take you there, so you know the way in case you can’t find me later.”

“Lead the way.” Dani tried not to be too excited about going off with Mar’i. It was just because she was more interesting than anything else here. Yeah, that was it.

---

Mar’i walked out into the hallway and waited a moment for Dani to catch up. She adjusted the neckline of her emerald green, velvet dress, and Mar’i thanked the stars that she didn’t spill any on her dress.

It was a beautiful dress. The thin straps were made of gold chained jewels that matched the small pins that decorated her dark hair. Mar’i tried not to let her breath catch as Dani carefully removed her other glove and folded it up in her hand.

Dani joined her in the hallway, and Mar’i realized she was staring. She felt her cheeks heat up as they walked back the way they came.

“So,” Mar’i turned to see Dani looking around the hallway, “you know this place pretty well. Do you come to these things a lot?”

“I should, it’s my grandpa’s house,” Mar’i laughed. Dani blushed, and it made Mar’i want to tease the girl more. She looked cute like that.

“Oh, well, it’s a um, very nice house.”

Mar’i hummed. “It’s nice, but sometimes a bit too big to be comfortable. It helps that we have a big family, but still.” Huh, that wasn’t something she would usually say. God, she hoped Dani didn’t tell the press she said that, they’d label her an ungrateful snobbish socialite or something like that.

But, for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to be too worried. Something about Dani was just. . . it was different. There was something about the girl that Mar’i couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Like, it almost feels wrong to take up space, like you don’t belong,” Dani’s voice was quiet and there was a far-off expression on her face that made Mar’i want to pull her close, until she was completely present with Mar’i.

“Yeah,” Mar’i sighed instead, “but Grandpop does his best. He’s good to us like that.”

The troubled expression on Dani’s face got darker, and this time Mar’i didn’t resist the urge to reach out and hold the girl’s hand.

Her hand was cold, but not unpleasant. Like dipping your hand in a cool river, soft and engulfing. It was nice against her naturally warm skin. She took a moment to admire how their hands weaved together. Dani’s was a soft, cool white compared to her own warm brown skin. It was almost poetic, like those poems about the sun and the moon.

Dani’s eyes snapped to her hand, her focus shifted out of whatever made her look so sad. Mar’i was quite please by that, and even more so when Dani began to blush but didn’t move her hand away. Mar’i felt her inner flame flicker, warmth filling her chest.

They finished their walk to the kitchen in silence, luckily it seem all the staff was out serving leaving them alone.

“We can set them over here,” Mar’i laid the damp glove over the back of a dining chair, breaking her hold on Dani’s hand. The rush of heat back to the palm of her hand was uncomfortable, and perhaps a bit sad. Mar’i didn’t want their time together to end.

“Thank you,” Dani’s blue eyes looked up at Mar’i through dark eyelashes—and oh god, Mar’i was a goner. Yep. She had a big ass gay crush on this girl. “You really didn’t have to go through all the trouble of helping me.”

“Sure I did, I’m the one that spilled my champagne on you to begin with,” Mar’i giggled, “just don’t tell my dad. He doesn’t like it when I have a glass, but it’s hard to get through these things without one.”

“Right?” Dani sighed in relief and finally relaxed. Mar’i hadn’t even been aware of the underlying tension in the girl’s body until it was gone. “It’s so boring. You’d think a bunch of rich people could afford something more entertaining.” They both laughed, and Mar’i felt light in a way she usually didn’t at these events.

“It’s always so stuffy, it’s honestly nerve-wracking. I actually can’t remember the last time I had a real conversation at one of these things.”

The blush was back on Dani’s face, and Mar’i just wanted to kiss her little button nose. God, she was such a lesbian.

“Talking to you,” Dani shifted her weight and rubbed the back of her neck, “has been the most fun I’ve had all night.”

Their eyes met and Mar’i grinned.

“If you want,” Mar’i spoke before her rational thinking could stop her, “I can show you around a little bit. I’m sure no one’s missing us, and the gardens are really pretty this time of year.”

Dani looked at her, her crystal blue eyes wide and cherry lips slightly parted. Mar’i could feel her inner flame flare and she had to consciously think about keeping the flames out of her hair. Dani smiled, and Mar’i almost lost her control.

“I’d love to.”

Mar’i smiled so wide it hurt. She took her hand again and pulled her out the back kitchen door. They walked down the path past the greenhouse to the garden below the ballroom balcony. Alfred always made it look extra special for galas.

The spring breeze was cold, but not unpleasant. Small ground lights lined the cobblestone path and illuminated the rose bushed that had just bloomed. They were a mix of reds and pinks, the scent swirled in the air around them.

“Wow,” Dani said looking around in awe, “this is like something out of a picture book.”

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” Mar’i laughed. Dani looked at her with wide eyes, and Mar’i wondered if there was any merit to love-at-first-sight. Or if she was just a hopeless lesbian. Probably both.

They continued down the path until they finally came to the center of the garden. The beautiful stone fountain with a small cupid statue on top rained down water that sparkled in the low light. There were flowerbeds lining the rose bushes, yellows and purples contrasting the pinks of the roses.

Mar’i smiled as Dani giggled and pulled them both to the fountain. They could just hear the music drifting out of the ballroom over the rush of water, and Mar’i thought it sounded prettier like this.

Dani reached out and let the water run over her fingers. The look of wonder on her face was worth any backlash of disappearing halfway through the gala. Besides, it’s not as if it was the first time—and probably wouldn’t be the last.

“You can see the stars much better out here,” Dani’s eyes drifted to the sky, “but still not better than at home. Only a few constellations.”

Mar’i looked up at the sky, and despite being familiar with the stars, she couldn’t say she knew many earth constellations. After all, Tameranian space travel was far more advanced and useful.

“You know the constellations?” Dani’s face lit up.

“I love the constellations. I think there’s something wonderful about the idea of stories written in the stars. Like this cluster over here,” Dani pointed and Mar’i moved closer to see where she was pointing at. Dani smelled like lavender and rain, “that’s the Pleiades. The myth is that they were the seven daughters of Atlas, and Orion ruthlessly chased them. They prayed to be free of him, and so Zeus turned them into doves, and then into stars to keep their father company while he held up the heavens. It’s said that the Orion is still chasing after them in the stars.”

Dani’s eyes lit up when she spoke, her free hand waving in the air to emphasis to her words. The carefree smile on her face made Mar’i want to melt.

“How tragic.”

“That’s not even the worst one,” Dani moved, pulling Mar’i along by their joint hands to point at another constellation, “That’s Cassiopeia, and this one,” She moved then again, but this time she let go of Mar’i’s hand and moved behind her, pointing at some stars over her shoulder, “is Andromeda. They’re mother and daughter actually.” Mar’i found it hard to focus on Dani’s words when one of her hands rested on her waist and minty breath tickled her ear. “You see, Cassiopeia was a queen and she claimed she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, and the nymphs got so mad that they asked Poseidon to punish her. He sent a sea monster to her kingdom, and the only way to stop it was to chain her daughter Andromeda to a cliff and sacrifice her.”

“That seems a bit dramatic.”

“It’s okay,” Dani laughed, “Perseus saved her. He was walk by after killing Medusa and used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster into stone. Wild shit.”

Mar’i turned to look at Dani, who was still looking up at the stars.

“You really know a lot about them.” Dani blushed and looked at Mar’i, then looked away.

“I like stories,” she said quietly, “I think because there’s so much to learn from them.”

“I think that’s beautiful,” Mar’i said softly. Mar’i turned around fully, offering a hand to Dani. “Would you like to dance?”

Dani nodded placing her hand in Mar’i’s. Mar’i placed a hand on Dani’s waist, Dani’s other hand on Mar’i’s bicep. Dani’s cool touch was relief from the burning fire in her chest threatening to take her over. As they swayed to the music playing distantly in the background Mar’i had to focus on keeping her feet on the ground.

Dani was looking at their feet, even though they moved perfectly in sync. Mar’i felt time stop as a violin solo played in the background and Dani lifted her eyes to meet Mar’i’s. It was like looking into a swirling galaxy and seeing endless opportunities in front of you. Her eyes, they just held so much hope. More than Mar’i ever thought possible.

It made Mar’i’s heart sing and the solar warmth heat her skin. It made her want to fly above the clouds and just laugh with joy. Looking into Dani’s eyes, Mar’i had never felt so free.

---

Dani had never thought herself the romantic type. Sure, she read all the romance books Jazz kept under her bed, and maybe she liked a good romantic comedy—she was a clone not a heathen—but she never saw herself feeling fluttery because a pretty girl asked her to dance in a garden.

She also never imagined that a pretty girl would want to dance with her in a garden. Vlad made it pretty clear that she was unperfect, unlovable. Jazz and Danny and everyone always told her differently, but sometimes she couldn’t shake that tiny voice in the back of her head telling her she was nothing—that she would never be anything.

But here she was—slow dancing in the most beautiful garden she’d ever seen, with a girl that was way out of her league smiling at her like she was something.

The warmth of Mar’i’s hands took the permanent chill out of her skin, like she was a cat laying in the afternoon sun. It made something in her core purr, it wanted closer, closer, to the source. She wondered how it would feel to curl up in Mar’i’s arms and just be.

Dani looked down at their feet as they moved, too afraid that if she looked up, she wouldn’t be able to stop green from flooding her eyes.

The moment she did, it was like the world stopped spinning.

Looking at Mar’i was like looking at the sun, so bright and beautiful that it hurt. Her green eyes were so bright—too bright to be human almost, but Dani didn’t really mind. Because in this moment, Mar’i eyes refracted like emeralds and her lips shined like strawberries, and the only thing Dani could think about was if they would taste like strawberries.

Dani couldn’t be sure who started to lean in first, or when their lips finally meet, but the moment they did Dani’s heart pulse with her core, a rush of blood and ectoplasm flooding through her. The lips on hers were even warmer than she imagined, and she did taste like strawberries and something sugary. Through the dizziness and captivation, Dani pulled Mar’i closer, a hand on the back of the other girl’s neck, a hand resting on her shoulder.

Mar’i’s hand on her waist pulled her in, her other hand came to rest on Dani’s check, and she thought it might have been the gentlest anyone had ever touched her. Not like she was made of glass, but like you would touch a rose petal, searching and delicate and all at once. Dani decided it was her favorite kind of touch.

She leaned into Mar’i’s hand, pulling her even closer until Dani couldn’t tell where she stopped and the other girl began. The smell of roses and lilacs settled in the air between them, anytime Dani took a labored breath she thought it was magical and hoped it lingered.

When they finally broke apart, Dani could barely breathe. The air felt thinner and her world was disoriented, but Mar’i pressed her forehead to Dani’s and every worry washed away. Mar’i nudged Dani’s lips back to hers with a small movement, and this kiss, it was different.

There was still gentleness, but their grasps were tighter and hearts were beating faster. Mar’i bit Dani’s lip and the sound she let out probably wasn’t human, but Mar’i slipped her tongue inside her mouth anyways. She tasted sweeter like this.

“What the fuck—”

Dani’s eyes snapped open, she pulled back from Mar’i, only noticing a moment too late that they’d been hovering at least three feet in the air. Dani fell to the ground, losing her footing in her heels and falling towards the fountain. Mar’i grabbed her arm, but it wasn’t enough to stop the momentum.

They feel into the fountain, Mar’i’s warm body over hers. Damn—she definitely had water in her ears.

“Jesus, Mary, and fucking Joseph, what the fuck?” Dani peaked out from behind the curtain of Mar’i’s hair—so that’s where the lilac smell was going from, focus damnit—to see a slightly disheveled man running up to them. His tie was crooked and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days—maybe Dani could convince him he had a hallucination.

“Uncle Timmy!” Mar’i’s voice shot up a few octaves and Dani could feel her skin getting hotter. “We were just—i mean, it’s not what it looks like.”

Mar’i fumbled over her, and Dani admitted she was slightly enjoying it, before pulling herself over the edge of the fountain. She reached back in and heaved Dani to her feet, almost causing them to tumble back down. God, she was a mess. And now she smelled like—she didn’t know, stale water and leaves? Whatever it was she didn’t appreciate it.

“I can’t believe—do you know how many reporters are here! You could have outed yourself!” Tim—she thought she remembered Pamela talking about a Tim Wayne—whisper shouted at them. He was turning a concerning shade of red.

“It was just a little kiss—” Dani was going to try the ‘you-hallucinated-the-flying’ route.

“A kiss?! Most people don’t kiss three feet in the fucking air,” he threw his hands up before taking a deep breath. “This is fine. Everything is fine. God, Dick’s going to kill you, and then me.”

But why would ‘Dick’ do that when Mar’i wasn’t the one flying? Wait, could she fly?!

“Please don’t tell dad.” Mar’i walked up to him and gave him the cutest puppy dog face Dani had ever seen. If that girl looked at Dani like that? She’d gladly do anything. “It was just a little mistake, please Uncle Timmy?”

Dani could pinpoint the exact moment he caved in his expression.

“Okay, okay, fine. But you two need to go change, before anyone with a camera sees you. Otherwise, we’re all fucked.”

He ushered them back up the manor like he was expecting a reporter to pop out of the bushes at any time. Soon they were back in the kitchen and being pushed down a hallway that Dani hadn’t even noticed. It was a secluded hallway without much décor, obviously made for quicker and more discreet trips around the manor.

Dani could feel herself growing more anxious with every step. She didn’t know how she was going to explain this, and she couldn’t even think about Sam right now. She was so dead. Again.

Tim pushed them into a room—god, he had more nervous energy than one of those tinfoil hat people, he should really see someone about that.

“Okay, both of you stay here, dry off or whatever. I’ll tell them that you weren’t feeling well or something. Yeah. Something.” He was gone as quickly as he came with a slam of the door.

They both stood there, staring at the closed door for a moment. God, what even was her life? This was ridiculous.

“Um, there’s a bathroom through here,” Mar’i gestured to a different door. “I can grab you some clothes?”

“Yeah, that sounds, uh, good?” Dani said, shifting her weight back and forth.

Mar’i nodded and moved to pull some clothes out of a ridiculously big closet. Dani glanced around, noticing the circus posters and star maps she’d never seen on the walls. There were also pictures hung up on a cork board above a desk, lots of Mar’i with various different people. She noted that Tim showed up in a few.

Mar’i riffed around, throwing a piece of clothes on the lavender bedspread, and Dani realized that they were in her room.

Oh.

She was in Mar’i’s room. A pretty girl. That she’d kissed.

When Mar’i turned around holding out a small pile of clothes Dani was certain she looked like a tomato.

“Let me grab a towel before you get in there, feel free to use anything you need,” Mar’i disappeared and reappeared with two fluffy white towels in her hand. “Here, oh um, I’ll knock when I’m done changing.”

“Thanks,” Dani took the towel and walked into the whitest bathroom she’d ever seen. She closed the door and leaned against it, a little afraid to touch anything because of the sparkly pristineness. That was except for the vanity area around the sink that had a bunch of makeup products sprawled out over the surface.

Still, her dress was starting to itch.

Dani huffed, throwing the stuff Mar’i gave her on the closed toilet seat and began peeling off her wet dress. The body-shaping undergarments underneath were even harder to get off than they were to get on—she was never letting Pamela bully her into this shit again—but soon enough she was standing in the strange bathroom naked.

Somehow this wasn’t how she saw her night going.

Dani toweled down, enjoying the soft fluffy fabric against her skin. Normally she would just phase the water off her, but she already had enough she couldn’t explain. That was just asking for trouble.

After she was dry, she put the towel aside and pulled on the clothes Mar’i gave her. The top was a simple black tank top that fit well enough, but she was swimming in the sweatpants. Dani pulled the strings tight and rolled up the cuffs—three fucking times, god she hated being tiny—but she still looked ridiculous.

Well, at least she looked less like a sad wet kitten now.

Dani felt cool water trickle down her neck and realized she hadn’t dried her hair. She started by taking out the pins holding her curls up, which honestly didn’t look too bad. Whatever these Gothamites put in their hairspray really did the trick. She distantly wondered if it would hold up to ectoplasm too because Jazz would kill for some of that.

After getting the pins out Dani shook her head, shaking the curls from their spot glued to her head. She scrunched them with her towel, trying to preserve them at least a little bit.

Mar’i knocked on the door causing Dani to jump a bit. She was tenser than she thought.

“I’m decent if you want to come out. If you’re ready, that is, no pressure.” It sounded like she wasn’t the only nervous one.

Dani took a deep breath and stepped out. Mar’i was standing in front of a mirror towel drying her hair, only in a sweatshirt and shorts. From this view, Dani could appreciate Mar’i’s long brown legs and solid thighs. They looked like they could crush a watermelon—and that certainly did not have Dani drooling a little, thank you very much.

Mar’i turned around, a frown forming on her face, “If those are too big I can try to find something else, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think—”

“Don’t worry,” Dani found herself grinning at Mar’i’s concern, “they’re nice and comfy.”

Mar’i smiled at her, and Dani felt her heart melt a little.

“I’m glad, I still can’t believe that—well, ya know.” Mar’i slouched, her eyes focused on her feet and it didn’t suit the girl at all. Dani decided that Mar’i should never be unhappy or worried, at least not as long as she could help it. Not when her smile was pure sunlight.

“I’m so sorry about that—” Dani began, only to be cut off by Mar’i’s frantic voice.

“You’re sorry, I’m sorry. You never would have lost balance if I hadn’t. . .” Mar’i gestured to the air with her hands, looking genuinely distraught—which only confused Dani.

“That wasn’t your fault, I’m not very good at. . .” Dani gestured to the ground and hoped she conveyed something meaningful.

“Still, I should have been more careful.” If Dani was confused before, she was lost now. Did Mar’i think she was the one that made them float? It wasn’t like kissing Dani would unlock hidden powers—

Oh.

“Can you—ya know?” Dani gestured to the air again. Mar’i tiled her head, her sad expression replaced with confusion.

“Can you?” Mar’i squinted her eyes at Dani.

They stared at each other, the height difference between them becoming very apparent. It hadn’t been bad when she was in her heels, but Dani will be the first to admit that she got the short gene and Mar’i had very nice, very long legs. The other girl stood almost a whole head taller than Dani.

It was kind of hot. Damnit—dumb gay brain, focus. Flying. Right the flying.

“I mean,” Dani had no idea where she was going with this sentence, “I thought that I did the thing, but if you thought that you did the thing, then we both. . .” Nowhere good that’s where. “Ya know. So that means. . .” Dani trailed off.

She had no idea what she was saying. Why did she start talking again?

“I think I get it,” Mar’i said—which, that made one of them—and moved closer so Dani had to look up at her, “so that means we’re. . . I mean we’re the same, I guess?”

Dani frown her eyebrows and tilted her head. “So you’re a—”

“Alien.”

“—ghost?”

Oh, they fucked up. Dani could tell Mar’i was thinking the same thing by the look on her face. It took seconds for it to morph into a concerned frown.

“Wait,” Mar’i reached out slowly giving Dani more than enough time to pull away and grabbed her hand. She gently turned it over, palm up, like she was examining it. When she looked back up Dani thought her eyes looked mistier than before. “You’re—you’re dead?”

She said it like Dani told her she forgot her inhaler, concerned but not overly worried. It made Dani giggle a bit.

“Half. Half-dead. A halfa.” Dani could see the wheels turning in Mar’i’s head. She reached out and took Mar’i’s other hand. “Don’t think about it too hard, it’ll hurt your head,” She placed Mar’i’s warm hand over her heart, and she couldn’t tell if the warmth was from her blush or Mar’i’s skin, “all that matters is that my heart beats. A little slowly, but it’s still there.”

Mar’i’s face softened at the edges, she released Dani’s hand and brought hers up to the back of Dani’s neck. It felt nice there, warmth spreading through her tease shoulder muscles.

“I’m half alien. Tameranian.” Mar’i’s words brushed over Dani’s cheeks and the taller girl leaned down.

“Guess we’re both halfas, huh,” Dani giggled, and this close she could feel the laughter in Mar’i’s chest.

Dani looked up, and once again saw a soft green glow from Mar’i’s eyes.

“You’re eyes. . .” She trailed off, unsure if she was imagining the glow.

“They glow,” Mar’i laughed again, “we hide them with a holo-projector, secret identities, and all that.”

Dani reached up a hand to cup Mar’i’s cheek, “Mine glow too.”

Mar’i smiled and lifted her hand from the back of Dani’s neck to her ear. She pressed her forefinger against her earing, and Dani heard a soft beep before watching the holograph around Mar’i’s eyes fizzle out.

They were so green. Her eye whites were actually a soft green, her iris was a richer green, and Dani found them endlessly fascinating. They weren’t ectoplasm green, despite their persistent glow, instead, they reminded Dani of fresh grass or pine trees.

Dani blinked, finally letting go of the tight control she had over her eyes. Her eyes lit up and Mar’i gasped, eyes fluttering between both of Dani’s like she was trying to take in every detail she could.

Mar’i moved her to Dani’s waist and lighting pulled her in for another kiss. This one was softer, sweeter, than the others, and much shorter. They broke apart, the green glow of their eyes lighting the space between them.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Dani said, still a bit out of breath. She wanted this to stay between them. Their own little secret.

“Pinky promise,” Mar’i giggled, lifting her hand from Dani's chest and holding out her pinky finger.

Dani laughed breathlessly, raising her pinky to clasp Mar’i’s. With their clasped pinkies between them, they leaned in for another kiss.

#just some soft girls at a gala falling in love #pure fluff and i'm not ashamed #Space Princess #or Dani Fenton/Mar'i Grayson #Dani Phantom #Nightstar #dp x dc #my sapphic dream #i love them your honor #and they love each other #kate's fanfics #kate writes #dpxdc

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Text

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#happyhoelidays2020 #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #chris evans x reader #defending jacob fanfic #mob!andy barber

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ushidoux · 4 years ago

Text

Power Struggle - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re set up on a blind date with a man who might just be your match. (~5.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, blind date, exhibitionism, public sex

A/N: Part of @cherrytenko’s CEO collab! Surprisingly this is possibly the longest fic I’ve written as a oneshot and it’s a little softer than I expected it to be but please enjoy!

---

It’s about half past 6pm when you add the final touch to your makeup, a smear of matte lipstick (Rouge Hermes #48, to be exact), to your lips.

It’s not often that you’re able to leave work early but your mother and father had called you from overseas in the late afternoon, interrupting their own third honeymoon, to remind you of your final meeting for the day -

A date.

“I know you hate these things, but just go! You might like what you see,” your mother insisted over video chat, her voice muffled by the sound of wind whipping past her as she and your father cruised along on a shaky speedboat they’d purchased just for the day. You weren’t completely sure where they were, only vaguely aware that they were somewhere around Jeju Island, and not exactly sure why they still had phone service, but you weren’t going to ask too many questions.

“No obligation!” Your father adds, just out of view and yelling slightly.

Sure, never any obligations.

As you smack your lips in the mirror to smooth out the lip color, giving yourself a brief once-over to decide whether or not you feel the need to adjust your hair or if you will wear falsies or not, you frown ever so slightly, then let out a sigh.

You hate this.

This is the third “meeting” they’ve arranged for you this month, and they’d been at this for almost six months overall by now. This search for a ‘suitable husband’ was getting stale - not to mention, time-consuming - and you weren’t sure you would be willing to appease your parents any longer.

In fact, you weren’t exactly sure you were interested in a partner anymore. The clock would hit thirty any moment now, and the math of falling in love, getting married, having kids, and still heading a successful company no longer seemed to be adding up. You didn’t know how exactly to tell your sweet parents who were the picture of domestic bliss that they’d probably have to give up on the idea of grandchildren, and consider raising puppies instead.

Regardless, for the time being, you could still bother to meet this stranger for dinner.

There’s a clasp seal envelope atop your dresser - a portfolio that had been left on your desk by your father’s assistant at the beginning of the week - that still seems entirely too formal for the process. This is matchmaking, not a job application, was the first thought that came to mind once you realized the envelope held a set of photos, a resume and an admittedly curt but formally written statement reminiscent of a cover letter.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the signature at the bottom of the letter read in an extremely neat script. He must be particularly organized and detail-oriented.

There were two pictures, one that looked almost like a passport photo and the other much more relaxed, where he was dressed casually in a t-shirt and pressed jeans, standing with his arms crossed beside a redheaded man whose smile was wide and infectious, his arm around his neck. You wondered if he picked those photos himself.

You’d perused the first photo much more carefully because you could see more of his face. He’s quite handsome, you’d admitted, the faintest warmth in your cheeks, but he seemed awfully uptight. For one, the look on his face was very neutral, not bothering to smile. He was clean shaven and his hair was close cropped at the edges, a woody brown that paired well with serious olive eyes. You wondered if he ever laughed out loud, and what he looked like when he did.

