#like no time to rest not time to process she was taking milk of the poppy ‘ to blunt the edge of it ‘ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drgnflyteabox · 10 months ago

Text

the lusty cabin-dweller

pairing: ghost / Simon riley x fem reader summary: your life gets wider when you find an injured man outside of your cabin. tags/warnings: Skyrim!ghost, secrets, graphic injuries, some angst, facial injuries, nursing Simon back to health one stew at a time <3, listen to this for the vibes, vaginal + anal sex, oral (f), animal attacks, blood, processing an animal for meat and fur, violence, death (non-major), mention of Skyrim racism, softdom!Simon, some backstory, please hmu if i forgot anything, one bed trope, simon backstory adapted to skyrim lol (so past abuse, murder, theft, domstic violence) but nothing graphic w.c: 5k

Honey-nut is squealing again. Some days you think she might not be worth the milk and cheese she gives you for all the trouble she causes. A high, strange bleating cuts through the chilled night air like a knife, sharp and terrifying only for a moment.

She's been at this since Frostfall. Maybe it was the weather causing Honey-nut distress - she was getting old, after all. For a goat.

In the time it takes you to trudge out of bed, pull on a wool shift and a fur, two things happen: one, Honey-nut stops bleating, and the woods surrounding your cottage becomes deathly silent.

Two, a crunch.

Just one, but it's enough. Someone is outside.

For a brief, hysterical moment, you worry for Honey-nuts safety. Have they hurt her to be quiet? No, you'd have heard that at least. Your breath comes fast, chest squeezing. Bandits? Probably not. It's a decent hike up to your wooden cottage. But it is nearing winter, and soon it will be Sun's Dusk. It's not unheard of that they'd be looking for a place to take over for the colder months.

Your hand goes to your heart, fingertips touching your throat. Be calm, you tell yourself. You aren't helpless, look. The axe, leaning by your front door. You can see in the dark well enough, and you're more familiar with your homestead than they are.

The axe feels right in your hands. Too-familiar, weighty, deadly. You touch your ear to the door, trying to reign in your fear. Nothing. Then, a wheeze, strangled and restrained like whoever it is can't afford to be heard. But you have heard it, and you push the door open.

"Show yourself!" You shout, voice surer than you feel. Your knees quake a little, but your grip on the axe is strong.

The animal pen is a mere few steps away from your front door. Past the front garden, it's wide open aside from the little shelter you built the past Mid Year. A foot sticks out, clad in armor.

"I'm armed," you add. "You're not getting anything from me!" The world is dark, the woods quiet. Adrenaline burns in you, bright enough to guide your steps.

"You gonna kill me with that, girl?"

Gruff voice, like scraping rocks. Coming into view, you see that this man poses no threat. He's half dead, slumped and pale, clutching his side.

"Who are you? What's your business here?" The axe is a deterrent, now. Just for show. You hold it above him, but nearly drop it when you see his face. It's sliced right through the middle, from his forehead to his jaw. "Oh, gods-"

"Mind yourself with that," his eyes flit to the axe. "Or put me out of my misery now."

Your shoulders dip down, lowering your weapon. Guilt crawls into your belly and settles there when you notice that yes- his feet are armored, but the rest of him is dressed in miners attire. White, coal-dusted shirt. Workman's pants, tucked into woolen calf wraps. God, he must be freezing. Maybe that's saved his life, staunched the bloodflow. It's tacky on him, not shining wet like you expected.

"What's happened to you?" You cringe at the sound of your voice. It's gone from fierce defensiveness to cloying concern, staring only at the blood staining his skin.

He breathes hard, staring at you a moment. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, what he's feeling. Outside of obvious pain. Leaves around you shiver in the breeze, a light snow beginning to fall when he finally speaks.

"Bandits," he grunts. "An ambush." Every word is a fight, a wheeze. Empathy drives away caution and you drop your weapon in favour of kneeling beside him.

"Come on, then. Let me help you," lifting him is a monumental task, even with him helping. He's as big as horse, thick as one too. Legs like tree trucks that hold him up just barely, feet sliding weakly on the uneven ground.

Looking back, Honey-nut watches you bring him through the doorway with a judgmental twinkle in her eye. Maybe it's time for goatherd pie.

///

Your bed is too small. His feet hang off comically, and the wood creaks under his weight. It'll have to do. Your mother would have beaten you black and blue for this - for inviting a stranger in, for settling him in your bed without so much as a what’s your name? But you know how to stitch and turning away someone in as bad a shape as he is would weigh on your conscience.

You light the sconces along the wall, and then a lantern to keep by his bedside. Warm, orange light fills the cottage, flickering every so often, inspiring calm.

"I'm no healer," you warn him. "Nor an alchemist." It’s not necessarily a lie. You had done a brief stint as a volunteer for the temple of Kynareth, lending your hands and your time to help nurse wounded soldiers. There had been supervision then, though. Guidance.

"I’m shit out of luck for choices, sweetheart,” his facial wound leaks a little when he speaks, blood running down the side of his face in thin rivulets. The wound at his side, however, is what worries you the most.

“Let me,” you murmur. Your fingers find the edge of his shirt, pulling them out of his pants, and up, up, gently. Looking him in the eye, watching his pain win over his weariness.

Another gash, swaddled in cloth wrapped sloppily around his middle. Without moving him you have to cut them off, slicing off his shirt at the same time. This one bleeds sluggishly, skin shredded, like he’d been dragged over coarse rock.

He words slur, energy leaving him. Mumbles under his breath things you can’t make out, and don’t try to. You’re busy rinsing, cleaning, and patting his ribs dry. Tensing every so often, he breathes hard through his nose to offset the pain. Mumbles some more, hands making fists.

It’s bad, but he’ll live. Exhaustion might trump over all, anyhow, what with how his eyelids have begun closing. Through the slit of them his eyes are pale, like sunlight through deep blue ice. Blonde lashes, stark against the dirt and coal smearing his skin.

You work in silence, letting him sleep through this one so he’ll hopefully be unconscious for the work you have yet to do on his face.

“Who did this?” You whisper to no one. You’re a breeze in the night, alone, hunched over this man and wiping his face with a cloth.

Clear of blood and grime, you gather a sewing needle and dip it into the lantern flame. Stitching is easy, but on his face? You falter a moment, worried, until you think of how proud men often are of their scars. Boasting battles won and creatures slain.

It’s that thought that pushes you through to the end, weaving the needle through until he's sewn and clean of blood.

///

Sweat and iron. The smell of it, sharp and salty, sea foam and earth, is the first thing you're aware of.

Then, the light of morning. Pale, almost white, invading through the windows in rays. A chill. Your eyes open with a not insignificant amount of effort, back twinging in different places as you become aware of the world again.

"Awake?" You startle, jerking up. It's the man from the night before, laying as he was, a little curled against the pain and big as an ox. "W's startin' t'think you'd sleep all day."

"It's morning, is it not?" You're not used to talking this early - or at all. "How's the- how are you feeling?"

He grunts, shuffling. His wrapped side has some blood peeking through, little spots of leakage, not enough to lose your head over. His face has swelled some overnight though, and you're awake enough now to hear the muffled quality to his voice. Part of the cut pulls his upper lip tightly. You wince.

"Just wait. I have something for the," you pause, crossing your space on stiff legs to find the bookshelf. Clay pots, glass bottles, books. Ah, here it is. "For the pain." It's some elixir. Purchased the last time you'd made the trek to Markarth from Muiri, the alchemists apprentice. It brings forth a distant memory of pain, of twisting your ankle running after Honey-nut.

Your ankle hadn't quite healed right, but this was good for when winter came and stiffness made the pain worse again.

He eyes you wearily as you approach. Suspiciously. As if you haven't been helping him out of the kindness of your heart…

"This will help," a promise.

"Don't need'it." He slurs, then cringes as it pulls his lip again.

"You'll recover faster if you're in less pain."

In the end he acquiesces, if not just to take the edge of the purpling that's beginning to show on the edges of his bandage. Broken ribs, maybe?

///

Chores need to be done whether or not there's an obstinate patient in your bed. Honey-nut needs to be milked, and she fights you every step of the way. You discover her pen open from last night and sigh with relief that she's still there.

The chickens have laid eggs for you, and you collect them diligently in your apron. Then, the garden. And finally a sweep of your traps in the woods.

Just one rabbit, but it's enough. You hope the man likes stew, and that his swelling goes down enough for him to tell you his name.

///

He tells you his name is Ghost. Strange, but you've heard stranger. Maybe he's a follower of Namira, you wonder not without an inkling of apprehension. Ghost is quiet, even as he heals. After you'd made yourself a straw bed on the other side of the cabin, you'd wake to him sitting up and stretching. Testing himself. Always silent.

The exhaustion was the worst of it. One nearly empty bottle of elixir later, the swelling on his face has gone down significantly. His ribs sore but on the mend. It was sleep that he needed, and lots of it.

Days passed like this. Switching bandages, wiping and cleaning, cooking enough stew for two. Nearly a week until he was up and about insisting to help around the cottage.

"No need," you tried to gently push him back into the warmth of the open door. He was too big, and having none of it. "You'll be better in no time."

He was just so tall. Were he to stand still at your doorway, half his face would be covered by the top of it. Despite his condition, you could tell that your initial comparison to a horse was completely on the nose. Stocky as a boar, arms thick as mammoth tusks. Hairy like blonde wheat shining in the sun. You'd noticed as much, watching him rest, watching his eyelashes flutter on his cheeks as he dreamt.

///

Ghost works like you're paying him in gold. He sweats, arms swinging down over and over again above the chopping block. There's enough wood to last three winters now - maybe four. Every job he takes is finished to excess. Your roof has never looked better, re-thatched in rotting places and swept clear of mildew. The old wood fence in your garden? Replaced.

Honey-nut finds her new favourite person when he dismantles what he calls shoddy work, and rebuilds her a shelter twice as big. The chickens are still weary, but enjoy receiving the kitchen scraps he tosses.

"There's really no need for all this," you insist again, because he's come back this afternoon with an elk on his back.

"Didn't need to fix me up, either, did'ya?"

You break it down together. Ghost does the harder part, while you take cuts of meat to dry for jerky. The rest will go into a venison casserole, with juniper berries.

"Hey- Ghost?" You call. He's skinning the rest of it for furs. "I'm off to gather some berries for dinner."

A nod, and you're off.

Your basket is old, woven, carried once by your mother and now you. Silly, but special all the same. It's stained with many years of berry collecting, many years of winter nights spent tucking into fruity crostatas or summers full of juniper mead.

The hills are rife with the low, rough trees. They grow like weeds here in the Reach, mountain pocked with patches of light green and little blue berries. Once, as a child, you'd made the mistake of eating one straight off the branch. Bitter as burnt coffee, it was lesson you'd learned through tears of laughter with your mother. A happy memory.

Does Ghost have a family? You wonder again about him, about why a man like that is wasting his time mining. He could've climbed the ranks as an imperial and been a General or - divines forbid - a stormcloak. You prayed he wasn't so craven as to follow Ulfric and his band of Nord supremacists.

It's this distraction that leads you right into the waiting jaws of a sabre cat. Quick and silent, it reminds you of your patient for an absurd moment before you're tripping backwards, basket full of berries scattered and forgotten. Your hip makes contact with the ground hard, pain lancing through your joint like a spear.

Fuck, how could you be so stupid? This was a mountain, leagues away from the nearest town. Sabres, bears, wolves. You'd always, always used awareness as a first precaution. Sight, sounds, keeping your ears tuned to the slightest crack in a twig. If not, there was the bow and arrow stowed away under your bed.

Now, you were caught unawares. Muscles under it's fur rippled, a low growl in it's barrel chest, creeping toward you. Adrenaline burned through you like a fever, hot and electric all at once, freezing you in place by the weight of your heart in your stomach.

Stendarr's mercy, dying from an animal attack after living years on the craggy peaks of the mountains, avoiding ambushes and robberies. Living on goats cheese and chicken eggs, nothing yet achieved. What a waste. Miserable, hopeless tears prick at your eyes. Your breath leaves you in quick, desperate puffs. Running wasn't an option - it would only encourage the sabre. Sovngarde, here you come-

"Aaarghgh aaaaa!" A roar. Loud, ringing in your ears, as fierce as a cave bear. It's Ghost, jumping through the brush towards you with his arms above his head. "Bugger off!" He's screaming loud, voice cracking a little, the stitches at his lip tearing just enough for droplets of blood to fall.

"I'll put you down!" It's nonsense, but it's loud, and he's massive. Taller than the sabre even if it stood on two legs. When he reaches you, he steps in front of you. Shields you.

The face-off is likely less than a few minutes, but it feels like time moves as slow as honey. Ghost faces of the sabre, screaming like a madman, beating his chest and waving his arms. It creeps backward, hissing and fighting, but is cowed by his stance and size.

When it's disappeared through the maze of juniper trees, he turns to you. Extends a palm rough like bark.

"How long have you lived here, again?" His voice grates as usual, made worse by his shouting.

Your face heats in embarrassment. "A few years. I'm not usually so distracted," you dust your dress, patting yourself. Twigs and dirt fall from the wool. "I swear. I got lost picking berries."

He snorts, like you're stupid. You feel stupid.

The basket is half empty when you call it quits, tired from fear. Ghost is hunched beside you, holding his ribs again, rubbing his lip almost compulsively.

"Stop that, you'll get a thicker scar," you reach for his elbow.

"Don't care much about that, love," he shrugs your hand away.

Dinner is made in silence. It's a miracle you have the energy, but while you're physically drained your mind is running in circles. You watch with concern as he sits gingerly back on the bed. The pain in your hip pulses with sympathy, pulsing heat travelling down your leg and up your back.

"Need me to take a look at anything?" Besides his obvious discomfort, you'll have to fix his face back up. You'd prefer for him to be in a welcoming mood.

"I can handle it," Mr Stoic over here. "Did'ya take a fall?"

You drop dried frost mirriam into chopped, boiled potatoes. Then a pad of butter.

"Yes, but I'm alright," the cream sauce comes together, ladled over the venison. You're out of eidar cheese, but Honey-nuts goat cheese crumbled over everything is perfectly fine. Ghost eats like a furnace taking coal, anyhow.

"Let me see," he's up close. Again, you've been taken unawares. A sharp inhale like a gasp, heart beat picking up, breathing in the smell of him. It's gone from bloody to pine, to earth, to fresh wood. His hands find your hip and you hiss, trying to jerk away. In doing so you press your side into his chest, curled close, warm not just from the fire. "It's alright, sweet girl." He murmurs into the top of your head.

This tenderness is new. His fingers are as gentle as you've seen them in the last few weeks, pulling up the thick skirts of your dress and assessing the tender skin. It's a little hot to the touch, painful. The rough pad of his thumb brushes against you softly, making you whine.

His lips brush your hair, not quite kissing you, but affectionate nonetheless. You're close enough to see his throat bob when he swallows.

"Just a bump, huh, sweet girl?" He takes over, mashing the potatoes, setting out plates at your little wooden table, guiding you by your lower back.

You eat in relative silence, thighs brushing, a tension bubbling to the surface like stew on the fire. He spares you a few glances between bites, still wincing whenever he has to bend down.

"I'll take a look at that again before bed," you speak through a mouthful of creamy venison.

Sure enough, he's reopened some of his stitches. Not worst case scenario, but you spend a few minutes hunched over and bandaging him up again. He stares at you intently, eyes so clear and focused you wish he wouldn't. It makes your hand shake.

Moving to get up and back to your straw bed, his arm shoots out as quick as an arrow and takes your wrist in his hand. His stare is the same, squinting at you like he's waiting for you to confess something. Like he's waiting for you to give in.

"You're not sleeping on the floor," he says, sure, chest puffed. "Not with your hip. Come on now, come lay down." Gently, he tugs you down. Protests make it to the tip of your tongue and nowhere else, not with the promise of a mattress on your sore muscles and screaming hip.

It's too small though, much too small. Already he was hanging off, shoulders taking up the entire width. You curl forward, on your good side, facing away from him and into the dark. The cabin is still warm from cooking dinner.

His breath puffs on the back of your neck, hand finding your arm and stroking up and down. Soothing you. He curls around you, following the natural bend of your body.

"Simon," he whispers.

Your brow almost touches your hairline. "That's not my name."

"No," his reply is half spoken, half physical. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, bicep under you, cradling you, his big bear paw hugging your shoulder. A stray pinky ventures dangerously close to your nipple, fingers spread. "It's mine."

The world widens. "Yours?" You breathe in, out. It's trust, is what it is. He's giving you a piece of himself, this stranger, for you to hold. "Simon," you taste it in your mouth. "Simon."

He laughs against your hair. "Was watching you," he confesses. "After we got- after the ambush. Walked for days, till I found you."

"How long did you watch?" You're curious, if not a little suspicious. "You weren't casing it, were you?"

"No, nothing like that. Couldn't keep walking," he sighs loud like a dog. "Hadn't eaten, hadn't drank. Needed to know if you were somewhere I could stay."

"That's why Honey-nut was losing her mind," the realization is half funny, half scary. By the eight, you really hadn't noticed someone living so close-by for so long?

"Honey-nut?"

"You've met her, Simon. She's the goat."

"Ah," he snorts. "I've been calling her Molag-Bal, for how she's got us in the palm of her hand."

"Simon!" You shriek with laughter, shaking until he squeezes you from behind. So close his heartbeat taps against your back.

///

A week goes by, and each night is the same. You wake together, sleep together, eat together. Simon regains his strength and his wounds turn into scars. His face is deeply marked, but you've never known him another way. Truthfully, it adds to his handsomeness. There's a ruggedness there that one can only develop living in the rough.

The air gets colder, frigid in the mornings and nights. Light snows have begun falling, and Honey-nut begins her bleating until you put up the winter wall of her shelter, boxing her in. The chickens slowly cease laying eggs, bundling together, clucking at Simon when he checks for the seasons last bounty.

The time to make a trek to Markarth is creeping. You need dried goods, grain, seeds for spring, dried meats, elixirs - everything. It'll be your last trip before you're stuck in the freezing mountains with nobody but Honey-nut to talk to.

Books are your salvation during the cold months.

"I have to get supplies soon," you break the news to Simon early in the morning, when the light just barely creeps over the craggy peaks of the mountains. "In Markarth."

There. It's over with - telling him. You know you're being a coward by not asking directly, but you need to know. What is he going to do now that he's healed? Spend a few more months with you? You're still mostly strangers, practicing domesticity together, but strangers nonetheless.

"Can't go to Markarth," he says.

"Why's that?"

Simon looks at you then, eyes hard and tender at the same time. He grimaces a little, scar twisting wit his expression.

"Used to work there," A pause. "Used to… mine there."

"What?" Cidhna mine is for prisoners. You take a small step back, shaking your head. "What?" You repeat. Cidhna mine? Is that how- oh. His injuries, his waiting to see who you were before approaching. By the gods, you've been tricked!

"You tricked me-" you start, upset. Was he a killer, a robber? Images dredged from the recesses of your mind float to the surface. Men, fire, your mother cut down before you.