The taxi driver is prompt and waiting outside of the high-rise in which you live by the time you make your way down the elevator. The click of your heels is loud on the tile as you make your way past the revolving doors. As you slip into the back of the car, you wonder if you’re dressed too professionally. You may have forgone the women’s pantsuit, but you’re still wearing a feminine pantsuit-esque ensemble in a creamy beige - pink would have seemed too ditzy, white would have seemed a bit too innocent (not to mention risky) and yellow too juvenile.

You’re not sure why you’re thinking so hard about this, but really years of paying attention to your appearance in public, not being taken seriously because you’re pretty and young and your personality is more bubbly than bossy puts you on your guard, especially when it comes to first impressions.

The location appears to be an upscale sushi restaurant, the type that you have to call ahead for months to get a reservation unless you have some kind of special arrangement with the owner. A staff member checks you in and brings you to the back to a private room, and as you pass through the dimly lit hallway, clutching your purse a little too securely, a scene from a yakuza movie comes to mind.

“Your room, madam,” the young man nods and motions you to enter a room that is brightly lit enough that it is almost blinding, large and round as though you were in a fishbowl yourself. You look up and notice that even the ceiling is curved. Elaborate paintings hang off the wall.

He’s not here.

You glance at the attendant and he raises his eyebrows as though he is expecting you to say something. You must look surprised, and continue to look so as you remove your shoes to sit at one of the thin mattresses set before the low table.

You wish you’d worn stockings perhaps, tucking your bare feet beneath you in a casual seiza position. You can’t recall the last time you’ve been this traditional/formal, and the thought of a man you barely know already knowing what your feet look like bare bothers you just a bit.

The attendant pours water and then tea for two wordlessly and slips out of the room.

Your heart pounds once you’re finally alone. Why is this so intense?

You fidget nervously with the thin silver necklace you are wearing, looking for a menu. There is none so far. Just square plates, both chopsticks and forks (odd for sushi, you think), and a steaming cup of tea set right next to a sweltering crystal glass of ice cold water. Opposites.

For a fleeting moment, you actually wonder for once if this man will like you.

“My apologies, Ms. ___.”

You’re startled by a rich voice, a tiny gasp revealing that you’re more spooked than you realize, and your eyes shift towards the direction of the sound to see what looks like your date finally arriving in a hurry.

You instinctively readjust yourself onto your knees to look formal, then realize you should probably stand instead, but before you can get up he waves you to sit back down, now settling down himself across from you.

“I had intended to arrive early but quite a few things happened at the company to make that unfeasible.”

He said this while removing a suit jacket in a way that was in no way intended to be sexy, not at all, then let out what sounded like a single, semi-nervous chuckle.

Wordlessly, you replied with a nod, transfixed as you compared photography to reality. The photos didn’t do him justice, not at all. The suit jacket was picked up quickly by a waiter who you had forgotten was still in the room.

Ushijima extended an arm to you across the table, intending to shake your hand.

“Did you wait long?” He asks as you shakily take his hand for a handshake that consumes your hand almost entirely in his large one.

You shake your head, then embarrassed when you realize you aren’t using your voice, and add, “No, I didn’t wait long...”

“Are you hungry?” He replies, quickly. Your instinct is to say no, no you didn’t need anything, especially not from him, but you are pretty sure your stomach would growl loudly any minute now, and you’d only look like a fool.

Ushijima glances at the waiter, who finally hands the two of you menus.

“Please order anything you like.”

You look down, swallowing hard again, and for a moment it is difficult to focus on the unnecessarily elaborate handwriting on the menu.

Something about him already grates on your nerves and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. You could forgive people for being late, and you were used to people being a little forward, but something about the way he was both familiar and unfamiliar in the way he spoke to you seemed to veer into patronizing behavior.

Why wasn’t he nervous? Every man you’d sat across from in the past half a year had just a little waver in their voice when they spoke to you at some point, even those who had started off boasting their fancy degrees and their villas and their large bank accounts.

But he sits perfectly still, all broad shoulders, gently wafting cologne, and a gaze that is both disconcerting and impartial, so you don’t know what to think.

When you look up from the menu to him, his eyes are still heavily focused on you, and you can’t really fault him. There’s nothing else to look at in this room, after all.

You take this opportunity to tease him. No man has ever intimidated you before and this one is no different.

“Are you going to order anything? I barely saw you look at the menu.” Your voice is light and coquettish and it implies, all you’re doing is staring at me.

“I already know my order. I’ve been here enough times,” he replies, immune to the playfulness in your voice. You watch him roll up his sleeves as he answers, and take note of the shape of his hands as he takes a sip of tea.

Maybe you’re the one staring.

“Would you like a recommendation?” He offers as he sets the cup down.

You shake your head no, and wonder again why you’re making gestures instead of talking. He smiles as though he can read your mind.

Once the waiter takes your orders and leaves the room, you’re left in silence, facing your would-be partner. It’s a stalemate of sorts and you lose, asking the first personal question.

But you ask it semi-clinically, refusing to lose the upper hand. You’re not sure why there’s an upper hand, but there is, and it will be yours.

“I read a little about your company before arriving. You gave me quite a few details, which I appreciated,” you state, turning your head to the side politely to take a sip of tea yourself. “You’ve done very well for yourself as CEO,” you add.

His eyes don’t crinkle from the flattery. “My employees do great work at all levels so it’s only natural that there would be positive growth,” he replies matter-of-factly.

You smile politely, but this answer doesn’t give you very much information about him. He’s shifting the success away from him, you remark, however he accepts the compliment as though expected. Is this genuine humility or arrogance?

You lean very slightly forward, just enough to see if he’ll take the opportunity to glance down your blouse, as other suitors have invariably done. He doesn’t, and you proceed to ask the next question.

“What do you do outside of work?”

His eyebrows raise, and you wonder if it’s because he realizes you are pretending you didn’t read that section on his application, but he answers anyway.

“I don’t have very much free time, as you are probably aware, but I garden and paint. And of course, I like to keep fit through team sports.”

A quick look at him makes that last part quite clear. You clear your throat slightly and then it is silent again. It’s not exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either.

Just as you wonder why he isn’t asking you any questions, he suddenly speaks up.

“Pardon me if this sounds inappropriate, but you’re beautiful. Why would you need a matchmaking service?”

You’re taken aback, and while your brain is scrambling for understanding of what his intentions are, he adjusts his sitting position so that he’s cross-legged with both hands on his knees and lets out a sigh before continuing.

“You’re also accomplished and clearly articulate. I don’t imagine you’d have trouble finding a partner through more organic means.”

It seems like there are a million butterflies that suddenly inhabit the small space in the pit of your stomach. Again, you’re at a loss for words, something that is rare for someone as opinionated and cordially fierce as you.

Should you be offended? It’s almost as though he’s asking what’s wrong with you?

He asks frankly, “Why a blind date?”

You want to ask him the same question, but you hear the waiter return and you fall silent, letting the butterflies in your stomach die down.

---

“I-is this the first time - ah - you’ve done this?”

You’re no longer laid out on the tatami like you were just an hour earlier, Ushijima nibbling on your lower lip and your collarbones instead of the overpriced, high-quality fish that sat atop your table, but now laid under him, spread eagle save for the hands you use to hold on to his shoulders as he slowly and deliberately thrusts inside you.

Your voice is breathy and catches in your throat every time he moves, but you have to know. How often has he ended up like this?

The heat that fills your whole body now isn��t just from the shame of letting a stranger fondle your body in an upscale restaurant, it’s because Ushijima somehow knows exactly where and how to touch you, as though he’s always known. His fingers have traveled your body like a hiker on a well-beaten path, from the softness behind your earlobes to your squishy center and back, and now have settled into a hold that is firm yet gentle on your hips.

When he replies “no” with immense honesty, his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck and he goes just deep enough that you don’t have time to factor this new information into your impression of him.

So instead you savor the thickness that fills you and the strength that holds you close, the soft grunts that fill your ears before they get drowned out by your equally loud whimpers and moans.

---

You don’t spend the night, partially out of shame that Ushijima bedded you so quickly and partially because you have a full schedule for the next morning. The parting of ways is brief and awkward and you seem to feel it more acutely than he does.

“I enjoyed our time, Miss ___,” he offers. You’ve dressed up faster than he has so you find yourself unwittingly ogling at the expanse of his sculpted chest and the flex of his muscles as he redresses. You’re almost sad to see him cover up.

You nod and walk out of the room, trying your best to hide the fact that your legs feel far too wobbly to be walking on these heels.

---

“Miss ____?”

Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve been daydreaming through a meeting with the board of trustees and now the wrinkled old men who hated the fact that your father thrust you into leadership you “didn’t deserve” are staring at you with disgruntled expressions.

“Oh, um,” you think quickly, recalling where the presentation left off and glancing quickly at the notes you’d jotted down on a notepad before wondering why Ushijima hadn’t called or texted since you met two weeks ago.

“Um?” The most senior of the group repeats, and your stomach turns for a moment before you steel yourself. He bares his teeth every time he’s displeased with you and you get the impression of an ancient and disgruntled wolf.

You clear your throat loudly, and settle back in your chair, crossing your legs and your arms over your chest.

“I have some disagreements with the current approach, but I’ll start with the pertinent positives,” you start.

---

“Was the sex at least good?”

Your best friend from high school glances at you briefly, as you face forward on the Peloton you are riding side by side with her. She’s much less out of shape than you are given that she also is your personal trainer and thus rides hers effortlessly, taking some time to wait for you to respond.

You begrudgingly say yes.

“Wow, for once someone dropped you before you could drop them!” She teases in a sing-song voice. You would slap her on the shoulder if she was close enough and if you weren’t out of breath. It stings just a little bit that you’ve heard nothing from him nor the matchmaking company and don’t have a good response to tell your parents aside from I guess we didn’t click.

“He’s missing out, though.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you huff, and cycle faster. No hard feelings.

---

Scratch that, there were absolutely going to be hard feelings now that he was not just fucking with you but also with your livelihood.

Admittedly, it was strange that despite the fact that your companies had never crossed paths until now despite working in the same consumer domain but this was unacceptable.

You’d opened an email that had just slipped into your peripheral vision as you worked on reviewing a couple of interns’ executive summaries, only to find that Ushijima might have just royally fucked you over.

A curt email from a crucial business partner read,

We apologize but we’ve decided to move forward with Ushijima Industries instead. I understand that this is last minute, but we believe that it will be mutually beneficial to discontinue our relationship at this point in time.

Your blood boiled. What the fuck was this?

Your phone rang, one of your team leaders calling immediately and likely looking at the email at the same time you were. He apologized profusely.

“What happened?”

“It seems like they just showed up and offered twice as much as we offered them last minute.”

This bastard. Then in a moment of horror, you wondered if this was your fault, if you had blabbed a little while slightly tipsy off of sake, and revealed that you had this acquisition in the works.

Voice smaller now, you asked, “So we can’t do anything to woo them back?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just have to make sure our other deal doesn’t fall through,” the slightly frantic man answered, the sounds of keyboard keys clicking rapidly heard in the background of the call.

“Okay, thank you for your hard work,” you stated. “I’ll see what I can do,” you replied with a click.

Maybe calling someone who’d ghosted you as you drove home, fuming and irritated, wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to confront him somehow. The idea of being bested in more ways than one was too much to bear.

The phone rang once, twice, then three times, and you were getting angrier with every tone through the car speaker. You hung up in frustration.

How embarrassing.

You made it home still irritated, indulging yourself in a relaxing bath to quell your anger. By the time you had soaked for close to an hour, you were mad at yourself for reacting impulsively and now having your number in his phone as a missed call… if he recognized it anyway.

It turns out he did.

“Ms. ___, did you call me earlier? I wasn’t able to make it to the phone in time.”

His voice was even lower on the phone, a slightly gravelly quality making you wonder if he’d actually been napping or just had a smoke. You couldn’t imagine him doing either of these things.

“What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Ushijima?”

There was a bit of hesitation on the phone, and you let out a sardonic laugh once he replied, as expected, “What?”

“How did you know about that deal other than what I told you?”

He paused again, and you too, stood still, a towel wrapped around your still dripping body.

“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he then said, carefully. “I, uh… assume you were calling about something else.”

You grit your teeth. What the fuck else? The fact that he sounded genuinely confused only served to aggravate you further.

“Did you or did you not use the information I gave you to intercept my deal with MNY?”

Finally the lightbulb went on.

“Oh, that was you. Hm.”

If you’d been talking in person, you probably would have slapped him at this point. Or at least considered it.

“I didn’t know you were our competitor in that aspect. I… probably would have reconsidered if I had known.”

“Excuse me?”

That tone of over-familiarity, patronizing… the care when you’re not supposed to care was back and you realized you regretted this phone call.

“How would it be any different? Are you implying that you’d let me win?”

“No, of course not, I…” He trailed off. “Would you like to come over to my apartment and talk? I can give you my address, I would rather talk in person.”

Why? So I can get over there and end up fucking you again?

“I respectfully decline,” you answered curtly, and hung up, tossing your phone onto your bed and letting out an aggravated sigh.

---

The next morning, you leave an early executive meeting only to find that your office had been overrun with flowers between the hours of 7 to 8 am.

There are yellow roses, stating admiration, spilling out of an oversized bouquet on your desk and a separate bouquet of light red carnations and white camellias that imply that he finds you ‘adorable’. A white card is placed in the yellow bouquet, and on it is written Ushijima’s neat script - you realize it’s from him before you even finish reading the note.

I would like to see you again. Please accept my call around 6 pm.

Respectfully,

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Your hands hover over the wastebasket in your room with the flowers in your arms, but instead you sigh, and stuff them behind you on your shelf. At least you won’t have to see them while you work, but they’re pretty. They’re clearly bought from a floral shop, but you recall that he had said he gardened in his free time.

Ushijima calls promptly at 6 pm and you let it ring twice before deciding to block his number just as he’s calling. Something about the action is satisfying.

You can’t be won over with a couple of flowers and kind words. Women aren’t as easily swayed as he may think.

---

It’s another Friday, and surprisingly you haven’t been contacted for a blind date, whether it’s by your parents or the matchmaking service they’ve subscribed you to.

Maybe they’d gotten the message after you’d been ghosted that you were tired of this game. Maybe they were giving you a break. Maybe they’d run out of potential suitors. You were surprised, but not upset.

Ushijima had truly gotten under your skin.

After blocking his call, there were no more attempts at contact for the rest of the week. The only thing left to consider was that if you ever crossed paths in your careers, you would pay him back for snatching your investor.

And snatching your dignity in the process.

It was about 4 pm and most of the employees were wrapping up their tasks for the day. You usually aimed to have everyone out by 5, especially on Friday so this was boding well.

“Hey, Madam President, are you okay with an add-on?” You hear your secretary call from outside your door.

“Oh, I mean, I guess but-”

She’s already letting Ushijima through the door.

You smile sweetly, maintaining professional behavior as best you can, while your secretary leads him to an armchair across from you, up until she exits, your expression souring the moment she closes the door.

“Mr. Ushijima, what are you doing in my office?”

He’s settled into the chair so comfortably that it feels as though you’re in his office, not your own. He’s dressed more casually than he was at the restaurant, no suit jacket, just a brown V-neck sweater over a dress shirt that almost seems too tight and a pair of chinos. He’s also wearing a pair of glasses, which is new.

You hate that he looks good.

“Apologizing and requesting your company.”

He looks at you sincerely, his hands clasped together in his lap. You narrow your eyes.

“Please leave.”

He actually frowns, and the small action actually surprises you.

“Do you actually want me to leave or are you still upset about the investor? Because if it’s that, we can make an arrangement-”

“No, I’m upset because you did that after not following up after our one night stand!” You finally blurt out, then bite your lip realizing you might have said too much.

“I… got busy.”

“Busy screwing me over?” You quip.

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture.

“I didn’t call because I thought you didn’t like me.”

You’re a little stunned by this reply, then decide you don’t believe him. What was there not to like? At least at that point he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Why would you think that?”

His hands leave his hair again and rest on his knees. You notice it seems like a default position for him.

“I’ve been referred to as ‘stiff’. It’s great at work but not great for relationships.”

Ushijima’s brutal honesty is again sending you for a loop. You raise an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. Your arms uncross and you rest your elbows on the table.

“So…?”

“So usually by the time I’ve had sex with someone, it’s all they’re after. And since you didn’t call, I assumed even the sex wasn’t good.”

You unwittingly burst into laughter. Here was this successful, attractive man with a perfect pedigree who was insecure about how good he was in bed?

His eyebrows furrow, and you recollect yourself, realizing that this is a bit cruel.

“You could have sent a text,” you murmur.

“I’m bad at starting conversations.”

You stifle another laugh. “So you just don’t?” You tease. It’s gently mocking but mostly incredulous. It seems that he’s the opposite of the confident man he appears to be.

“That’s why I got excited when you called but then you were upset.”

You purse your lips.

“I promise I didn’t intend to put you in a bad situation,” Ushijima insists.

You sigh, then offer him a small smile. “Are you normally this persistent?”

He glances at the flowers that are only partially hidden from view, which makes your face warm up bashfully, and then looks right back at you.

“No. I just like you.”

Again with the directness, a confidence that is effortless, even when he’s not confident at all.

You don’t want to melt but you do. So instead you rise and clear your desk, stuffing a few items into your handbag as you prepare to leave. He watches, unsure of what you’re up to, sitting still as you walk around towards him and place your hand lightly on his shoulder.

Your body faces the door, but you turn to the side to look at him and grin.

“I’m done with work for today. Take me out.”

---

A couple months later...

“Fuck, you’re - ah - they’re gonna know, I-” Your voice morphs into a mewl instead once his ring finger reaches just the right spot; you’re squirming as much as possible under his touch but he has you laid back on your work desk with both ankles rested on his shoulders and his weight leaning onto you to essentially keep you in place.

“Move your hands,” Ushijima whispers in a hushed tone, leaning in to kiss between your breasts as he readjusts your legs atop him. His pants are down and his cock is already up and ready, the base and swollen balls rubbing against your wet cunt that you are desperately trying to protect from his intrusion. You know there’s absolutely no way you’ll stay quiet when he’s pounding the shit out of you, he likes it entirely too rough, and the walls are thin. You don’t listen, continuing to reach for his hands to swat them away from you.

There’s a part of you that is almost certain that at the very least your secretary knows that every time Ushijima comes for a ‘meeting’, it really is just to fuck the shit out of you before you leave together for the evening, or to relax you right before you once again have to defend your dad’s establishment of you as Company President.

This isn’t a good look.

“I-I can’t…” you whine.

“You can,” he assures you.

He gently kisses your face before prying your hands out of the way and keeping them pinned up against you with one hand and guiding his trajectory with the other before sinking inside of you. You moan at the breach of your privates and he quickly presses his lips to yours to swallow the sound.

Once he’s bottomed out, he rolls his hips, and soon you start to see white once you climax, clenching and cumming around him.

“T-Toshi!” You moan his name, and he clasps a large hand around your mouth before continuing, picking up the pace as he fucks you through your orgasm. He can’t deny that he likes the fact that you’re noisy, that the fact that the heavy desk he’s fucking you against is making a squeaky noise that suggests he’s really putting some force behind these strokes, and that if anyone could see the two of you now, it could be an issue for both of your corporations. Misconduct, they would call it.

He doesn’t care and while you act like you do, you don’t really care either.

When he lets go of your wrists to use the edge of the desk as leverage and tilts backwards, you scream in pleasure, a terribly obvious sound, and it’s enough to have him tip over and spill into you with a groan. He collapses onto you and the two of you almost slip onto the floor, but don’t; you wrap your arms around him.

Your hair is disheveled and so is his, and your legs are sticky with sweat and cum. You sigh, letting him soften inside you and stroke his hair.

“You’re getting me in trouble,” you murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“We don’t really have to answer to anyone, do we?” He replies with a smirk, and pecks you one more time on the lips.

He’s right - only you two are a match for each other.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ceo!ushijima x reader #ceo collab #ushijima wakatoshi smut #ushijima smut #haikyuu smut #not sfw #fic: power struggle #mae.writing #hqintheclub

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siempre-bucky · 3 years ago

Text

I.I.G.Y.M.H.W.Y.T.I.A.M.M.T.H.M.I.T.W?

COWBOY!BUCKY X READER

♡if I gave you my hand would you take it and make me the happiest man in the world?

Summary: Nat and Wanda take the reader post break up to The Stark Ranch, a beautiful little place in the lush green countryside. God she hated it, she didn't want to be here only wanted him back. With one dip of a black cowboy hat and a deep-voiced greeting, the readers brooding would have to wait.

Part 1 of 3

Warnings: light mentions of past abuse,

WC: 3.8k

A/N: there was a tiktok and it was just cowboy Sebastian Stan and this fucking song!! Here's a thing I can't stop thinking about! I edited this the best I could.

In the long, rich history of bad ideas, this had to be the worst idea anyone has ever had. Here she was, squished in between her best friends in the back of an Uber. An old country song from the 60s played on the radio as the two redheads gushed about the small town they were driving through. The most popular restaurant back in Brooklyn probably had more people inside it than this little country town.

"Are you done brooding?" Wanda complains, her Sokovian accent purely intensified the distaste in her tone.

"All I want is John, back," Y/N mutters bitterly, her jaw clenched, sinking lower into the seat. Both women roll their eyes at her comment.

"You haven't stopped mentioning Walker since we got off the plane. It's been 2 months Y/N," Natasha reminds her, checking her watch that was peaking from her black leather jacket. "Don't forget this is why we're here! A getaway is just what you need."

Has it already been 2 months? It only felt like 2 weeks since he left. His last words still sent a chill down her spine "Did you really expect me not to cheat, Y/N? It's New York, get used to it, babe." Y/N shakes her head, trying to get that man's callous words out of her head. She felt like she was already at the acceptance of the grieving process. She clearly wasn't there.

Natasha suddenly gasps, the Stark Ranch coming into view with its black iron gates, its name the biggest thing on it. Y/N looks in Nat's direction, the 4 story red and yellow inn sat in the middle of a long dirt road and was nuzzled in with the saturated green grass and big trees. Y/N thought it was pretty but she would never admit that to her friends.

"Ladies you have a good time out here! I reckon you'll find our little town quite charmin'!" The older man tells them happily as his car comes to a stop in front of the inn. The girls give him their thanks and get out to take a look at the place.

Nat's hand shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up the place, a confident smile on her face since she picked out this place in the middle of nowhere. Wanda stood in the middle with her hands in her pockets and a relaxed smile. As for Y/N? she might as well have a dark cloud hanging over her. It smelled like grass and horses, her black ankle boots were covered in dust, and worst of all...Natasha blocked John's number. "Relaxation awaits girls!" Nat cheers as she leads her small pack into the front doors of the inn.

The inside was just a cute as the outside, country-style couches placed in the center with a mahogany coffee table littered in doilies. Guests laughed and chatted behind the french doors in the restaurant beside them. "Welcome to Stark Inn!" The front desk lady greets them, her strawberry blonde hair tied in a bun and a glossy smile on her features.

"You go check-in, I'm staying here," Y/N sighs, plopping down onto one of the floral couches, taking out her phone from her back pocket. Nat and Wanda rolled their eyes, pushing their luggage next to their friend before walking over to check-in.

She checked her phone 5 times, 5 different bell-sounding notifications from 5 different apps. Nothing from her former love, of course, not because he's blocked. The next bell sound didn't come from her phone but the front doors of the inn. The ding was followed by two men laughing loudly, one clapping the other on the back. The Y/H/C girl looks up at the source of the ruckus.

One was blonde, wearing a thin blue flannel shirt and dark jeans. He was cute, had a nice ass, and blue eyes a lady could swim in. The other man was a different story, however. A blush crept up her cheeks as she looked at him. His shoulder-length hair was tied up in a low bun, face nearly hidden by his black velvet cowboy hat. Fuck that man looked good in red flannel.

The said man looked down at her. Oh shit, she'd been caught staring at the two cowboys. Before she could look away the one in red smirked at her and dipped his hat "ma'am," he speaks in greeting, his voice was low and raspy, sending butterflies to her stomach and other regions.

"H-hi," Y/n says shyly, like a schoolgirl whose crush finally talked to her. The man turned away and walked away to walk towards the front desk, mud left behind from their boots which they were quickly scolded for.

"Well while you boys are makin' a mess 'round my inn you can take help these girls up to their room," Pepper, the co-owner huffs "307... the nice one." Pepper waves them off, turning to grab the keys to the room.

Natasha eyed the blonde man up and down, resting her back on the front desk, propping her elbows up behind her. "Hi there cowboy," she speaks to him flirtatiously, her pink lips form a smirk. The man ducks his head and laughs.

"Hi there. I'm Steve."

"Natasha."