"No, no," he interrupts. He's shaking his head, not quite stepping forward but leaning toward you. Eyebrows drawn up, palms facing you in supplication. "Sweet girl, I," he looks around then, as if the words will appear written in smoke from the hearthfire. "Listen to me please," he pleads.

"Tell me what you did!" It's a near-shout, but you're upset. He's been cozying up to you while running from the law. Not that you're a total stickler for rules, but the men at Cidhna mine aren't there without reason.

The most secure prison in Skyrim.

"I will, I'll tell you. Just sit down please, sit with me." He pats a chair, sitting in the one beside it. Beseeching you. "Cm'ere, sweet girl. M'sorry."

///

You sit quietly while he tells you, choking a little on the rising tide of emotions. The biggest question is should you believe him? This story of his past, his father, a childhood spent learning to steal and bully to survive. Elixirs for a brother hooked on skooma, food for a mother grown sickly from her husbands abuse. Eventually getting rid of his father altogether, and wining up in Cidhna.

"If what you say is true," your voice wavers, throat tight with emotion. "Why not tell me?"

He shrugs his shoulders, looking up for a moment as if asking the divines for guidance.

"You never asked."

For a moment, you want to be indignant. You laid with him, cooked for him, wiped blood and sweat off his brow.

But he's right. You never asked, never thought to - just wondered, minded your business, content to help someone in need of it. The feeling of betrayal loosens in your chest, releasing it's vice grip on your heart, a calmer acceptance taking place.

The position it leaves you in is awkward, even if you're content to believe him. You've been too yielding since you met him. Accepted him into your home, accepted his story. Ambushed by bandits? A silly lie, now that you think of it. Vague, believable. Easier than explaining that guards had slashed him as he escaped imprisonment. That he couldn't go back because he was so recognizable.

You don't speak as you get ready. It's not an angry silence, but one brought by embarrassment. How stupid he must think you are, cozying up up to him like that.

The question of where he'll go burns still in your mind, in your gut. You're nervous, fingers shaking a little as you wrap long strips of warm wool on your calves, forearms, and between your fingers. Your dress is double-layered, boots sturdy.

It's a trip and half, lugging everything. You're on foot until you reach the nearest inn, and from there you rent a horse and cargo carriage. Easier from there, with Jazbay the white mare to pull you along.

"I know someone in Cidhna," Simon interrupts your thoughts. He's always tall, imposing, a little intimidating. Now he looks as sheepish as a man like him can look. "Could you…" He extends his hand, a letter clasped in it.

You grimace, but nod curtly.

"Thank you, honey," he breathes a sigh of relief. Honey. That ones new. It fills you with warmth.

"You're welcome to stay with me," you blurt. Impulsive, stupid. Brought on by the familiarity of his affection. "For the winter, I mean."

He's across the cabin in two steps. He presses his front to yours, hands cupping your cheeks, thumbs gently rubbing your cheekbones.

He kisses you, then, and everything slides into place. Your stomach tightens, hands coming up to grasp his shoulders, gasping into his mouth. It's wet, lips smacking noisily, the only sound in the near-frozen forest. Acceptance, sweet and buttery. This is a man whose never had a home.

"I can't stall any longer-" you try. He interrupts you with his mouth again, long kisses like it's reviving him, revitalizing him. "I gotta-"

"Shh, sweetheart," he hums lowly. Gods, you've never been this wet. It soaks into your cotton underwear, clit pulsing in time with your heart. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

///

He's so solid, firm muscle and hard cock. It leaks between his legs, bobbing with his abdomen where he's kneeled on the floor, face in your cunt.

"Simon!" You're shouting, unabashed. Years have passed since anyone's touched you last, and you're sensitive as a maid, gripping his too-long hair almost meanly. Simon licks you like a starving man, slurping, letting you drip and then sucking it off your skin. His fingers find the entrance of your pussy, fitting himself in two at a time.

Once you've begun, you can't stop. He fucks you on the bed, letting it creak dangerously. Bends you over the table, cock dragging in and out of you deliciously. You shake and shiver in his arms, wrung out and insatiable all at once.

"Can I have you here, sweet girl?" He thumbs at your other hole, dipping in, kissing your inner thighs.

"Yes, gods yes, Simon," you drag his name out. Si-i-mon. It sounds good that way, breathy, not spoken but moaned and screamed. It's late evening, dark, colder now that you haven't lit the fire.

No need, when his cock is as hot as coals and slides between your arsecheeks like a divining rod. Your pussy is aching and hot, too-sensitive. You're belly down on the bed again, hands gripped in the sheets.

When you deliberately relax your muscles, he fits his fingers in your ass using come as lubricant. Spits down onto you, watches you start to rub yourself into the bedding desperately.

"None of that," he pants, pulling you up by your hips. A whine builds in your throat, which he shushes by pushing his other two fingers in your cunt. You yelp, moving toward him and away from him. He keeps you still, firmly holding your hips.

You come, tears beginning to leak into your sheets, when he presses his cock against the notch of your hole and pushes in.

A long, deep groan from the pit of his stomach starts and doesn't stop until he's sheathed. You're frozen, stuck in a gasp that doesn't end, filled to the brim.

Simon begins to rock, shallowly, stealing your breath and breathing it back into you with every thrust. It's then that you begin to make sound, crying out and fisting the sheets, rocking your hips with him. He reaches around, leaning down to kiss your shoulders and play with your clit at the same time.

"Not gonna last," he says into your skin. "Gonna come inside you again."

You're easy - so sensitive that if he breathed on you long enough you're sure you'd peak. His fingers twisting and pinching your clit is pure madness, and you tighten like a vice around him as you yowl your last orgasm of the night.

His hips snap into yours roughly, abandoning your clit for the flesh of your hips, pounding, dragging, grunting into you as he finds his own release.

Half-asleep, you fell him roll over onto his side and turn your head to face him. He's smiling lazily, stroking your skin, still sweating from exertion.

"I'll come with you tomorrow," he whispers.

"I thought you couldn't come to Markarth?" Confusion prickles at you, brows coming together. He finds the furrow with his thumb and smooths it away.

"I can't, honey. But I can come down and wait for you."

"You will?" Hope rises in you, in tandem with affection.

"Always," his voice is a soft murmur.

"Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow. Goodnight, sweet girl."

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #task force 141 #141 x reader #drgnfly writes #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #skyrim au #i truly don't know but i had fun writing it #hehe #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #cw murder #idk what else to tag #i love skyrim #i dont know shit about goats #genuinely this is jokes but i've been playing a ton of skyrim so here you go

2K notes · View notes

eurydiceauxenferswrites · 3 months ago

Text

How They Fall Asleep With You- Avengers Domestic/Retirement AUs

Just sleep, you perverts, lol. I’ll happily update with any character y’all want upon request (while I use MCU gifs, I’m happy to also include non MCU Marvel characters). This is pure wish fulfillment for me; not sharing a bed with my favorite characters, having a normal and functional sleep schedule.

Steve Rogers: Regardless of when you typically sleep, Steve will be ready and in bed by 9 o’clock sharp. If you’re a later sleeper he’ll stay up reading the news until you’re ready to head to bed, no matter how late. He prefers to stay on his back, with his hands folded on his stomach.

It takes you a bit to realize this, but his adaptability isn’t just because he loves you; Steve doesn’t actually sleep more than a few hours a night. He stays awake, staring at the ceiling for hours, just thinking. He tells you not to worry about it, because his enhanced body doesn’t actually doesn’t need all that much sleep, but you know it’s a half truth. So you do what you can to help rest a little easier, cuddling, back rubs, warm milk, whatever helps. He really does appreciate the effort you put in to make him feel loved and, frankly, to feel human again.

Also sorry for those hoping to see our dear Captain in his boxers but he wears long underwear to bed, force of habit, you don’t want to catch your death of cold whilst sleeping after all!

Bucky Barnes: You know that feeling you get when you oversleep and then you absolutely cannot fall asleep again the next night, like your sleep bar is overfull? Yeah that’s Bucky all the time. So he just doesn’t sleep with you, he helps you get ready for bed, kisses you good night, and then leaves the bedroom to do… whatever it is he does at night (he never leaves the house, though, he’s quite a homebody). If you’re a light sleeper you’re often woken up by sounds of video games, or talking, or the smell of cooking. One time you even woke up to a fire alarm because he was making grilled cheese at 3 in the morning.

When Bucky does finally sleep, he’ll crash out wherever he’s sitting, so you’ve found him snoozing on the couch, on the stairs, face first in a bowl of cereal, you name it. You usually give him a kiss, gently slip a pillow under his head, and let him get the his well deserved rest. He doesn’t have any pajamas, just some comfy boxers and ratty old t-shirts.

Natasha Romanov: You thought it was kismet how well your sleep schedules matched. You went to bed at the same time every night and woke up at the same time every morning. Just another reason why you two were such a great couple.

Until the first time you woke up in the middle of the night and realized Natasha was gone, entirely gone, not only from the bed but from the house. That’s when you found out that, actually, Natasha doesn’t have a normal sleep cycle. No don’t get me wrong, unlike our super soldier boys she does get her 8 hours, but she has a polyphasic sleep cycle, its part of her red room training. She only sleeps for 15 minutes at a time at most split intermittently throughout the day. So no, she wasn’t lying when she said she goes to sleep and wakes up with you, she just left out the parts in between. When she’s not in bed with you, she goes jogging, runs errands or hangs out with her other nocturnal friend Bucky Barnes.

Nat is the second most likely Avenger to wear lingerie to bed, silky lacy clingy slips are her go to. She knows how much you love to see her in it, she gets a kick out of watching you flush as she slips under the covers with you. But it absolutely melts her heart that you find her just as beautiful with messy hair and an oversized tee, that you love every aspect of her, not just the polished mask she’s so used to wearing.

Tony Stark: He is very particular about his bedroom specifications (projecting my Sensory Processing Disorder let’s goooooo). The temperature has to be precisely room temp, the AC humming just so, the sheets a the sheets a 45% cotton 55% rayon blend, and the night light at 3260K (within a 10K range), or else he cannot sleep a wink. And even then his sleep schedule is a complete disaster because he when he’s diving into a project he lacks the self control to go to stop his work and go to bed (mood). He never wakes up at the same time either, sometimes he’s bright eyed and bushy tailed at 5:30 AM, sometimes he’s snoozing until noon.

He talks in his sleep, lol can’t shut up even when unconscious, his muttering range from sweet (“…hey…love you so much, you know? love you…”) to sad (“…no no please just a little more time… I can’t save them…”) to just random (“the pickle is covered in sparkles! inedible, you go to space jail”).

He’s not entirely selfish though, he shares his toys. Has kitted out your bedroom to be state of the art, you both have an adjustable mattress, an automated light system, even a dumbwaiter for breakfast in bed. Anything you need, gorgeous, just say the word.

Absolutely wears lingerie to bed, the hottest and most impractical he can find. If the paparazzi plan on invading his privacy again, he’s promised to give them a show they’ll never forget.

Clint Barton: Clint’s sleep has also been majorly affected by his career, but unlike his partner Nat he still sleeps a normal 8 hours at a time. Clint has cultivated the ability to fall asleep anywhere he needs to. He often dozes on the couch next to you while watching tv. As long as he can feel you next to him, as long as he knows you’re safe, he feels safe too.

When Clint takes off his hearing aid, he’s a very heavy sleeper, almost impossible to wake up. He’s also a very still sleeper, hardly ever moves around, he does snore however. If that bothers you, feel free to flip him to his side, I promise it won’t disturb his beauty sleep at all. He does have pyjama set, unlike some of his teammates he’s a civilized man.

Thor Odinson: Has the classic rich kid sleep schedule; stays up late, sleeps in until brunch. If you’re the sort who prefers an early bedtime, he’ll do his best to not disturb you when he crawls into bed; although, if you’re a light sleeper, you’ll probably notice his clumsy attempts at stealth.

Sleeping in the same bed as Thor is definitely a mix of pros and cons. The cons: he snores like thunder and he’s a major space hog. The pros: he sleeps entirely nude. He’s also a cuddler and surprisingly soft for such a muscular man. He likes to slip his arm under your head to support it and pull you close while you sleep (although if you’re the sort that prefers their space while sleeping, YMMV on whether this is a perk or not). Also, if you have insomnia of any kind, he’ll stay up as late as you need helping you fall asleep, whispering Asgardian folktales, or even making it rain just so for the perfect white noise.

Bruce Banner: Bruce has transformed during nightmares before, so he’s honestly somewhat scared of sleeping in the same bed as you, the last thing he wants is to hurt you. If you insist, he’ll try though (“alright, it’s your funeral”). So far, things have been going well; the worst that’s happened is you’ve been accidentally pushed out of bed once or twice, or woken up by oversized grumbling, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying that one day Hulk will hit you in his sleep (accidentally, of course, Hulk is as soft for you as Banner is). Always puts up a pillow wall when he sleeps. Sometimes suffers from insomnia, takes a lot of melatonin gummies. If you have insomnia, he’ll give you the driest densest scientific literature he can find (well, dry to you, to him its fascinating, but he accepts your lack of interest in advances in the modeling of molecular orbital theory for actinides using machine learning programs or whatever dishwater dull nuclear physics he’s reading about this week). Sleeps with nothing on but a pair of super stretchy pants in case of Hulk emergency. Almost always sleeps in the fetal position.

Sam Wilson: Once again winning the Most Adult award, Sam works hard to make sure he has a consistent sleep schedule because he understands how important it is. He’s usually in bed by 8:30-9 and spends an hour or so reading with a nightlight and maybe a cup of tea until he feels sleepy. He’s not especially picky about his sleeping spaces, with one exception; he expects you to respect the sanctity of quiet time. That means no talking, no running around, no tv, maybe some music if he’s feeing crazy. Cuddling is always welcome, of course, as long as he can still read with you curled up in his arms. If you don’t behave he’s happy to banish you to the foldout couch. It’s nothing personal but it’s important to him that he has a chance to decompress at the end of the day and he knows how to set good boundaries.

Sam wakes up pretty early, around 6, so he can get a morning jog in and get ready for his day. He’ll always cook for you in the morning and he’ll even make you breakfast in bed if he has the time. Sam wears pajama pants but typically goes shirtless at night. Likes to sleep on his side, facing you, so you’ll be the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning.

Loki: Not the easiest person to sleep with. He’s very picky, not in specific details like Tony, more that he expects a certain standard of luxury, a bedroom fancy enough for a prince. He’s also a very selfish bedmate, since he’s not used to sharing his space. He’s a pillow hog and blanket thief and also like, ice cold so if you run hot then that’s great for you but if not, good luck lol). Still, he does like sleeping with you, he’s a clingy sort, so maybe take the L and indulge him once in a while. Goes to bed as late as he pleases and considers waking up before 10 to be “early” in classic royal fashion.

Has a giant sized plushie he squeezes while sleeping (Ah yes. You, your boyfriend, and his 4 foot tall Jeff the Landshark). Wears the most dramatic slinky old timey night robe ever, it has the tendency to start slipping off ;).

Frank Castle: Frank had been nocturnal for a long time. He’d get restless sleep in the day, in the back of his van or in a safe house, usually in a sleeping bag and a pile of laundry, and of course without changing or brushing his teeth.

Since moving in with you, he’s tried to clean up his act. He gets in bed and wakes up around the same time as you (assuming you have a somewhat regular sleep schedule, if not he’s in at 10ish and up at 6:30ish), he has pajamas you bought together and always takes a shower right before bed, he’s slowly being re-domesticated. Frank always makes the bed after you’ve both woken up, force of habit from his military training. His alarm clock is set at the lowest level but he still jumps out of bed like somebody’s crashed a cymbal next to his ear, his vigilante past has left him pretty high strung. He’s also plagued by nightmares, of the death of his family, of the horrors he’s seen, of you suffering the same fate. He twists around and whimpers in his sleep, the best way to stop them is to cuddle, nothing helps him sleep like being the big spoon, feeling you safely tucked inside his arms.

#Imagines #x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel x reader headcanons #marvel domestic au #MCU x reader #avengers x reader #Steve rogers x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Natasha Romanov x Reader #Tony stark x reader #Thor odinson x reader #Bruce banner x reader #Sam Wilson x reader #Loki x reader #Frank Castle x reader

662 notes · View notes

strwbabydoll · 7 months ago

Text

The Feeling Came Late (I'm Still Glad I Met You)

pairings: grumpy!college student! Harry x fem! sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this toh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter 3/? (wc: 4.8k)

masterlist

001 | 01 | 02 | 03

Chapter 3 - The First Session

The sound of a muffled alarm is barely heard in Harry's room, he’s too busy being occupied with other things.

"Oh fuck, just like that baby. Doing s'good f'me." Harry moans as his grip tightens in the brunette's hair. Her mouth feels heavenly as she chokes on him, her throat tightening around his tip when she takes too much. He rolls his eyes back and curses out loud when she slows her pace, her tongue circling his tip when she reaches it before slowly gliding back down.

She pulls away long enough to spit onto her hand and quickly takes his leaking dick back into her more than welcoming mouth. She begins to bob her head slowly as she uses the hand she spit on to quickly jerk off the rest she can't fit in her mouth. Harry hums in appreciation as she slows her pace again, taking her time to suck him off.

Harry can feel the spit dripping from her lips and onto the fern tattoos on his v-line as she continues, alternating between fast and slow, and she experiments with different things. As she comes back to his leaking tip, she runs her tongue over the slit and Harry shakes in pleasure.

"Oh fuck, just like that baby. You're g'nna make me cum, your mouth feels so good." He says between moans when she picks up her pace and uses the hand that was wrapped around him to cup his balls as she moans softly around him.

He can feel his stomach beginning to tighten as he slowly begins to fuck her mouth. He's close, he's so close he can taste it as she goes lower and lower. More spit falls from her lips and she begins to get messy, more careless, just wanting to taste his seed going down her throat. The sound of her soft gags and the wet sounds of him slipping in and out of her mouth only egging him on.

She speeds up just slightly and goes back up, choosing to suck softly on just the tip. He can feel his balls drawing up and his length beginning to twitch as his hips begin to falter.

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming, s'good baby. So good for me, that's it, swallow it all." He moans as he slowly continues thrusting in her eager mouth, milking himself for all he's worth as his eyes flutter shut and he releases the grip on the brunette's hair.

He sighs as she gets up and sits next to him, her hand gently rubbing small strokes on his thigh as he comes down. He can feel her begin to kiss his jawline softly, slowly trailing down his neck and he hums softly.

"Wait, what’s that sound? Do you hear that?" He asks as his eyes open and he looks around, the sound of his alarm is audible but just only barely. He quickly gets up from his bed and scrambles around his room in search of the small item.

Quickly grabbing a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers from his dresser, he yanks them on before searching the pile of clothes on the floor. In the process of him pulling his pants up to search the pockets, the desired phone falls and lands onto the brunette's discarded shirt, the sound of the alarm becoming louder. He grabs it and stops the alarm and curses under his breath when he sees the time, the alarm’s been going off for over fifteen minutes.