Y/N rolled her eyes at the flirting, rising from the couch she went to grab the handle of her bag but was met with cold metal. Her eyes flew up to see the man in the back cowboy hat already grabbed a hold of it "I'm assumin' this is yours?" he chuckled with that honey-like voice. Y/N nods and crossed her arms over her chest, her hand still feeling the chill of his hand.

She followed behind them, taking the red-carpeted stairs. She was behind them enough to stare at the broadness of his shoulders, a small smile appeared on her lips thinking about what it would be like to run her hands down his back. No, she quickly erased the image out of her mind. That thought returned as they climbed the second set of stairs, her Y/E/C traveled down his back and landed on his backside as he climbed. A red rag hung out of his back pocket.

The man turned around as they reached the top, catching her stare at him "I'm Bucky," he tells her, breaking her out of her trance. Bucky was 2 for 2 catching her stare at him. The red in her cheeks matched the vibrant red of the rag her eyes were once fixated on.

"Y/N," she responds simply, her voice quiet.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, miss." His words made her skin tingle, small bumps rising to the surface of her clothed skin. Her green jacket covering all the evidence.

"It's nice to meet you too, Bucky," she ponders over his name for a minute "did your parents name you that?"

Bucky laughed, oh God his laugh was precious "No, uh- my name is actually James. Bucky is just a nickname, I like it better," he explains. Y/N moved from the back to his side as they walked up the final set of stairs.

"Both names are nice," Y/n chuckles, "they suit you." They both looked at each other and instantly smiled, she even unfolded her arms and let them linger at her side. She forgot what it was like to be comfortable after all this time. Walking on eggshells for a man who could set off at any moment was what she grew accustomed to. This was nice, even she had to admit that.

The two girls in front couldn't help but give each other a knowing look, Steve even joined in. "He hasn't dated in years," he whispers to Natasha as they approached the room.

"A shell of a man cheated and dumped her," Wanda tells them in a hushed voice.

They reached the white door with a golden plate '307' written in script numbers. "This is the best room at the inn!" Steve starts to gush, placing the bags on the ground.

"Clear view of the stables, horses walking around all the time," Bucky chimes in, his elbow nudging Y/N the arm. he looked up at him with raised eyebrows but he wasn't looking at her this time. Did he do that on purpose? No. Probably not.

"Well... we'll let you ladies get settled in. Don't hesitate to reach out of you need anything." Steve dipped his hat and started to walk away, clapping his friend on the shoulder, turning him to walk in the same direction.

"See you around, Y/N," Bucky told her before walking away. Her eyes lingered on the tall man as he walked away and even he turned around to catch another glance at her. 3 for 3.

"Did someone catch feelings already?" Natasha laughed as he unlocked the room. Y/N eyebrows furrowed in anger, walking in after her friends, roughly brushing past the sassy redhead.

"All I want is John back. I don't know what the hell that was out there," she defended herself, snarling as she sat in the chair by the large windows, her legs hanging off the ledge.

The women hung their heads and began to unpack "You can have the other bedroom," was all Wanda said before the conversation ended. Y/N felt the guilt rise in her heart. She didn't mean to be so blunt and rude to them, in the back of her mind she knew they knew they were trying. She was trying too.

Time had passed and clothes were hung and folded away in their drawers. Nat sat on her laptop looking for places to eat in town while Wanda checked in with her husband and kids back home. Y/N hadn't left the chair since they arrived. Checking her phone for someone who couldn't talk to her.

"Look at this cute little place in town! It's home cooking they call it. We should go," Nat tells the girl happily.

"I'll call the Uber after I talk to Tommy," Wanda joins in.

"I-I don't want to go," Y/N says, her voice softer than before. She turns his attention to the sables below her, a black horse being led by the man in the black hat. "Bucky," she whispers to herself. She watches him, his lips were moving, obviously talking to the beautiful animal. A smile dared to appear on her face while she watched him, she saw her reflection and she sucked in her lips. Her attention went back to her friends.

"We're not going to let you coop yourself up in this room all night, Y/N." Natasha squints her eyes in judgment, closing her computer with a loud thud.

"And I don't want to make this trip miserable for you guys. I just need to be by myself for a while."

"That's what we're afraid of. It took 2 weeks to get you out of your apartment."

"I'm doing better now!" she shouts, realizing what she did she gulped and sat straight up in the chair, placing her feet on the floor "I'm sorry, Nat. Please just go, have fun and I promise we'll do that spa ay like you wanted tomorrow."

"Fine, but give me your phone," Wanda interjected, holding out her hand while her other one placed her phone in her back pocket. Y/N scrunched her nose and shook her head. Wanda's eyebrows lowered, her hand still stretched out as she walked towards her. She cocked her head, striking fear into the Y/H/C. She hated when Wanda did that.

"How are you going to reach me if something bad happens?"

With the phone now in Wanda's hand, Nat said "We'll call the front desk."

The girls had left, telling Y/N to make her time alone useful. She wanted to sit and wallow in her never-ending sadness. She remembered a time like this at a New York lawyers convention when John left her in the room for hours while he partied downstairs. No, no, she didn't want it to be like this even if it was her choice now.

The stables. She walked over to the window and saw the red building empty from what it looked like. Maybe she could get a glimpse of the horse she saw. Bucky didn't even cross her mind then or was that the reason she wanted to go so badly. No, it had to have been the horse she saw. Keep telling yourself that.

Y/N stayed back a bit longer, giving Nat and Wanda enough time to leave the property. They would never let this go after the stable comment Bucky made. She stepped outside, the sun starting to set and a small chilled breeze brushes past her. Lurking around to make sure no one was there she slowly walked into the stable, the horses not paying her any attention.

There she was, the beautiful black mare standing her her stall, her face poking out of the window. Y/N walked over and let the horse sniff the palm of her hand "You're so pretty, my darling," Y/N beams, rubbing her nose. The horse nickered, making the woman laugh "You like compliments don't you."

"She craves attention!" A voice called out from the other side of the barn. Y/N whipped her head to the side, her heart thumping against her chest. Bucky started making his way over, two silver buckets in his strong arms. The sweat on his face didn't go unnoticed by her, she swallowed hard and took a step back from the horse.

"I-I didn't see a stay-out sign, I'm sorry if I'm not all-" her rambling was cut off by his soft chuckle and the clang of the buckets now on the ground.

" I don't mind, doll. Clementine loves the company." I was hoping you'd show up, he kept that to himself of course. "While you're here, do you want to help me brush her? She gets sad if I don't do it before I leave."

Y/N smiles softly and nods at him, her hands folded in her lap. Bucky eagerly opened the stall and allowed her to enter first. He ran around to empty the feed buckets and placing the buckets on the shelf. He pants as he hands her a brush, his awkward smile earning a thank you.

Bucky stood on one side while she stood on the other, brushing the shiny coat of Celmentines's body. The silence was a comfort and the soft brushing noises were music to their ears. She enjoyed the silence and stolen glances at each other. His steel-blue eyes fixated on his favorite horse, she'd never seen someone look that loving towards someone else.

He breaks the silence "So what brings you guys all the way out to our neck of the woods?"

Was she supposed to be honest? Because 'I'm desperately trying to get over a man who ripped my heart out' doesn't scream approachable. She bit her lip and looked at him from the other side of the horse, their searching eyes meeting.

"Fella did me wrong so my friends decided a getaway was the best medicine," she explained, a watered-down version of what the real devastating truth was.

Bucky nods as he listens to her, slowly making his way to her side, brushing Clementine's hip as a cover. He didn't push it any further, now wasn't the time and he remembered her somber appearance when he first met her in the lobby "Where ya from?" He asks instead

"Brooklyn." His ears perk up, he hadn't thought about that city in so long.

"Brooklyn?" he hums, "how's the city these days?"

"Busy," she responds, looking over at him trying not to act surprised that he moved closer. "You've been?"

"Once or twice." 7 years. He frowned and bit the inside of his cheek. Y/N hums and starts to brush the side of her neck. Clementine whinnies, making the woman jump back. "I-It's ok," Bucky tells her kindly, holding out his hand, "she likes that, let me show you." He takes off his hat and tosses it on top of the hay pile behind them.

His flesh arm placed at on her midback, bringing her closer to the horse. His metal arm covers her hand to guide the brush down Clementine's neck. The sound of her own heart was deafening, he was so close she could pick up everything. The smell of hay and horses mixed in wish musk and was the cedar? It was manly...just like him. The stands of loose hair stuck to his forehead, small grey hairs mixed into his stubble.

Her eyes shifted away from his face onto the sight in front of her, his hand over hers, the gold and black metal shining in the overhead light. She wondered if he could feel her. "Your arm?" she questions barely audibly.

"It was a military accident...I fell," he responded, she couldn't tell if there was sorrow in his voice or he was just accustomed to explaining it all the time.

"It's nice! I hope I didn't offend you," she tried to pull away from the situation she created but his flesh arm held her still. He looks down at her and smiles.

"You didn't. It was a long time ago."

His reassurance got her to relax. They eased into small talk about their lives, she learned that he was born here and always helped the Starks on the ranch when they opened it, leading into a job when he got out of school. He was kind and funny, made her heart constantly skip beats when he said something nice. It made her forget John Walker for a while.

The sun went down, the auto light of the stables turned on. Bucky knew he should've clocked out by now, but this was far better. She was sad, he knew that, but when she relaxed she was surprisingly funny with her quick wit, soft smiles, and her newfound love for his favorite girl Clementine.

"Have you ridden before?" he asks as they finish, taking her brush back.

"No," Y/N laughs as she recalls her childhood, "I saw a boy fall off one at summer camp and I swore I'd never do it. I admire from afar."

Bucky joins in on the laugh while he grabs his hat and dusts off the loose straws of hay on his hat. Y/N bits her lip and pats Clemintine one last time before the pair walked towards the door "Watch your step," he warns, holding his metal hand out for her to take. She looks at him for a moment, feeling like her feet were cement. Her eyes flash from his hand to the softness in his eyes.

"Fucking hell Y/N let's go!" John's hand outreached for her, it was shaking, matching his anger. "I'll fucking leave you here. You know, fuck it. Walk home." That hand turned into a fist... she didn't like that fist.

Hesitantly she takes it, her nervous fingers wrapping around his palm as he guided her over the edge of the stall and onto the main ground of the stable. "Thanks for letting me brush her, it was nice," she smiled, still holding his hand. She wasn't the only one who didn't let go.

"Any time, doll. How long are ya here for?"

"5 days," she responds. Not enough time, he frowned and bit the inside of his cheek.

"Well you can come down any time you'd like, Clem would like the company." I would too.

Y/N finally realized she was holding his hand, her eyes went wide and pulled away suddenly, her nervous chuckle ringing in his ears "I-I should go... thank you again Bucky."

She scurries off towards the inn, their hands still tingling. He'd never been this happy to still have nerves in his arm "God bless Wakanda tech," he praised under his breath, clenching and unclenching the hand.

"Y/N! Wait a minute," he shouts stopping her mid way. She turns and see's him standing there in the overhead light of the stable, like he was waiting for her to get there safely.

"Yeah?" she questions, matching the volume of his voice.

"While you're here you should try Happy's Diner! Best coffee in town!"

"I thought this place did?"

"Don't let Pepper convince you!"

Y/N giggles and nods "I will. Goodnight Buck."

"Goodnight, Y/N!" He watches her leave, making sure she was safely inside, she turned to catch one last glance at him making the brunette smile at her and waving her off.

It would be another hour before Natasha and Wanda returned to the room, finding their friend in the same position in the chair by the window. This time her shoes were dustier than before, black hairs visible on her cream-colored shirt. She stared at the cowboy painting on the wall in front of her like her life depended on it "What did you do all day, Y/N?" Wanda asks, tossing Y/N's phone on the bed.

She expected her to run and grab it, feverishly checking the messages John couldn't send. That reaction never came, she didn't flinch when the phone landed on the bed with a soft thud. Her mind was still a blur, Bucky was kind, he held his hand out for her and got her to the other side of the stall...he waited for her.

"This," Y/N remarks, coming out of her thoughts pointing to the chair she was occupying. The spy in the leather jacket didn't buy it, looking at the differences in her clothing and demeanor.

"Sounds like a bore," Nat sighs, deciding to let it go for a moment.

"How was the restaurant?" Y/N yawns, getting up and walking past them. The two redheads sniffed the air as she passed, it smelled like Y/N had been sleeping in a barn. Well, that was almost true.

"What the hell is that smell?" Wanda grimaced, her nose scrunching at the foul smell. Y/N stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes, she wasn't about to tell them about her time in the stable with Bucky. She brought her shirt up to her nose, fuck, it was her.

"Must be the atmosphere," she laughed it off, "I'm going to bed!" She rushes off before the accusations came and she knew they would come.

The door to the adjoining room slams shut and the girls give each other a knowing look "Twenty bucks says she smuggled Walker in here," Wanda bets.

"Nah, it was the guy with Steve. She blushed way too much to have done nothing about it."

"Fair."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #cowboy!bucky #cowboy!bucky x reader #sebastian stan imagine #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky au

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shawnsprincesse · 3 years ago

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When life throws you lemons Part 60 (Shawn Mendes AU)

When life throws you lemons, you’re forced to deal with Shawn Mendes. Before moving in with five guys, including Shawn Mendes, Kylie swore she would never ever in her life allow Shawn to get anywhere near her but things quickly change and soon she finds herself drunkenly kissing him in a bathroom. What starts as a drunken kiss turns into a passionate secret relationship.

”What do you think?” I asked as I observed myself in the large hallway mirror. Shawn stood behind me, his eyes trailing over my body. I’d decided to go for the classic little black dress, it had thin spaghetti-straps and a low triangular cut in the front that enhanced the size of my breasts. The skirt was short, reaching down to the middle of my thighs with a small cut on the right side. I’d paired the dress with a cute silver necklace that my mother had bought me for my high school graduation. It was a shiny piece that looked perfect against my suntanned skin.

”You look really hot.” Shawn commented as I adjusted the silver necklace in the mirror. Bella had done my makeup for me, opting for a natural eye-look with some eyeliner, mascara and a bold red lip. I’d paired my shoes with the bold red lip, wearing a pair of plateau heels.

”Thanks.” I laughed as I adjusted my hair in front of the mirror. I’d taken the liberty to curl my hair into thick, long luscious curls.

Shawn was wearing a white dress shirt with a pair of black skinny jeans, his hair slightly slicked back by some gel and some nice silver rings wrapped around the fingers on his right hand. He didn’t need to dress up to look good, it just came natural to him. Most guys don’t bother dressing up for anything and the bar is usually much lower for them than it is for women which is so fucking unfair because I’m pretty sure if I showed up to a club in Hollywood wearing a T-shirt and jeans, they would definitely deny me access.

Shawn wrapped his arms around my waist as I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the shoulder straps of my dress and the curls draping over my chest. He rested his chin against my shoulder as he pulled me back against his tall body.

”You’re definitely coming home with me tonight.” Shawn whispered playfully into my ear as he watched me adjust the short dress around my large chest.

”Is this the first time you’re going to a club and you already know ahead of time who you’re taking home?” I asked playfully as I raised my eyebrows questioningly at Shawn’s reflection in the mirror.

”Maybe.” Shawn replied cheekily as he squeezed me in his arms. I let out a soft giggle as I turned around in Shawn’s arms, my hands resting against the back of his neck as I stared up into his brown eyes. A soft smile spread across my lips as I leaned up for a kiss, my eyes completely mesmerized by how handsome he looked with his long curls pushed back from his face.

The rest of the group eventually joined us and we all jumped into a cab that would take us to one of the nightclubs in Hollywood. The club scene in LA is on a completely different level, it’s always alive, always packed and always full of celebrities or other rich, successful people. It’s great the first few times you go out because you either run into a cool celebrity or have some rich older men pay for your drinks but after those first few times it pretty much becomes all the same. The celebrities become less and less of a thing, the rich men starts asking if you need a sugar daddy or expect you to come home with them - because they’re used to being able to pay for anything they want and there’s plenty of drugs that are openly dealt with in the bathroom. I personally prefer house parties over clubbing because I suck at dancing and I hate being surrounded by strangers, at house parties you can also talk more freely while clubs are strictly made for drinking and yelling over the music.

Me, Bella and the guys walked into the loud club in unison. There were flashing lights everywhere as loud, typical dance and house music blared through the speakers. I could barely hear my own thoughts as my ears slowly adjusted to the loud volume and my eyes adjusted to the dark room and blinking strobe lights.

”What do you wanna drink?” Shawn asked me over the loud music.

”Surprise me.” I replied with a soft smile as Bella and I made our way to the dance floor.

The club was huge it had a big stage with a DJ booth on it, a large wide screen on the wall behind the stage playing different animations and a giant dance floor in front of it. The bar was located in the middle of the club and along the sides there were small booths where you could sit. Right next to the stage there was a VIP section that was usually crowded with celebrities and their crews or rich kids, or anyone else who was lucky enough to afford that space.

”Thanks babe.” I called out over the music as Shawn handed me a peachy drink. I took a sip of it and I was quickly surprised by the strong overwhelming taste of vodka in it, I’m not really a huge fan of vodka but I was planning on getting drunk tonight so anything that’ll get me there will slide down my throat.

”Niall got us a table over there.” Shawn pointed towards one of the booths where Brian was currently standing with a beer in his hand. ”We’re just gonna chill for a bit.” Shawn noted and I let out a chuckle, knowing that he definitely wasn’t much of a dance person and probably needed a few drinks before he would be able to let loose.

”Me and Bella are just gonna dance for a bit.” I yelled over the music as Bella stood next to me. I’m not a dancer by any means but me and Bella like to get down on the dance floor with some crazy moves.

”I’ll be over there if you need me.” Shawn noted with a chuckle as he watched me twirl around on the dance floor.

”I’ll definitely need you later.” I replied as a small devious grin spread across my lips. ”And I’d love to see your moves on the dance floor.” I giggled as I playfully wrapped my arms around Shawn, pulling him in for a quick kiss before letting him go.

”Have fun but not too much fun without me.” Shawn said with a smirk as he walked off to his friends.

Bella and I danced like there was no tomorrow. I’m pretty sure you could hear our laughter over the speakers as we jumped around the dance floor, moving our bodies in the weirdest, goofiest way like we didn’t have a care in the world. Another thing I hate about clubs, that usually doesn’t apply to house parties, is that everyone at the club always try to be so fucking hot and sexy and dance in a sensual manner while I prefer to have fun and look like I have no idea what I’m doing. Sure, I’ve conformed the sensual moves the few times I’ve been at the club in hopes of scoring free drinks and some good dick at the end of the night, but that’s because I’ve wanted to get laid, not because I enjoy it.

Bella let out a giggle as I danced with my drink in hand, spilling some of the liquid over myself as I waved my arms around the dance floor. The club was already hot due to the beaming spotlights on the ceiling and my jumping around the dance floor didn’t make things easier. I felt euphoric and care free as Bella and I twirled around on the dance floor to whatever pop song the DJ played. My internship was over and my boss had written me a great recommendation, my relationship with Shawn was going great and I was about to enter my third year of college, getting closer and closer to my graduation. Life is great and I’ve never been happier.

I watched as a tall man dressed in a black dress shirt and some slacks walked up to me and Bella. I could tell that this guy was one of those typical rich men ready to spend money on young girls and right now he had his eyes set on me. I was already giggly from my first drink as I leaned over to Bella and spoke directly into her ear.

”I’m gonna get us some free drinks!” I exclaimed as I danced over the floor towards the man who looked to be in his mid-thirties.

”Hi there.” The man greeted with me a teeth revealing smile as I came up to him.

”I saw you looking at me and my friend over there.” I noted with a flirtatious voice as I tried my best to switch from my fun dance moves to my sexy dance moves.

”I was mostly looking at you…” The man admitted with a grin as he eyed me up and down and I let him. Men are easily manipulated especially when they’re a little drunk and on the hunt. I used to hate it when men sexualized me or stared at my breasts but now I’ve learnt how to use them to my advantage and when you’re at an expensive club in Hollywood these babies are a great asset when you want free drinks. ”Wanna dance?”

”All that dancing made us really thirsty so we were just about to get some drinks…” I said as I faked a teeth revealing smile towards the man.

”Oh why don’t you tell me what you’re drinking and I’ll get you both something to drink?” The man suggested with a cheeky grin.

”That’s very nice of you, like I said we’re really really thirsty-” I said as playfully twirled my hand around my finger while batting my lashes at the tall man.

”Money won’t be a problem!” The man confidently explained as he flashed his platinum credit card. These men are so fucking gullible.

”We have a table so why don’t you buy us a bottle of sparkling champagne and I’ll dance with you.” I said as I looked into his innocent brown eyes. He wasn’t bad looking by any means but he wasn’t really my type either. I could sacrifice for some free, expensive champagne though.

”What are you doing?” Bella chimed as she looked over at me, flustered.

”I’m getting us free booze.” I said as I held up four of my fingers to the guy, to let him know which table to send the free champagne.

”Does Shawn know about this?” Bella giggled as she looked over at me.

”Do I know about what?” Shawn asked as he appeared behind me, a cheeky grin playing on his soft lips.

”Well, I guess he’s about to find out.” I shrugged as I turned around to look at Shawn. Bella watched us both with intense eyes as I glanced over towards the bar where the strange man was currently ordering me a fine, expensive bottle of champagne. ”I’m getting free alcohol.” I grinned as I looked back at Shawn. ”And you need to get out of here before that guy returns.” I said as I pointed towards the tall man by the bar.

”What are you up to now?” Shawn narrowed his eyes at me as I leaned up to speak directly into his ear, the music was too loud for my voice to overpower it.

”I told that guy I would dance with him in return for a bottle of champagne, so you need to get out of here before he figures out I’m taken.” I spoke loudly into Shawn’s ear as he looked at me, a little skeptical.

”So you’re gonna dance with him?” Shawn clarified as he motioned towards the stranger, still a little confused.

”Mhmm and he’s gonna buy me and my friends-” I said as I nodded towards Bella. ”Tons of free drinks and they’re all gonna be delivered to our table.” I pointed out as I stared warily at Shawn as he tried to figure out what I was doing. ”All I have to do is dance.” I pointed out with a grin.

”Alright…” Shawn shrugged as he considered the idea of free drinks. ”One dance.” He noted as he narrowed his eyes at me. ”And I’d like a bottle of tequila!” Shawn notified me with a grin, satisfied that I’d figured out a way for all of us to save some money.

”I got you babe.” I replied as I playfully winked towards Shawn. ”I’ll tell him my friends and I are really really thirsty.” I called out as a devious grin spread across my lips.

”Mhm, but if he tries anything else it’s game over!” Shawn said as he looked at me with a stern gaze.

”Trust me baby, you’re the only one I’m coming home with tonight.” I spoke into Shawn’s ear as I stood up my tippy toes. ”But he doesn’t have to know that!” I grinned as Shawn scanned my face with an amused grin playing on his lips.

It was like a part of him enjoyed watching me manipulate other men for my own benefit. He’d been extremely jealous when Harry had tried to flirt with me but he didn’t seem to care if other men stared at me or flirted with me or anything else that involved them checking me out in a sexual manner, it was like he trusted me enough to let them do whatever the hell they wanted and that he liked to see them try, knowing that at the end of the day he would be the only one taking me home. It was like the idea of other men wanting me turned him on because he knew he was the only one who could have me and he was right.

”Now go away before he comes back!” I ordered as I gently pushed at Shawn’s chest, urging him to go back to his friends before the easily manipulated thirty something year old would figure out that I wasn’t available and only using him for his money.

I could feel Shawn’s eyes on me as the man joined me on the dance floor, a cheeky smile playing on his lips as he looked over at me and Bella.

”I didn’t know what kind of champagne you’d like so I got two different bottles.” He notified me as he joined me for a dance.

”Thanks.” I grinned as I danced with the man in front of me, his eyes slowly trailing over my exposed cleavage and the small slit on the side of my dress as I tried my best to dance as sensually as possible.

Shawn wasn’t the only one observing me from afar, Bella stood next to me, her eyes mesmerized as she watched me move in sync to the music as the guy stood in front of me.

”What’s your name?” He leaned down to speak directly into my ear, his hot breath purposely brushing against my ear as he spoke.

”Kylie.” I replied simply as I felt him rub up against my body and I let him.

”I’m Liam.” He called back as I ran my fingers through my large sexy curls in a flirtatious manner. I hadn’t been at a club for like three months and I thought I’d lost my flirting game after I got together with Shawn but it turns out I still had some skills. ”Have you been here before?” The guy asked me as he purposely brushed up against me while he spoke into my ear.

”Yes!” I replied, I’ve found that no matter how little you talk, men will carry the conversation and stay interested as long as they find you attractive enough to sleep with. It’s a great tactic that makes it seem like you’re interested even when you really aren’t.

”Me and my friends got a VIP table behind the stage if you wanna join us!” He suggested with a cheeky grin as he pulled back to assess my facial expression. As much as I’ve love for him to spend money on me and buy me alcohol for the rest of the night, I’d promised Shawn that I would only do a dance or two.

”Uhm my friends-” I tried to excuse myself as I looked back at the guy, trying not to make it obvious that I couldn’t care less about his VIP status.

”She can come too, there’s plenty of room.” He said as he looked over at Bella. This guy really was too stupid for his own good, if he’d actually looked over at the table I’d told him we were at, he would’ve noticed that I was here with five other people, all of them guys, but he was too manipulated by my pussy to do that.

”We’re just here for a girls night-” I tried to subtly dodge his invitation hoping that he would buy my lie and not glance over at table four right this moment.

”I understand.” The man smiled politely. ”Let me buy another bottle for you to enjoy and if you change your mind you can come join us later.” The man tried to bribe me. ”We would love to have you accompany us.”

”That sounds great. We’d love some tequila.” I smiled brightly as I looked back at the man who was more than ready to pay for another bottle for us.

”How about another dance first?” He said as his eyes trailed down the curves of my body.

”Sure.” I forced a smile on my lips as he tried to bargain to make sure he would get what he wanted at the end of the night. This time he tried to be more intimate, his hands touching my arms as I danced in front of him and his body brushing up against my back as I swirled my hips. I tried my best to ignore his fingertips on my skin as I continued to dance along to the song. I’d been the one who’d led him on so I couldn’t scold him now for trying to touch me.

I could feel Shawn’s eyes on me even though he was all the way across the room by the booths. I couldn’t actually see his face or if he disapproved of my actions but I could feel his gaze on me and I just knew that he was watching my every move.

I watched as a server came up to the booth at the same time as me and Bella joined the rest of the group. Shawn scooted over on the bench, allowing me to sit down next to him as the server handed us a bucket of ice with a bottle of tequila in it.

”Thank you.” I smiled politely as she set the bottle down. Shawn grinned, amazed that I’d managed to get us three bottles of free liquor. Shawn placed his palm on my thigh, his thumb brushing gently against my newly shaved skin.

”Consider it a gift from me.” I winked as I handed the bottle over to Shawn, a playful grin plastered across my lips as the server put a tray of empty shot glasses down next to the bucket of ice.

”You’re a gift.” Shawn noted with a chuckle as he opened the tequila bottle.

”I truly am.” I replied as I playfully flipped my hair to my back before leaning over to grab one of the tequila glasses. ”Turns out your girlfriend is quite good at manipulating older, rich men.” I chimed as Shawn poured up a shot for himself and another one for me. ”Who would’ve known!” I cheered as I raised my tiny shot glass into the air, clinking it with Shawn’s before downing it in one go.

”As your boyfriend, I’m all for you manipulating older rich men if it gets me free alcohol.” Shawn replied with a chuckle as he poured himself another shot.

”Admit it, you like that I get a lot of attention-” I whispered against Shawn’s ear as he poured me another shot too. ”Because it turns you on knowing that at the end of the day I’m all yours.” I said as I felt Shawn’s palm slide up over my inner thigh towards the hem of my short dress.

”You’re right.” Shawn admitted as we took another shot in union. I think jealousy really stems from trust issues and I think the reason why Shawn and I feel so confident on our relationship is because we trust each other. I don’t think Shawn will cheat on me, because he literally spent 10 years crushing on me and I think he knows I won’t cheat on him because I’m an upfront person and I’ll break up with him before I ever cheat on him. I’m the kind of person who values honesty no matter how much the truth hurts.

”This pussy is all yours baby.” I whispered teasingly against Shawn’s ear as I leaned against him, my hot breath stinking of tequila as I tilted my head and pursed my lips towards Shawn, pleading for a taste of his mouth.

Shawn brushed his hand further up on my bare leg as he leaned in for a kiss. I let his hand trail all the way up under my skirt as I focused on the way his lips moved against mine. His tongue gracefully slid in between my lips and explored my mouth. I let out a soft moan against his mouth as I felt his hand slide over my panties, rubbing gently over the fabric before he moved it back down my inner thighs.

”Since you’re done grinding with strangers, do you think you have time to dance with your actual boyfriend now?” Shawn asked cheekily as he looked over at me. I swiftly reached for my champagne glass to gulp down the last quarter of it before I could answer Shawn.

”Sure.” I said as I stood up and adjusted my short dress. Shawn followed me to the dance floor, I could feel his eyes trail over my body as I walked ahead of him, skipping onto the floor in my heels. The high heels made me slightly taller which made it easier for me to wrap my arms around Shawn as we stood on the dance floor.

Shawn kept his gaze firmly on me despite the blinking lights and crowd of people around us. I was starting to feel tipsy after two glasses of champagne and two shots. I’m not a good dancer when I’m sober but when I’ve had a few glasses I’m a great dancer or at least that’s how I feel.

I ran my palms over Shawn’s neck, down his shoulders, over the white fabric of his shirt, down his chest and stomach as I bent down, my eyes refusing to break away from his gaze as I stared up at him. My hands slowly slid over his hips and thighs as I looked up at him through my innocent lashes, my butt sticking out as I squatted down in front of him ready to unbuckle his belt at any moment.

Shawn’s eyes widened as he watched me slowly stand up again, my back turning towards him as I slid my butt against his thigh. My arms reaching behind me to touch his neck. Shawn placed his hands on the curves of my hips as I continued to sway them along to the music. The music was loud and a little too upbeat for my sexual dancing but I didn’t care, I was in my own bubble doing my own thing.

I pressed myself hard against Shawn’s hips, my butt grinding up and down the bulge that was slowly forming beneath his tight jeans.

”Damn baby.” Shawn sounded impressed as he watched me grind my body onto him.

I turned around once again, my eyes searching for his beneath the blinking lights. His chocolate brown were already filled with lust and I could tell by the way he grabbed me that the rest of his body also was filled with desire. I slid my hands back down his body, moving slower this time as I squatted down in front of him. I stuck my tongue out in a playful yet seductive manner as I ran my small, delicate palm over the bulge in his pants, my eyes still focused on Shawn’s as he watched me with an intense gaze.

I playfully squeezed his hardened cock between my fingers before standing back up again. Shawn’s eyes widened as I stood back up, my tongue still playfully sticking out of my mouth as I leaned towards Shawn’s ear.

”Am I turning you on baby?” I spoke over the music, my voice laced with innocence as I looked back at Shawn.

”Fuck yes!” Shawn called back loudly as he pulled me closer to him to press his lips against mine and before I knew it, his tongue was halfway down my throat.

I continued to tease Shawn as he pulled back from our passionate kiss. I ran my hand gently over his hardened cock, my eyes widening as I felt exactly how hard he was. A prominent grin spread across Shawn’s lips as he watched me lick my lip in anticipation. I slowly lowered myself to a squat again, my eyes at crotch level as I continued to rub him through his pants.

My eyes refused to break away from Shawn’s face as I watched him roll his eyes back in sexual frustration. I could feel myself get wet as I thought of the beautiful hard cock that was hiding beneath the fabric. It wasn’t just my pussy that was getting wet, I could feel my mouth water too as I thought about having Shawn’s cock in my mouth.

I bit down hard on my bottom lip as I stood back up. I continued to dance like I’d danced before, my hips swirling along with RNB song playing as Shawn kept his hands on my curvy hips, guiding me back onto his body. The two of us swayed in union on the dance floor and I could feel a few strangers eyes stare me down as I gave them a show. I’m usually not a center of attention kind of girl but after a few drinks I’m more careless.

I ran my hands over my cleavage and down the curves of my breasts as I pressed my butt against Shawn’s hips. His hands gripped onto my thick sides as I continued to sensually trail my hands over own my body, my mind getting lost in the music as I closed my eyes to feel the rhythm.

”God, I’m so fucking hard right now.” Shawn groaned into my ear as he grinded his cock against my satin clad butt.

”You’re not the only one.” I noted cheekily as I turned around in his arms, winking playfully at him as I nodded towards the left where a few boys were watching me. They looked like they were barely eighteen and had probably snuck in here with some fake ID’s in hopes of getting a cool experience.

”Can’t blame them, you’re the hottest girl in the room right now.” Shawn noted with a chuckle as he noticed the young boys staring at me.

”Might as well give them a real show.” I grinned as I let my hands trail over Shawn’s body, my eyes concentrating on his face as I slowly dropped back down into a squat. I wish I had a bigger booty but I guess I was blessed with a large chest instead. Big booties are cute though and they make you look even hotter when you dance.

I playfully winked at Shawn as I ran my hands over his cock, my tongue instinctively poking out of my mouth as palmed him through his jeans. I arched my back on my way back up, my breasts pressing up against Shawn’s chest and my butt sticking out as I straightened myself up.

”I bet they’re all fucking jealous of you babe.” I spoke teasingly into Shawn’s ear as I wrapped my arms around his neck. My teeth sinking into my lip as I pressed my body against Shawn’s. He placed both his hands on my ass in a possessive manner as he glanced over at the younger boys who were still staring at me not so subtly.

”Yeah, but none of them can fuck you like I can.” Shawn growled back into my ear as he squeezed my butt and I purred into his ear.

”Are you sure?” I whispered teasingly as I grinded against his warm body.

”Baby, no one can fuck this pussy like I can.” Shawn growled as he slid his hand over my butt and between my legs, making sure that the dress was still covering me up as he did so. Don’t wanna give the boys too much of a show.

”Mmm.” I moaned into Shawn’s ear as he palmed me with his hand. I felt myself get wet by Shawn’s simple touch, I was slightly drunk and already melting into a puddle in his arms. For some reason, it turned me on too that I had other people’s eyes on me. It made me feel hot and sexy and was definitely a confidence boost, but what really turned me on was the idea of me only belonging to Shawn and how confidently he exclaimed that my pussy belonged to him.

”Are you wet baby?” Shawn breathed heavily against my ear as he skillfully pushed my panties to the side to examine the situation. I let out a soft gasp as I felt his fingers slide against my soft, delicate skin.

”Yes.” I hissed sweetly against Shawn’s ear as he felt me up in the middle of the club.

”I think you like it when strangers look at you.” Shawn spoke seductively into my ear as he rubbed his hand down my wet folds. ”I bet it turns you on.” Shawn cooed into my ear as he felt how wet I was and maybe he was right, I did like the attention.

”I like the attention.” I admitted with a grin as I looked back at Shawn with my soft innocent eyes.

”Are you saying I’m not giving you enough attention?” Shawn asked as he stared warily at me. I shook my head at him as his raspy voice echoed through my ear.

”No.” I whimpered softly as I felt his fingertips brush over my entrance. ”I’m just needy.” I argued weakly as I batted my lashes at him innocently.

”Or maybe you’re just a bit of an attention whore.” Shawn wiggled his eyebrows at me suggestively.

”Maybe.” I pointed out with a smirk.

”That sure would explain why your pussy’s soaking wet right now.” Shawn noted as he slid two of his fingers inside me, making me gasp out loud and my eyes widening in surprise.

”Fuck-” I felt my knees weaken as he curved his fingers inside me.

”Admit it baby…” Shawn cooed into my ear as he moved his fingers beneath my skirt, trying his best to not make it obvious to the people around us what he was doing.

”Fine, I’m a little bit of an attention whore. Sue me!” I called out as I looked back at Shawn in defeat. His fingers slowly pulled back, his fingertips brushing over my slit and up to my clit before he completely removed his hand from my soft skin.

Shawn winked at me as he pulled his slick fingers to his mouth. I watched with wide eyes as he cleaned them carefully with his tongue before pulling back, grabbing me by my butt and pulling me in tightly. I let out a soft gasp as I stared into his wild eyes, his hands groping my butt through the short skirt of my dress as he hungrily kissed me in the middle of the dance floor.

Shawn devoured my mouth with his tongue, exploring every inch of it as if it was the first time. My hands got lost somewhere between his thick curls as I closed my eyes, my entire body purring like a kitten at the taste of his mouth.

”I need another drink.” I exclaimed as Shawn finally broke away from the kiss, the two of us both desperate to catch our breaths.

Shawn accompanied me as I walked back to the table to pour myself another glass of champagne, my eager mouth quickly gulping it down before pouring myself and Shawn another shot. We clinked the tiny glasses together before shooting the burning tequila down our throats.

”Another one!” I exclaimed as I grabbed the slim bottle neck and poured ourselves another shot. ”One more!” I ordered with a cheerful squeal, tequila fucks me up on a whole new level and I probably shouldn’t be downing the shots so quickly but who fucking cares, tonight is a good night.

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love-hatred-stuff · 3 years ago

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Villain's girl } Im Changkyun [monsta x]

genre: royal/soldier au, vampire au

warning(s): mentions of war(indirect), kind of kidnapping

word count: 1.9k

He, he was perfect, but I just wasn't ready to get involved with him.

I knew I would regret it because we needed each other. But he just hurt me too much. No, actually I really didn't care about myself. Still, I ran away from him again, probably the most unnecessary decision of my life. The only thing that stood in my way was my fear of the gilding of his life. I simply wasn't worth it, was I?

before:...

I was lying on a green meadow that was on a mountain. Hundreds of Lisianthus flowers had grown next to me. I loved them, their scent, their colors and also their sizes. They had a calm effect on me because I had known them since my short childhood.

I've been looking after myself since I was ten years old. My parents? Probably dead. They had left me for a reason unknown to me, but I hadn't thought about it for a long time, because it had racked my mind for the next thirteen years after they disappeared.

Now I was lying here and as far as I knew it was my birthday that day. I couldn't exactly remember that date, but I had celebrated it over and over again on the same day for a long time.

It wasn't a big deal to me as it wouldn't change anything in my life but I was finally eighteen.

The sun had just started to rise, but I wanted to start the day like this, with a quiet hour on my favorite meadow in the morning sun that smiled at me. Unfortunately she was the only one who did that.

Often times I would lie there all night and watch the stars. I was more than lonely, for many years I hadn't met anyone except soldiers who attacked and burned villages, as well as my house eight years ago.

I lost my parents, my house, my food and everything else I owned. Even if it wasn't much, my already small property shrunk even more. But I had to take it for what I was, what I was trying to do.

Despite my health, which had kept up well, I had thoughts of suicide several times. Jumping off a cliff is, eating any branches and herbs. And after a few temptations, I gave up. I couldn't do that to myself yet.

As slowly as possible, I got up to look for something to eat. I didn't really liked to go hunting because I was very fond of animals and hated to hurt them, so I mostly ate berries or mushrooms.

Except once a week, I took my bow with arrow to get me a hearty meal.

When I finally got up on my two legs, I ran and went to my hut, which I had built a long time ago from branches and bushes.

I was there in no time, but something bothered me. Everything was still in its place, but I could make out a musty smell of smoke, which made me cringe.

I looked around silently and indeed, about half a mile away, a huge gray cloud was making its way through the trees.

My heart pounded alarm and without thinking twice, I sprinted in the opposite direction from which the possible fire was coming.

At the moment I didn't care about my growling stomach, nor my hut.

After a while of running I could hear voices in the direction I was walking towards.

I slowly walked slowly in order to be able to listen to every sound, no matter how small. But suddenly a soldier was standing in front of me who looked at me with a grin. I was wearing only a thin, white, yet dirty dress that hung airily up to my knees.

Uncomfortable, that's how I felt. I had never had closer contact with men, how could I (?).

"Well, who do we have here?" The soldier mockingly said.

I just widened my eyes, not to mention my mouth, which had been open since I saw him.

After a short time, more and more soldiers came and looked at me, but I was frozen. People were so fascinating but at the same time so nauseating. The soldier, who was still grinning stupidly at me, stepped closer and grabbed my hand.

"The little one must have forgotten how to speak. But she is breathtakingly beautiful. Take a look at her, guys!" He asked his men to examine me too, which is why they all took a few steps closer.

"Hey!" I heard it from not far away, in the woods.

The one whose voice it was now also ran towards me, which made me take some steps back.

"Don't touch her! She's an innocent one!" The soldier who was now standing in my immediate vicinity.

Fortunately for me, he now attracted the attention that had been on me. He pushed the others away from me, who then stumbled backwards. Then he grabbed my wrist and I felt a heat rise in me instantly, it was a completely new feeling.

I looked into a prominent face with defined cheekbones, which made him look very masculine to me. He looked like someone that could be royal, naturally beautiful.

He looked at me out of his intense brown eyes in which I could have lost myself in, in a matter of seconds.

He raised his hand, pushed a strand of hair out of my face and touched my cheek in the process. All I could do was to stay still like a statue and admire his figure.

His dark black hair that was a little messed up and some strands also graced his face.

A cold but pleasant shiver ran down my spine from his touch. I was fascinated by his looks, it seemed like he looked like a friendly devil. Although his features seemed absolutely flawless, he radiated a dark aura. I couldn't see it but I could sense it. He also had broad shoulders from which two muscular arms protruded. He was looking like a God next to me.

"She really is quite acceptable. Nevertheless, she has to come with me." He pulled me by the arm to the horses, which were not far away at a campsite.

Damn. I should have run faster, now I have to go with them if I don't get a chance to get out of here. I blamed myself silently.

The men were in the majority and clearly superior to me.

The Soldier's grin was quite strong and even when we were already in one of the tents, he was still holding onto my arm tightly. After we I hissed in pain.

Besides all that, I was still totally in shock as it was my first close contact with people in many years.

Suddenly he stopped and took a close look at my body, me not really thinking anything, because I first had to get used to people's behavior and body language.

With his gaze he stopped where he had gripped me tightly to probably prevent me from running away, but slowly the pressure got too big and hurt. Immediately he let go, but he took a closer look at the now yellow spots that adorned my arm.

They weren't the only wounds I had, I kept getting injured and accordingly had blood wounds or scratches all over the place. We were alone in the tent and he finally broke the silence.

"Who did this to you?" He asked, pointing to my wounds, like the blood stain on my dress, over my stomach. At first I didn't know what he meant but then I understood. He meant if I had been hurt by someone else.

"Nobody." I answered clearly and looked up into his wonderful eyes that flashed at me.

"What's your name?" Was his next question.

"Y/n. I think." I guessed to myself.

My name had never been relevant, but I still had vague memories from my childhood and how I was often addressed by that name back then. In the other moment, his gaze softened. He put a strand behind my ear again, as he had earlier. My attention went to his full lips which he twisted into a small grin.

“You are beautiful, Y/n. You will be mine I promise it. Nobody's going to get you." He said with determination.

What did he say? Was that just a compliment? If so, then they sound really nice, but actually I didn't really know what they meant to me. Although I could speak his language fluently and had a good vocabulary to choose from, I wasn't up to date.

"What do you mean?" I was taught to ask when you didn't understand someone, so I did just that.

"Means that we will take you to the palace where you can be sold." He suddenly changed his face and removed his hand from my cheek where it had lingered for a moment.

He had just changed his mind from one second to the other. He wanted me to be his and complimented me, so what now? Now he just wanted to drag me along and let me get sold? Great, I probably wouldn't find a way out on all these soldiers.

"But, to whom should I be sold?" If it was to my advantage I would accept it, then I would no longer be alone and would finally be among people who were equal to me.

"To some rich snob." He simply replied.

I was surprised at his sudden change of heart, but it was the chance for me to finally escape this hole. It had made me sink deeper and deeper until that point. I was redeemed.

"You have to change. We'll stay here one more night before we leave." He stepped away from me and took a white dress down from a kind of drawer, to give it to me afterwards.

A little baffled, I stood there and took the soft fabric towards me. It was soft and embroidered with small flowers.

"Thanks, where should I change and where should I sleep?" I asked briefly.

"Change here. There's a bed back there, behind the curtain. You will sleep with me, I don’t want you to run away." He answered less summarily.

Only after a short moment I could understand what he wanted from me. He was still standing right in front of my feet and looking down at me.

"So I'm supposed to change here and now?" I asked with disbelief in my voice.

"Yes, you should." He persisted.

I suspected he wouldn't give in, so I told him to at least turn around. Then he innocently raised his hands to shoulder height and obeyed my request. When he let his hands fall again, I pushed my dirty dress off my body, which meant that I stood in front of him, completely bare for a moment. Fortunately, he was standing with his back turned to me. But even if not, I would probably have obeyed, because I didn't know whether I corresponded to the typical image of women and had never had unpleasant situations like this before. That's why I never had a reason to be ashamed of my body. But as I stood in front of him I realized how important it actually was to be able to see someone like that.

I quickly slipped into the fresh dress, which clung to my thin body and my delicate curves. It actually looked very pretty, but I could hardly judge it because I still had no taste for fashion.

"You can turn around." I wanted to point out, but my words got stuck in my throat when I noticed that he had already turned around.

I had focused on my dress the whole time and trusted it. Obviously this was a mistake.

-to be continued-

#changkyun #monsta x #monsta x i.m #monsta x au #royal au #vampire au #monsta x smut

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fluffy-bunbunny · 3 years ago

Note

What is the complete storyline? Is Valentino an abusive ass in this one 2? If so, why does Angel let him around Whitey? And why does Alastor treat him the way he does?

Part 1:

Valentino took Angel Dust and made him a star.

He surrounded Angel with his cigarette smoke and promised him all the riches of hell if he worked obediently for him, he just had to say "yes" to everything and be a very submissive boy.

Drugs ran through his blood. He couldn't live without inhaling that red smoke, Angel needed it in his life, if he didn't breathe it, became nervous, depressed and hysterical.

Being close to Valentino was the only thing that made him happy and he would endure any abuse for his dose of drugs.

Angel worked hard to earn a position as his right hand man and also a position in the heart of the Moth. His life was drugs, fame and money, Valentino adored Angel and was about to confess.

Angel was sickly in love, dependent, would have done anything to make him happy... But he made a mistake that would cost him everything.

Valentino lost a lot of money, territory and fame, because of a mission that Angel failed and Valentino swore by his life that Angel was going to give him back every dollar that he lost because of his mistake.

Angel Dust was overexploited to the point of fainting, consuming more drugs every day to stay on his feet and earn Valentino's forgiveness. He cursing himself every day, every second for having defrauded in this way the one he had "saved" him from poverty and had made him a recognized star.

The debt went on and on growing. As time went by, Valentino added disproportionate interests with which he kept Angel in misery. Their relationship was totally broken and Vox entered the game.

So many years passed. Still, Angel Dust thought there would come a point where Val would forgive him and they would have that beautiful dream relationship again, that idealized relationship, for which he cried every night.

Sales began to drop, Valentino proposed as a novelty to turn Angel into a woman and reach a new audience. Angel was terrified at the idea, but he would do anything... to please Valentino.

Many experiments later, it was possible, Angel Dust would now be a woman. She would shoot straight porn for a limited time and that would boost sales. Val was beaming, happy and that made Angel happy too.

Angel was still very sore from all the experiments they did on him... Although for Val there was nothing that some sex would not solve and Angel enjoyed the few times that Valentino was kind.

Angel Dust returned to the Happy Hotel, to recover and get used to her new body.

Alastor has always been an egocentric who only thinks about himselft, but seeing Angel in his new body caused him curiosity, and he approached to find out more; he unconsciously acted as a cordial and polite man, the feminine essence made him lower his guard. Angel in his new body made him more friendly, as he always was with women, a cordial and educated man.

A drink, a few caresses, one thing led to another. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just a one night stand.

Cap 2 The recordings were going very well, but Angel felt bad, dizzy, disgusted and somewhat weak. He went to the doctor and received the horrible news: an unwanted pregnancy.

Angel was very sure it was Valentino's, because he was the first to "taste" his new body.

They tried to abort him in a thousand ways, cause for them it was only a hindrance, but Angel's body was not resisting: weak, thin and sunk in drugs... And Valentino was not going to lose his source of income.

Although it did not seem like it, after the initial shock the idea didn't seem so bad. Valentino, in his egocentricity, wanted to leave offsprings and have a "Mini-Me", he wanted something of his own blood, something made by himself and the more time passed, the more he got excited about the idea.

Angel… He was happy to make Valentino happy and he dreamed of a family, a good family, not like the one he had in human life, a family with parents who would love his children.

This new beginning brought Val and Angel back together, who began to reconcile, fantasizing about a happy and powerful family.

Even so, Angel Dust didn't stop doing porn and only added the tag “pregnant”.

The expected day arrived, after a long wait a little white-haired male baby was born in hell. Angel returned to his masculine form immediately after that.

A soft fluff surrounding his neck… And deer ears decorated his head.

Valentino didn't take the news well at all, he felt betrayed and used, exploded in anger.

He had them both killed.

Angel Dust, using all of his strength, took off running towards the Happy Hotel, with Valentino shooting to kill and with Vox's dogs hot on his heels.