He instinctively turns his attention to the halfway dressed girl sitting on his bed, and frowns.

"You gotta go." He says as he throws on a hoodie and some shorts, messily throwing his hair in a bun as he gets dressed.

"What do you mean you gotta go? Don't tell me your girlfriend is on the way?" She asks, her voice raspy as she frowns at him.

"No, but you gotta get out like now. I gotta go somewhere." He watches her shake her head as she searches for her discarded bra and curses at him, yelling at how horrible he is and what she's supposed to do now as he yanks a pair of socks on.

She angrily huffs as she walks out of his part of his dorm and slams the front door. He rolls his eyes as he slips on a pair of vans before grabbing his lone textbook sitting on the edge of the bed, heading to the front door. He gives a small pet to Delilah as he opens the door, telling the small kitten he'll be back soon and closes the door. He quickly locks it and jogs through the dorm building, down the stairs and outside towards the parking lot.

He's never been more grateful for parking nearest to the building as he quickly spots his car. He picks up the pace slightly as he gets closer to his car, the wind pricking at his eyes causing him to squint. The short jog feels like forever as he gets closer, close enough to unlock the door and reach a tattooed arm to the door and pull it open. He rushes into the car, pulling the door closed behind him as he puts the keys in the ignition and turns them, the car stuttering to life as he quickly backs out and begins his journey to the library.

He passes different trees, stores and restaurants on his way. The world seems to move in slow motion and he huffs angrily.

Fuck Y/N for being so smart and fuck her and her stupid schedules. He hates her, if it weren't for him needing a tutor, he'd be balls deep inside of the brunette from earlier.

— — —

He huffs in annoyance as he pulls into the parking lot of the library, choosing to park in the spot closest to the building he spots her bike sitting in the rack all tied up and he's kinda grateful she chose to stay. He turns off the car and quickly heads to the entrance as he clicks the button on his keys to lock the door. He opens the door and looks around, tall bookshelves lining the walls and standing in straight rows block his view of finding Y/N.

He huffs as he wanders through the library, eyes scanning for any sign of her in between the walls of books and at the tables scattered throughout the empty spaces. As he wanders through the building and makes his way to the back of the library, he can't help but to feel a slight flutter in his chest; it's definitely,actually there’s no way in hell that it could be, not one of excitement but he doesn't think he's nervous so he's not sure what exactly he's feeling.

His eyes scan over his surroundings and he finally spots her standing at one of the empty tables in the corner. He begins to slowly make his way over to her and he watches as she begins to put all of her belongings into the tote bag. Even though he can tell she's upset, it’s written all over her face, she still manages to gently place everything away. He clears his throat and she quickly turns around, her eyes narrowed and a frown sits on her face as she glares at him.

She gently places her bag on the back on a nearby empty chair and begins to cross her arms.

"You're late.." her voice wavers but he knows better than to comment on it. He chooses to avoid the conversation, simply nodding in response as he moves to sit down next to her bag.

"No explanation? I think I deserve something since you're over an hour late Harry. You were supposed to text me and let me know." She pulls her textbooks out from her tote bag and sets them gently on the table.

She sighs softly as she pulls a couple worksheets from one of her binders and sets them alongside the textbook.

"You know.. don't even know why I allowed myself to get upset, you were never one to be on time. This is normal for you, it’s my fault for expecting something more out of you, " She says with a small laugh and he furrows his eyebrows ever slightly, the frown only increasing with every sentence that comes from her lips.

He's never been so close to her like this and it throws him off. He can make out the mascara coated lashes that fan her cheeks with every blink and her perfume fills his nose which only increases his already grumpy mood. In a feeble attempt to distract himself, he scoots his chair away from her subtly and rests his head on the back of his hand.

The library's quiet, the only sound in the room is the humming of the air conditioner and the faint shuffling from the students as they walk around. The smell of old books fills the air and a few rays of light filter through the glass windows sitting high on the white painted walls. Students walk in, idly whispering among each other as they quickly silence their phones as they walk over the tall wooden shelves and search for the book they need.

His eyes quickly flit back to hers, green orbs meeting soft irises filled with annoyance as she tilts her head to the left ever so slightly.

"You're not even listening to me. I'm trying to explain all these so your attention would be very much appreciated." She says and he hums quickly, eyes staring straight ahead as he crosses his arms and leans back into the uncomfortable wooden chair.

As she begins to explain the basics of poetry, pointing to all the different elements as she lists them off, Harry can feel his mind wandering once again. Small glimpses of happier times, easier ones flash through his mind, quickly jumping from one scene to the other. He breathes through his nose in annoyance, the action not going unnoticed by Y/N but she chooses not to speak on it. She figures she'll allow him to wallow in his grumpiness as long as he pays attention.

She can't help but to sneak peeks of Harry as she speaks, turning her head ever so often as she explains what each element is and why it's important. A couple stray curls have fallen from his bun and framed his face, a furrow formed in the middle of his brows as he stares at the middle of his side of the table, and she can't help but smile softly at the fond memories.

"Reminds you of something?" She asks and all she gets in return is a very soft grunt, one that could be considered either agreement or disagreement.

She gently turns the pages towards the grumpy boy sitting next to her, her polished finger points to the beginning part of the poem.

"Can you tell me what this is?" She asks, her voice slightly above a whisper so he can hear her. He hums once, turning his gaze to her as a small smirk begins to form on his lips. He shrugs once as he pushes the paper away with one hand, his intense gaze never leaving hers. He watches her features begin to harden and turn into frustration.

Her brows begin to furrow and her mouth turns downwards, her eyes darting between his and the paper on the table as he pushes it away. She stares at him in disbelief before shaking her head and shutting her eyes, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she sighs.

"I can't do the work for you Harry, you have to do it so you can remember it. You don't wanna repeat again do you?" He hums twice as he keeps his gaze on her face, mapping out the three little lines resting in the middle of her eyebrows.

She brings one hand over to the discarded paper and pulls it back towards him, her eyes narrowing just slightly as she pulls her hand away. The silence is deafening as they stare into each other's eyes, frustration meeting stubbornness, warmth colliding with cold, two complete opposites fighting internally as the stare-off continues.

The sound of someone laughing breaks the silence, but it's only briefly; the air conditioning fans cold air throughout the building and goosebumps begin to form on the back of her neck. She sighs softly as she breaks her gaze away from his intense gaze, moving her hands to fidget with the ends of her long sleeves as she stares at the paper laying on the desk.

She knows he's always been stubborn so this shouldn't be a surprise. He's like this with everybody but she can't help but to wonder why he seems to treat her worse. She doesn't expect them to be best friends but he definitely shouldn't hate her. As her thoughts run through her head, she brings one hand back to the table and moves the discarded paper in between them.

"I cannot do the work for you and I will not do it. You should want to pass this exam Harry. I get that it's the first lesson and I wasn't expecting this to be smooth sailing - but I was at least expecting even the tiniest bit of cooperation here. It's okay if you don't like me, but for your sake can you work with me here? This will all be done a lot faster if you try." She says as she points to the paper between them, a finger pointing towards the beginning of the poem where they left off.

Harry stares at the paper briefly before reluctantly opening up the textbook laying in front of Y/N and flipping the pages to the section she's attempting to teach from. His eyes skim over the page, aiming to get the session done as soon as possible and for him to not have to hear her voice more than he has to.

He quickly finds the answer and he silently points to it. He can hear her sigh sadly and it's full of disappointment, he can’t bring himself to care though. It’s not like he asked to be tutored by her so of course he’s not going to make things easier for her, he only technically agreed to this because he’ll have so much fun making things annoyingly difficult for her. All of this is overwhelming for him, there’s just so much happening all at once. The ends of her hair graze his hand as she leans over just slightly to check his textbook page and her floral scented perfume fills his nose once more and he frowns at just how well it suits her, soft and sweet, inviting and comforting. Being this close to her for this long is affecting him, he thinks, messing with his brain and ruining his plan. He can’t let that happen though, it’d fuck everything up. A soft smile begins to form on her lips as she leans back to her own seat after looking over his answer.

"It wasn't that bad right? You got it right, good job Harry." She murmurs as she turns to look at him.

She takes note of the way his mouth is turned downward and she wonders how his muscles

aren't in pain constantly from having to sit like that all the time. It’s a little funny the more she thinks about it, seeing him always having a frown and the worst attitude and having his face stuck like that forever. She imagines him years down the line, working at maybe a tattoo parlor or wherever he chooses, at his wedding (if he ever manages to actually settle down) with his signature frown plastered on his face. She can’t stop the laugh that spills from her mouth, but quickly stops it. That doesn’t stop Harry from looking at her with narrowed eyes and raised eyebrows, it’s a brief look like always. His frown comes back as he shakes his head as if he’s shaking some thoughts from his mind. She pulls the paper to her and quickly marks it with her pen, highlighting important parts and little things she thinks might help him remember. She gently slides the paper back over to him and smiles softly.

"I've left some notes about everything so as long as you study this after we're done, next time won't take as long."

— — —

The time passes rather slowly but Y/N thinks it's simply because she's the only one talking. She's tried to initiate conversation with him, asking him about his classes, the latest tv show, and even attempting to talk about the weather! He refuses to talk to her, either replying with a blank stare, a simple huff or gruff hum accompanied by a shrug.

She doesn't mind the silence usually, but not when there's supposed to be a conversation. She thought he would take this at least somewhat seriously and she'd have to answer all of Harry's questions - work related and unrelated because she knows he likes to try to annoy her and get under her skin - and at least they'd make small talk about school, after all this is a tutoring session and she knows that he doesn’t understand everything she’s talking about. This silence is anything but comfortable, it's awkward and full of tension, it’s smothering and claws at her throat as it tries to pull out any sense of conversation; it's the kind of silence that makes her blurt out all these random questions and statements to try to fill it so she won't end up packing up all her things and running out as fast as her legs can carry her.

She should be used to this type of tension between them, the way he's always picking on her, throwing harsh words and nasty glares that she does her best to ignore. But to her, this tension feels different, it feels thicker; it could have something to do with the fact they're in close proximity, sharing the same table and the way her hair keeps grazing his hand which causes him to freeze up and scowl at her until she moves back to her side of the table, not that it’s much further than where she is as she looks over the paper.

She doesn't have to wonder if she's the only one to feel the difference because Harry's body language tells her everything she needs to know. She can see how tense his shoulders are, how he's been bouncing his leg from underneath the table for the past hour and the way he's moved his chair as far as the table will allow him but kept the worksheets and textbook in the middle so she can see.

Her phone buzzes from in her back pocket as she explains the different types of poems, she quickly excuses herself as she grabs her phone and unlocks it. She sees a message from her best friend asking her to come over so they can binge watch their favorite tv show, she smiles softly as she replies quickly - telling her that she'll be over as soon as her study session with Harry is over. She quickly puts her phone back into her pocket and goes to apologize to Harry when she's met with him already looking at her.

The frown is still plastered in his face and his eyebrows are furrowed. He still looks angry but he also looks confused, like he’s angry that he’s confused and curious about whatever is going on inside of his head. He looks lost in his own thoughts as his emerald eyes stay locked on her face. The silence that fills the building seems to become even more deafening because the look on his face is one she hasn't seen before and it confuses the hell out of her.

She doesn't know whether to comment on it or to simply ignore it and move on with their session. There's two ways this interaction can go; if she comments on his behavior there's a chance he'll get upset and leave early, and if she ignores it she's afraid whatever tension is happening between them will get awkward (even though it’s already awkward as hell).

She exhales loudly as she breaks eye contact, her eyes choosing to focus on the textbook in front of her instead of the viridescent orbs beside her. Her hands play with the corners of the pages, her thumb running upwards causing the pages to slide against it as they fall.

She bites her bottom lip nervously as her eyes graze over the words written on the page explaining all the different kinds of poems and the best way to use each one.

She can't tell how much time has passed, but she can't help but to wonder how long until their session is up. All of the silence and tension between them is draining her, all she wishes to do now is curl up on her bed and take a much needed nap. Her eyes feel heavy as she continues scanning the pages, her hand now resting on the bottom corner of the page.

She slowly turns her head to face Harry, she can't help but to see how tense he looks. His hands enclosed in a tight fist as they rested on top of the table, the frown prominent in his face seems to grow deeper every time she looks at him, accompanied by the deep furrow in his eyebrows, his leg bouncing rapidly underneath the table and his green eyes focused on the wall ahead of him. The question she was gonna ask is now stuck inside her throat, the fear of upsetting him any more takes over the want to make sure he understands the information they've gone over today.

She hums softly as she gently begins to pull the worksheet from beside him and closer to her. She grabs her favorite pen and begins to write a few small notes on the empty space on the bottom, leaving a few smiley faces in the corner as she makes sure to write clearly so he can understand everything.

Her notes are simple, but she feels like it's just enough to pass him over until they decide when to meet up next for their next session. She smiles softly as she looks over everything and then slides it back over to him. His eyes quickly glance over in her direction as her hand gets closer in his space and then quickly moves back to their original spot focused on the wall.

She can't believe how he's acting as if being close to her is such a problem, she's only seen him this quiet and stiff once but that was years ago. After he got over whatever it was, he started hanging out with different people, becoming louder and completely changed who he was.

That's when everything changed and now her mere presence bothers him deeply, one strong enough that he looks like he's about to explode if he has to stay at this table any longer. There's a faint beeping from the elderly librarian checking out books combined with the soft tapping of the keyboard as other students type up papers for classes and doing research that fills the silence that sits between them.

She opens her mouth but quickly shuts it, she's afraid that she's just going to upset him even more and then he'll call off for the rest of their session. She hates this, she hates how he always makes her afraid to speak and she hates how he knows that he has this effect on her.

She clears her throat and shuts her eyes, if she can't see him then she should be able to talk to him properly.

"I've written some more notes on it, and if it's hard to understand I can type it all out on a separate document and give it to you. I'll probably do that anyways if I'm being honest. Hopefully it all makes sense to you! If you have any questions or if you don't get something, you can always text me and I'll respond when I can!" She opens her eyes just in time to watch his figure make its way through the space and towards the entrance.

Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she finds her voice and at this moment, the frustration takes over the logic that she's still in the library. She huffs in annoyance as she slams the textbook shut.

"You could've at least grabbed the textbook!" She yells as his frame exits through the door, causing all the students and the librarian to look at her with accusatory looks on their faces.

She's too annoyed to even think about apologizing, gathering all the extra paper and the textbook as she stacks everything together. She grabs her tote bag and stuffs everything in there, mumbling under her breath as she clears off the table. She's upset, she's mad, and she's confused as fuck.

She can feel the tears begin to well in her eyes as she stares at the door, her hand clutching the strap of her tote bag as she holds it close to her body. She sniffles as she makes her way to the entrance, softly apologizing to the librarian as she passes. The short walk feels as if she's walking in slow motion, the door feels heavy against her hand as she pushes it open.

As soon as she steps outside and the sun setting in the sky paints the sky with beautiful pink and orange meshing together, the soft breeze blowing her hair behind her slightly makes her feel even more upset. The tears begin to fall freely from her eyes, staining her cheeks as they cascade down her cheeks.

She's upset at him for leaving so coldly after being late and barely even acknowledging her existence. She's mainly upset at herself though, she gave herself this stupidly false hope that this one session would somehow make it easier for them to tolerate one another. She's upset about arriving early and staying up later than she would've liked to plan out everything and print out the worksheets for him. She's just sad!

She knew that this wasn't just gonna magically change anything, and she knew that the first session more than likely wasn't going to be easy, but she wished that it went better than how it did. She felt a little embarrassed at how little attention he gave to the lesson, let alone her during the hour and a half they spent in the library as she checks her phone and sees the time.

She sighs as she heads to the bike rack and bends down to undo the lock holding her bike to the metal rack. She wipes her tears before setting the chain and lock in her tote and pulls her bike away, swinging one leg over the middle as she gets situated. She begins to pedal, her bike moving on the far end of the sidewalk as she begins to make her journey over to her friend's house.

— — —

She huffs, slightly out of breath from the long ride from the library to her friend's house as she sets her bike against the front of the house. She gingerly walks up to the white framed door and raises her hand to knock on it as the door

swings open. She's met with her friend sporting a big smile as she wraps her arms around her friend.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so happy to see you! Come in, come in!" she exclaims and Y/N nods happily. She follows her friend inside and sits beside her on the beige colored couch.

"So how was the session?" With the reminder of how it ended, a frown forms on her face.

"Oh it was so bad! First he arrived late, and then didn't even explain why! To make matters worse, he didn't even speak to me for the whole hour and a half we were in the library, and then he just walked out without even letting me know he was leaving!" Y/N exclaims, she can feel her eyes begin to burn as tears start to form in her eyes.

Her friend doesn't waste a second before she's embracing the young girl in her arms, wrapping around her shoulders tightly as Y/N begins to sob in her shoulder. She can't recall a time she was so upset, and it's almost embarrassing how this little incident is making her so upset. She just wishes everything that has to do with Harry wasn't so.. hurtful.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harrystyles #— 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one direction #harry fanfic #harry styles angst

587 notes · View notes

buckyalpine · 2 years ago

Text

Soft subby reader jealous stroking bucky

CEO Bucky x Jealous Secretary reader - slutty thot - making dom Bucky a needy slut for you.

Imagine being the soft, quiet little secretary of the very handsome James Barnes. What started off as a professional relationship quickly turned into something else once the sun had set and everyone left the office. No one know about the way he love the toy with your body to his liking, about how well you responded to him once the doors were locked.

James Barnes who had to stuff his tie in your mouth to keep your moans quiet, shoving his fingers deep down your throat while he railed you with his cock. His warm tongue would lick up your tears while you milked him dry with your needy, tight cunt. No one would ever guess such a shy little quiet thing would be a cockdrunk bunny on the inside, practically humping yourself on his thigh once his meetings were over, drooling and nursing off his cock under his desk when he was on calls.

****

You took another long sip from your drink, watching a red head trace a long, sharp manicured nail up Bucky's chest, giving him a flirty smile which he smirked back to. She was a prospective investor, one of the few people on the VIP list in attendance for the yearly company gala. Bucky threw her a charming laugh, clinking his glass with hers to something she said, the red head now resting her hand higher, stroking the expensive fabric of his suit.

This was the James Barnes who would pick you up from your desk and throw you over his shoulder when things didn't go his way, fucking his frustrations out with his hand slapped over your mouth, jaw clenched with his heavy balls slapping your clit with each thrust. James Barnes who would fill you up with so much cum, it would drip and make a mess on your skirt, making it impossible to stand up once he plopped you back onto your chair. James Barnes who loves what a secret little slut his secretary is. Such a quiet, sweet kitten who was too innocent for her own good.

The very James Barnes everyone wants and he damn well knows it.

And loves it.

So here he was, biting his lip and cocking his brow suggestively while the woman stood tall with poise, leaning over to whisper in his ear, making your cheeks grow hotter with each passing minute. You weren't aware making business deals with new partners involved wanting to eye fuck them in the process.