He barely managed to arrive, exhausted and broken, just in time to reach Alastor's arms and ask for asylum, who didn't understand anything, but would not let Valentino, least of all Vox, were to cause problems in his hotel.

Big was his surprise when he found out that this little boy was his son, someone with whom he never had a single connection, who only had a one night stand, came to bring him his little newborn.

After the chaos, Charlie took Angel and the little one in, while Alastor made sure to guard the place without letting Valentino carry out revenge on him.

days passed and Angel thought about killing his own son if it brought him Valentino's forgiveness, but he knew it, nothing could heal such a broken relationship.

On his side, Alastor avoided getting close to Angel and the little boy, not knowing how to react and how to take on his fatherly role, watching them from afar and stalking them around the hotel.

Alastor made it clear to the pimp and his square-faced lover that if anything happened to his son's 'mother', he would destroy them without thinking.

Knowing that they couldn't kill him, but Val and Vox came up with a good plan to keep making his life miserable.

Cap 3 Final.

Val demanded that Angel return to work as soon as he could, so he would continue to exploit him and make his life miserable, knowing that in the end he wasn't in a relationship with the red demon and a deal... It's a deal: all Angel belonged to Valentino by contract.

Alastor made it clear to the pimp that if anything happened to the spider, he would eat his body for dinner.

Little by little Alastor got closer to Angel (not in a romantic way) to get to know his little one better. After some debate, he ended up being named White: on one hand a name that sounded appropriate for Alastor and on the other hand, for being a nickname for cocaine (White dust, White powder, White rock). His little one "Whitey".

(Here I make a clarification, that there was never an agreement on the name in general and Whitey's first name is Alastor Jr)

Alastor Jr White.

... But White hates it and prefers to be called Whitey, Witty, Whitie, etc)

Angel didn't want to make Alastor uncomfortable, he didn't even trust him, as he felt that it would be easier for the Lord to eat Whitey than to bear an unwanted child with someone like him.

Somewhat overprotective and without wanting to get away from his baby, he preferred to take Whitey to work, leaving him in charge of other porn actresses while he worked. Whittie was still a months old baby and he wouldn't remember or know what was going on around him.

Thus, Whitey's childhood was spent in the arms of actresses and prostitutes. Angel just came out of filming, took a shower and ran to pick up his son.

Valentino avoided Angel because he felt that if he saw him he would destroy his face with rage, but he never imagined meeting the little one.

The girls huddled together to give affection to that small and tender being, they filled him with kisses with lipstick and hugged him with the smell of cheap cologne, remembering their children they had in life. He started to be a "everyone's son" in the studio.

The pimp was curious about the situation and went to see, running into the baby. He had angry feelings when he saw him, he had waited for him for so long, he had wanted him and he had even bought things for his arrival and now he was in front of him... But It wasn't his son, yet Val had loved him for so long that the feeling couldn't go away easily.

Valentino took him in his arms and felt something inside him, White smiled for him and wagged his tail happily.

When Angel Dust finished filming, he saw Valentino surrounded by the other actresses with his baby in his arms, laughing loudly and playing with him. His heart clenched at the thought that he could hurt him... but he didn't, he looked happy and Whitey too.

Despite the fright, Angel couldn't refuse to let Valentino approach Whitie, because he would get in trouble with the pimp, so he just stayed on the sidelines, making sure that the little one didn't enrage the madman who was his boss.

As a result, Angel, Val and Whitt began to spend time together, creating a false sense of 'happy family', one where Angel would see Valentino smile daily at this new 'toy' he gave birth to for him.

The one who was not happy was Vox, who had made a baby specifically for Valentino (Bytez), to fulfill his frustrated dream of being a father, but Valentino had cruelly rejected him after becoming fond with Whittie.

On his side, Alastor promised to give his son the best possible life.

He placed high expectations on him, relying on his ego in wanting to raise him as someone faultless, Alastor wanted him to be perfect, a worthy son of him, one that people admired and feared, a powerful being like him who could dominate the masses.

Whitey was still a baby but Alastor saw a lot of potential. Knowing that Angel was taking him to his work was not to his liking, much less knowing that his son was in the hands of someone like Valentino.

When he was barely old enough to learn, Whitey passed into the hands of Alastor, who gave him tutors and teachers, molding him from a young age with a strict regimen.

Alastor's high expectations destroyed his bond with Whitie, always demanding more of him, always demanding a perfection that he couldn't achieve. In his youth, he did't know how to shoot a weapon (and when he learned he had a horrible aim) he didn't hide his feelings behind a smile like him, he was explosive and affectionate, he had a hard time controlling his inner power. Spending father and son time was a headache for both of them: always fighting, always arguing, too different to get along.

Alastor saw his son as a disappointment and even as a danger, because he had to control that his bad temper didn't cause greater havoc, controlling the power in him.

Unlike Valentino, the pimp loved to see Whitey be destructive, be messy and boisterous, be dirty and annoying. He loved taking him to fast food and limousine rides, using him as a weapon for his enemies, watching him tear people apart and bathe his white skin in blood, watching him devour his victims like a wild animal.

Val gave him the acceptance and attention that Alastor denied him since he was a child, the paternal hugs, the words of encouragement, hearing him say "I'm proud of you", "you are the king" "you can achieve what you propose".

And so was his life, between the studio and the happy hotel. Loving Angel, hating Alastor and loving his “uncle / stepfather” Valentino.

#long text #hazbin hotel alastor #Hazbin hotel Valentino #Angel dust #Fluffy Deer #3vBot #Radiodust #Valangel #oc lore

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pars-ley · 4 years ago

Text

Our Little Secret

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Summary: A relaxing spa session ends up being much less therapeutic than you imagine but you get much more than you thought possible.

Genre: One shot / smut / masseuse au

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Swearing / Slight dirty talk / Slight exhibitionism / Detailed finger foreplay / Slight female cumplay / Soft dom Tae / Twist ending

Word Count: 3.3k

Notes: This was written for the ‘A Long Hot Summer’ project by @thebtswritersclub. The member I picked was Taehyung and the sense I chose was touch, seeing as his hands are such a kink for many people, I thought I’d feed you all. This is my first collab and I’m both nervous and excited for it. Enjoy!

Thank you to @ditttiii for beta reading, you’re a queen. And thank you to @kooksies-stories-and-tales for the amazing banner, you worked really hard to make sure I was happy, you always have my appreciation boo. Thank you @aroseforyoongi for helping with where to take this story and letting me talk your ear off about it.

As you sit in the waiting room with your legs crossed, casually flicking through the pages of a women’s fashion magazine, you can almost feel the tension rolling off of you in waves.

Your shoulders feel tight enough to snap, desperate for some attention and aching to be kneaded. You slowly roll your head around, stretching the muscles in your neck to try and give yourself some relief.

“Miss L/N? Taehyung is ready for you.” The receptionist announces, smiling much more than you would think possible. Her mouth stretched wide, her teeth like piano keys, straight and ivory white.

You toss the magazine back onto the coffee table and stand, grabbing your bag and following, as you dubbed, ‘Miss Smiley’ along the corridor. She shows you to the room, giving you her fake saccharinely, sweet smile once again and heads back off to the front desk.

You knock lightly and wait.

“Come in.” A deep voice drawls out.

You push open the door and head over to your new masseuse, whose back is to you as he meticulously rolls up a grey towel.

He turns as you approach. “Hello, Miss L/N, very nice to meet you. My name is Taehyung, I'm new here and I’ll be taking over for Cho.” He offers his hand to you. You take it mechanically, his grip firm but not overly so. You open your mouth to respond but can’t find any words forming for you to speak them, they get suffocated in your throat and swallowed down.

No, no, no. This isn’t going to work. I need my sweet, lovely Cho back or any other female masseuse on the premises. I cannot work with someone this...stunning. It was as though the angels themselves had carved every perfect, symmetrical line of his face.

The boxy smile he gives you; enough to melt your insides and turn your legs to jelly. His eyes, so warm and inviting, chocolate pools you can’t help but be captivated by them. You find yourself smiling in return but also becoming acutely aware of how much time is passing without you saying a word..

Come on, get it together.

You swallow your panic and get a grip on yourself. “Please, call me y/n.” Your voice sounds surprisingly even, making you relax a little.

“Sure, if that's what you prefer.” He nods, smiling, his expression a little strained and a little awkward. It’s only then, as you glance down, that you realise you still have his hand gripped in yours like a vice and are shaking it a bit too vigorously. His perfect, large hands are strong, with long slender fingers clasped around yours, encasing them in a caressing cage. Flawless.

“Sorry,” You laugh nervously and release him from your grasp, as you feel a slight warmth creep into your cheeks, staining your skin like pink roses in spring.

He smiles reassuringly. “First time with a male masseuse?”

You exhale with relief and laugh, mainly at yourself. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and make your way to the table? I’ll be back in a few moments.” He exits the room swiftly, leaving you with your racing heart and manic thoughts.

How can I get naked in front of a man like him and be comfortable? With those perfect hands about to glide across my skin like a ship across water. How can I possibly be comfortable with that kind of masochistic torture?

You shake your head, hoping the movement will clear your mind and shake loose your impure thoughts. You hang your jacket on a hook and sit down to remove your shoes.

Stripping your garments off one by one and laying them in a pre-placed basket until you’re left bare as the day you were born, you then climb onto the massage table. You lay on your back, placing the thin sheet over you up to your armpits and try to control your breathing as you look up towards the ceiling.

You focus on the relaxing sounds you can hear playing out of the speakers, akin to wind chimes, a sound that you have always loved. Reminiscent of your childhood, of sweltering summer days sitting on the porch or playing out in the front yard. Your mother bringing out homemade lemonade, to cool you and your sister down, the sour, sweet taste setting flavour fireworks off on your tongue and making your cheeks pucker at the sharpness. The wind chimes a constant in the background.

A quiet knock on the door snaps you out of your calming thoughts and your whole body goes rigid as you call, “Come in.”

You hear him enter and listen as his quiet footsteps grow closer to you, your eyes still trained on the smooth, light ceiling, stretching out above you.

Feeling his warm hands on your shoulders and seeing his upside down face come into view, your body stiffens further under his touch. “Try to relax.” He smiles sweetly at you.

Your chest trembles from the thrum of your pounding heart.

I wonder if he can see it too?

“I’m going to start at your feet and work my way up. Just close your eyes and take slow, deep breaths for me.” He speaks slowly, something about his calm, rich voice and the soulful tone makes you feel like you’re melting from the inside out. This is going to be one interesting massage.

As you close your eyes and focus on your breathing, you hear him move down the other end of the table. You hear the sound of oil slick in his hands but still jolt slightly at his touch on your foot.

He starts off slow and gentle, the pressure perfect, just enough to soothe your aching muscles which today were extra tender. The feel of his soft hands gently caressing you sends shivers through you, a ripple of goose pimples cascades across your skin.

The feel of his long fingers, twining around your ankles has your core throbbing. Imagining...him holding me by them while he pushes himself deeper...No, I need to stop that.

You squeeze your thighs together slightly, just to provide you some relief to the pulsating that is increasing between your legs.

“Relax.” He whispers.

His strong grip, travelling further up your leg and gliding firmly along your thigh, your bare crotch feels exposed even with the cover, as your arousal blossoms with each punishing movement like the flowering buds at the start of springtime. When he almost reaches your centre, his fingers mere millimetres from grazing your folds, you have to bite your lip to hold in a whimper.

God, I can’t take much more of this.

The massage continues on, tortuously slow, and time seems to stand still.

The worst part is, when he moves onto your top half, feeling his soft fingertips graze along the swell of your breasts. Your heart seems to stop in your chest before it starts violently knocking against your ribs, the throbbing in your core vibrating to the same swift rhythm.

You meet his eyes at that point but wish you hadn’t, when he gives you an upside down smile that only pulls up one side of his mouth in the sexiest way, even from this angle.

You are relieved when you can finally turn onto your stomach, not being able to see his face definitely helped. The torture begins again as he starts at your feet and works his way up your body with his gruelling pace.

Your hands grip the towel by your head for so long your fingers ache, transforming into stiff claws, but the ache in your core is incomparable and desperate to be sated with his touch.

His fingers are like magic, his touch so soft and caring, that even through your anxiety you can feel your muscles are lighter and less painful than before.

When his fingers smooth along the skin on the back of your thighs and his fingertips skim your folds. You freeze.

That had to be an accident, surely he didn’t mean to go that close.

You wait with baited breath as his hands climb slowly back up your legs, but what you're expecting, doesn’t happen. You hate to admit the tinge of disappointment you feel as your body relaxes slightly and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

The frustration you feel is immense, you’ve never been this turned on by someone before, and you have to refrain from grinding your painful crotch against the massage table.

His thumb slides silkily up the inside of your leg and a shiver runs up your spine as his fingers lightly slither their way along your moist entrance. Your eyes trained at the tiles on the floor, as arousal makes you quiver under his touch.

He must be doing that on purpose!

You discreetly open your legs wider, giving him access, if that was what he was searching for.

His oiled hands find their way under the sheet and caress your buttocks, softly kneading your cheeks, before finding their way back down to your throbbing crotch.

He skates a finger over your entryway and you have to bite your lip to hold the moan you feel rising.

You want to angle your bottom up in the air so he can see and touch every part of you but you resist and stay flat and unmoving as a slab of concrete.

Your heart pounds violently in your chest, from fear and thrill both. This is so wrong, this shouldn’t be happening and you definitely shouldn’t be encouraging it but it feels so good, that you can’t stop yourself.

He slides a finger in between your swollen folds until he finds your clit, where he delicately traces circles with his oiled fingertips.

You let out a moan and his mouth is instantly by your ear, breath tickling your skin. “You’re going to need to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

You bite your lip and nod.

“Good, now turn over.” He whispers.

You do as he says, feeling somewhat bashful that he can now see your face.

He flips the sheet off, exposing you completely, a fresh shudder flows through you, and as he does he pulls his full bottom lip in between his set of perfect teeth.

“You are beautiful.” He says, as his eyes roam over your body and most intimate areas. A harsh blush spreads from your chest to your cheeks and the urge to cover yourself is almost overwhelming but he doesn’t give you the chance. His hands are on you, spreading your legs open and pushing your knees down onto the bed. You are wide open, receiving him like he’s returning home from a long trip, welcome mat positioned and ready. So eager and trusting to this stranger you hardly know.

He slips a finger inside you making you gasp, and you clutch your hand over your mouth to stop any more noise from escaping.

“You’re so wet. I could see it pooling out of you. Such a dirty girl.” He leans down to whisper.

His thumb finds your swollen bud, while he slides a second finger in your heated core. Pleasure shoots through you like a bullet, making your body jolt in response. You throw your arm over your face and bite the skin to stop a sinful moan from echoing through the room.

“You were praying I'd touch you, weren’t you?”

You nod eagerly, unable to open your mouth for fear of screaming his name. You can feel the build up already there, your insides coiled and ready to spring. He hooks his fingers inside of you, and slowly beckons repeatedly over the sensitive spot that makes your toes curl.

You feel yourself clench around his enchanted digits as your core melts and grows even hotter at his skilful movements.

“That’s it, good girl, cum for me.” He whispers, deep and sinful into your ear, his breath caressing your neck, sending delicious shivers down your body. His command is all you need to heighten the intense, throbbing build up of your orgasm and is enough to cause your body to unravel wildly around him.

White light consumes your vision as your legs jolt and your back arches off the table, sucking his fingers into you even more as he pushes them inside to help ride out your spasming climax. Pleasure vibrates through you with each contraction, descending over you like waves, capturing you and pulling you under.

He clamps a hand over your mouth to stop the unholy sounds leaving your body but his action makes your eyes roll into your head from the sheer dominance of it.

As your core stills and your body relaxes, he gently withdraws his slick covered fingers. He admires them, glistening under the light.

“I wonder what you taste like,” He says, as he brings them up to his lips; licking and sucking your cum clean.

Heat returns to your stomach fast and hard. You were still heavily panting but your body is already eager for more.

His eyes roll and he lets out a satisfied moan as he tastes you and licks his lips, as if he just devoured a delectable three course meal. When he catches you clenching your thighs together, his mouth stretches into a devilish grin enticing you into the pits of hell through the gates of pleasure.

“Y/n wants more, already?” He raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Ummm.” Is all you can coherently reply with your dry throat and breathless lungs.

“You are a dirty girl.” He moves down to the end of the bed, stalking you like prey. He grabs your ankles and slides you down to him. He then pushes your legs apart, his face serious, and eyes hungry.

He dips his head lower, his mouth heading straight for your soaking folds. Your breathing spikes from the anticipation of how his full lips and boxy mouth will feel against your greedy cunt. He continues lower at a torturous pace, your eyes fixed on him, his beauty, his allure. Everything about him draws you in, entices you, overwhelms you with his charm and for a moment you wonder if this is how Eve felt before she took a bite of the forbidden apple.

Your core throbs violently with need, waiting to rejoice in his oral pleasure but suddenly his head withdraws and he straightens up at the end of the bench.

“Our time is up for today, y/n. But if you’d like we can continue this another day.” He says, back to his professional tone, as if he wasn’t just about to eat your needy slit like his last meal.

Your mouth pops open at him.

How can he do that to me? How can he be such a tease?

You sit up and close your legs. “Are you kidding?”

He smirks at you. “I’m afraid not.” He leans in closer. “If you’re a good girl and be nice, then I’ll book you in and I’ll take extra good care of you.” He winks. “It can be our little secret.”

You bite your lip and sigh. Fine, I’ll play along.

It’s only then you notice his erection creating a tent in his trousers and you moan, sliding forward on the bed so you’re almost crotch to crotch with him.

“Are you sure you can’t fit me in now? Or fit in me, should I say?” You flutter your lashes up at him as you smile coyly.

He bites his lip, clearly torn. “I would actually love nothing more than to fuck your tight, needy pussy here on this table but I do have another client.” He gives you an apologetic smile. “What about when I get off work?” He asks, hopeful, almost as desperate as you feel.

Your mind goes back to him torturing you with the promise for more and as hungry as you were for him, you didn’t want the fantasy of what happened here to be over, just yet.

“I can’t tonight I’m afraid. It’s ok, I can wait for our next appointment. Next week, good for you?”

His expression pained as he squeezes your thighs. “Ok, I deserve that. Next week it is.” He takes your hand and brings the back of your fingers up to his lips, where he places a warm, chaste kiss against them. When his lips part, the area feels cold.

He adjusts his trousers and tunic before nodding at you and leaving the room.

You jump down off of the table, your limbs wobbling underneath you, and your entire body feeling drained.

Slowly, you get dressed in a haze of satisfaction mixed with frustration, a unique combination to you, as you gather your bits and leave the room. On your way back to the reception desk, you feel lighter than air, a slight spring in your step as though you were bouncing along a fluffy cloud.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the scary, smiley receptionist.

How can one person smile this consistently, it’s the work of sociopaths?

Taehyung stands waiting at the desk, beaming his perfect set of teeth your way in the shape of his boxy grin.

“Thank you, for trusting me today.” He says, sweetly holding a hand out for you to shake again and giving you a knowing smile, a twinkle in his eyes keeping your secret safe.

You oblige and can’t help admire his flawless hands again.

God, there wasn’t a blemish in sight. “No, thank you. You definitely have magic hands.” You say without thinking. You are shocked to see his cheeks turn pink and you revel in the sudden change of power between the two of you.

“Thank you, well, I,” He coughs and glances around the waiting room. “I hope to see you again soon, y/n.” He says. You give a nod and another polite smile as he heads quickly off to his therapy room again.

You book your following appointment and tap your card on the payment machine, giving an awkward wave as you push through the heavy doors.

You’re surprised at yourself, the turn of today’s events hadn’t made you feel shameful or embarrassed like perhaps you should.

I just paid to cum, I paid for a sexual service, something I never thought I’d do. Ever.

You shrug it off, after what transpired in that room, there isn’t a doubt in your mind that it was one hundred percent worth it and the promise of more to come was even more thrilling.

After your journey home, a buzz you’ve not felt for a while, clouds your mind and pulls you into constant daydreams. You take a shower to wash the oil and arousal off you, hoping it will help clear the fog in your head.

As you walk into the living room, in nothing but your towel, and take a seat on the sofa preparing to veg out to some crappy T.V., the sound of the door clicking open interrupts your thoughts.

“Hey baby, how was your day?” You ask, rapidly flicking through the channels in search of something mindless.

Fast footsteps close the distance between you, as your husband's frustrated face rounds your view. He slams onto his knees and rips the towel off of your skin, the cooler air hits you making your nipples pucker instantly.

“Don’t ‘hey baby’ me.” He snaps. “I had to work the rest of my shift with an erection and thinking about the taste of your pussy juice.”

You smile seductively at him. “Tae, you have to admit, it was worth it though.” You stroke your fingers through his hair, fresh arousal blooming at the delectable sight of him between your legs for the second time today.

“Hey, that was your fantasy, not mine, you know I’ll fuck you anywhere I can, my new workplace clearly being one of them.” He pushes your legs apart and stares in wonder at your delicate center, as if it holds all life’s answers. “Now, shut up, so I can eat this pussy till you scream.”

A/n: Feedback would be appreciated!

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kairos-polaris · 4 years ago

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Miraculous Ladybug. Ah, the show that can't deliver its promises, teaches the female mc wrong lessons, is so sexist and racist it hurts and still calls itself "woke" and says they promote "girls power". I was so angry I wrote it at 1 am with little to no light to see what I was writing.

Mlb has a lot of problems. I won't be talking about the plot because it will be too long.

So here we are!

✓ Who is the main villain? Is it Chloé/Lila or Hawkmoth? The grownup man who chose to terrorise Paris and abuse people in their most vulnerable times? Or two teenagers who need a more strict discipline and help from adults, not their peers? Both Chloé and Lila made mistakes but they're kids who can change. I don't want to say they don't have to be punished for their actions, they do. You can't change a person if they don't want to and making them face consequences of their actions is an important part of growing up. If Mlb writers really cared about teaching their viewers that people can change, they will start a redemption arc for Chloé after Antibug and after Volpina for Lila. But, apparently, they decided that letting kids change their behaviour and grow up to be a better person is boring, right?

✓ Gabriel Agreste. Abuser, control freak, magical terrorist. And yet some people believe he deserves to win. He's not only a bad person but a bad villain too! Most of his actions have no sense and work only because the writers said so. Why did he think that creating a supervillain is a good way to lure out a superhero? They could be in different country/city. Both Miraculouses could be hidden in someone's attic! Plus from New York special we know that other heroes exist. How could he be so sure they wouldn't be the one to fight his champions?

And why did he akumatize himself? He had no way of knowing that Ladybug saw his book. He saw Adrien take the book. All he had to do is to say something like this: "It's a very important book Adrien. Your mother found it years ago in her attic. This book was a great inspiration for me". His akumatization was too convenient for the plot.

✓A lot of people blame Marinette for causing so much akumas. Are you okay people? Hawkmoth is the one who creates akumas. What a surprise! No one other than him can do that. Repeat after me: upsetting someone doesn't equal to using their feelings for your own gain. Chloé deliberately humiliated or angered someone and it still doesn't count as causing an akumatization because it wasn't her goal. I don't mean to say it wasn't wrong but she didn't send an akuma. She is a spoiled rich brat who doesn't care about the consequences of her actions. Lila came close to actually causing akumas but it's still Hawkmoth who sends out butterflies and uses completely natural and normal feelings and emotions against everyone. Please, don't shift his blame on teenagers.

✓ Sexism is everywhere. From civilian interactions to heroes' costume designs. So here's a list of problems I've remembered at 1 am:

Writers show Lila or Chloé trying to kiss Adrien or invading his private space in a bad light. How dare they harass him? And then we have Chat Noir act the same towards Ladybug! And unlike Adrien Marinette actually says "no, I don't like you. Don't touch me like that". Adrien knows that he makes her uncomfortable but he doesn't care. "She loves him but can't accept it" isn't a good reason to continue harassing her. No means no. Not "continue asking me" or "I'm playing hard to get". Disgusting.

Only rivals Marinete has (excluding Hawkmoth because he's Ladybug's rival) are her love rivals. Lila, Kagami, Chloé. Why can't we have a character who rivals Marinete in her passion: designing? It's not "girls power" to have girls in question fight over one rich white sad boy.

The whole Gamer episode. Marinette won fair and square. She deserved to take part in the tournament. Was it okay for Max to be upset? Yes, he spent a lot of time training. Was it okay for him to be angry at Marinette? No, it's not her fault she was better than him. Some may say that she entered because of Adrien (another issue I will mention later) but it doesn't make her less skilled.

Every girl who has a crush is shown obsessive. Marinette, Chloé, Lila, Kagami - Adrien, Rose - Prince Ali, Ondine - Kim. We weren't shown Alya having a crush on Nino but I'm sure she would be just as obsessive because writers can't believe girls can have crushes and not be obsessed with them. I would also like to mention that having two characters of colour with no previous chemistry is kinda racist.(I could have just missed it because I'm not good at noticing flirting. If you noticed Alya and Nino flirting before Animan I would edit this part). They also don't talk a lot if it's not about Adrinette. Their purpose is to push main characters to each other. That's it.

Boys are really nice to their crushes even when akumatized. Both Silencer and Evillustrator were gentlemen. Nathaniel literally took Marinette on a date! Exceptions are Adrien and Felix. Adrien is just perfect (not my words) and Felix is Adrien's evil twin. He was used to: a)show how great Adrien is; b) say "Ladybug would punch Chat if she were truly uncomfortable"; c) to make fans hate him because they prefer PV Felix and Astruc hates him. Do you know why point b is the most harmful? Because it enforces the stereotype that women are always willing and consenting and they have to go to ridiculous lengths to take that consent back.

Suits. Every girl has a skintight suit with little to no details. And did you see how skinny Rena Rouge is compared to Lady WiFi? Or how Ladybug's suit has only one colour? The show doesn't even try to make clothes look more fashionable. They have three (!) designers, two models and Chloé is the Style Queen's daughter. They didn't even try!

✓ Making fun of Marinette's anxiety so often. It's offensive to people who have the same problem.

✓ Master Fu. He's an awful person who pushed his responsibility on children without explaining anything. There was no point in hiding his identity. What if they were akumatized? Well, Paris would be doomed anyway. No Ladybug to purify akuma, no cure. And we saw how dangerous akumatized Chat was in Chat Blanc.

Do you know what would happen if he revealed his identity in the beginning? There would be no Stoneheart 2.0, Marinette and Adrien would have a better understanding of their powers, a support system, a reason to get away to transform.

✓ Chat Noir and Ladybug not knowing who the other is. I've already explained why the akumatization excuse doesn't work. How can you trust a person you don't know? They would be able to support each other in their civilian lives. But they wanted a love square and that's why revealing won't happen in a looooong time.

✓ Sexualisation of minors. Have you seen Mister Bug? Or Lady Noire? They are 14/15! It's gross and disgusting to lust after teenagers. And what about numerous shots of Ladybug's backside? Or how thin Marinette is?

✓ Teaching wrong lessons. First they bash Marinette for not trusting Chloé and then they bash Marinette for trusting Chloé with the bee. How dare Marinette not have fun while fighting her friends? And then several minutes later: How dare she have fun while fighting her friends? Or how she was basically told her feelings don't matter by Madame Bustier in Zombizou. And blaming her for everything bad that happens in the show.

✓ Marinette's whole character revolves around Adrien. It's most obvious in the future special about China. She will go there not to learn about her heritage and her mother's culture but to be with Adrien. Almost everything she does as a civilian is about Adrien. They don't let her move on even when it's hurting her. Wouldn't it be much better if she tried to grow as a person, spend more time on her hobby. Maybe find Hawkmoth?

✓ Another issue is that they don't even try to find Hawkmoth. They treat only symptoms and one day it won't be enough. We had one episode where they were close to finding him. But Gabriel was akumatized so no lead again. Very convenient for the plot.

Why does Mlb have such a big fan base? Why is it so popular? So much wasted potential it physically hurts. But the most important question is why do I spend so much time and energy on this show? Please, send help. I can't continue doing this.

#mlb #mlb writers are sexist #mlb salt #adrien salt #lila and chloe deserve better #lila and chloe are teenagers #they're not evil #mlb characters deserve better #gabriel agreste salt #gabriel agreste is an awful person #marinette deserves better #make characters face consequences of their actions #marinette isn't the only one who makes mistakes #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #sexualization

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candy-and-writing · 4 years ago

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My Resolutions

Synopsis: You and Steve have a strained relationship. He takes it upon himself to fix that

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, slight Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Dark! Steve Rogers, NON-CON, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), slight breeding kink if you squint

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Tony Stark's New Year's party was extravagant. Men in expensive suits and black ties, women wearing elegant party gowns and jewelry with more diamonds than a Tiffany's store. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, the lights soft and bright, matching the ambiance of the orchestra. Long, white-clothed tables lined the walls, covered in overpriced shrimp and finger foods, a large chocolate fountain that stood entirely too high next to various fruits and other snacks. Servers walked around the ballroom carrying trays of champagne and little plates of desserts, though most guests already held a cocktail or glass from the bar.

You stood next to Natasha as she conversed with Clint and Wanda, something about Budapest? You were too busy gawking at the lavish scene around you. The Avengers cleaned up nice, the boys wearing expensive tuxes and black bow ties while Natasha, you, and Wanda had gone dress shopping. Nat looked stunning in her long black dress, thin straps that crossed along her back and her short red hair pinned to the side. Wanda wore a dark red dress that had a high neckline and sleeves that passed her elbows, styling her hair in a messily beautiful high ponytail and dark makeup.

You wore a silky sapphire blue gown, the neckline low and cut to show much more cleavage than you were comfortable with, the thin straps were the only thing to cover your back. The skirt of your gown was loose and flowy around your legs, stopping at your toes. Your hair was curled down around your shoulders, dangling earrings tickling your jawline. Your makeup was simple, eyeliner and some fake eyelashes Natasha helped you out with and some red lipstick. To your surprise, it contrasted beautifully with your dress.

You left Natasha to navigate your way through the crowd, wanting to reach the bar. Once there, you ordered a cocktail and sat down, sighing. You picked at your painted fingernails, twisting a ring around your finger.

"Hey, doll."

You looked up to find Bucky leaning against the bar, smiling at you. You smiled back. The bartender handed you your drink, you thanked him before taking a hefty sip.

"Hey."

"Having fun?"

You shrugged, stirring your straw in your drink. "Parties make me anxious, there's always too much that could happen when nothing ever does. All these strangers—does Tony even know all these people?"

Bucky sat beside you, sighing like your dad does when he goes to sit down and watch the football game. "Sounds fair, given what we do for a living. You have a right to be paranoid."

"I'm not paranoid," you glared. "I'm being cautious."

Bucky chuckled, ordering a double whiskey before looking back at you. "You wanna join Steve and I? Get your mind off things?"

You sighed, playing with your straw for a moment before nodding. "Yeah."

He guided you to the middle of the room, dodging past people until he found Steve and Sam. Sam greeted you with a nod and a smile, looking you up and down quickly before he met your eyes. Steve gave you a tense nod, quickly continuing his conversation with Sam. You scoffed before taking a drink, feeling stupid for thinking Steve would greet you at all. He's had such a stick up his ass the last few months, barely acknowledging you and only talking to you when he had to, but he was more than happy to ignore you. You've caught him glaring at you from the other side of the room multiple times, like your presence itself just annoyed him. You had no idea what you did to piss the supersoldier off, but you've learned to just stay out of his way.

Although you would admit, with his long hair, short beard, and his tight tux, he looked ruggedly handsome. He was a stark contrast to the man he once was when you first joined. He would at least talk to you then.

You shook your head, taking a sip of your cocktail. You had no idea why it bothered you so much—he didn't like you and you didn't like him, you just couldn't understand why. He was nice, kind to everyone else, to complete strangers, so why did he look at you like you were a bug he squashed on his shoe? And it wasn't like you actually hated him, despite your nonexisting conversations and the spiteful glares, you were quite fond of the super-soldier.

One cocktail turned into two, then three, then two more glasses of champagne when you spotted a server walking near you. Bucky was too busy conversing with Steve and Sam about his days back in the 107th to notice your tipsy daze, laughing as Sam made a snarky remark about his old age.

It was well past midnight now, the guests from the party had slowly disappeared, leaving the Avengers to finish off the eggnog and bacon-wrapped shrimp. You sat on the edge of the couch next to Wanda, nursing your third—was it your third? Or was it your fourth? No, no, definitely your third—cocktail Natasha had made you. Across from you sat Steve and Bucky; Bucky had taken his jacket off while Steve left his on, instead unknotting his bow tie. At first glance, you'd expect Bucky to be the one giving you the cold shoulder, not America's Golden Boy. But Bucky was probably your closest friend. You grumbled, taking another drink.

"Alright, let's go around the room!" Tony clapped and rubbed his hands together before pointing at Bruce. "Banner! New Year's Resolution, go!"

Bruce mumbled for a moment before sighing, saying something about finishing his big project with Dr. Cho. Clint went next, saying he wanted to be there when his daughter graduated middle school. Natasha wanted to do some volunteer work, maybe get a cat, something she could take care of.

"Cap, you're up!"

Steve sighed, holding his beer down at his lap. "Uh—"

"To get laid," Sam interjected, snickering. Bucky laughed as Steve's eyes widened.

"Seriously?" you nearly choked on your drink. "I can't believe that's one of your new year's resolutions."

Steve cleared his throat. "It's not." He gave you a dangerous glare, which you failed to see on account of you finishing off your cocktail. "I was going to say—before I was interrupted—I want to make the world a better place, this time next year I want it to be better."

You shrugged, reaching for a bottle of champagne. "Eh, whatever you say, Captain."

"What about you?" he asked, all but snarling. "What's your resolution?"

You poured yourself a glass from the bottle of some fancy Krug Blanc de Blanc champagne, it was crisp and rich and the bubbles tickled down your throat. "Don't got one," you said plainly. "I think they're dumb."

Tony 'boo'd. You stuck your tongue out at him.

"Aw, come on," Clint groaned. "Think of one thing you want to do this year."

You sighed. "Fine. I. . . I guess I don't want to die?"

"There ya go! That's the spirit!"

You chuckled, shaking your head as you sip your drink. Wanda went next—said she wanted to do something to help Sokovia since they're still rebuilding the city. Bucky said he just wanted to live his life with his friends. Corny bastard.

An hour passed, maybe more, before you started to get cold. The cool air danced along your bare back and down your spine. F.R.I.D.A.Y had started playing Christmas music and Natasha dragged you up. You protested, begging her to let you go. She had your hands in hers, swaying you back and forth until you were begrudgingly moving on your own until your hips were moving on your own accord.

Then you fell. Tripped over your dress.

Bucky stood up, rushing over to you as Natasha tried to give you her hand but you waved them off. "I'm fine, jeez, back off."

"Maybe you should lay off the drinks," Nat said.

"Yeah, how many have you had?" Bucky frowned at you.

"What are you, my mom?" you growled, reluctantly taking Bucky's hand as he pulled you up a little too fast. You clutched onto him, dizzy as you struggled to steady yourself. Suddenly, there was another pair of hands on you, rough as they held you tightly.

"I'll take care of her," Steve's voice said.

"Steve—" Bucky was interrupted.

"I said I got her." He pulled you out of Bucky's grasp, dragging you out of the room.

"Go easy on her, Cap," you heard Tony say softly, "you know this time of year is hard for her."

That made both you and Steve scowl. It is not, you thought as Steve pulled you along, your small feet struggling to keep up with his fast steps. Your head spun, dizzy as Steve stopped at a door. He shoved you in, wobbling and stumbling over your heels. You turned to him, about to tell him to watch it when you stopped. His expression was stone cold, almost feral. He stalked up to you as you shuffled back, circling until you bumped up against a table. Surprised, you looked behind you, running your hand along the dark mahogany. That wasn't your table. Looking around your surroundings, you saw that you weren't in your room at all.

"Steve," you say, your voice shaky. "Where are we?"

His snarl turned into a cold grin and he chuckled at your stupidity. "Are you that drunk or are you just that stupid?" he belittled. "Take a good guess."

You knew where you were, and his snarky remark had you biting your tongue you hold in your dry sarcasm. You rolled your eyes and tried to push past him, but he shoved you back until you hit your head, laying over the table.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," he growled, hand pressing down on your chest.

"Ow! What the fuck, Steve!"

"You wanna know what my new year's resolution really is?" Steve had pushed himself up against you, noses close to touching. You could smell the beer he had on his breath.

"Steve, seriously, this isn't funny—"

"It's you."

He forced himself in between your thighs, your dress riding up to your knees as you kicked your feet out, flailing as Steve pushed against you, pinning your wrists on either side of your head.

"Steve, stop," you begged. "Please, you're scaring me."

"Good," he huffed. "You should be, maybe it'll sober you up."

"Steve—"

"Shut up!" You flinched, turning your head away from his. "God, I am so sick of you and your little games. Playing innocent when you're walking around in your skin-tight uniform, flirting with Bucky, ignoring me. You brought this on yourself, sweetheart."

You're the one ignoring me, you jackass.

"Steve, I—" you took a deep breath, trying to play your cards right. "I never meant to make you think—"

"I don't care," Steve sneered. He let go of your wrists, his hands rubbing up along your thighs. You pushed against his chest, trying to get him off you, but he brought his hand back and slapped you across the cheek, looking at you like you were an annoying fly. You cried out, head snapping to the side as Steve pinched your inner thigh. He pushed your dress up over your hips, your black lacy thong on full display.

"Jesus," Steve breathed. "You wore this out in public? You're lucky some other man didn't try to fuck you earlier."

"Steve!" you cried, frightened. Your heart was pounding in your ears so fast you thought you were going to pass out. One of his hands went to your throat, squeezing just enough to make it hard to breathe.

"I said, 'shut up.' God, you really need a lesson in obedience."

With that, he roughly grabbed the hem of your underwear and pulled, tearing the garment in two so hard it left burn marks on your waist. You let out a strained cry, squeezing your eyes shut as tears slipped past your lashes. Your head spun in a drunken daze as Steve licked his fingers before he rubbed against your clit, causing you to jolt. You let out a strained, garbled 'no'. Steve only gripped your throat tighter.

"It's alright, sweetheart," Steve cooed, his voice suddenly softer, "I can make it feel good for you. Just relax."

You clawed at the hand wrapped around your throat, trying to tear him away, mouthing voiceless pleas.

Stop.

Please.

Steve.

"Just relax, sweetheart, it'll feel good. I promise." He continued to rub circles over your clit, softly and then harder at random intervals. You mewled, squirming in his grasp, your back arching as he dipped his finger into your channel, spreading your juices around. His now slick finger stroking your sensitive bud as you let out a strangled moan. "That's it, doll, just let yourself feel it."

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a conquering and controlling kiss, tongue delving into your mouth. You were helpless as his lips moved to your jaw, inserting a second finger into you. You gasped as Steve started pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, finger fucking you until you were a whimpering mess.

"It feel good, doll?" Steve asked, lips dangerously close to yours. The pads of his fingers brushed against a certain spot inside you and you cried out, hips jolting. "You like that?"

You felt the stretch as Steve forced a third finger into you, your legs numb and heavy. Your head spun, and you thought for sure you were going to puke as he sped up, the coil in your lower belly tightening as his lips latch onto your clit. You gasped, a scream getting stuck in your lungs as he sucked on your clit in the most beautiful way.

"St—stop. . . Steve, St—Steve, please—"

A few more licks was all it took before the coil in your stomach snapped. You let out a coarse scream, the breath getting sucked out of your lungs. Your thighs shook as your back arched painfully, your pussy convulsing against Steve's fingers until you collapsed, lax on the table under Steve.

"Jesus, sweetheart." Steve pulled his fingers from your channel, causing you to whimper. "That was beautiful. You're so fucking beautiful."

His words barely reached your ears, sounding muddled and far away like you were under water. There was a loud pounding, your heartbeat ringing in your ears, strumming through your body. You didn't realize Steve had unzipped his dress pants, shuffling them down past his knees, stroking himself slowly. He let out a soft sigh, lining himself up between your legs.

Your eyes widened. "Wait—Steve, don't—!" Steve used his hand to cover your mouth, silencing you.

"It's alright, sweetheart," Steve cooed, "just relax. I'll make it feel good."

He pushed into you slowly, his thick cock stretching your walls. You screamed into his hand, legs clenching in an attempt to stop him.

"I said 'relax', doll. This is happening, just accept it, it'll feel so much better."

You closed your eyes, willing your muscles to unwind as Steve thrust into you, groaning.

"Fuck, you're tight," he growled. "I know you're not a virgin, you fucked Bucky just last week."

Your eyes flew open wide at the candor remark. You mumbled something incoherent to him against his hand, which he chuckled at.

"Oh, please, you honestly think I'm that clueless?" Steve scoffed. "The missions you two are always taking together, the incessant flirting, the sneaking around like you're a bunch of teenagers. No, I knew, and—frankly—I'm a little offended. I had to find out from Natasha?" He punctuated her name with a sharp thrust of his hips. "You must have one hell of a spell on him that he didn't come running to me after it happened. . . . How did it happen? I'm curious."

He moved his hand away from your mouth, when you didn't answer immediately he snapped his hips up into you.

"Steve—"

"Tell me," he said, pulling out slowly, just to the tip, then pushing back in inch by inch.

"Okay!" you screeched, "Okay! We—we were in Germany, a couple months back, for the human trafficking intel S.H.I.E.L.D had. The mission was a bust, they knew we were coming, they killed all the girls. One of them—ngh—she wasn't even old enough to start her period yet. Bucky took it really hard—"

"I don't care," Steve growled, bucking his hips. "Get to it.”

"He drank himself to sleep that night," you whimpered. "I had to wake him up a few hours later because he was screaming. When—when he calmed down, I tried to talk to him, but he kissed me. I—I told him we shouldn't—"

"Because you didn't want to or because he was upset—oh, fuck."

"I—" you preened. "I didn't want to do anything he would regret, when he told me there wouldn't be anything to regret, I just went with it."

"You let him fuck you," Steve corrected.

"Yeah," you forced out, even though that wasn't the truth. It had been more than that. It wasn't just a quick fuck, it was something both of you needed to get past that. You needed to forget and Bucky needed reassurance. You had let him take control that night, something he needed, while you laid back and let him be the one in control over you. You trusted him completely, and that man had pulled more orgasms from you than anyone ever could.

"Do you know why that is?" Steve whispered, his voice low. His hips kept their slow pace, his dick ever so slowly sliding in and out of your cunt. When you shook your head, he gave you a devilish smile. "It's because you're a slut. And he thought you were easy."

Steve pushed your legs up to your chest, effectively bending you in half as he fucked into you faster, his balls slapping against your skin as you screamed, hands clawing at the table below you. His cock was driving into you deeply, hitting a spot inside you that had you seeing stars. He was longer than Bucky, albeit Bucky was thicker. You bit back a moan, refusing to give Steve that kind of satisfaction.

Steve clicked his tongue. "Come on, doll, don't be like that." His hand dipped down to where your body's were conjoined, his fingers rubbing softly against your clit.

"Fuck!" you gasped, your back arching. You let out a string of moans, whining as his hand stayed stuck to your clit.

"I need you to come for me, baby, one more time. Can you do that?" His hot breath grazed against your ear. "Fuck—come on my cock, sweetheart."

You bucked your hips wildly, trying to shake him off you, the sensation all too familiar yet unwelcome. "Steve—stop, please, I can't—"

"You can, sweetheart, I know you can. Just a little bit more." He rubbed small, fast circles against your clit until you came with a scream, Steve clamping his hand over your mouth as he came, silencing your overstimulated cries.

He thrust deep into you, spilling his seed in your pussy. He groaned, held himself still for a moment, then pulled out. You whimpered, feeling his cock leave your abused channel, cum flowing freely from your cunt. Steve's cum. You never thought you could feel so disgusted.

Steve looked at where the cum was seeping out of you, scooping it up and pushing it back in with to fingers. You gasped, trying to squirm away from Steve's fingers.

"You're going to stop fucking Bucky," Steve ordered, his voice low. "Things are going to be strictly professional between you two from now on, Understand?"

Your eyes widened. You couldn't do that Bucky, he didn't deserve to be kicked to the curb like that.

"I said, 'do you understand?'"

The sharpness in his voice had you nodding, suddenly feeling like a kid trapped with the monster from under the bed.

Steve smiled. "Good."

He released your face, and you took that as your cue to get up. When you propped yourself up on your elbows, Steve pushed you back down. You gave him a quizzical look, he gave you a dark grin on return.

"You didn't think we were done, did you, sweetheart?"

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns fic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #ransom drysdale x reader #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey imagine #andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #steve rogers x original female character

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duskholland · 4 years ago

Text

As You Are | Mob!Tom Holland

summary ↠ who could’ve known showing up to work late one night would put you in touch with a mysterious stranger, capable of turning your life upside down?

word count ↠ 6.8k

warnings ↠ mature themes, drinking, cursing, gambling + mentions of violence

a/n ↠ I don’t know how this ended up being so long honestly. I had a blast writing it and I really hope that people read it lol. anyway! this is part of my mob!Tom series -- a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. you don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense.

mob!Tom masterlist | general masterlist

You’re late. Fuck, you’re running so late.

Your tight, shiny stilettos rub the corners of your toes uncomfortably as you hurry off the bus, ignoring the stares of the passengers. You push your handbag further up your arm and start to run precariously down the cobbled London streets, your heart pounding harshly in your chest. As you pass the entrances to some of the most exclusive clubs in Soho, you find yourself blending into the crowd. All around you are London’s elite, dressed in expensive coats, rich cologne, and enough glinting diamonds to burn your eyes, and they don’t spare you a second look as you reach the end of the street, taking your tall heels and short skirt as standard.

Relief replaces your anxiety as you pull off at the corner and slip around the back of the largest club of them all: The Lotus Club. You whip out your ID and flash it at the looming security guard on the door, and a moment later you’re in.

Immediately you’re met with backstage: an eclectic mix of cheap hairspray, curling irons, and half-naked girls. You move past a group of feathered dancers and find your locker quickly, ditching your bag and clocking in as you curse yourself for falling asleep earlier in the night. You’ve been working here for three years and you never used to be late, but these days, it’s as if you’ve been pushing it closer and closer to the wire each time you stumble in for your shift.

“You’re late,” comes a loud, stern voice. You freeze, your fingers half-way through pulling off the lid of a deep velvety red lipstick, and you glance at the mirror on your locker door to see your boss standing behind you, arms crossed. Loretta’s a ripped, forty-year-old woman with so many tattoos you think she must be immune to pain. Her eyes are stormy and grey as you hesitantly turn to face her, wincing a smile. “I’ve checked the data for the last month. You’ve been late 12 times, Y/N.” Her face pulls into a disappointed frown. “I’ve always liked you and you’ve never let me down before, but I need staff that I can rely on.”

Instantly you feel cold dread pool in your stomach. “Loretta, look, I’m really sorry, but it’s been a hectic month. I- I’ll try harder, okay? I’m sorry.” And you don’t want to grovel, but this job is all you have. Waiting the tables in this exclusive Soho Club is the only way you can afford to keep your flat, and without that, you have nothing. “Please don’t fire me.”

She holds your gaze for a long, hard minute. Your body feels tight with angst, your fingers shaking around the lipstick. “I’ll give you one more chance,” she says finally. “You’ll need to wait the private booths tonight, though.” When you open your mouth to complain, she laughs lowly. “Oi, none of that. I know you hate it, but if you’re late in, you don’t get a say in where I assign you. Got it?”

With a bite of your lower lip, you nod your head dejectedly. “Alright. Thanks Loretta. I won’t let you down.”

“You better not.” And then she turns and walks away, no doubt on her way to harass some of the other workers, and you turn around to finish your makeup.

The Lotus Club is a boujee blend of bar, nightclub and casino, equipped with a whole secluded wing through the back for private dances. Like the rest of the street, it attracts the highest of the high - rich, snobby businesspeople and socialites who enjoy getting off by flaunting their power and riches. You’re yet to meet anyone who isn’t a complete and utter snob.

The private booths perfectly encapsulate the worst parts of the club: they’re secluded and shady, which means they’re a hub for illegal and underhand exchanges, and they cost a leg and a half to rent out. If you think the customers you’d find in the main foyer of the club were spoilt, the inhabitants in the booths can only be described as the richest assholes London can muster.

You stare at yourself in your locker’s mirror, red lips sagging into an irritated pout. Your frown remains as you fluff up your hair for a final time and shut your locker abruptly. Your black skirt clings to your legs as you walk out into the front of house, the air clearing the moment you’re in the public sphere of the club.

It’s a very exclusive and elitist place, and the decor of the club indicates that exactly: large, glistening chandeliers dangle in every room, a rich red carpet curves across the halls, and there’s the controlled sound of restrained music drifting through large speakers. Each section of the club has a different vibe to it, and as you walk through the casino and into the section with the private booths, the tone shifts. The booths themselves are tucked behind a large curtain, and as you walk through, the lights grow dimmer and the sweet, husky scent of marijuana fills the air.

You find the supervising manager first - a small, unassuming man called Rob. He discreetly points at a circular table in the corner of the section. “That table over there,” he says. You squint your eyes and stare, making out the outline of a few young men. Curiosity replaces your irritation as you realise they look about as old as you. “You take them, yeah?”