You downed another glass of bitter liquid, no longer able to ignore the surges of jealously that pulsed through you. You had no business being jealous or possessive but you couldn't help it, seeing him pull the same charm he used with you, even if the context was different. You missed the way his eyes glanced over to you each time you looked away; he grinned on the inside with the soft flare of your nostrils and the clench of your jaw.

The last straw for you was when he whispered something in her ear, her eyes growing wide in response, a crimson flush covering her face.

"Sir" You strode over, rolling your shoulders back, ignoring the woman, only keeping your eyes on him, "There's a call for you in the office, its urgent"

It was clearly a lie, he knew it, as did you but you didn't care. Bucky smirked at you, cocking his head to the side curiously while you continued to stare at him, waiting for him to follow you. The woman coughed, hoping to break the tension between you both, unamused at the way Bucky's attention was completely on you.

"Aren't you the secretary, shouldn't you cover the calls-

You didn't bother letting her finish, slipping your hand into Bucky's and pulling him away towards the large elevators, the brunette letting you take him wherever you so well pleased, curious about what you'd do. You were just a soft little bunny.

"What is it kitten" Bucky smirked at the scowl that tugged your lips.

"I didn't know your business ventures required flirting with new partners" you kept your voice steady, fighting against the alcohol that was coursing through your body.

"Are you jealous" he smirked, letting you drag him away from the crowd, shoving him into the elevator.

"What's there to be jealous of" you shot back, the fire in your belly growing stronger the more he taunted you. Bucky's cock grew harder and the change of your demeanor, your possessiveness making his tip weep.

"No need to be angry bunny, look at you acting so needy" Bucky tsked while the elevator doors opened to the top floor. The grip you had on his hand tightened as you both went into his large office which overlooked New York. You clicked, while he leaned against the doors with a cocky smile, arms crossed against his chest. His cockiness took a hit when you glanced down at the way his length strained against the fabric of his pants, just as needy as you were, if not more.

"You were acting like a whore, sir" You shrugged while letting your finger trace over the outline of his erection, pressing where the tip leaked through his slacks.

"Don't tease m-

"Please" You caught him off guard, grabbing his tie and tightening it around his neck just enough to make his breaths heavier, "Now tell me what you want"

"Play with my cock" Bucky swallowed thickly, his control slipping when you unbuckled his pants, his cock springing free, begging to be touched. You took a step back, humming at the sight of him; not a single wrinkle on his pristine suit, not a hair out of place, his beard trimmed, lustful eyes boring back at you. He looked so pretty with his cock out, waiting for you to do something, his dominant side faltering in confusion.

"Why don't you ask her to play with it, sir" you cocked your head to the side like he did, waiting for him to answer, his cheeks flushing. "Hm?"

"Want you to play with it" His voice was a whisper pushing his hips forward, showing you exactly where he needed you.

"You want me to play with your cock baby, it that it?" You cooed, tapping the tip with your index finger and pulling away slowly, letting the string of precum stretch before popping your finger into your mouth. "You're so wet" You hummed at his taste, stating the words he'd always throw at you before tracing circles onto his sensitive head again, smearing his arousal around without actually stroking him.

"Fuck" Bucky hissed, nearly slumping again the door while you teased him, biting back the moans that were lodged in the back of his throat. You wrapped your hand around his thick length without actually moving, squeezing the base of his cock.

"What is it kitten" you sneered, mimicking his words from earlier, smirking at the way his cock throbbed in your hand in response. "Look at you" you whispered, "Oh sweet boy" You cooed again, this time moving your hand to cup his full, heavy balls, rolling them in your palm, "They've so heavy, does it hurt?"

"Hurts so bad" He moaned when you tugged them and squeezed them while nipping his neck. You lazily wrapped around his length again, giving him long languid strokes, watching his face twist with desperation for more. Bucky felt like a teenage boy, thrusting into your hand, struggling not to blow while you continued to jerk his cock, his hips rolling to fuck your fist. He felt like he'd never been touched before, this being the first time someone had ever taken control over him and it was something else, especially when it was you.

"Mmmph" He whined, confused and aroused at the same time, desperate for more of your delicious torture, his dom side slipping even more. He tried to regain his bearings, standing straight up again, sucking in a breath, "So jealous-

"So desperate" You tutted, smacking his cheek for opening his mouth while rubbing and stroking his shaft, ignoring his tip completely.

"C'mon bunny, touch me" He was breathless, chasing your hand each time he got close to getting the tip into your palm, groaning when you moved away.

"I am touching you, aren't' I?"

God, he loved you like this.

"The tip- please, need you there, c'mon, please"

A wicked idea sparked in your mind, pulling him by his tie to stand in front of the floor to ceiling high windows that overlooked the city. The same windows he'd fucked you against countless of times, letting the world see you fall apart. Now it was your turn.

Bucky could feel his heart hammer against his chest standing in front of the window, the city twinkling below him while you stood behind him, your hand coming around his waist to grasp his cock. Bucky's hands flew to the window, splayed wide to hold himself up, fucking his cock into your hand, hardly in control of his movements.

He pulled back enough so the head of his cock would rub against your palm before pushing forward again, chasing his orgasm, unable to take his eyes off the way his fat cock slipped in and out of you smaller hand.

"S'good to me bunny, need you ta' squeeze my cock harder, c'mon, need you bunny, I need you" He practically whimpered for you, balling his hands into fists when you complied with a hum, moving your hand with his movement, adding more pressure, feeling his cock grow harder.

"Gonn'a c-cum" Bucky stuttered out while you kissed his neck, letting him continue to fuck your hand, his tip nearly touching the cool glass with how fast he was moving. "Oh God-"

"Such a pretty, fat cock, you're making a mess baby, are you gonna cum in front of everyone and show everyone who you really belong to?" You whispered, only getting a slutty, guttural moan back in response. "Go a head baby, make yourself cum, show everyone you're mine"

"OH FUCKKKK" Your words tossed him over the edge, a pornographic moan slipped past his pink lips as he started to paint the windows with thick spurts of his cum. His body trembled, shivers running down his spine as his balls seized against his body, still feeling full as ever.

"Oh god, I can't stop" Bucky wrapped his hand on top of yours, jerking himself off faster, working up to a second orgasm, angling his hips to shoot at the window again, his head thrown back, nearly falling onto his knees. "C'mon, make me cum again, pleaseplease-

You pushed him back onto his large chair, pulling your dress up and panties to the side, impaling yourself onto his overstimulated cock, crying out when he gripped your hips and started to thrust up, not giving you any control. You clung onto him while he drilled up into you, dribbles of cum still pouring from the tip.

"You're mine sir, mine"

"M'all yours bunny, all fuckin' yours, use me, oh fuck, use me" You grasped onto his shoulders, riding him till tears streaked his face, taking everything you gave him while you pulled a third orgasm from him. And a fourth.

"I-I can't cum anymore, please, cock hurts bunny, I can't-

He was begging but he didn't want you to stop, his hips continuing to thrust up while he slammed your ass down on him sloppily, eyes rolled back while chasing your peaked nipples. He pulled you forward so he could suckle onto them while

"Your cock hurts baby boy?" you stroked his cheek, the new term of endearment making him hard all over again, a sob escaping him.

"It hurts so much, make it go away, m'still so hard, why's your pussy so good bunny"

"One more baby boy?"

"O-one more bunny"

By the end of the night, he was milked dry, holding onto you while you were tucked into his chest, his soft cock still buried deep in your pussy. His neck was littered with dark bruises you marked him with, trailing down to his chest. He cuddled you for a few more minutes before you both had to make your way back down, his hand not leaving yours.

"How was the call - oh-" the red head's eyes grew wide seeing the red and purple hues that peaked under Bucky's collar a proud smirk on his face while he put his arm around your waist.

"It went well. Closed a new deal, if you must know" He stated before pressing a kiss onto your cheek, grinning at the way you melted into him, his soft little bunny.

sorry, this was longer than i intended.

4K notes · View notes

simplyafountainpen · 3 months ago

Text

My Red Queen

{𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼}: Male! Reaper!Reader x Grell Sutcliff

{𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷}: For the first time in years, Grell get a whole day off, and her beloved (Y/N) is determined to make it perfect.~

{𝓣𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼}: Dom!Top!Reader, Sub!Bottom!Grell, soft sex, public sex/exhibition, Grell's privates referred to as cock and pussy

{𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽}: ❝Grell x Male reader who treats her like a QUEEN please please please❞ - Anon

Waking up with Grell in the bed next to you wasn't uncommon, per say. Rather, it was unusual to have her in bed and not be forced to shake her awake and rush her out the house. And while you may have been a Reaper yourself, all with the same responsibilities, the difference was you actually took care of your work, allowing for days off, sick and vacation days - not that you'd ever have use for them. This was one of few rare days where Grell actually had a day to herself. A free day.

You nearly did shake Grell awake after a moment of silent staring, as coming to your senses so early in the morning was a struggle. Your eyes drifted to a window with sheer red curtains - Grell's design choice of course - and watched as dawn just barely peaked over the horizon in the distance. Your home was drenched in crimson color, various shades of red meeting your gaze as your bleary eyes scaned the room. Your tongue lapped at dry lips, eyes closing again. Your hand extended over her body, pulling her night-dress clad form closer to yourself, head over hers with her nose in your neck.

A few more minutes wouldn't hurt. She deserved it... sometimes, anyway.

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

The sun had just come above the horizon, slighting you while Grell simply snuggled further into you embrace. You groaned, rolling onto your back, an arm laying over your eyes as you breathed. The red-head pressed herself even further into you while you blinked sleep from your eyes. You gazed at Grell while she slept, musing that this had probably been the longest she'd slept in a while. A grin crossed your face as you sat up, groaning and poping the tense muscles in your back. Grell - ever the light sleeper - whined out for you, hands making grabby motions towards you. A chuckle bubbled in your throat, as you smiled down at her. Gently, you picked up a pillow and placed it in her grip, watching as she squeezed it to her body with a huff. Before throwing the sheets off yourself, you leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

Silently you slipped from the bed - rearranging the sheets and smoothing them out - and stalked to the kitchen. Slippered feet padded across wooded floors as you slowly took out eggs to fry and bread to toast. Ham was first on the stove, followed closely by bacon as you began the toasting process. You plated your meats and bread while taking out a pan to make oatmeal porridge to finish the meal, begining the mixing as you cracked eggs over open heat. The eggs were laid on the toast delicately, porridge made and served in a bowl with a smaller bowl of fruit on the side. A glass of milk finished the meal, moving it all close a small serving trolley you had bought a long while ago, dusty from lack of use.

You cleaned it off with a rag, taking time to get all the crevices before moving the large breakfast onto its surface. With pep in your step and a hum in your throat you made your way back to the bedroom, mapping out the rest of the day in your head. Date activities flew through your mind as you pushed the door open.

The trolleys wheels squeaked as you parked next to the bed, Grell still sound asleep though the pillow was long abandoned. You sat next to her, bed caving under your weight, and laid over her. She jolted under your weight, immediately squirming and flailing under you. You giggled as she cried out, her hands finding her way from under the sheets and slapping lightly across your face. You raised up slowly, wacthing her struggle her way from beneath the many layers you each slept under.

"Ungh?!- W-what are you doing?!-" Grell's rant was cut short when her gaze swept over to the trolley. Her already opened mouth dropped further, and her hands rubbed at her eyes is shock.

"Is this... did you..? Darling, is this for me?" You smiled at her, leaning your head onto her shoulder with a nuzzle.

"Mhm. Good morning, my Rose." An arm wrapped around her waist, the other reaching over to the nightstand to pick up her glasses. Once in hand, you adjusted your seating and placed a hand on her chin. With a smile, your carefully flicked open the glasses and slipped them on, then booping her nose, and finishing it with a kiss on the lips.

Before it could go too far, you pulled back with a smile, eyes widened.

"When you finish, get dressed. I have the perfect date planned."

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

You finished up preparations just as Grell walked out, dressed in a brand new bustle dress. You grinned, collecting the basket and throwing the large blanket you had pulled out over your shoulder, and made your way over to her. You moved the basket to one hand, the other then wrapped around her waist. Slowly you rocked her and yourself around, sweeping the two of your closer to the front door while humming.

"Is that a new lipstick as well?" You asked. Grell looked at you and smiled, flashing you her sharp teeth.

"You noticed? I figured if I was going to finally put this gown to use I might as well go all out, Darling." She chirped, puckering her lips and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. A hum was your response, readjusting your grip on the items in hand.

"Well then, I believe that is everything my Rose. Are you ready to depart?" You held an elbow out for Grell and she chuckled - her crimson hair sweeping with you both - while slipping her own elbow into the crook of your own. You smiled at her while continuing to slowly move your swaying bodies to the door.

"I want to know where we are going-" "Not a chance, Rose." You hushed. Lips pressed to hers to silence any complaints about to leave her mouth with a smile. You pulled back and she whined, weakly punching your chest in jest.

“Come, my Rose.” She glared at you, her expression slowly melting into a smile. Grell allowed you to guide her to the door, your free arm holding the door open and allowing her out first with a cheesy grin. Without any more hesitation, you both exited the home and out into the surrounding forest, your steps filled with a purpose.

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

“Darling this is… wow…”

You had left Grell to marvel at the sight of the surrounding clearing. While you carefully made your way to the center of the flower field you both stood in, she gently ran her manicured hands through the many different kinds of flora that made up the clearing.

You whistled as you walked, finally making it to the center of the flowers to an even smaller clearing, setting down the large blanket and basket you had brought. While you set up everything, your gaze landed on her as she marveled, a small smile finding its way to your face.

“… How did you find this place?” Her voice broke the serene silence. You looked up from unpacking and chuckled.

“Well, it was actually a death that brought me here.” You answered. Grell looked over at you with a confused - but interested - look.

“A death?” She questioned as she moved closer, wading through the sea of flowers.

“Yes! Its quite silly, actually. The poor lad had a run in with a wolf - no idea what drew him out here or why, but he put up quite the fight! Had more stamina than I would’ve initially expected. Ran right through here, got him in this lovely little area. I’m sure you would have loved to see the flowers painted in his blood and gore, my Rose.” You gently placed the small vase with a single rose in the middle of the set up and beamed.

Grell made her way and stood silently beside you, clasping her hands over her mouth. Tears glossed her eyes before she leaped at you, tearing a yelp from you. Her arms squeezed the air out of your lungs, resulting in a loud weaze from your while she lightly cried into your chest. Your hands wrapped around her, one landing on her head to lightly rub at her scalp.

“Oh, this is simply amazing Darling! Why, I can’t think of the last time someone put in so much effort for me. Ah, I’m on the verge of dying from joy!” Her voice muffled into your chest, her head slowly rose from the valley of your heart and her chin found its way to your collar bones.

“You… you are simply amazing, Darling.” Her voice was a tad shaky when she spoke, lips trembling with a smile. You kissed her forehead and massaged her head.

“It’s you that’s amazing, Rose.” You responded. Grell smiled harder - if at all possible - and squeezed you tighter. You hugged her tighter in response then looked towards the picnic basket not yet unpacked then back towards Grell.

“If you would let me go, Dear, so I may get the food out..?” She stared at you, huffed, then nodded. Her arms slowly unwound themselves from around your body. You chuckled at her downcast expression from letting you go as you moved towards the basket. You completely missed the lovestruck eyes she gave you when your back turned.

Behind you, Grell stared at your back as you moved small sandwiches and thermoses from out of the basket, humming all the while. The only thoughts going through her mind were how could someone like her ever have ended up with someone like you. Her hand rose to her chest as she thought, expression softening and lashes fluttering, even if you couldn’t see it.

Happiness. That was what she felt when with you. Happiness and some semblance of belonging. Love. Like she was cared for. Things she had longed for far too long and now that she had them… she couldn’t understand how you could just give them to her so willingly-

“And… finished! Now, my Rose, would you like to eat?” Your voice snapped her from her thoughts, staring at the spread before the both of you, all carefully prepared by you - a slanted grin plastered on your face, hands open and ready to hug her tight.

“… Yes. I think I am.”

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

Grell's moans filled the air as she held your face against her weeping cunt, the noises mixing with the noisy sounds of you messily laping up her juices as best you could, trying to not let a drop go to waste.

Grell laid on her back, skirt and petticoat slipped up her thighs and leps clenched around your head - you were laid on your stomach, head snuggly nestled in her heat. Her glasses were fogged as she moaned out. One of her hands grasped at the grass beneath her fingers, plucking a few tuffs from the earth. Her other hand buried itself in your hair, keeping you pressed to her mound.

You moaned into her cunt, savoring her flavor as it melted on your tongue. Grell's moans increased in volume as you futher burried yourself in in her heat. Slowly you lifted your head and simply stared into her own half-lidded eyes, licking your slick covered lips.

Grell panted, swallowing harshly. Her grip on the ground lessened as she propped herself up on elbows. Her lips upturned into a small smile and her hand that nestled in your hair gently combed through.

"Oh Darling..." she sighed, her other hand came to her face and gently rubbed under her glasses. You shifted, lifting from her sex and crawling on top of her. Your hands found there way to the sides of her face and lifted the glasses from her eyes, revealing cystaline tears that streamed down her face.

"Rose?" You whispered. Grell gasped and her breath stuttered. She fell back onto her back and continued to wipe at her eyes.

You hummed and gently wrapped your hands around her wrists, lifting her arms and staring into her wattering eyes. Her lower lip quivered as she sniffed. Silently you shuffled off her and sat on her side - still holding her wrists - and gently pulled her upwards into your lap. You let go of her and slowly ghosted hands down her torso, then waist, and finally reached her hips where you pulled up her drawers and began to fix her skirt.

"What's wrong, my Rose?" Grell sniffed and more tears rolled down her face. Her warms wrapped around your neck.

"Its just. Well. I suppose it has been... a while. Since someone has held me so... lovingly." She muttered, pushing her face into your chest. You hummed, adjusting her so you were sitting with legs crossed with her in the valley between those legs.

"Well of course I would, Rose," you spoke while kneading her legs, "I don't think I could find a reason why not. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." You spoke with a sincerity that caused Grell to move her gaze from your chest to your eyes. Her own were still watery, mascera lightly running down her cheeks. She bit her lip and looked down.

"How did I ever find a man like you?" She mused. She let go of her lip to smile, before it immediately dropped down into a frown. Her breathing became shakey again.

"I just can't understand it... How could someone so... you! Ever find anything in me? We're leagues apart and no one ever wants me without something in return and it just leaves me so... confused-" You cupped her chin and pressed your lips to her forehead then moved your own forehead to hers.

"I don't much care for any of that speech, Rose. Not from the most beautiful, confident and outspoken woman I know. Even if that last one gets us in a bit of trouble at times..." You chuckled. Grell stared into your eyes - chartreuse into chartreuse - and started sobbing into your arms. You quickly wrapped around her and squeezed her into your chest, fretting over your words and wondering if you said something wrong, about to ask before Grell began to shout-

"YOU'RE THE MOST PERFECT MAN EVER!! NO OTHER MAN COMPARES AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! OOHHH MY DARLING BOY I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!" Her sudden declaration echoed through the forest, birds that had been startled took to the sky and in the distanc you could hear deer scamper away.