You give him a nod. “Who are they?”

Rob shrugs. “No idea. Think it’s their first time.” He raises an eyebrow suggestively. “Make a good impression.”

You roll your eyes as you move away from him, flexing out your fingers as you walk towards the table. This is the VIP section, which means each booth gets a dedicated waitress - aka, you. You just hope the guys you’ll be serving are decent, because if they aren’t, it’ll be a long, long night.

You draw their attention easily, one of the side effects of being one of the few women in the room. Their gazes fall on you before you’re even at the table, and you suck in a quick, steadying breath as you manage a smile. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Y/N and I’ll be your server tonight. You ever been here before?”

Your eyes drift around the circular table as you wait on a response, taking in the men now you’re near enough to make them out. There are four of them: all looking young, but the number of tailored suits and watches attached to them screams wealth in a way you can’t ignore. To the left, two guys, both brunette and very similar - twins? To the right, a blond with dizzying blue eyes. And in the centre, a man, clearly the leader, with his arms thrown over the back of the booth. He’s in a crisp white shirt, a suit jacket lying crumpled on the seat beside him, and his golden brown eyes seem to linger on you for a moment too long as you wait on a response. The way he looks at you brings a warmth to your cheeks, the smile fixed on your face threatening to falter as you decide that he’s utterly delicious.

“Never been before, love.” Finally someone speaks, and it’s the blond. His lips twist into a slow smile. “Nice place you’ve got.”

You hum, returning his stare confidently. “It’s nice back here,” you agree. Then you reach down and pull a small, flat device from your pocket. You lean down and slide it into the centre of the table, making brief eye contact with the man in the centre as you pull yourself back up, a thrill of excitement cracking down your spine as you catch him staring at you. “That’s my pager. If you need me, just press the button and I’ll be here. Can I get you any drinks?”

They rattle off a list of drinks and you nod along, quickly memorising the drinks and faces, matching them with personalities. The guy in the centre goes for a Corona, speaking in a voice that’s just a little too perfect, and as you walk away towards the bar, you find yourself wondering why they’re all here. The private booths are the ideal location for illegal activities to occur, yet you couldn’t see any drugs on them, and none of them seem to have turned up with any documents or briefcases. They aren’t the usual age, either, and they all seem far too friendly to fit the normal typecast of the customers you’d find in the club. They’d smiled at you as you’d taken their orders, none of them looking at you through heady, lusting eyes - not even the man in the centre with the firm, brown gaze had let his stare slip away from your face. They feel like a breath of fresh air hidden away in an extremely stuffy room, and you can’t help but regard them fondly.

When you return to the table with a tray laden with drinks, you’re quick to distribute the bottles and glasses. The men are having a very loud and animated conversation, apparently at the expense of one of the twins, whose freckly face is burning a deep, embarrassed red. You’re in and out in a second, but in the moment you’re leaning across the table to put down a glass, the brunette in the centre meets your gaze again, his thin lips pulling up into a semblance of a smirk. “Thanks, love,” he whispers, tilting the glass towards you as you tuck the tray beneath your arm and step back.

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else,” you say, nodding at the pager on the table. He glances to the device quickly, before looking back at you, eyes lingering on the curve of your painted lower lip.

“Will do.”

You breeze away from them, your heart rattling against your ribcage as you walk to the back corner and slip into easy conversation with some of the other girls.

Your table get a few more rounds of drinks over the course of the night. Each time you’re there within seconds of the buzzer going off, always with an eager smile on your face. One bonus to the private booths is that the people who rent them out tend to have such a surplus of wealth that the tips are huge, and you’d really like to have the extra cash. So maybe you smile a little wider than usual, and do your best to crack jokes and play along as you talk with the group, but it’s all part of the job, and all part of what’s expected from you. You’re sure the fact that the man in the centre gets your heart racing a little faster than normal has nothing to do with it.

It’s a little after 1am when you’re paged back to the circular table in the corner, the buzzing in your pocket causing you to stifle a yawn. With a start, you walk back to them, your tired feet clacking across the smooth marbled floor. As you draw closer, you realise that there’s only one man there, and with a start, you realise it’s the leader.

“Hi,” you say, smiling nervously. “Friends abandoned you?”

The man shakes his head, the tips of his wavy brown hair shifting delicately. “Gone to the casino,” he explains. He pats the open booth beside him questioningly. “Do you want to sit?” You ponder it for half a second. His voice is open and warm, and it lacks the air of expectation that you’d usually find when patrons ask you a similar question. With a small smile on your face, you sit down beside him. “It’s Y/N, yeah?”

You nod slowly, your bare legs feeling warm against the leather booth. The man is still settled in the centre of the semi-circle, but he slides a little closer to you as you begin to talk, one of his arms hanging over the side of the booth, inviting you closer.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you reply softly. “Are you going to tell me your name, or is that a mystery too?”

The man quirks an eyebrow, and for the first time you notice how endearing his face is. It’s hard, with deep lines crossing his forehead and his cheeks, but when he smiles, the angst fades away, leaving him with a gentle softness about him. His nose is slightly crooked and his lips are thin and lopsided, but he’s undeniably handsome.

“I’m a mystery?” He asks, amused.

“No one’s seen any of you around before,” you say, picking your words carefully. “Normally we get regulars in the VIP section.” You shrug lightly. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s our first time coming here,” he tells you. Then he picks up his hand and offers it to you. “I’m Tom, darling.”

You take his outstretched hand and your smile widens as he takes your fingers into a strong grip. “Nice to meet you, Tom.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

[-----]

You talk with Tom easily, gradually unearthing a few details about the man. He doesn’t give much away, but you gather that he and his brothers own a few businesses around London and they’d come to your club tonight to scout out the competition.

“Can I get you a drink, love?” He asks, about ten minutes into conversation.

You’ve got a relaxed smile on your face as you nod in agreement. “That would be nice,” you tell him. “I can go and get it, though.” You begin to stand, only to feel him reach out and take your hand, his digits loosely brushing up against yours as you meet his sparkly golden eyes.

“No, stay here,” he says, his voice soft. His eyes shift towards the bar and you watch as he catches the gaze of one of the other servers. She walks over to you and takes your order with a jealous grimace on her face, and you find yourself shifting a little closer to Tom as you sit back down.

“So...” You let your lips quirk into a coy smile. “What kinds of things does a man like you enjoy doing?”

Tom hums softly, his hand going to rest on your knee. The tips of his calloused fingertips draw small shapes and circles over your skin, his touch setting off warm fireworks. “I like golf,” he says, laughing quietly as you grimace. “It’s more interesting to play than it is to watch.”

“I’d sure hope so,” you joke. “I don’t think it’s really my thing.”

“Well, what is your thing?” You watch intently as Tom flicks his pink tongue out across his lower lip. Your breath hitches as you realise he’s flirting with you, and you’ve overcome with a strong urge to reciprocate.

“I like painting,” you admit. “Someday I’m going to quit my job here and open up an art gallery.” You reach up slowly, resting the flat hand on his shoulder as the tips of your fingers play around with his soft hair. “Would you be my model, one day?”

Tom brings his other hand to your waist, testing the waters. When you only drift closer to him, he holds your side more firmly, his long, nimble fingers slowly wrapping around you. His touch is intoxicating.

“I’d be flattered to be your model, darling,” he tells you, eyes sparkling with something between lust and admiration.

As the night draws on, you find yourself inching closer and closer to him, his body heat attracting you like a moth to a flame. His eyes sparkle brightly, shades of golden browns appealing to you easily, and you can’t stop yourself from shamelessly flirting with him, your heart pounding each time he returns it just as thickly.

But you’re not completely blinded by lust. Over the course of your conversation, you pick up on a few unsaid details. First and foremost: Tom has a holster strapped to his belt, and whilst it’s empty, its presence is enough to have your guard up. You know there’s probably a hundred armed men out in the casino, but the sight of it makes you uneasy. Tom’s nice, and maybe a part of you had considered clocking out and leaving with him, but that - and the fact that you can see a pair of brass knuckledusters hanging out of his suit pocket - is enough to sour that idea.

It really is a shame. He’s nothing but charming, in a very sweet, romantic way, and if the circumstances were different, you’d want him in a heartbeat.

By the time Tom’s friends return from the Casino, stacks of cash in hand, you’re practically on top of him. Somewhere between the second and the third beer, he’d pulled you nearer, and now you have your head pressed against his outstretched arm as you sit lazily in his lap, your voice dying halfway through your anecdote as the presence of Tom’s associates disturb your conversation.

“How much?” Tom calls out, his eyes moving away from your face for the first time in an hour. You watch as his pupils dilate, swallowing the golden flecks of his irises as he stares at the rolls of cash greedily.

“50k.” The blond...Harrison, you think, says. “We should come back more often.” His blue eyes twinkle knowingly as he takes in the way you’re spread over Tom. “You ready to go, mate?”

You feel Tom shift beneath you, a hand going to sit on your waist as he hums. “Go settle the tab, yeah? I’ll be over in a minute.”

Harrison nods, and you watch as the group approach the bar and begin to sift through the rolls of cash. Clearing your throat, you stretch out your arm and move out of Tom’s lap, distancing yourself from him as you give him a coy smile.

“Well… I guess it’s goodnight, Tom,” you say, watching him carefully. His eyebrows furrow together slightly as an expression of intrigue passes over his face.

“Don’t suppose you’d want to come home with me, love?” He asks, voice honest and open. He reaches down and takes one of your hands in his, his calloused thumb passing over the back of your knuckles. The touch makes you bite your lower lip, and for a brief moment, you find yourself wishing you could.

“Sorry,” you say instead, ignoring the way a part of you wants to explore the man further. You’ve seen the holster and the knuckledusters. “I don’t know you.”

Surprise replaces his intrigue, but Tom remains looking at you fondly. He nods his head, holding your gaze as he brings your hand to his mouth, pressing his intoxicating lips to the back of your hand and kissing your skin softly. “I’ll see you around then, darling,” he mumbles, finally releasing your hand as he presses it back to your lap. He stands up and shimmies out of the booth, tossing his suit jacket over his shoulder as he goes. “It was lovely spending the evening with you, Y/N.”

Your smile is soft, genuine. “You too, Tom. Have a nice night.”

He raises his hand in a brief wave, and then turns, meeting with his friends by the door. They leave together, and you take a moment to sit against the back of the booth, breathing heavily through your mouth as your thoughts run rampant through your mind.

Everything about Tom feels to be a juxtaposition. His suit was expensive and he left the casino £50,000 richer, yet his shoes were scruffy and his watch looked old and worn. He’s clearly used to control, but he was perfectly content with you setting the lines and the limits. He has an obvious affinity for the darker arts, but his touch was always kind and gentle. Tom is a perfect paradox, and you can’t help but keep him in your thoughts as you begin to clear away the dirty glasses, your smile remaining on your lips for the rest of the night.

[-----]

When you come in for your shift a few days later, you’re called into Loretta’s office immediately. Dread and anticipation hang heavy in your stomach as you nervously push open her door, hoping with every part of you that she hasn’t called you in to fire you. You’re left utterly perplexed as the tall woman greets you with a long, tight hug.

“Y/N, my darling!” She exclaims, releasing you and gesturing down at a chair. You slip into it apprehensively as she walks around to sit behind her desk, her eyes bright and excited. “You’ve got a tip.”

Your eyes widen. “A tip?” You echo, voice uncertain. Normally the tips would be added to your pay-check at the end of the month, no further comment needed. The way she’s staring at you like you’re a celebrity makes you nervous.

“Someone left an anonymous tip for you,” she says, voice high. “I’ve already deducted the club’s percentage.” Loretta passes you a bulging envelope. “It leaves you with just under £5,000.”

Your jaw drops.

“What… The fuck,” you manage, eyes bulging as you tear open the envelope and run your thumb through the thick stack of cash. “Who?”

Your boss shrugs. “Anonymous,” she repeats. “Just thought you’d appreciate the heads up. I’ll keep it out of the books, as long as you don’t mention this to anyone.” Her voice is low, and you nod quickly, knowing that she’s doing you both a favour: the club takes a cut of all tips received, and you know that you’ll both come out better if the tax office doesn’t learn of your bonus.

“Thank you,” you say, flabbergasted. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing,” she advises. “Just take it.” As you rise to your feet and slip the envelope into your bag, she adds, “You can go back to serving the bar, as usual. I’ll get Monica to cover the private booths.”

“Thanks,” you say again, your voice soft and shaken. She bids you goodbye as you walk back to the lockers, your eyes wide and your mind scrambled.

You want to assume it’s Tom who’s left the tip. You don’t think you’ve made a big enough impression on anyone else recently to be rewarded this generously. It baffles you, because you hadn’t ever expected this, but then you find yourself warming to the idea. You’d gotten on well with Tom, and maybe a small part of you has been regretting denying him, and this… Well, this act of generosity would suggest that he’s still thinking about you, and that’s a very nice thought.

You begin your shift with a wide smile on your face, knowing your rent is taken care of for the next few months. It puts a lightness in your step, and you find yourself winning over all the patrons you come into contact with, your wallet growing heavier and heavier as the night draws by. A few times, you find yourself gazing around the bar, looking for Tom, expecting to see him, but not feeling surprised when you don’t. He’d told you himself that he was only in the club to scout out a rival business - why would he return after gathering his reconnaissance?

He doesn’t turn up that night. Or the next. Or even the next. You have to wait another week before you see another sign of him, and even then, it’s not actually him.

You’re clearing away a table when you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around to see Harrison standing there, a black suit pulled around him so perfectly that he looks like a model and it takes your breath away for a second.

“Y/N?” He asks, voice clear and bright. You give him a nod, your eyebrows pulling up into confusion as he procures a red rose and passes it to you. “I’m Harrison, Tom’s mate. We met the other night.”

You twirl the stem between your fingers, glancing between the delicate petals and Harrison’s watchful face. “Yeah, I remember.”

He nods his head at the rose. “Tom wanted you to have that. He also wanted to know if you’d gotten his gift?”

The thorns on the rose nick your finger and you curse softly, bringing your thumb to your mouth and sucking away the small drop of blood. Harrison watches you intently, his eyes twinkling as he holds back a laugh.

“You mean the tip?” You ask after a moment, pulling your hand away from your face. You cross your arms over your chest as you stare the man down. “You do know that was an obscene amount of money, right?”

Harrison chuckles, running a hand through his blond curls. “I know,” he agrees. “Tom wouldn’t hear anything else. Apparently you made quite the impression.” His eyes sweep across you briefly. “He wanted to know if you’d join him for a date tomorrow night.”

You hum, your eyebrow raising slightly. “And why are you here asking me out, instead of him?”

Harrison’s eyes widen at your controlled tone, his cheeks tinting with a rosy blush. “He’s busy.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “Well, you can tell Tom that I appreciate the gesture, but if he wants to take me on a date, he needs to come down here and ask me himself.” Acting on impulse, you pass Harrison back the rose, your eyes dancing mischievously.

Harrison looks a little taken aback, but he nods slowly and looks at you with a shade of respect in his gaze. “I will pass on the message.”

“Thanks, Harrison.” You turn back to the table you’re clearing and you watch from the corner of your eye as he turns and walks away, leaving the club with the rose in his hands.

Your heart hammers in your chest, as part of you can’t believe you’ve just turned him down so boldly. But you know it’s for the best, because men like Tom can be dangerous, and if he thinks he can get away with anything, then that’s not the kind of person you want to see. You decide that if he can swallow his pride and show up to see you himself, then you’ll be happy to lean into him, but you won’t fall at his feet just because he’s flashed some cash. If he doesn’t respond to your demands, at least you’ll come out richer for it. But a part of you thinks you’ve got him nailed down, and you have the feeling he thrives on games like these, and so you return to the club the next night expecting to see him, and you’re not surprised when you do.

Tom’s leaning up against the bar, talking with one of the strippers amicably. The feathers coming out of her plumed headband fall onto his forehead as they laugh closely together, and an irrational stab of jealousy twists up through your insides as you watch them. It’s ridiculous, and you quickly swallow it back, but as Tom meets your eyes from across the room, you know he’s seen the envy in your eyes. His thin lips pull into a smirk and he beckons you over, your legs moving of their own accord.

As you get to Tom, he leans down and whispers something in the woman’s ear. You watch as her expression falls, and then she pulls away from Tom to circle the room in search of another visitor. He greets you by opening his arms, and you pause for a moment before sinking into them, his fingers finding your waist as your head goes to the crook of his neck, finding home briefly in his warmth and the rich scent of his powerful cologne. As you pull back, one of his hands goes back to his side, but the other finds your face for a moment, holding you softly as his lips brush over your cheek. You have to bite back a smile as he mumbles a quiet, “Evening, love,” not wanting him to see how utterly giddy it makes you feel to have him so close again.

“Hi, Tom,” you reply, your head clearing up as he finally drops contact with your skin. Your eyes drift over his familiar face, taking in the details of his handsome features. “Looking for a stripper, eh?”

“Not unless she’s called Y/N,” he replies, voice controlled but suggestive. You chuckle quietly, your face heating a little as you grow slightly bashful.

“Smooth,” you comment. “You gonna buy me a drink?”

“Whatever you want,” he promises. His eyes sweep over the room. “You’re not working?”

You shrug as you slip up at the bar, Tom settling on the stool beside you. One of his hands goes to rest on your knee, the contact firm and grounding, and it makes your body fill with a subtle, thrumming heat. “I am, technically,” you say. “But it’s my job to entertain the guests,” you shift your gaze to his suggestively, “and I’d say you’re in need of a little fun.”

“You’re definitely right there, darling.”

You drink a few rounds with Tom, treating yourself to some of the bar’s most expensive wine because he’s already given them his card and you free rein over the drinks menu. Any reluctance you feel to exploit his kindness disappears as you remember how easily he’d left the casino up £50k the other night, and as you slowly grow lighter and your bloodstream more diluted, you find yourself loosening up. Tom does too, and as you talk about any and everything, his hair becomes messier as his cheeks flush. Your knees touch and sometimes your shoulders brush, and it’s like the rest of the world burns away until it’s just you, and him, laughing, talking, feeling, and it’s so natural that you almost forget that you come from two different worlds.

But then Tom shifts on the stool, and your eyes catch his empty holster, and you’re slammed back to earth, your mood shifting. He picks up on it immediately, his eyebrows furrowing as he reaches out and picks up your hand, playing with your fingers softly. “You alright there, love?”

You hum. “What do you want from me, Tom?” You ask after a moment, voice unassuming.

“What do you mean?”

You give him a coy smile. “You know what I mean,” you tease. “Chatting with me, leaving me thousands of pounds, getting your friend to ask me out… Even being here tonight. What do you want?” And your voice is open and honest, and Tom ponders it for a few moments before squeezing your hand.

“You intrigue me, Y/N,” he admits. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the night we met… I don’t know why, or what I want from you, but I guess, I’d quite like to know, what do you want from me?”

“Oh, no, you don’t get to turn this on me.”

“Why not? I’m definitely allowed to do that.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re sneaky, Tom,” you mumble. “If I’m being honest, part of me thought you’d show up tonight and expect me to leave with you. Because, y’know, the money.” He opens his mouth to argue, but you raise an eyebrow and he pauses. “I don’t think you’re that kind of guy, though. Are you?”

He shakes his head quickly. “I’m not a dick.”

“Arrogant, sometimes?”

“Yeah.”

“A bit egotistical?”

“Well, uh, I guess you could say that.”

“Dominating?”

Tom’s eyes shift a shade darker as he nods. “You like to talk,” he comments, bringing a smile to your face.

“I can leave you to your thoughts, if you’d prefer that,” you tease. He tightens his grip on your hand, and for the first time you look down at his fingers and notice that his knuckles are bruised and bloodied. “Shit, what happened here?” You bring his hands nearer your face, gently grazing your touch over the curves of his cut knuckles. He winces but he lets you inspect the injuries.

“Nothing,” he mutters. When you tighten your gaze, he shrugs haplessly. “Got in a fight. No big deal.”

“Yeah, right.” You rise from the stool, dragging him with you. You’re about to turn and pull him across the room when you hesitate. “Are you packing?” He looks surprised by the question, so you add, “I won’t take you backstage if you’re dangerous.”

“I’ve not got a gun on me,” he says, dodging half the question but it’s good enough for you. You lead him out, through the bar, past the casino, and you pull him through a large door that says Staff Only and take him back to one of the locker rooms. It’s peak time so the room is quiet, and you sit him down on a bench as you grab a clean cloth from beside the sink and run it under some warm water.

“If you don’t take care of your injuries, they’ll scar,” you tell him as you dab at his knuckles. Tom’s gaze burns into your cheek as you wash away the dried blood, exposing the deep colours of fresh bruises just below. You glance up at him, your breath hitching in your throat as you meet his stare, his eyes dancing with a thousand different words. “Who’d look after you if I wasn’t here, huh?” You walk across the room before returning with a cotton pad soaked in disinfectant. “This might hurt,” you warn, but Tom doesn’t even flinch as you drag the pad over his cracked skin. You throw the pad into the bin and then settle in front of him, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare at him questioningly.

“Come sit,” he says finally, his voice more laboured than before. He spreads his legs a little and pats at his lap, and without hesitation you step forward and straddle him. You have to shift around until you’re comfortable, but you manage to stretch your legs out behind him on the bench and his hands go to anchor your hips in place. Your faces are really close now, and he easily brings a hand up to settle on your cheek, the tips of his fingers resting on your cheekbones. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, love?”

You smile slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just…” He breaks off, sighing comically. “So fucking perfect.” The compliment draws your smile into a large grin as you chuckle softly.

“Perfect, eh?” You tease, running a hand over his shoulder. You rest it at the nape of his neck, your fingers playing with the tips of his hair. “I don’t think perfect exists.”

“It does,” he says immediately.

“Maybe.” Acting boldly, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw, admiring the sharp line with your mouth as he sighs beneath you. “You’re a dangerous man, aren’t you?” You say, finishing your trail of kisses at his ear. You let your breath fan out across his skin for a moment before pressing a final kiss to his earlobe, feeling his body tense beneath you.

“Yeah,” he admits.

You pull yourself back to face him, your eyebrow arched. “Will you keep me safe?” You ask. It hangs heavy in the air, a multitude of layers hidden away behind the few words.

Tom nods, a hand drawing up to find home in your hair. His fingers bury in the strands and he uses his leverage to draw you nearer until your noses are touching, his cold skin pressing to yours in the most delicate way.

“I will always protect you,” he promises, voice serious.

Your lips quirk into a slight smile. “Kiss me,” you ask.

His mouth is on yours in an instant, lips chapped but warm as they slide over yours. It’s soft, for a moment, but then you grip his hair and pull him nearer and it grows stronger. Passion flows between you as you cling to him, his mouth hot and luxurious and it draws a heat between your legs as you feel his teeth catch at your lower lip. When you part your lips and grant him access, his tongue dances with yours and you moan into his mouth, every inch of you aching for him, burning with desire to keep him here. His hand in your hair holds you close as the other wanders over your side, caressing your figure softly but warmly, and you turn to butter in his hold, kissing, and kissing, and kissing, until your lips are numb and your lungs burn. When you pull away, he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes pulling open just enough to make brief contact with yours. He looks softer now, less anxious, more in control.

“I wish I could do that forever,” he admits. Both hands find your waist, holding you comfortably as he smirks at you. “You’re something else.”

You shrug slightly, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you, Tom,” you tease, eyeing him carefully. “You gonna come back again tomorrow?”

He raises a scruffy eyebrow. “You want me to come back tomorrow?”

Your lips split into a wide smile. “Yeah,” you admit. “Maybe the day after that, too. If you want.”

“I’ll be here,” he promises. “I’ll be here for as long as you want me to be.”

You kiss him again, softer. His lips are warm and they already feel a little bit like home. You realise that he’s got you, both physically, because his fingers grip your waist so strongly, but also emotionally, because you look into the depths of his warm, mysterious eyes, and you realise you don’t want to forget what they look like.

“I might want you around for a long time. Is that a problem?”

Tom shakes his head, body relaxing. He kisses you. “Not a problem at all,” he confirms. “I feel like… I feel like you might change my life, love.”

You laugh quietly, rolling your eyes. “Who knew you’d be such a sap,” you tease. Tom frowns, his grip on your waist tightening, and you swallow deeply as he steadies you. “I’m kidding. Relax.” You kiss him again, quickly.

“You think you can just distract me with kisses?” He says, voice confident. You nod your head arrogantly.

“Oh, yeah,” you confirm. “I think you’re the kind of person who will be very easy to distract.” To prove your point, you take a long moment to grind your hips down, feeling the hard presence of his erection pressing up against your covered core. You giggle and your head falls to the crook of his neck, and Tom’s hands rub over your back as he holds you close.