Grells hands readjusted themselves to grip at your shirt, pulling you down and smashing her lips into yours. Your eyes widened, before shutting. Your arms squeezed her waist as you broke away.

She looked up at you, stars practically in her eyes. You smiled down at her. She began to giggle and you followed suit, the two of you falling on your sides into the grass. You thumbed Grell's cheek and wiped the smudged mascera away. The two of you stared into each others eyes, chuckles turning airy as the forest breeze brushed over you.

"How did I end up with such a woman like you?" You whispered. Grell smiled and pressed against you.

"I'm not sure. Nor am I to how I recieved a man such as yourself. Though, whatever I did, I'd do it again in a heartbeat." You pressed your lips to her in a quick peck.

"As would I, Rose." You both stared at each other before Grell looked down at her waist and legs then back at you.

"You could start by carrying me home. I can't feel anything below my waist, Darling." You grinned and snickered.

"Of course, My Rose."

{𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼}: Finally, it does feel good to be writing again. I hope I am able to keep my inspiration high for a long while, I would much enjoy cleaning my drafts.

-🖋️

All publishings on this account belong to @simplyafountainpen. I do not authorize my fics being altered, translated, stolen or published/reposted to other sites, thank you.

#⸸⚜/ᐠ - ˕ -マ‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆✄┈┈┈┈ 𝓓𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓼 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭 #⸸⚜ฅ/ᐠ˶> ﻌ<˶ᐟ\ฅ‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆✄┈┈┈┈ 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻'𝓼 𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 #x male reader #male reader #top male reader #grell sutcliff #grell sutcliff x reader #black butler #grell black butler

203 notes · View notes

sturn777 · 4 months ago

Text

chapter 2 — damage control

↻ ◁ previous II next ▷ ↺ moodboard

A MIX OF TEXTS, MISSED CALLS, and twitter notifications had flooded your phone. you barely had time to register what was going on before a call from your boss came through.

you sat up so fast you damn near gave yourself whiplash. what the fuck now?

and then you saw it. blurry, paparazzi shots of her. looking all sad and brokenhearted, sitting outside some overpriced café with sunglasses on and an untouched oat milk latte. the caption was making it way worse.

“chris’ ex seen looking devastated just days after viral cheating scandal”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

“chris.”

he barely even looked up, shirtless and posted up on his couch, scrolling through his phone like nothing was happening.

“chris.”

“mhm.” he lazily scooped another bite of cinnamon toast crunch into his mouth, unbothered as hell. you resisted the urge to snatch the bowl out of his hands.

“have you seen this?” you gestured at your screen.

“yeah,” he said through a mouthful of cereal. “kinda crazy.”

“kinda crazy?” you repeated, voice high-pitched in disbelief. “she looks like she’s about to drop a whole heartbreak album and you’re just sitting here eating cereal?”

he shrugged, resting the bowl on his stomach. “what you want me to do? cry about it?”

you exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over your face. how was he so nonchalant about his own damn scandal? “okay, well, better start doin' something. because now, you look like the villain.”

he rolled his eyes. “and? people already hate me. why you stressing?”

you scrolled through the endless tweets dragging him, practically feeling your blood pressure rise. “because, dumbass, this makes you look desperate. like you’re waiting around for her.”

and that got his attention.

he paused mid bite, brow raising slightly. “huh.” he chewed for a second, thinking. “yeah, that’s not gonna work.”

you watched him sit up, stretching like this was just another tuesday, not a full blown pr crisis.

“alright,” he exhaled. “guess i gotta do something.”

you crossed your arms. “like what?”

he smirked. “like get a new girl.”

“no.”

“yes.”

“absolutely the fuck not.”

“why not? it makes sense.”

you threw your phone onto his couch, resisting the urge to strangle him. “because it’s stupid. and it’s literally the most obvious move in the book.”

“doesn’t mean it won’t work,” he countered, that signature cocky smirk still on his face. “c’mon, imagine the headlines.”

you already could, unfortunately.

“chris seen with mystery girl just days after scandal”

“chris rebounds with someone unexpected”

“who is the woman stealing chris’ attention?”

except—wait. he wasn’t looking at his phone anymore.

he was looking at you.

“nah.” you shook your head immediately. “nope. don’t even say it.”

“c’mon, ma,” he said, voice smooth, persuasive. “you’re perfect for this.”

“i am not.”

“you literally work in pr. this is your thing.”

“this is insane.”

“nah, it’s smart.” he leaned back, arms stretched over the couch. “you’re already around me all the time, it wouldn’t look forced. plus, you know how to make it believable.”

“you are out of your fucking mind.”

“you’d get hella publicity too,” he added. “like, genius pr agent takes on the impossible task of rebranding me? and then falls for me in the process? c’mon, that’s fire.”

“no.”

“yes.”

but then your phone buzzed with a new headline.

“a source close to chris says he’s ‘doing his own thing’”

you groaned. because if there was one thing worse than fake dating chris, it was letting his ex win the pr game.

he saw your hesitation immediately.

and he smirked.

“knew you’d come around, babe.”

💬 : hope u like this ! what should i do for part 3 ??

🏷 : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu ; @mattsstarlet ; @madisturni ; @marrykisskilled ; @inspiredangel ; @mattsdemi ; @sturnioloangell ; @ivyandthebeans ; @amelia-sturniolo3 ; @dominicfikeenthusiast ; @sophand4n4 ; @ch6rm ; @et6rnalsun; @sturniolossss ; @jetaimevous ; @chrissweetheart ; @secretlocket ; @courta13 ; @mattsleftball ; @chrislova ; @etherealval ; @throatgoat4u ; @oopsiedaisydeer ; @dearsoulmate3 ; @leaningoutthewindow ; @izzylovesmatt ; @rinnsgalaxy ; @espressqe ; @pair-of-pantaloons ; @chericherrybaby ; @cockettechris ; @sirenedeslily )

266 notes · View notes

rizzlesregal13 · 4 months ago

Text

No! You Can’t Hex A Four-Year-Old!

***Agatha x Reader 💜- Just a typical Saturday in the Harkness household. With two kids in tow, it’s a given that chaos will ensue!***

You know those mornings where you wake up to the smell of fresh coffee, sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window, and the love of your life curled up beside you? Yeah…. This is not one of those mornings.

Instead, all I can hear is my eight old son screaming “Mom, I can’t find my cleats!”

Ella, meanwhile, my four year old daughter, is in the kitchen, half-dressed in mismatched pyjamas, aggressively dunking a cookie into her milk with the conviction of a child who knows no limits… much like her other mother.

Agatha lounges on the sofa, swirling her morning coffee like she has all the time in the world, completely unbothered by the domestic apocalypse unfolding around us.

I stare at her, somehow refraining from placing my hand on my hip.

“You could help, you know.”

“Oh, I could.” She takes a sip. “But this is wildly more entertaining.”

Nicki skids into the living room, his socks sliding across the hardwood. “Mom, I swear I left them by the door!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“You swore that last time… and they were in the fridge.”

Agatha hums. “Ah yes, the great cleat hunt of last Saturday. A true moment in history.”

“You are so not helpful,” I mutter, shoving cushions off the sofa in case his cleats have somehow ended up there… I mean with this kid, they could honestly be anywhere!

“Oh, but darling, I am,” she says, tilting her head. “I simply offer my assistance in… unconventional ways.”

Ella climbs onto Agatha’s lap, getting chocolate milk all over her pyjamas, and I wait for her to lose it. But instead, she smirks at me over Ella’s dark curls.

“This is karma for making me get up before noon.”

“This is parenthood, Agatha.” I kick aside a pile of toys, still no cleats in sight. “When did our weekends go from hotel suites and silk sheets to lost shoes and milk spills?”

“The moment you decided we should be responsible adults and become parents.”

“Oh, I decided? You were very involved in that process too you know.”

She lifts a single manicured brow. “As I recall, I was merely the catalyst of your bad decisions.”

Before I can respond, Nicki wails, “We’re gonna be late! Coach is gonna be sooo mad!”

“Maybe if you kept your stuff in one place, this wouldn’t happen,” I say, crouching to look under the sofa.

Agatha sighs dramatically, as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders.

“Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.” She flicks her fingers, and… Nicki’s cleats materialise mid-air, dropping directly onto my head.

I glare at her. “For fuc…. You knew where they were this whole time?”

She grins, absolutely shameless. “Of course. I found them in the bathtub last night. But watching you struggle is the highlight of my morning.”

“I really hate you sometimes.”

“And yet, you’re still madly in love with me,” she purrs, eyes twinkling, that smirk that does things to me plastered over her lips.

Nicki grabs his cleats and bolts for the door, yelling, “Come on mom! We’re so late!”

I groan and grab my handbag. “I am in love with you, but I also think I might murder you in your sleep one day.”

Agatha stands, pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek, her voice low and teasing. “Mmm. Promise?”

I shove her toward the kitchen. “Go clean up your daughter.”

“Our daughter,” she corrects.

“Not when she’s that sticky, she’s not.”

Agatha laughs, and despite the chaos, the mess, and the sheer exhaustion that comes with our life, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Even if I am going to get an earful from the soccer coach.

***

I barely get the front door open before Nicki barrels through, his cleats still very much on, and leaving a fresh trail of mud across the hardwood floor.

“Nicki, cleats off!” I call after him, but it’s useless. He’s already halfway to the kitchen, probably raiding the fridge like a starving trash panda. Before I can properly groan about the mess, there’s a blur of sparkles and frilly tulle flying at me. Ella launches herself into my arms, clutching onto me like a baby koala, her tiny face pressing into my neck. And then… tears.

“Mommy, I don’t wanna go to Maddie’s birthday party!” she wails.

Shit.

Maddie’s birthday party, was that even on the calendar?

I glance up just in time to see Agatha coming down the stairs, her expression as amused as it is smug.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

I exhale through my nose, shifting Ella on my hip.

“No,” I lie. “I just… got distracted.”

Agatha flicks her fingers, and just like that, a perfectly wrapped present in a little party bag appears out of thin air.

“Good thing one of us actually keeps track of these things."

I roll my eyes, but I’m secretly relieved.

“Okay, Miss Omniscient. Why doesn’t Ella want to go to said party?”

Agatha frowns slightly, looking at Ella, who’s still sniffling into my shirt. “She wouldn’t say.”

I rub soothing circles on Ella’s back, kissing the top of her curly hair.

“Hey, honeybee, what’s the matter? Why don’t you want to go?”

She hiccups, snuggling closer before mumbling, “Maddie’s mean to me.”

And just like that, I feel Agatha’s entire posture shift.

Gone is the relaxed, sarcastic witch who found amusement in my domestic failures. Instead she’s turned into a full on protective mom, meaning she’s sharp, dangerous, and entirely too willing to hex a four-year-old.

Agatha folds her arms, her voice deceptively light.

“Oh? And what exactly has little Maddie been doing?”

I shoot her a warning look.

“Agatha.”

“What?” She tilts her head, feigning innocence. “I’m just curious.”

“I know that look,” I say, voice firm. “You are not casting a spell on a four-year-old.”

Her lips twitch, but there’s something deadly in her eyes.

“Technically, I wasn’t going to.”

“Agatha.”

She sighs dramatically, flipping her dark hair over one shoulder.

“Fine. No spells. But if she needs a mild scare….”

“No.”

“…a gentle lesson….”

“Agatha.”

She groans, tossing her hands up in defeat.

“Fiiiine. I suppose we’ll handle this the boring, mature way.”

I nod, satisfied. “I’ll talk to Maddie’s mom, and we’ll sort this out like adults.”

Ella lifts her head, her tear-streaked face looking between the two of us. “You promise she won’t be mean anymore?”

I smooth her hair back. “I promise I’ll talk to her, okay? And if you still don’t want to go, we don’t have to.”

She sniffs, considering.

“Can I have cake and then leave?”

Agatha grins, pressing a kiss to Ella’s forehead.

“Now that is a solid plan.”

I sigh, but I can’t help but smile. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

As soon as Ella wriggles out of my arms and runs into the living room, presumably to wipe her tear-streaked face on my sofa cushions, I turn toward the stairs.

“Nicki! Go upstairs and change! Clean clothes, and I mean actual clean, not just sniff-tested clean!”

A muffled, “Ugh, fiiine!” echoes from somewhere deep in the house.

I rub my temples, mentally preparing for yet another round of herding my children like wild animals, when I feel Agatha’s arms snake around my waist from behind.

“You know,” she murmurs, pressing herself against me, “watching you in full Mom Mode is oddly appealing.”

I snort, leaning back against her.

“Oh yeah? You mean when I’m sleep-deprived, covered in child-related fluids, and constantly five minutes away from a possible nervous breakdown?”

She hums, her lips ghosting the shell of my ear. “Mmm, precisely. It’s unusually attractive.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You have terrible taste.”

Agatha smirks against my skin. “Tell that to the incredibly sexy woman I married.”

I roll my eyes, turning in her arms so we’re face-to-face.

“You mean the incredibly exhausted woman you married.”

She grins, tapping my chin with the pink party bag. “Exhausted, yes. But still undeniably hot.”

I raise a brow, skeptical. “Even after yelling at our son about laundry and refereeing a pre-party meltdown?”

Agatha’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Especially after that.”

I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile creeping onto my face.

“You’re crazy.”

She leans in, her voice dropping to that dangerously smooth tone that always spells trouble.

“You love how crazy I am.”

Before I can argue… because, let’s face it, she’s right… Nicki thunders down the stairs, somehow managing to not be in clean clothes.

“Nicholas.” My voice is pure warning.

He pauses mid-stride, looks down at his still-muddy shorts, and sighs.

“Ugh! Fiiine! Changing again!”

He stomps back up the stairs, and Agatha laughs, pulling me closer.

“Admit it,” she teases, voice full of fondness. “You wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

I exhale, looking toward the living room where Ella is now humming to herself, seemingly over her crisis. Then toward the staircase where Nicki is loudly complaining from his bedroom about how unfair his life is; and finally, back to Agatha, who looks at me like I’m still the same person she fell for, even if I now come with a side of domestic insanity.

I shake my head, sighing dramatically. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Agatha grins. “Told you so.”

I swat her arm. “Shut up and grab Ella’s jacket.”

She smirks, stepping back. “Yes, Mommy.”

I groan. “Never call me that again”

But as I grab my keys and corral my family toward the door, I know Agatha’s right. It’s chaos. It’s exhausting, but deep down I love every second of it.

***

Agatha pulls the car up outside Maddie’s house, eyeing the aggressively pastel-coloured decorations with thinly veiled disgust. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel, then turns to me, her voice sickeningly casual.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to put a curse on that little brat?”

From the backseat, Nicki chimes in immediately.

“Mom’s right. Everyone at school knows Maddie is a total brat.”

I twist in my seat to give him a look. “Nicki.”

“What? It’s true.” He shrugs. “She’s, like, legendary for it in school.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“We do not call four-year-olds brats, and we definitely do not put curses on them.” Then, shooting a pointed look at Agatha, “Right?”

Agatha sighs dramatically, draping herself over the steering wheel like she’s being personally victimised.

“Fine. But if she happens to trip over her own feet later, or her tongue gets stuck to a popsicle, I claim no responsibility.”

I unclip Ella from her car seat, hoisting her onto my hip.

“You two stay in the car.”

“Gladly,” Agatha says. “The sheer amount of pink in that house is making my skin itch.”

I roll my eyes and start walking toward the house when…

“Y/N.”

I turn back to see Agatha, her smug smile firmly in place, dangling the pink birthday bag off her finger.

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Right. The present.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want to show up empty-handed. That might be—gasp—rude.”

I march back, snatch the bag from her hand, and give her the most insincere “Thank you” I can manage.

She smirks, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re very welcome, darling.”

Muttering under my breath, I head inside, adjusting Ella on my hip as she immediately wriggles free to run off toward the bouncy castle in the back garden. I scan the room, looking for Maddie’s mom, and oh… there she is.

Platinum blonde extensions, fake boobs that look like they defy the laws of physics, and the kind of spray tan that would rival Donald Trump’s. She’s holding a large glass of white wine at 1 p.m. and laughing just a little too loudly at whatever the other moms are saying.

I take a deep breath and approach.

“Hi,” I start, my tone as friendly as I can muster. “I’m Ella’s mom.”

She flicks her gaze over me, taking in my shirt, jeans and sneakers, before her lips stretch into a perfectly practiced smile.

“Oh! Hi!” she drawls, drawing out the syllable like she’s already bored.

I clear my throat. “I just wanted to have a quick word about Maddie and Ella. Ella mentioned that Maddie has been… less than kind to her.”

Her smile freezes, just a flicker of annoyance passing through her perfectly botoxed face. “Oh, kids will be kids,” she says dismissively. “They’re four. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

I press my lips together, keeping my tone even. “Right. It’s just that Ella has been really upset about it, and I think it’s important to make sure—”

“Oh, honey.” She laughs, a high-pitched, rehearsed sound. “You’re one of those parents.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

She waves a manicured hand, already looking toward the other moms like she’s ready to be done with this conversation.

“The ones who get worked up over every little thing. If your daughter can’t handle a little playground drama, maybe she’s just… sensitive.”

My hands tighten around the party bag. I take a slow breath, reigning in my very unkind thoughts.

“I’m just asking that we encourage the kids to be kind to each other. That’s all.”

She takes a sip of her wine, completely unbothered.

“Mmm. Sure.”

I stare at her. She is not taking this seriously.

I can feel the irritation creeping up my spine. But before I can say anything else, I catch a glimpse through the window… Agatha, still in the car, watching me with a knowing smirk.

I take a slow, deep breath, trying one last time to reason with Maddie’s mom, but it’s like talking to a brick wall… one covered in fake tan and a superiority complex.

“Well,” I say, forcing a smile, “thanks for the chat.”

She barely acknowledges me, already turning back to her group, wine in hand, dismissing me like I was never there.

I clench my jaw and step away, calling out toward the backyard.

“Ella!”

A few seconds later, she comes bounding in, curls bouncing, her party dress slightly rumpled from whatever she’s been up to in the garden.

“Come on, babygirl,” I say, scooping her up into my arms. “We’re leaving. Let’s go get ice cream with Mommy and Nicki.”

Ella gasps, horrified. “But you said I could have cake!”I

hesitate. “I did, didn’t I?”

That’s when I see it.

The cake.

It’s an obnoxious shade of pink, layered with enough frosting to send a grown adult into a diabetic coma. It sits on a pristine white tablecloth, placed just so on the delicate little serving table. It looks expensive.

And suddenly, suddenly, I have an idea.

I know I shouldn’t.

I really shouldn’t.

But, you know what? Screw it.

With a flick of my fingers, my magic sparks to life, humming warm and familiar at my fingertips. The table leg trembles, creaks… then, with a sharp crack, it snaps clean in two.

The table collapses.

And the entire cake crashes to the floor in an explosion of frosting and pink shattered fondant.

A gasp ripples through the room. Maddie’s mom shrieks, her wine glass slipping from her hand.

I blink innocently, shifting Ella higher on my hip.

Ella looks up at me, her big blue eyes wide with delight. She leans in and whispers, “Mommy, did you do that?”

I kiss her forehead. “Do what, honey? I don’t know what you mean.”

And with that, I turn and walk out, leaving behind the absolute shit fit of a meltdown happening inside.

When I reach the car, Agatha’s already watching me with raised brows, arms lazily draped over the steering wheel. She takes in my smug expression, Ella’s satisfied grin, and the sounds of absolute chaos erupting behind me.

She smirks. “We’re off to get ice cream, huh?”

I nod, setting Ella in her car seat. “Yep.”

As I’m strapping her in, Ella, ever the traitor, pipes up.

“Mommy broke the table and made the cake go boom!”

I freeze.

Slowly, I look over my shoulder at Agatha.

She’s staring at me, expression unreadable. Then…A slow, wicked grin spreads across her face.

“Well, well, well,” she drawls, delight sparking in her blue eyes. “Look at you. Breaking the rules. Being a bad mom.”

I snap Ella’s seatbelt into place and straighten up, glaring at Agatha. “Don’t start.”

She’s grinning so smugly now, like a cat that just found the cream. “I knew you had it in you.”

I roll my eyes and climb into the passenger seat.

“Just drive."

Agatha starts the car, still obnoxiously pleased. “You know,” she muses, pulling away from the curb, “I’m almost disappointed I wasn’t the one to do it.”

I shake my head, but I can’t help the little smirk tugging at my lips. “I’d say you’re rubbing off on me, but honestly? That woman deserved it.”

Agatha grins, reaching over to squeeze my thigh.

“Attagirl.”

I shake my head, laughing as Ella giggles from the backseat.

Nicki, completely oblivious, pipes up. “Wait…what happened?”

“Nothing!” I say quickly, shooting a look at Ella.

She giggles again, whispering, “Mommy’s magic is sneaky.”

Agatha sighs dreamily. “I am so proud right now.”

I groan, leaning my head back against the seat. “We are so lucky these kids haven’t grown into their powers yet.”

Agatha smirks. “Yet.”

And with that mildly terrifying thought hanging in the air, we drive off in search of ice cream, leaving the wreckage of Maddie’s birthday party far, far behind.

***

The house is finally quiet.

Nicki and Ella are sprawled on opposite ends of the sofa, completely zonked out, the remnants of their earlier ice creams still visible in the slight stickiness on Ella’s hands and the faint chocolate smudge at the corner of Nicki’s mouth. The movie they were watching still plays on the TV, casting a soft glow over their peaceful, sleeping faces.

From my spot against the kitchen counter, I exhale slowly, taking in the rare moment of stillness.

Agatha slides up beside me, pressing a glass of red wine into my hand.

“For surviving another day in this madhouse.”

I clink her glass and take a grateful sip, letting the warmth spread through me.

She watches the kids for a moment, then smirks, tilting her head toward me. “So...The cake.”

I sigh, already knowing where this is going.

“Don’t.”

“Oh, but I must.” She grins, swirling her wine. “You, of all people. Breaking the rules. Embracing your dark side.” She waggles her fingers mockingly. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

I shoot her a dry look. “At least I didn’t hex a four-year-old. Which, let’s be honest, you totally would have.”

Agatha sips her wine, completely unrepentant.

“And she would’ve deserved it.”

I shake my head, laughing softly. “You're unhinged.”

“But,” she leans in slightly, smirking, “You still married me.”

I look at her then, really look at her - the way the dim kitchen light catches the sharp angles of her face, the way her smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, amused and knowing.

She’s older now. Debatably wiser. A little less reckless, maybe, but every inch still her. Sharp, unpredictable, undeniably magnetic. The woman I fell in love with, the woman who still makes my heart stumble in my chest just by being here.

I move toward her, the warmth of the wine settling in my chest, but it’s not the drink making me feel lightheaded... it’s her.

Hooking my thumbs into the loops of her jeans, I tug her forward, closing the small distance between us. She lets me, her body falling into mine like she’s always belonged there.

Agatha smirks, tilting her chin up ever so slightly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Oh? Feeling frisky, are we?”

I roll my eyes, but my fingers tighten at her waist, holding her close. “Just taking advantage of a rare moment of silence.”

She hums, dragging her hands up my arms, settling them over my shoulders like she has all the time in the world.

“Hmm. And here I was thinking you were about to admit how irresistibly drawn you are to me.”

I scoff, but the corner of my mouth betrays me with the smallest smile.

“Don’t push it.”

She grins. “Or what?”

I don’t answer. I just kiss her.

It’s slow at first, our lips pressing, a familiar warmth sparking between us. But then she deepens it, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. I sigh against her mouth, hands sliding around her back, melding her to me like I can’t bear to let go.

She tastes like red wine and something distinctly her, and I know, I never stood a chance.

Agatha makes a quiet, satisfied noise, her fingers teasing at the hem of my shirt.

“You know,” she murmurs against my lips, “if we’re very quiet, we could sneak upstairs and…”

A loud, exaggerated groan comes from the couch and interrupts us.

We break apart just in time to see Nicki shifting under his blanket, his eyes still closed, but his face twisted in the universal look of an absolutely disgusted child.

“Ugh,” he mutters, half-asleep. “You guys are so gross when you do that .”

Agatha pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against mine, laughter bubbling up in her chest.

“You hear that? We’re gross.”

I sigh dramatically. “Guess that’s our cue to behave.”

She grins, pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth before stepping back.

“For now.”

I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. “Come on. Let’s get these two up to bed before we scar them for life.”

Agatha sighs, stretching. “Fine. But I fully expect you to finish what you started later.”

I shake my head, amused.

“You’re incorrigible.”

She winks. “Stop complaining, you know you love it.”

I huff out a laugh, moving to scoop Ella into my arms while Agatha nudges Nicki back awake.

Yeah… I do love it … all of it … this crazy, chaotic life of ours, that I wouldn’t change for the world.

Also on AO3 - Writtenwhiledreaming 💜

167 notes · View notes

starlight727 · 8 months ago

Text

A little gift (part 3, the final part, I promise lol)

Shadow Milk Cookie x reader fic (Chapter 2 - Theater of Lies)

Author's note: Had planned to leave this part for part 2, but decided to make a separate part for it, so here we go, final act, let's do this!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 (you are here)

"As saddening as it can be, we've reached the last round! And since it's the last question, you get twice the amount of points!" announced Shadow Milk with a sad tone in his voice, but at the same time he sounded excited for what was coming next. He pointed out this last question was for White Lily, you looked over your shoulder to see her pale face and eyes widened, she tried to steel herself, but what came next shocked her to her core.

"You sure seem proud of your new title of 'the Guardian of the Seal...' ...let's see how great you really are...!" and with that, Shadow Milk summoned lots of strings that held you and your friends up in the hair by the wrists and ankles, it scared you all, it was a painful feeling how tight the strings were.

But suddenly, you felt the strings let go of your limbs and you fell on a solid platform, it was a cardboard star! You were then carefully taken to the one place you never expected to be: Shadow Milk's hand. You were frozen in fear, trying your best to hide your trembling self. Your eyes were wide open, taking in every single detail in the giant entertainer's form, his attire, his strange hair (or hat, what even was all of that??), his face... his wonderful face and its... majestic features... oh my Witches, you were falling in love with him HARD, like a shooting star crashing on Earthbread (that doesn't make sense but you get the idea). You got up on your feet, but your shaking knees were not helping you keep your balance. You tried walking up to him, but you tripped over your own foot (like a clumsy main character, you hated it), but to your surprise, he caught you just in time! Your gaze softened at the surprisingly generous act, you were staring at him, at his gorgeous sky blue eyes, for so long, you got lost in them, you didn't notice you were so deep in there until Shadow Milk started talking to you with a voice so soft it could be softer than silk.

"Hello there, Y/N Cookie!" he began with a light chuckle, something that snapped you out of your trance and made you blush like mad.

"Hehe, don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, my little star. You'll stay right here, close to me, so I can keep my eyes on you~." he said as he moved you to the top of the Silver Tree, where the night sky was covered with thousands of blue eyes peering into your soul. It took you a couple of minutes to register what just happened, you needed to lie down after that, you felt like you were about to pass out and you didn't wanna fall off the platform you were standing on, so you rested on it while everything else was happening.

While you were asleep, a lot of important events were happening: Shadow Milk Cookie was holding your friends hostage (Wizard’s string restraints were tighter than everyone else’s), White Lily Cookie was about to make the ultimate decision between saving everyone or defeating Shadow Milk, all while he was making sure you didn’t get caught in the crossfire because the last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt by his hands, especially hers. So everything was going great for him so far, he was going to kill your friends, rule Earthbread and have you be his favorite doll forever… until… something unexpected happened. White Lily used her Guardian powers not to attack Shadow Milk, but to seal the crack in the Tree, thus ruining his plans (also making shrink in size) and saving everyone in the process. You were slowly waking up after the blast healed the Tree, all those loud noises and bright lights were too much, you had to see what was going on.

“You... YOU...!!!! I gave you only two choices...!!!” his loud complaints woke you up more and more, you quickly got up from the platform and stretched. But suddenly, it started shaking and slowly falling, you tried your best to stay calm and steady, but you were at the top of the Tree so it wasn't as easy as you thought it would be. It wasn’t long before the cardboard star you were standing on disappeared completely and you were plummeting to the ground, screaming for help.

“…!!!” Shadow Milk gasped at the sight of you falling, so he extended his hand towards you and a bunch of gooey black tentacles rose from the ground to grab you, bringing you close to him.

“There you go, my darling! Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now, would we~?” he said as he caressed your face, you blushed a darker tone at the gesture, you weren’t expecting to be this close to him like this, this was simply too much!

“Y/N Cookie! Hold on!” exclaimed White Lily, sending large green vines to your location, grabbing you and pulling you away from Shadow Milk.

“NO!!! You're NOT taking my star away from ME!!!!” he shouted as he sent more tentacles to grab you and pull you away from her, both cookies were now pulling you in opposite directions. It hurt you a lot, you were cracking from the tight grips the vines and tentacles had on you. You were visibly uncomfortable and groaning loudly, both cookies were now fighting for your safety and survival.

“How dare you ruin... This moment I've been waiting for for so long...” his tentacles’ grip on you was weakening, White Lily vines’ kept pulling away from him, their grips were so tight you were losing air, you couldn’t breathe properly anymore.

“Eugh... Agh...” you didn’t like hearing him groan in pain, his tentacles were getting weaker and weaker. White Lily took his moment of weakness to her advantage and used her vines to pull harder, successfully bringing you closer to her.

“WHOA!!” you exclaimed as you were pulled away from Shadow Milk’s grasp.

“ARGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

…

……everything went silent, everything turned white…

………….

You were unconscious for a long time.

“…….Y-……” someone was calling out to you.

“…Y/N…………..” you were slowly opening your eyes.

“……Y/N Cookie…!” your eyes shot wide open, you were breathing heavy, you tried to get up but the pain in your waist hit you like a bullet. Pure Vanilla and White Lily were holding you steady, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself more.

“It’s alright, Y/N Cookie! You’re safe.” said Pure Vanilla as he was healing your wounds.

“Aughh, hmm? Pure Vanilla Cookie…? White Lily Cookie…?”

“Oh Y/N Cookie, I’m so sorry for the damage I caused, if there’s anything I could do to make it up to you…” said White Lily, gently placing her hand on your forehead while looking away from your damaged self.

“No no, it’s ok. You did it to save me, thank you…”

White Lily smiled softly at you, Pure Vanilla smiled at her, he was so grateful that she was able to save you. A few moments later, Gingerbrave and friends, Mercurial Knight and Silverbell came to see you.

“Y/N Cookie, you’re ok!” exclaimed Gingerbrave.

“Oh thank the Witches you’re alright!” said Strawberry.

“Finally, it’s all over for that Beast. Thank you so much, White Lily Cookie.” added Wizard.

“Hehe, hey guys.” you whispered as you tried to get up, your voice was weak from the screaming, and you couldn’t maintain your balance from your broken waist. Luckily, Mercurial Knight and Silverbell were there to catch you.

“Careful Y/N Cookie, do not overexert yourself.” said Mercurial Knight.

“Don’t worry Y/N Cookie, we’ll help you get better, we’ll take you back to the kingdom so you can rest!” said Silverbell while smiling at you.

“Thanks, you two, I appreciate it.”

As you all returned to the Faerie kingdom, you all noticed how everything was going back to normal, all the magic from Shadow Milk’s realm was receding. Oh man… he was gone… oh… why were you feeling sad? This was supposed to be a good thing, right? …right? You weren’t sure how to feel about this, until you heard his voice again.

“You think you won, don't you?!”

“HUH?! How are you still talking?!” exclaimed Wizard, you wanted to know how he was talking too!

“You may be celebrating your little victory for now... ... But heed my words! We have finally risen. Do not think that you can hold us back. Foolish Cookies...! You simply have no idea what's waiting for you...! HA HA HA HA HA!”

…

…….

……….

It had been a while since Shadow Milk warned you all about the upcoming danger that was headed your way. You were feeling better about your injuries, Pure Vanilla managed to heal you and the Faerie Cookies patched you up. Everyone was celebrating White Lily's triumph over Shadow Milk's evil ways by having a feast to honor her and the late Elder Faerie. None of this made you feel better emotionally though, you felt conflicted whether you should be happy for everyone winning against Shadow Milk... or sad over his forced departure. You needed some time alone to think, so you excused yourself to go check on the Silver Tree, Mercurial Knight suggested against this because you were still healing from your wounds. You told him you'd be ok on your own, you trusted White Lily's magic would protect you from harm, so he let you go. You made your way towards the Tree, where you rested your head against it and imagined yourself with Shadow Milk again.

"Hey, Shadow Milk Cookie? ...I thought your show was great. I thought... I think... you're great! You're amazing, and funny, and extremely handsome, heh." you started quietly, hoping he could hear you from inside the Tree.

"I wish... I wish I could... see you again..." you whispered as you placed your hands on the Tree, giving it a little kiss, maybe he could feel you from the other side...

...

......

..........

"You're an interesting little cookie, aren't you~?" he spoke to you in your head, so no one else could hear you. You were startled by his response, you didn't think he'd actually say something! You took a few steps back from the Tree, you were hoping nobody saw you doing all of this.

"What the?? How are you talking to me?"

"I'm in your head, silly! Heheheheh!"

"Oh, right. That's not concerning at all."

"Hehe! Y'know, out of all the Cookies I've tormented today, I didn't expect you to resist. In fact, it almost looked like you were truly... interested in me! Why is that?"

You didn't think he'd ask you about your behavior towards him, so with no other way of answering (cause you knew he could see through your lies), you told him the truth.

"O-Oh, w-well, I just... I just thought... that... you were the most intriguing Cookie I've ever met, and I've met a lot of Cookies on my many adventures, but none of them had the same effect on me like you have."

"And what might that be?"

"...Your charms, your witty banter, the fact that you made me laugh several times during your show... and... the way you treated me was so... gentle and caring... not to mention bold... I honestly didn't expect that coming from the Beast of Deceit himself."

Your answer filled Shadow Milk's ego... and his heart. He felt himself blushing and genuinely smiling from the honest opinion you had about him, he wanted to jump out of the Tree to give you a big hug and never let go, he wanted to smooch you until you were breathless, leaving marks on you to let everyone know that you were his and only his.

"...Well aren't you such a cute little cookie~? As a token of my appreciation, here's a little something that you may have lost during my show." you tilted your head in confusion, what was he talking about? Suddenly, out of nowhere, you heard something fall behind you. You quickly turned around and gasped at what you saw. It was your hat! The one that puppet gifted you! Oh, you were so happy to see that hat again, you took a quick sniff and... yep, the same blueberry milk scent from before.

"...Thank you!" you held the hat close to you before you put it on, still fits.

"You're welcome, doll! Just make sure you don't lose it again... or let your small wizard friend see you with it... hats like that one don't just grow on trees, y'know. And... if you ever come back here... I'd love for you to give me more of those sweet and tender kisses of yours, maybe I could return the favor~."

What the?! How does he know about...?? Wait, he knows, but you never actually kissed him... did you? In a split second, your mind travelled back to the memory of you... giving the puppet a kiss... oh my Witches...

"I- uh-... uhhh...b-but... w-wait what?!" is all that came out of your mouth. You couldn't believe it: The puppet, that was him in disguise! You kissed Shadow Milk Cookie (on the forehead, but still)! Shadow Milk laughed heartily at your stuttering self, blushing while doing so.

"Hahahaha! Oh, you look so adorable when you're confused~!" he teased with a devious grin that you couldn't see. You were feeling very dizzy from all your rushing thoughts and rapidly beating heart, you had to sit down for a little while, luckily the wind was there to cool off your head.

"Hehe, you're full of surprises, Shadow Milk Cookie. And sure, if I ever come back here... then maybe... I could give you a surprise of my own~." you said while taking your hat from your head and giving it a long kiss while looking at the Tree, knowing that he could somehow still see you. Your words and your actions made him gasp loudly and jump with excitement, his face turning dark blue while he floated giddily, giggling, squealing, flapping his hands and kicking his feet in the air like a high school girl who got asked out on a date by the hottest guy in school. You heard him making all those noises, which made a light blush grow on your cheeks, then you chuckled while covering your mouth with one hand. But alas, it was time to go, you knew this because you heard your friends calling you in the distance.

"Y/N Cookie, come on! We gotta go!" shouted Gingerbrave.

"Pure Vanilla and White Lily are calling us!" said Strawberry as loudly as she could.

"Let's go Y/N Cookie, we don't wanna keep them waiting, do we?" added Wizard.

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming!" you answered back, hiding the tone of annoyance in your cheerful response. You really weren't looking forward to leaving, especially since you had a good thing going on with him.

"Well, I have to go now. It was nice talking to you again." you told him sadly with a small frown on your face.

"..."

"...Shadow Milk Cookie?"

"Oh, yeah, my apologies heh, I was just... thinking" he said sternly, staring at your friends, and Pure Vanilla's his Soul Jam.

"Hm, about what exactly?" you said teasingly with a smirk. This made him snap out of his thoughts and smile.

"About how much I'm going to miss you, my shining star~! Hehehehe!" he chuckled lightly. You were blushing a lot, he called you his shining star! Witches, you wanted to jump and squeal, but you couldn't show it because your friends were watching you.

"Uh-... w-well uhm, hehe, I'm gonna miss you too...!" you said while breathing heavily, he's been flirting with you so many times, it was time you did something about it before you left, so you did the next best thing.

"Goodbye, my dazzling jester~!" you finished your statement with a wink and a bow, then quickly turned around and ran to your friends with the biggest grin on your face. You had to hide it from your friends so they don't ask you about what you were doing by the Tree, you also hid your hat somewhere in your clothing only you knew about. As you approached your friends, you all waved goodbye to the Faerie Cookies.

If only you could see the look on his face, he was flabbergasted from your bold move, his face was a whole blueberry, melting in place, drunken smile and everything, sighing dreamily over your eventual return.