“You’re a minx,” he says. “Such a tease.”

“I’m a lot of things,” you whisper against his neck. You feel his lips brush over the top of your head and let him hold you, close, gripping you tightly, and it feels like you’ve known him for infinity already.

“I’m excited to figure you out, Y/N.”

You tilt your head and run a line of brief kisses up his neck until eventually finding his lips, seizing them in a short peck. “Me too, Tom,” you admit. “I feel like you’re gonna be really special to me,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“Oh, so who’s the sap now, huh?” He teases, drawing your smile wider.

“Shut up,” you say.

“Make me.”

And then, quite simply, you’re back to kissing, and you know he’s dangerous, and you know he’s powerful, but his touch on your waist is gentle and he’s kissing you so slowly and softly that none of that really matters. It doesn’t matter that you don’t entirely know who he is, because there’s a connection tethering your soul to his, and you can feel it - even if it’s only been a few days. It’s a type of connection that you’ve never felt before, and it thrills you, but it also terrifies you. Because you know that the man beneath you holds the keys to the world, but it comes at a cost, and you’re not sure you can afford the price if it all falls apart.

But fuck it. He’s kissing you, and it’s perfect, and you crave to stay like this forever, curled up in his lap like this. So what if the world burns? You’re perfectly happy exactly where you are, Tom’s hands on your hips, your mouths moving in sync. And as he holds you close, you know there’s nowhere else your heart would be safer than tucked up here with him.

#tom holland #Tom Holland oneshot #Tom Holland x reader #mob!tom holland #mob!tom #Tom Holland x y/n #self insert #self-insert #y/n #y/n use #my writing #mm #:D #mob!tomfic

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megalony · 4 years ago

Text

Met his match

This is a new Murderer! Ben Hardy imagine that should have a follow-up imagine soon when I can get round to it, I hope you will all enjoy this one feedback is always lovely to have.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: Ben is a hitman tracking his latest target, and he is getting ready to kill them but things get tricky when his conscience gets the better of him. And the situation unravels when soulmates are involved.

Enjoy.

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Reaching his calloused hand into his back pocket, Ben pulled out the phone that was vibrating to show someone was calling. Taking a scan of the phone case, he sighed at seeing it was his personal phone which he couldn't be bothered to answer right now.

He'd been in the game for a two years now and had managed to pick up many tricks of the trade. Rule number one was to have seperate phones so if he got caught, he could give the police his normal phone that was just for friends and family. The innocent phone. All the implicating and cryptic messages were on his work phone so he could keep things separate and in order. His normal phone was white and his work phone was black as a teasing reminder of his life like day and night.

Switching the rather annoying item off, Ben slipped it back into his pocket before turning his attention down to the glass resting on the shining polished wooden surface in front of him.

This was a very different experience for Ben considering that for the past three months he had been in hiding.

Laying low wasn't all it was cracked up to be and Ben hated it. He hated having to disappear underground, to go to dingy, disgusting bars for a drink and to make sure no one would find him. He hated having to scan the bars to make sure they were the kind that didn't have CCTV so he could stretch the truth about how long he was there if an alibi was needed. He hated being around the cringy, loud-mouthed people that bustled about and spilt their drinks on one another.

Ben couldn't abide by the hotels and the small B&B's that he had to go to when he was out of town and needed to go unseen.

Laying low was the part of being a hitman that he despised because in order to keep the job he had so graceously decided to take, he had to cover his tracks and give himself alibi's. He had to make sure his face was never in papers or on websites. He had to make sure only the right kind of people knew who he was so he wasn't known to the posh people or the ones in contact with the police so he wouldn't be caught. He had to make sure the people who knew what he did weren't informants for the police or traitors.

But his job was something he found great pride and achievement with, even though he knew he shouldn't. Killing people wasn't the kind of job that someone should be proud to have and yet Ben was. He had pride that he had been doing this for two years and no one had caught him yet. He was proud that people respected him in the underworld and that people paid a high price for the job that he did. People went to the trouble of finding him to get his help, they risked a lot to find him with the knowledge that he could turn them down.

The thrill that it gave him, the planning that he got to put into it and the risks he took made laying low all that much better.

But to finally be out of his hiding and back in the world of the living was something that he enjoyed immensely. Ben enjoyed being able to come to the bars and restaurants that were more appealing to the eye and soul. To be able to act as if he fit in with the higher society when really, despite how he hated to lay low, that was where he belonged.

The thin black button-up shirt he was wearing was rather itchy around the collar and he had to refrain from scratching his neck every ten seconds but he had to act formal since he was technically at work right now.

Turning his head to the left, Ben locked his bored eyes onto the man he had seen wandering around the restaurant for the past hour. He went around hitting on any girl that walked in and every time he had got rejected which wasn't surprising given that this wasn't the most high class place but it certainly wasn't of low standards. The women here were more refined and didn't take to a drunk man wandering the bar asking them if they wanted to go home with him for a 'night-cap'.

The drunk man seemed to get more riled up and annoyed with every rejection he got until he was starting to get aggressive. If the guy would take each rejection with his chin up then Ben would have said good on him for taking it in his stride but the hitman was getting fed up of the idiot's persistence with anyone in sight.

Hunching his shoulders forward, Ben leaned his head down but let his eyes lean around the idiot a few feet at his side, trying to get a look at the poor victim the man was now pestering.

Ben had to refrain himself from growling in sheer annoyance when he realised that the victim this drunk idiot was pestering was Ben's next target. Rubbing his hand over his face, Ben scratched at the corner of his eye with the pad of his thumb as he tried to stay calm and unnoticed.

It was always a surprise to Ben when he found out that his victims were women because eighty percent of the people he was told to snuff out were usually middle aged business men. With the odd exception of a young inexperienced boy who had taken something he shouldn't or who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. But killing a woman was never hard for Ben, a hit was a hit and it didn't matter who it was as long as the job was done and Ben got paid at the end of it.

The only times he ever refused to do a job was if he himself deemed the hit unnecessary. Maybe there was a young boy who just didn't need to be killed or a woman who was only wanted dead because her rich husband wanted her out of the way.

Other than things like that, Ben usually didn't care the reason even though he always asked. It was part of his invisible policy that Ben was to be given all the details, the reason and half the payment up front before he went through with a hit.

For the past two weeks Ben had followed his victim, got to know her routine and what she did and he knew that tonight was the one opportunity that he had to get the job over and done with.

Tonight was a night where she was most vulnerable because she was alone, away from home and her family and friends thought she would be away for another week so the timeline for her disappearance would be vague at best. Ben had already disabled her phone signal from afar and he had ensured that he wasn't on any security tapes.

All he had to do was find her after she left the restaurant and he could pounce.

Ben knew the reason why he had to kill this girl.

She had smuggled a lot of money from her father's account and placed it into a lot of other accounts ranging from her own to her father's victims who he had complete control over. What she had done was completely legal since she had access to the account and had unsuspectingly gotten her father to sign the documents allowing the transactions. He had lost out and now his daughter was a threat to his rather secretative dodgy dealings.

She was a threat he wanted rid of and the police couldn't do anything, nor could they get rid of her in the sense that her father wanted.

But Ben could.

He applauded his victim's reasons and what she had managed to do but at the end of the day, she was a hit and Ben had taken the job.

Turning his head to the left, Ben glanced his eyes over at his victim as if making sure that she hadn't disappeared without him knowing.

His victim had her rather long hair folded and pinned to her lower head just at the top of her neck but she had two short strands of hair hanging loose framing both sides of her face. And her vibrant eyes were shining for everyone to see. Her head was tilted to the side and the distant look in her eyes made her seem as if she was in a world of her own. She had one arm resting on the circular wooden table and her other hand circled around the half empty glass of red wine in front of her.

She looked as if she fitted in so well here with her baggy button-up shirt tucked into her high-waisted trousers that skimmed over the top of her ankle boots. Her appearance and her smile and the way she held herself made her fit in so well with the upper class people in the restaurant. But there was just something about her that made Ben feel like she was an outcast. Someone desperately trying to fit in when really, she didn't belong anywhere at all.

Just like him.

The pick up line that the drunken man used on Ben's victim washed over Ben's head just like it did the girl's head because she didn't spare him a glance. She seemed to be used to people trying to gain her attention and she seemed very good at choosing who deserved her attention and who didn't.

When the man didn't persist anymore and left in a huff, Ben felt like doing the exact same thing. He had been in this restaurant for two hours now and had had no interaction or conversation with anyone but the bartender who simply kept refilling Ben's glass the moment Ben pointed at it.

As much as Ben enjoyed being at places like this, it did get boring when he had no one to talk to because talking to people could potentially ruin an alibi if he needed one. They could say the exact time he left, who he had been looking at, what exactly he had told them. Ben would never say anything to incriminate himself or make himself seem untrustworthy but interactions were just as harmful as doing the job he did.

As bad as it was that he sat and talked to no one, it was safer.

"Any good?"

The new voice broke Ben out of his consuming thoughts, much to his relief, but when his head turned to his left he felt a spark of adrenaline bursting through his stomach when he saw who it was talking to him.

"The whiskey here, is it any good?" (Y/n) pointed her finger towards the circular glass of whiskey resting in front of Ben that he was holding with a vice grip in his left hand. It was the only thing she could think of to spark up a conversation with the one person here who seemed to feel like an outcast here the same as she did.

It seemed to take him a while to respond, she could see his eyes studying her as if he didn't exactly know what to make of her or how to take her question.

Ben observed the way that (Y/n) leaned her elbows on the counter with one arm outstretched like she was trying to reach behind the bar and grab one of the bottles. Whilst her other hand was resting against her neck like she was trying to prop her head up. Ben couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her, noticing how her hips were pushing against the bottom of the bar counter and her knees were straight like she was trying to make herself look a bit taller than she really was.

"Better than most places I've been to."

Ben didn't usually talk to his victims.

In theory, Ben could tell his victims anything. He could tell them his bank details, his name and address, his age, his national security number. He could tell them anything and everything about him because his victims always ended up in the same place; a grave. And dead men tell no tales.

But this was different, Ben talked to his victims when he was about to force a bullet into their skulls or make their deaths drag out. He didn't normally jave a chat with them before they knew that he was their personal grim reaper about to steal their life and soul. He never talked to his victims like he was trying to make a new acquaintance or even a friend.

Talking to his victims could often make him feel sorry for them or make him regret killing them. Ben didn't need them haunting him in the dead of night disturbing his sleep or making him think over his life choices and his choice of jobs.

"That's enough for me." (Y/n) didn't even get chance to speak when the bartender approached them both before her new acquaintance pointed to his glass before holding up two fingers indicating he wanted two glasses this time. It always fascinated (Y/n) how people like him were willingly in places like this when they clearly didn't want or need social interaction.

It would clearly be a lot easier and cheaper for him to just buy a bottle of whiskey and take it back to wherever he resided. But then again, if he liked to be around people he wouldn't get that if he lived on his own. Some people like to be surrounded but not interacted with, they liked to people-watch but not be watched themselves. (Y/n) didn't know him or why he was here and she wasn't usually one to judge a book by its cover.

"Thank you." (Y/n) generously took the drink placed in front of her, a curious but appreciative look in her eyes to which the stranger nodded in understanding before downing his drink.

It was her last night after all, the least he could do was buy her a drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Breathe.

The one thought rattling through (Y/n)'s mind was telling her to do something that she normally never had to think about. Such an automatic process that happened thousands of times every day was something that (Y/n) was now having to remind herself to do in case she suddenly forgot or held her breathe for so long that she endangered herself even more by fainting.

Breathing was the only thing that (Y/n) was certain of right now, everything else was an illusion that she couldn't see past and it was frightening to say the least.

But even breathing was becoming hard when (Y/n) could feel her lungs pushing uncomfortably against her ribs ten times faster than usual. Her chest was heaving, her body was aching and none of her muscles were back under her control yet.

(Y/n) didn't even know where she was and the more she thought about what had happened, the worse her head started to ache because she didn't understand it. One moment she had been walking down the street aiming to get back to her hotel, the next moment an arm had secured around her waist and a cloth was smothered to her lips. When she awoke, every part of her was aching and she seemed to be laid on a sofa if she had guessed right. Unsure where she was, what was going to happen or why she was even taken in the first place.

She could tell that none of her limbs were tied up, her kidnapper had relied solely on the medication on the cloth that had knocked her out and the blindfold wrapped around her head to stop her from seeing anything if she woke too early. But (Y/n) couldn't move, her body was still asleep even if her mind was now awake meaning getting away was impossible right now.

"I can tell you're awake."

A small maon escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to get her body to come back under her control, but the moment those words registered in her ears she could feel her blood running cold.

She knew that voice.

"W-whiskey." (Y/n)'s voice shook and her head spun as she felt waves of horror creeping up her spine causing her muscles to shiver. It was the man who had bought her a drink at the bar. The man she had spoken very few words to and shared a drink with before heading back to her table. The man who had left the restaurant way before she herself had done.

What on Earth had she done to him to make him want to kidnap her?

"I'm honoured you remember me, love."

(Y/n) could feel the whiskey man getting closer, she could feel the way he cut through the air ever so slowly like he was slowly piercing the atmosphere with a knife. And when she felt him leering over her a whimper escaped her lips that were numb from whatever had been pressed against them earlier to knock her out. He hadn't looked the most harmless man in the bar but he didn't give off the vibes of a kidnapper. (Y/n) didn't know him, she'd never seen him before in her life, what did he want with her?

When his fingers slowly trailed against her cheek and up to her hair (Y/n) wanted to cower back in fear but the most she could do was shift her shoulders a little.

She could feel his hand slowly brushing the loose strand of hair behind her ear before he slowly grabbed the material covering her eyes, pulling it away to reveal her tired eyes that were blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim light. (Y/n) almost jumped when her vision cleared enough for her to realise that the whiskey man was crouched down on his knees in front of her. A serene yet almost intrigued look on his face as he stared at her with his lips turned up at the corners.

(Y/n) tried to move her uncoordinated limbs and managed to press her right hand down on the sofa before pressing the back of her left hand down against the cushion to try and lift herself up. The whiskey man had laid her down on the sofa as if she had just fallen asleep and he had carried her here- wherever here was. He didn't tie her up or lock her somewhere or even dump her somewhere, he had taken time and care with her. And when (Y/n) tried to manoeuvre herself up, he even leaned and placed his arm under hers with his hand resting on her back to guide her up.

Ben didn't miss the way that (Y/n) flinched when he touched her and he didn't exactly know why he had let her live so long.

He brought her to a hotel that he knew had no security in the reception or in the corridors so he couldn't be seen or caught on camera. He had the room already set up and paid for in advance and simply told the man on reception that his wife had gotten drunk and he was carrying her back. The young man believed him, who wouldn't?

But Ben could have killed her by now.

He could have put a bullet in her or even a knife if he wanted to get creative and he could have left through the fire escape without anyone knowing. No one knew she was in this hotel, it wasn't booked in her name so they wouldn't know who she was and Ben had taken her purse and phone. It would be a mystery and he could have given her some peace by killing her whilst she was asleep. It would have been kinder.

But Ben just couldn't do it.

He brought her in here, laid her down, locked the door and closed the curtains. But when he thought about just killing her and leaving, something stopped him. He had spent at least twenty minutes or so just watching her sleep, wondering what was going through her mind and when she was going to wake up and beg him for mercy.

He didn't have a problem with killing her, there just seemed to be something about her that made him want to talk to her and make her beg before he eventually took her life from her.

"What... why am I here? I don't know you..." (Y/n)'s speech was slow and her words were slightly slurred from how delirious her mind seemed to be after being drugged. She didn't know where she was but she didn't even know why she was where she was, let alone why a stranger had taken her.

"No, but I know how you are, love. We're both here on business and very soon, that business will be finished."

(Y/n) couldn't help but whimper, unsure what kind of business this man wanted with her but she had a few grave ideas. But the moment her eyes set on his right hand, she felt like she was going to be sick. He had a gun in his hand with a silencer on the end. If she tried to scream he could shoot her and no one would be any the wiser. If she tried to escape then he could shoot her before she even got off the sofa and by the looks of things, he was going to shoot her regardless of whether she tried to get away or not.

She was dead no matter what she did.

"No... no p-please... why would you kill me?"

A pang of pain struck Ben in his heart as he watched the way her lips couldn't help but pull down at the corners and when the tears fell from her eyes Ben almost felt bad. But this wasn't personal, he didn't have a vendetta against her or hate her or want to hurt her just because he randomly picked her to be his next victim. This was calculated and decided by someone else, Ben was just the paid method to get rid of her. This had nothing to do with him.

"This isn't personal, darlin'. I'm afraid this is what I'm paid to do, your daddy decided it. Don't worry, you won't have to feel anything unless of course, you want to."

He could see it in her eyes. She was desperate to beg him to spare her, to lie to her father and tell him she was dead but secretly let her live. She would disappear, she would go far away if he would spare her life. But it was clear in his eyes that he wasn't going to let that happen. As he said, this wasn't personal, this was clearly a job for him and he seemed like the kind of man that didn't stop until the job was done. The whiskey man didn't care for her and therefore her pleas were going to fall on deaf ears because he wouldn't be fazed by her begs for mercy or he wouldn't have agreed to do this in the first place.

Ben watched in curiosity as (Y/n) moved her hands to rub her arms like she was trying to give herself a comforting hug before she died, knowing it was inevitable.

She wasn't like the rest of his victims, begging, pleading and sobbing loudly or trying to attack him and make their escape. Most of the time Ben killed from afar, he stalked like a predator then suddenly shot them in a dark alley or stabbed them. Some of the worse ones were the ones he dragged out, he tortured them before leaving them to die somewhere. But just recently he started talking to a few victims or letting them wake up like now before he killed them.

But none of his victims seemed to sit and accept their fate like she was. This one was special, she was smart.

Ben let his eyes wander down to the gun in his hands as he slowly stretched up until he was hovering over her, looming like the grim reaper ready to snatch her soul. He checked the bullets left in the gun knowing full well he had five rounds though he only needed one or two at the most if he felt cruel. He then twisted the end of the silencer to make sure it was properly fitted, not wanting to make a surprising sound and let anyone know what he was up to in here.

(Y/n) needed him to do it now and get it over with.

She couldn't handle waiting and watching like this, death was always something that scared her but she always thought it would be unexpected or hoped she would pass in her sleep. Knowing it was about to happen now made her skin crawl and sent her mind reeling and this whiskey man was just prolonging it even more.

But as she watched him click the safety off the gun, her heart rocketed in her chest and started to spasm achingly when he began to whistle a quiet tune like he was preparing himself for an audition rather than a killing.

Oh God no.

(Y/n) knew that tune, she knew that tune all too well. It was the tune she had had in her head since she could remember, it was her song. That tune was the song that belonged to (Y/n).

Everyone in the world had a soulmate somewhere out there. People say that they know their soulmate from the first glance or just by looking or talking to them. But the one definitive way of knowing your soulmate is the song. Everyone has a song in their mind that is their own, not a song from the radio that they choose, but a certain rhythm, a humming or a whistling song in their head that they share with one other person in the world. Their soulmate. They are the only two that know the tune.

The whiskey man was whistling (Y/n)'s tune.

The only way that he could know that tune was if he was her soulmate. But he was trying to kill her, why would he whistle that tune if he was trying to kill her? Who whistled or even thought of their song when killing someone? She was going to be murdered by her soulmate and no one was going to come to her aid or her rescue.

Did this man even believe in soulmates?

Ben's lips curved up into a rather sinister grin that made (Y/n)'s skin crawl but she whimpered when he turned the barell of the gun towards her, aiming it at her temple. He could feel a small wave of guilt washing over him but he knew it would be taken away with the tide soon enough. His whistling grew louder as he got ready to pull the trigger, knowing he would have a lot of cleaning and tidying up to do very soon.

"It won't hurt, love. I promise."

But Ben's hand shook and his arm suddenly recoiled to his chest in horror when he heard her response.

His eyes blew wide in his sockets when he heard the rhythm she was shakily humming against her chapped lips. Her wild, rabid eyes locked with his own as she started to hum a bit louder, showing how uneven and timid her voice actually was because this was her only chance at survival. Humming his own song back at him.

"How do you know that tune? How?!"

The words bellowed around the room, resonating back at Ben as he suddenly jerked his arm out and pushed the barell of the gun against (Y/n)'s temple. Hating the way she cried out and cowered back at the feeling but still tried to hum the tune to prove she wasn't copying him, she knew what tune he had started to whistle.

"I- it's my s-song." Her chest quaked and her whole body trembled like she was undergoing an electric current before she tried humming the ending of the tune to keep herself alive, at least for now.

What the Hell was he supposed to do?

Ben's job was to murder people for cash and get away with it. He had no morals or code or rules he lived by and he certainly had no partner or wife waiting at home for him because he couldn't have any weaknesses or strings attached to him.

But that was his tune. He recalled his mother telling him about how she met his father and despite what Ben did for a living, his home life had been a good one. He knew his parents had been in love and he knew that soulmates existed purely because of the way his parents had been when he was growing up. No one had loved or appreciated his mother more than his father did.

A soulmate was not what Ben was looking for, he simply assumed that whoever out there shared his song was someone that he would never find. He wasn't looking for them and he didn't need a soulmate in his life, his life was perfect as it was right now.

But she was here right in front of him, cowering away because he was about to snatch her life from her.

But he couldn't.

If he took her life right now, all Ben could think about was what he would have done if his father had taken his mother's life. What would have happened if his father had killed his mother at any one point in their relationship?

(Y/n) didn't ask to be his soulmate, maybe she wasn't even looking for her soulmate either. Ben couldn't do it. The one thing in life that he wanted to believe in and abide by was a soulmate, he didn't necessarily want his soulmate right now but he knew it was real and he believed it happened. He couldn't ruin that by killing his soulmate, (Y/n) did not choose to have her fate be entwined with a murderer. She didn't choose to have her soulmate be a brute who was about to kill her.

"You... fuck! Fuck!" His voice suddenly rocketed around the room before the gun was launched out of his hand and violently hit the wall opposite him. "Why?! Why did you have to have my song? Why did you have to fucking hum it? I could have killed you by now- I should have killed you by now!"

"Y-you would rather kill me... not knowing you killed your soulmate? You could have killed me i-if you hadn't of whistled our song."

It wasn't just his song, it was their song. They both shared it and (Y/n) didn't know if it would have been better if he killed her because he would have gone through the rest of his life wondering why he never met his soulmate. People didn't always end up with their soulmates, they got tired of waiting around and just settled with someone else or settled on their own and made a new life for themselves. Some people chose not to believe in it and others met their soulmate and were too stubborn to want to be with them. But everyone met them at one point in their lives and knew about it.

Ben would have been more confused if he went through the rest of his life and didn't meet his soulmate.

"But I can't fucking do it now! I can't... for fuck's sake! I can't tell my client I haven't killed you because it turns out your my shitting soulmate!"

"Then kill me!"

"I can't!"

Ben all but screamed the words back at (Y/n), knitting his hands into his shortened hair before he turned his back on her so he could try and gather himself and think it through. Ben couldn't bring himself to kill her now, not now he knew there actually was someone out there for him. A soulmate was different than just finding someone and falling in love. (Y/n) was his match, she was someone that would love him and take him as he was. She was his soulmate and therefore their fates were entwined, it meant that she would love him despite him being a hitman and murdering people for a living.

He didn't deserve love but now he had a chance at it and this was his one and only moral. He couldn't bring himself to kill her, it had been hard enough to convince himself to do it before but now it was impossible.

"I can't kill you now... as weird as it seems, I just can't do it. I've failed this job and now you'll go and leave me because I've tried to hurt you." Ben smoothed his hand over the back of his head and neck before he bent down on his knees in front of (Y/n). He didn't know how else to explain it and he was desperate for her to see this from his point of view but it was virtually impossible. He had kidnapped her, told her he was going to kill her and now he couldn't because their fates were entwined.

Ben could see it now that if he didn't kill her he would have to let her go and then he would lose her because he couldn't follow and stalk her for the rest of his life. It wouldn't be right. She would leave him and he would lose her all because he couldn't kill her.

"I don't- I can't leave you... I mean, your my soulmate too."

(Y/n) had her proof that this man wasn't going to kill her, he didn't have the mind-set or the courage or the will to do that. The worst he could do was be rude because he clearly didn't intend to hurt his soulmate which meant he had some very warped morals. (Y/n) believed in soulmates, she had been waiting for him and now he was here, albeit in the worst of circumstances. She wasn't just going to walk away from him yet.

"What do we do now?" As bad as this situation was, (Y/n) couldn't quite see where they went from here.

"Isn't it obvious? I was supposed to kill you but I can't do that... now I need to protect you instead."

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #murderer! ben #BoRhap #soulmates

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