"Hey Y/N Cookie, what are you smiling about? Did something good happen?" asked Strawberry curiously.

"Oh it's nothing, just remembered something funny." you said as you cleared your throat, trying to wipe away the smile of your face as best as you could. As you all left the Faerie Kingdom, you took a glance at Pure Vanilla's Soul Jam and you heard him speak to you one last time.

"Farewell, Y/N Cookie of the Cookie Kingdom, I'll see you soon." he said softly, his last message to you, if you could, you'd invite him into your kingdom. You remembered how he mentioned that Dark Enchantress would give him and his comrades new cookie bodies so they could unlock their full potential again. Maybe when he finally gets his new body, you could give him some proper affection. Back home, you stare at your hat as you wait patiently for the day when you eventually reunite with him, when you give him those kisses you promised him... when he returns the favor in the most dramatic and romantic way possible, it would be expected from a Cookie like him, you'd still welcome him and his show of affection with open arms.

When you two meet again.

The end.

328 notes · View notes

sexilene · 1 year ago

Note

Hi angel! thoughts on 80s!slasher!jj ?? I loveee ur work btw! sending hugs and kisses! 💗

ofccc!! this is fun lol - 80s!slasher!jj

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - p in v, non con, violence, jealous!jj, death, slight breeding kink, threats, obsessed!jj, dark!jj - ₊˚⊹

you and jj would have never become friends if you both hadn't met while working together at the little fast-food diner inside the mall. he was usually working in the back, preparing the food, and you were usually on server duty. with your short white tennis skirt and the diner polo shirt uniform you could usually draw attention from guys who wanna take you out and possibly eat you, you were so sweet. but there were days when you and jj would both be on cashier duty, those were his and your favorite days, it was basically like hanging out all day side by side.

as the day dragged on it was getting closer to closing time, thank goodness you thought, already super exhausted. after a few minutes a group of preppy jerk jocks come in, one of the guys walking up to your register with a stupid smirk on his face, danny. "hey babygirl, can i get uh, the number 5 with a milkshake anduh- your number? " he tilts his head up, proud of his little pickup line. you shake your head with a small smile and silently scoff at his stupidity. jj who is currently helping another customer, listens in and watches the interaction by side eyeing you both every few seconds. jj's jaw ticks as he tries to let you handle it.

"a number 5 will that be all?" you continue to try and be professional with a sweet smile.

"uh no actually, how about- you let me take you to the prom," he smirks again.

"i'm actually out of town that day so-" you tilt your head and act uninterested.

"oh cuhmon- it'll be fun, you know you want to. i even booked a hotel room for that night and we'll-" danny persists further until he's interrupted by jj who snaps his head toward us.

"she said no man." jj warns, danny's mouth agape as he turns over to look at jj.

"was i talking to you maybank? cuz uh- i don't think i was." danny snickers almost trying to size jj up.

"i don't give a shit, she's clearly not interested." jj squints his eyes and nods to himself.

"oh woah! you've got yourself a little protector huh? no way this guy is your boyfriend right?" the guy turns to you and then back to jj. "i mean look at you! she's a total betty and you...you and your deadbeat dad aren't even good enough to scrape the dirt off our shoes." the boy scoffs and the rest of his friends snicker on cue.

jj tongues his cheek and grins in faux amusement, the guy turns around to walk off like a winner when jj reaches his arm out and taps the guy's shoulder. "hey man you forgot your-" jj grabs one of the milkshakes ready on the counter and throws it in the asshole's face, 'ruining' danny's gelled hair and expensive polo shirt. the diner fills with gasps, 'ooohs' and snickers.

"milkshake." jj finishes his sentence, and laughes through his nose. you stand there eyes wide as danny wipes the melted pink milk off his eyelids. "quit fuckin' around and get outta here" jj shoos the guy away with the motion of his hand as the humiliated boy walks away shouting back loudly "you are so dead maybank!"

"whata piece of shit." jj mumbles and slams his hand on the counter and turns to see the manager shaking his head, disappointed. jj goes into the kitchen leaving you there to process what just happened.

as the restaurant was about to close, you and jj were the only ones left, since you would have been closing together that night. the manager did fire him but somehow managed to stick around without him seeing jj.

you decided to let him do this thing inside the kitchen while you did the final table wipe-downs and setting up everything for tomorrow morning, time after time playing in the background. you hear some concerning noises coming from the kitchen area, knowing only jj was in there makes you stop and wonder why all the banging?, when another loud scary sound can be heard throughout the diner. you run behind the counter and around the corner to see what was making that noise, your eyes land on danny, dead, laying flat on his back on the floor with his face all burnt, bubbling, and bloody. you let out a horrified scream and cover your mouth immediately afterward, stumbling backward a bit and feeling nauseous. 'how did danny even end up back here?' you thought.

you feel your back bump into something, and you let out another spooked yelp, you feel two strong hands spin you around and when you look up, you realize it's only jj.

"jj, danny...he must have- the deep fryer-" you stutter, and he shushes you "i know, i know."

"we have to call the police! i-is he dead? oh god, i'm gonna be sick..." tears start to fall down your cheeks, terrified and confused by how jj isn't freaking out or doing anything about it. you squirm out of his grip and back away from him.

"jj? did you hurt danny? oh my god, did you burn his face off?" you ask with wide eyes, chest heaving.

jj nods but he doesn't look remorseful. you start to burst out in tears, unsure of what to do, you look over at the door and back over at jj who gives you a look of warning. he's all sweaty and dirty, his white shirt stained with grease and blood.

the jukebox continues to play music, where otherwise silence would fill the diner. you decide to make a run for the door, but he beats you to that. jj manages to stand in front of you, clenching his jaw and squinting his eyes.

"i did that for you, i did it to protect you." he spits, looking down at you in disappointment.

"you're scaring me jj" you whine.

"why? i think you're being ungrateful." he whispers, looking down at you.

"you murdered him! jj you'll get in so much trouble, they'll know you did it!"

"no, manager man thought i left already..and i'll get him outta here so" he shrugs.

you whine again, eyes moving towards where danny was lying on the ground. jj snaps his fingers in front of your face to get you to pay attention to him again.

"what you want him? you liked that guy? huh?" he spits out frustratedly. you shake your head no, now too afraid to even speak "what so now im the bad guy? cause i got rid of him for YOU!" he shouts and you flinch, unsure of what to do now.

"you know what, fine, i think i deserve a little thank you don't you think?" he clenches his jaw again and yanks at your top pulling you to the other side of the counter, overlooking danny's corpse.

he bends you over and yanks your skirt down, you begin to cry when you realize what he's going to do. "no, jj no, i'm scared please" you sob too frozen in fear to move.

"you should see what i did with the rest of the bodies" he laughs quietly and reaches his hand around your waist to meanly grab your poor cunt, then pulling your panties to the side. you look down at the bloody dead body again and shut your eyes tight, then you feel jj's fat tip teasing your hole, sliding in your stickiness. "no, you are supposed to be my friend jj! friends don't do this!" you mewl.

he wraps his arm around your neck, trapping you in a headlock when he starts to push in to keep you from thrashing around. "shush, s'fine see? s'fine drama queen." he grunts in your ear, starting to slowly thrust in and out.

part of you wishes you had the strength to kick him off of you, but the other half is in heaven. "look at danny, you want him? wanna go to the prom with that? hmm?" he taunts, squeezing you tighter in the headlock with his beefy arms when you don't respond which makes you let out a whimpery moan.

"no! no, i don't wanna keep looking at him! it's making me sick!" you cry.

"i know, i know...grossing you out kinda turns me on though," he grunts again and laughs. he spits in his hand and uses that to sloppily rub your clit. the feeling of his spit mixed with your wetness makes you whine.

he keeps on pounding your pussy, letting you out of the headlock, and pushing your tits to press against the countertop. he smiles at all the little 'uh-uh's' you let out with each thrust.

"you feel better? yeah? you calm now?" he hums and brings his hand down to smack your ass causing you to squeal and push your ass out almost asking for more.

"yeah, i know mama, nobody's ever gonna touch you again kay?" his voice soft, making you nod slowly and dazed.

"say thank you and i'll let you cum." he pressures you, so close to spilling all over him.

"mmnnm jay-"

"use your manners c'mon" he cuts you off and brings his hand down again to start to rub your clit faster.

"thank you jayjay, thank you-" your cunt pulsing around his dick as you cum hard.

"atta girl, atta girl" he praises, then pushes into you harder than before, filling you up, and pulling out. he tucks himself away and moves your panties back to cover your cunt and to keep his cum and yours pooled in them. he pats your covered pussy and lets out a satisfied hum.

"go wait by the mall entrance n i'll take you home, jus' gonna get ridda this guy." he pats your ass and walks over to get rid of the bloody body. ᥫ᭡

#lenepilar'sobx!⋆₊ ⊹#80s!slasher!jj #80s!jj #80s!jj!au #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank #obx x reader #dark!jj #slasher!jj maybank #slahser!jj #jj maybank smut

839 notes · View notes

almondmilktargaryen · 2 years ago

Text

Duty & Sacrifice (Part One)

Summary: Aemond is married with two kids to Floris Baratheon, as it was his duty. But it's when he ventures into Flea Bottom in the night that he faces his sacrifices.

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Fem!Reader

Category: Flangst

Content warnings: Cheating, mention of dead children

Word count: 2k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

The memory of Aemond’s mother holding a blade inches from Rhaenyra’s eye pops into his head whenever he plans to head into the city. His mother’s thirst for justice and balance, for the sake of him, is an image he has never shaken.

“Where is duty!” He remembers. “Where is sacrifice!”

And years later, with the Greens victorious and the Blacks slaughtered, sacrifice reveals its head here. As Aegon takes rule on the Iron Throne as the one true king (according to future history books, not the people), and Helaena’s ashes rest in the sept with Jaehaerys, Aemond takes on his own sacrifice.

Well aware of his brother’s ineptitude (and reliance on the milk of the poppy), their grandsire assigns Aemond responsibility for helping train the Royal Army with Ser Criston, as well as command the City Watch. As much as Otto claims not to care for it, Aemond and Daemon were shockingly similar. So there was no better person. Aemond agrees with his grandsire but knows he only won the dragonback fight against his uncle because he was more disciplined. He flew away on Vhagar unscathed in comparison because of his discipline.

Because Aemond understands duty and sacrifice.

And like his mother, he understands his role in the family and takes it seriously.

He wears his typical black leather attire whilst eyeing the hood in his wardrobe. He’s even just about to grab it before his chamber doors groan loudly, the force of his two boys clamoring through to see him. Baelon attacks his legs while little Daeron stumbles behind, forcing Aemond to submit and fall to his bed. Aemond’s laughter mixed with the squeals of joy. Before Baelon can sit on his chest again, he quickly sits up. “Is it almost that time?” He asks them.

“Yes,” Baelon says. Aemond rises further and the boy rests against his father’s arm. Aemond is sure that if he blinks, he’ll find his oldest suddenly tall enough to rest his head on his shoulder. “Mother says I still have to go to bed when Daeron does.”

Aemond shrugs with an amused sigh. He had learned through his oldest how much time children have to argue and dwell on their smallest of issues. “Your mother’s rules are your mother’s rules.” He simply says.

“But I’m much older than Daeron.” He has used this argument multiple times on his father, yet Aemond remained delighted as his lips curled. Aemond places a hand on his boy’s head and brushes over his matching Targaryen locks. He’s letting them grow past his ears now. Aemond has also learned his eight-year-old bends his will effortlessly, something powerful men with the most fearsome reputations and twice as many battle scars could not even dream of. Meanwhile, his son achieves it with his mother’s eyes and little effort.

“I will speak to your mother about it tomorrow.” He grabs Baelon by the waist and lifts him to let his feet land on the stony floor. “But for tonight, you must return to your chambers at the same time as your brother.”

“But Papa,” he drags out the last syllable.

“I will not hear it. Your mother--”

The doors echo again, and Princess Floris Baratheon steps in like she was summoned. Her belly has already started swelling with their third child. Despite what handmaidens and wet nurses have prepared her for, Floris has yet to discover any dreadfulness during her pregnancies. Bards have written songs about her and each birth so far, claiming the Baratheon strength eases the process, and the camaraderie between her and her sisters ensures strong sibling bonds for House Targaryen. Aemond cannot disagree with the first, holding her hand throughout each labor. Baelon took seven hours, and Daeron took four. Not a scream, but Aemond was sure he’d witness her clenched teeth reduce to dust before the babies took their first breaths. He brushed the hairs sticking to her brow and kissed her head and cheeks when she could finally sleep. She deserved those songs, every lyric.

He has reason to doubt potential bonds, though, considering his relationship with Aegon. His hope remains strong for his girls.

“Say goodnight to Papa, boys,” Floris says.

“But Papa thinks I should stay up late--”

“I said nothing of the sort.” He responds matter-of-factly. “Listen to your mother or lose your negotiation opportunities.”

Baelon groans while Daeron giggles, following him out into the hall.

“Stay with Ser Criston, boys,” Floris tells them. Her hands rest naturally on the bump as if her wrists missed it. “I will be out in a second.”

When they disappear, Aemond keeps his expression light. She still beams, and it helps. “Best to head to them before the handmaidens snatch them up.”

“Yes.” She replies. “Though I’ve told them time and again to leave bedtime for me.”

Aemond puts a hand on her forearm and the other on her belly. “You go on. I have a meeting concerning the City Watch. I won’t be back until later.”

Floris maintains a radiant expression while nodding, despite the noticeable swallow in her throat. When the door closes and he hears scampering pairs of feet grow farther in distance, he briefly questions going out, aware of his wife’s subtle yet looming suspicions. But by the time he finally reaches out for his hood, he has already pushed the thought back.

Aemond follows the hills and dips of the cobblestone roads whilst keeping his head down and royal roots securely hidden. He turns some corners sharply and holds his breath before advancing toward others. He knows his path through Flea Bottom well, but the odors of sweat, rotting meat, as well as discarded piss and shit (in buckets and sometimes small piles) are all elements he has yet to get used to. It would be a more straightforward path if he took the Street of Silk, but they both agreed they would never return there again if they had the choice.

The roads were dimly lit, and though dangerous men lurk more prominently at this late hour, one stare down from Aemond and a good view of his eyepatch gets the message across that he is not one to be trifled with. Not to mention his skills with a sword. He claims not to care for his appearance, but hot-tempered or drunk men hesitate to come close when they see him. It saves him time.

Aemond looks around for lingering faces in nearby windows before repeating the special rap at the door: three times, then two, then one. He opens it, unlocked to his dismay, but his arrival was expected. He enters anyway and moves the heavy metal bolt to secure it after an audible shut.

The small home is dimly lit, with barely room for a stewpot, let alone one bassinet. Aemond can see a single flame burn near the bedside. He follows it with the sound of his own name, as it’s spoken so sweetly from around the corner.

Radiance fills Aemond's sight: a mess of copper curls and a nightgown, and two swaddled babes in her arms. An exhale leaves his lungs and nose as he comprehends the familiar sight. “Welcome back.” She says softly, not to disturb the girls, or likely from her own lack of sleep.

“You know I hate it when you leave the door unlocked,” Aemond tells her.

“It’s too early in the night to worry about that. They are all at the taverns and whorehouses.”

One of the girls starts fussing.

“You cannot be too naïve. If I’m not here to protect you like what happened at--”

“Oh, hush and get over here. Hold your children.” She tries to sit up properly.

Aemond presses his lips together and takes a seat on the small cot, bumpy and unpleasant, nothing he’s been unfamiliar with in the past eighteen months. The comfort settles in him like a kindling fire when he gets to gaze upon his two girls. United since birth, it is hard for their mother to nestle one while Aemond cradles the other. But with every visit, they learn and adapt. Now is no different, as Aemond reaches for the one closest to him: Alisha. He’s studied the difference between them, staring at them still in the hours of the night, observing from the floor while their mother rested. Small strands of white peek through the auburn, already beginning to curl. Alyssa's hair is a blazing hue of ginger.

Aemond gives Alisha time to adjust in his arms. She fusses but eventually settles. Her eyes open gently, a dull brown. Nothing special. Nothing Targaryen. Alyssa is safe too. And her mother keeps her close with two arms now rather than one. “Are you staying the night?” She asks Aemond.

“I certainly can.” He scoots closer, meeting her hip. He brushes some strands behind her ear before cupping her face, bringing her in for a kiss. It was gentle, and the longing was the same as their first night together where nothing more happened other than this; sitting and kissing. They did not feel the need for anything else right away, understanding what the other had been through amidst long talks in the dead of night. When things escalated, she showed him patience and love, despite his fears and questions.

Now he’s more confident with movements, as his hand traveled to the back of her neck to keep her close. The brown eyes she blessed their daughters with stared back at him. Her breath smelled like bowls of brown, and he did not mind. “You know what I think you deserve?”

“Hmm.” She looks up toward the ceiling as she ponders. Brown seeps from the corners, and Aemond has hesitated to ask. She puts a hand to his face, just below the scar. “I’m sure you’re eager to show me.”

“A house.”

“Oh.” She pulls back as her brows quirk. “But I have a house, Aemond.”

“Not one you deserve, though. This was just temporary, to get you off the Street of Silk. You deserve comfort. A home where the girls can run around outside and fall asleep at night in proper beds. Where danger doesn’t loom just outside that door. No one would ever hurt them.” He kisses her again, and he feels her hesitate.

“How do you know no one will hurt them? Will you be there?”

“Not all the time. But more than I would be now. That I can promise.”

“Aemond--”

“I can assign guards to protect you when I’m not there. Servants that understand discretion. The girls will be happy and safe, well-provided for.” Prisoners in the black cells live more comfortably than she does, with space to move and leftovers from royal dinners served to them (that was Helaena’s biggest request as queen, and Aemond pushed it on Aegon as an attempt to honor his late wife). When he visits, Aemond sees how little she moves. She hurts from sharing such a horrible cot with twin babes, and Aemond cannot do anything about it here. “Please, my love. You’ve done so much for me. Taught me so much. Let me do this for you.”

“You know what will happen if they find out.”

“Nothing will happen.”

“The last war was about bastards taking the throne. People have been finding your brother’s bastards on the street. They butcher any boy or girl with silver hair like livestock, left to rot in dark corners alone. I know you’ve seen them.”

“And I would do everything in my power to make sure no one touches you. I have a lot of power. And will. I’ve protected you from horrid men before. You cannot doubt I won’t do it again.”

Water lines her eyes. It glistens painfully in the candlelight as her palm falls from his face, his shoulder, and then his chest. She keeps her voice steady. “You can’t have lost one eye, be so intelligent yet so blind,” she says. “People see. People talk. Even in the fields where nothing happens. It only gives them an excuse to be more vigilant. To see a whore just show up from the capital with guards, servants, and two girls. One with some silver in her hair and another with a purple eye. What else would they think?”

Aemond pulls back. “Purple?”

She gives Alyssa her full attention once more, coaxing her to open her eyes.

“No, last time I was here, they were both brown. Like Alisha’s. Yours.”

“This happens with babies sometimes, Aemond. This is only month three.” She tries to keep herself together. “The gods are in their right to punish us. For what we’ve done here. In here.”

“No,” he simply says. “The gods have tested me before we met. I’m used to their tests. And I’m used to prevailing, eventually. I will do it again.”

“You can’t--”

“I will.” A surge runs through him, nothing dissimilar to when he went to war. The simplistic instinct that comes with the will to survive. When he was at war, there was one he relied upon from beginning to end, and even years before that. Aemond is gentle as the surge flows through his veins. “I can’t stay tonight.” He tells her.

“Where are you going?” She doesn’t try to hide the stress.

He gives her time to take Alisha back. Alisha protests, but only momentarily. With a flat palm on each, he brushes over the heads of the twins. His gaze meets hers and he notices tears streaming halfway down her face. He brushes them away, planting a kiss on her lips again, holding her by the neck once more. He doesn’t speak a word until she looks him in the eye. “I love you.” He’d say it with more of a tender demeanor if time was not of the essence now. “With all my heart, I love you. You made the grave mistake of letting a royal war hero fall in love with you, my dear. The determination to keep you safe comes with that territory.”

Her head drops as tears finally do the same, dripping off the edge of her chin. Aemond kisses her nose.

“I want to make you a home and keep you safe. That’s not possible here. But it is possible. For you. For them. It is possible. I just need you to trust me.”

“I’m scared.” The whisper shakes from her, like dead leaves against the winter wind. “Don’t leave me yet.” She holds the babies. She can’t reach out to touch him, yet her arms try.

“I’m not leaving.” He kisses her lips again as if each one was a grant of safety from the gods. He gave each one to her willingly, frivolously, like he was a god himself who had the power to control such things. Because he did. He was a Targaryen. It was close enough. “I will be back, I promise you.”

She still cries as he stands. The babies too. And he cannot show how it breaks his heart, not now. If he gives in and does what he truly wants, it will only be a problem when he wakes up here the next morning. His eye stung with its own unshed tears, but he turned away regardless. He took a long, steadying breath before heading toward the exit. With a grip on the bolt, he commanded, “Lock this door.” He tried keeping his voice firm. “And do not open it unless you know it’s me or a man named Ser Criston Cole, you hear me?”

She nods, and he can feel a tear slide down his cheek, mirroring her own. He took in the image of the three before slipping out. The door closed and hearing the heavy bolt provided some relief.

Then he stood there, longer than what was safe, yes. The cold of Flea Bottom wrapped around him almost instantly, a biting chill of the desolate streets while the soft glow of candlelight shut out from him on the other side, as it was not his to bask in for too long.

But even in the nearly black darkness of the narrow streets, he could spot one of them; a tiny figure huddled in the corner of a nearby alley, a broken skull with hair shorter than Baelon’s. Royal blood left to soak into the cobblestone under his feet. Bones exposed and rotted in the dark, forever cold, soon forgotten.

Aemond made haste to vanish into the shroud of night, swallowed by the fog. Criston would be in his quarters at this hour, surely. It was a straightforward path back if he took the Street of Silk. And he didn’t have a choice.

819 notes · View notes

mapiforpresident · 8 months ago

Text

Family Time

Patri x reader x Pina

The evening was winding down, the end of another busy but beautiful day in your shared home in Barcelona. You were nestled on the couch with Patri and Claudia, the warmth of their presence wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The TV was playing softly in the background—one of Claudia’s favorite Disney movies. Noah, your ten-month-old son, sat comfortably in your lap, his tiny fingers fiddling with the edge of your sweater.

Noah, your little bundle of joy, was the perfect mix of all three of you. You couldn’t help but marvel at how such a tiny person could already hold your whole heart.

“Do you think he’ll say his first word soon?” Claudia asked, her voice hopeful as she reached over to stroke Noah’s soft hair.

Patri smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s been babbling a lot more this week. I think it’s close.”

You shifted Noah slightly in your lap, smiling at his wide, curious eyes. “As long as his first word isn’t ‘football,’ I’ll be happy,” you teased.

Claudia laughed, leaning into you. “What’s wrong with football? It would make me proud!”

Patri rolled her eyes affectionately. “Knowing you, you’ll probably try to teach him how to say ‘goal’ before ‘mama.’”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it,” Claudia admitted with a cheeky grin.

You shook your head, grinning at the pair of them. Your little family was chaos and love all rolled into one.

After the movie ended, it was time to start Noah’s bedtime routine. He was in his pajamas and freshly bathed, his soft baby smell intoxicating in the best way. You were getting ready to breastfeed him before putting him down for the night.

Claudia stood up, stretching dramatically before turning to Noah with a playful grin. “¿Estás listo para leche, pequeñito? Are you ready for some milk?”

Noah’s wide eyes met hers, and for a moment, it seemed like he was processing her words. Then, clear as day, he said, “¡Leche!”

Time froze.

You, Patri, and Claudia all stared at him in stunned silence. Then the room erupted.

“Noah, did you just—? ¡Dios mío!” Claudia exclaimed, dropping back onto the couch beside you and peppering Noah’s face with kisses. “¡Dijo leche! He said it! His first word!”

Patri’s face lit up with pride, and she leaned over to kiss Noah’s forehead. “That’s my boy,” she murmured, her voice filled with emotion.

You, on the other hand, were half laughing, half shaking your head. “Of course it’s in Spanish. I should’ve known.”

Claudia beamed, looking as smug as ever. “You see? He’s a natural. First word in Spanish. I win.”

“I didn’t know this was a competition,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but smile at the pure joy radiating from her.

Noah clapped his tiny hands, clearly delighted with himself. Patri chuckled, taking his hands in hers and kissing his little fingers. “You’re amazing, Noah. Do you know that?”

Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re a star, little one. Even if you are playing favorites with their language.”

Claudia gasped. “He’s just showing off his roots. And besides, leche is important!”

“I guess I’ll just have to start teaching him English first thing tomorrow,” you replied with mock seriousness.

“Good luck with that,” Patri said, laughing. “Between Claudia and me, you’re outnumbered.”

The rest of the night was filled with even more cuddles and laughter as you retold the moment and tried to get him to say it again which he successfully did twice. Claudia couldn’t stop bragging, while Patri kept reminding you that Noah was already ahead of the curve.

When it came time to feed Noah, you sat in the rocking chair in his nursery, Patri and Claudia on the loveseat next to you, Patri had just finished reading him a book. Noah latched on easily, his little hands gripping your shirt as he fed.

Claudia leaned against Patri, resting her head on her shoulder. “He’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of love.

“He really is, and so are you for giving us such a perfect son” Patri added, looking up at you with those warm eyes that always made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled at them both, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. “We’re all perfect together,” you said quietly, running a hand over Noah’s soft curls.

After Noah was fed and sound asleep in his crib, the three of you retreated to your bedroom. Patri pulled you into her arms as you climbed into bed, while Claudia snuggled up on your other side.

“You know,” Claudia said, her voice muffled against your shoulder, “I think his next word will be ‘mamá.’”

“Which mamá?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Claudia grinned. “Obviously me.”

Patri laughed, her hand brushing over your hair. “We’ll see about that.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “As long as his next word isn’t ‘goal,’ I’m happy.”

Claudia pouted, but the playful look in her eyes gave her away. “You have no taste.”

Patri kissed your forehead, pulling you closer. “Goodnight, amor,” she murmured.

“Goodnight,” you replied, your voice heavy with contentment. “I love you both.”

Claudia kissed your shoulder. “We love you, too.”

#woso #woso x reader #fcb femení #fcb femení x reader #fc barcelona femeni #claudia pina x reader #claudia pina imagine #claudia pina #patri guijarro x reader #patri guijarro

186 notes · View notes

purple-babygirl · 1 year ago

Text

in the far corner of the forest II

Pairings: Orc!Bucky Barnes x f!human!reader

Word Count: 5,500

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: foot injury, nudity, fighting, forced/arranged marriage. 18+ content.

A/N: I tried to make this one longer for you guys (hopefully it's not totally shitty). Let me know your thoughts about this story if you can and please enjoy xx💜💜

She quickly slipped her shoes back on and ran out of the door for her life without looking back.

She only realized she had no pants on when her thighs started freezing under the cold rain hitting them. It was getting harder to keep running but she knew she just couldn’t stop.

She was dead meat if Bucky was to find her.

Her wet hair was stuck to her face and she was struggling. Long branches were scratching her all over and the rain was dropping so heavy she could feel it bashing down on the top of her head.

The woods looked the same everywhere and she felt like she was running in circles. She could see no light, hear no humans and she knew that she has gotten herself so far away from safety.

All of that didn’t scare her as much as the sounds of footsteps sinking in the mud not so far behind her did. Her blood ran cold and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

What if it was Bucky? What would he do to her if he found her? She ran faster as her thoughts got wilder because what if it wasn’t Bucky? What would another person— another creature do to her if they found her all alone out there in the dark, empty forest?

With too much going on at the same time, she hardly noticed the rock about to collide with the front of her cheap shoes and before she could even gasp, she was falling down hard, twisting her ankle underneath her in the process.

She let out a muffled sob as her tears mixed with the rain. Trying to take a step on that foot was impossible, let alone running. She wasn’t even able to get back up, how was she going to escape whatever was about to reach her?

At this point, she had given up all hopes of escape. She knew she was doomed.

The footsteps were coming closer and her foot was no good. Sitting herself up against a mossed tree, she closed her eyes tightly and cried.

She should’ve just drank the milk. She should’ve drank the goddamn milk.

The footsteps got louder and louder and her heart beat faster with each passing second. Suddenly all sounds stopped and it was just her whimpers and the beating rain, so she opened her fearful eyes.

And there, towering over her and panting was a very wet and very angry snow orc.

“What did I say, little human?” He growled, roughly pushing his own wet hair back before crouching down before her.

“Please,” she cried helplessly, pressing herself further against the tree, scared of what he might do to her after she’d disobeyed him, “I’m hurt.”

She thought maybe that would make him have a little mercy on her.

Bucky just shook his head.

She was dreading his next words but they never came because she was suddenly being lifted up in his arms. Bucky carried her so easily as if she weighed nothing.

He was mad, but she was hurt. And scared. And shivering. He surprisingly found himself wanting to do nothing to her but safely get her home and warm her up.

She had fallen asleep on Bucky’s chest on the way home. Too much crying and over exhaustion would do that to a person. It’s been a long night for her and she needed the rest.

When she opened her eyes, she was still in Bucky’s arms and he seemed to be struggling, trying to open the large bathtub water without waking her up, or dropping her altogether.

She took a moment to look at him.

He was so big and strong. His hair looked so soft even when it was styled by the rain. His full, stubbly cheeks would’ve looked cute if she wasn’t so afraid of him.

Bucky was rather handsome for a ruthless orc.

“Y—you can put me down,” she whispered, trying not to overuse her tired voice.

Bucky’s ears perked at the sound of her weak voice and he looked at her for a second before sitting her down on the toilet seat and going back to fix her a bath.

“Strip,” Bucky said, his voice laced with anger and his face turned away from her.

Fear filled her heart and tears her eyes as she recalled her earlier experience in Bucky’s bed.

She had made him change his mind. It was her fault for not listening and now she was going to get the life raped out of her by this huge orc.

“Please, I’m sorry. I won’t try it again, I swear—”

“I just wanna get you in the tub. You’re all wet and muddy,” Bucky interrupted her frantic plea, his tone still firm, yet gentler this time, though his deep frown didn’t leave his face.

“Oh, o-okay. Could you please—”

Without getting to continue her request, Bucky turned around, giving her his back and some privacy.

Her whole body was quivering as she took off the wet sweater, only then realizing how wet and cold she really was. She eased her underwear down as well before trying to stand up to walk to the tub on her own. Her foot didn’t agree though and she instantly stumbled forward, almost falling face first if it wasn’t for the shower curtain.

Bucky turned around at the sound of her gasp and quickly had a muscly arm around her.

She shivered harder at his touch on her naked body for the second time that evening.

How did he manage to be so warm all the time? Wasn’t he just with her under the same rain?

Bucky had a large hand curled around her waist as the other held hers, helping her step inside the large tub.

She could feel the warmth of the water spreading up her shins as she dipped her other foot in too. She grabbed onto Bucky’s arms for dear life as she lowered herself and finally sat in the hot water.

“Thank you,” she whispered yet again, closing her eyes at the cozy feeling of the nice water embracing her sore muscles.

Bucky took his own wet sweater off and just stared at her. He didn’t know anything about her but her name and that she was an orphan. Yes, he’s seen her before and he picked her himself, but he didn’t know enough to be feeling the way he was feeling about her at that moment.

Bucky couldn’t decipher exactly what he felt right there but he knew he felt absolute terror when he saw her milk untouched and the cottage door ajar. He knew the image of her getting hurt or lost out there scared the shit out of him. He knew he had never put his boots on faster.

He knew he wanted to protect her with his life.

Bucky was mad at her, very mad, but he had no intention of acting on or according to that emotion.

She was looking so peaceful with her eyes closed and her body swallowed up by the warm water, kind of as if she’d almost forgotten all about where she was or who had her for a second.

The tub was too big for her small human body and she felt hugged by the warmth of the water everywhere. She wished the water could swallow her up, put her out of her misery for good.

Bucky’s finger tips went to her hair, carefully mapping down the locks.

Her eyes snapped open and the water moved with her when she jerked away from the touch.

“What are you doing?” She asked, afraid and alarmed again.

“I’m just gonna wash your hair,” Bucky replied, walking to kneel behind the tub, “I can’t let you put this head down on my pillows.”

“I can sleep on the floor.” Oh, please let me sleep on the floor.

“Not gonna happen.”

He let himself cradle her head when she didn’t object and started leaning it back so it can be touched by the clean water.

“W—wait—” She nervously tried to stop him.

“Trust me.”

Bucky gave her a minute to refuse and when she didn’t, he helped her get her hair in the water.

She didn’t actually trust the orc but she didn’t want to give him more reasons to be angry at her, so she curled her fists tight under the water and let him wash her hair for her.

She was ashamed and had a lot to be forgiven for, no need to add to that list.

Bucky was so gentle with her that she believed she had drifted off and was dreaming. His fingers weren’t harsh when they massaged the soapy matter on her scalp. Before she knew it, her head was smelling clean again. It felt like her scalp was breathing.

“You ready to wash off?” Bucky’s question pushed her out of her mental paradise as she was reminded of her foot’s condition.

She bit her lip, not knowing what to tell him but he was quicker.

“I’ll help you stand up, come on,” Bucky offered, giving her his large hands again and this time she didn’t stare too long before taking them.

He unplugged the tub before helping her stand up close to the shower. She relied on her good leg, leaning onto Bucky for support where her other leg was.

Bucky swallowed at the proximity of her wet, naked body to his own but managed to maintain his composure.

He couldn’t quite understand what he was feeling or what the warmth inside his chest was and he could all but imagine other ways for her smooth body to be trembling-

Shaking his thoughts off, Bucky adjusted the water’s temperature for her and had her test it before helping her stand directly under the water.

Her eyes shut as the soap was washed out of her hair. She could feel Bucky moving it from her shoulders to her back so it would all get rinsed equally.

In the heat of it all, she couldn’t help but notice that she was no longer trembling like crazy under Bucky’s touch. She pinned it on the hot water.

“Hold onto me,” Bucky instructed when her hair was thoroughly rinsed.

She listened without questioning, choosing to hold onto the orc’s waist (the closest part to her arms), and watched quietly as Bucky grabbed a washcloth, rubbing the soap on it and when he felt it was good enough, he started rubbing down her arms, tummy and thighs, avoiding her privates at first.

He had to get her cleaned up though so he gingerly let the washcloth caress her breasts and ass, even briefly slipping it between her legs while avoiding eye contact.

Her eyes shut and her nails dug harder in his sides but she stayed put.

She noticed that Bucky didn’t try to force his touch on her this time. He even used the washcloth as a barrier between his skin and hers so he could clean her up without making her uncomfortable.

Maybe it was the rain she had beat down on her head, but that Bucky was much kinder and much more respectful than the discourteous one she had met earlier that same night.

Once the water had washed down all the soap, Bucky extended an arm and grabbed the towel he’d prepared earlier.

He kept her leaning on his body as he bent to twist the water tap off.

Bucky got out of the tub first, one arm still around her waist.

He wrapped the towel around her, not missing how tightly she immediately clutched it to her body, before swiftly carrying her out of the tub and onto the toilet seat again.

Bucky slipped his wet sweats and boxers down and she looked away quickly, her face heating up yet again.

He could have showered with her, but he didn’t want to intimidate her. She was already terrified enough when he had told her to strip.

He walked to his closet and pat himself down with a towel, hastily pulling up another pair of sweats and a clean sweater.

Bucky walked back in and carried her outside, carefully placing her on the bed.

“I—I can dress myself,” she told him when she saw he was trying to gather anything from his closet that might fit her.

“Here,” Bucky handed her one of his large sweaters folded and on top was a lace piece of underwear.

She looked at him with both confusion and annoyance.

He didn’t seriously expect her to wear someone else’s underwear, did he?

“It’s brand new. I had someone buy me some from the village… for my bride,” Bucky told her, shrugging as if it was no big deal but the act still momentarily warmed her chest, “heard human girls liked that kinda stuff.”

He didn’t understand the need for lingerie yet he bought them for his future wife anyway. What a nice gesture that was unbecoming of a deadly, metal-armed orc!

“If I’d known they would send you without your clothes I would’ve bought more stuff—”

“Thank you.” She nodded, accepting the clothes, embarrassed about the fact that they gave her up without as much as a change of clothes.

“Get dressed so I can take a look at your ankle.” Bucky took the now cold glass of milk off the table and walked back with it to the kitchen.

The sun was soon going to rise and she deserved some good rest. So Bucky poured the milk back into a sauce pan and reheated it for her.

“You done?” Bucky asked before coming back out and only did when he received her confirmation.

When he got out with the hot milk, she was dressed and combing her hair with Bucky’s brush. He set the glass on the bedside table this time and stared at the brush she had in her hand, a strangely possessive feeling bubbling in his stomach at the sight of her wearing his clothes and using something of his.

“I- I thought I’d comb it so it wouldn’t—”

“Give it,” Bucky interrupted, opening his large palm.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered quickly, handing him his brush before pulling her legs to her chest, burying her hot face in her knees.

She was too upset with herself for overstepping the boundaries to notice the bed dip behind her.

Bucky had sat down and was gathering her hair back so he could comb it for her.

Goosebumps climbed up her back and she couldn’t believe what was happening.

First, the orc had washed her hair and body so tenderly as if she was made of literal snowflakes, and now he was combing her hair for her with so much care that she felt tears sting her eyes.

No one has ever taken care of her. No one has ever been so gentle or kind with her. It was new and it was overwhelming.

She didn’t know if she should still anticipate a punishment from the orc or if she should give in and trust him and his soft gestures. It was confusing.

Bucky couldn’t recognize himself as he worked the brush in her hair from the tips to the roots, careful not to hurt her or pull at her locks.

Where was this softness coming from! How come she was the one getting it to show so shamelessly, and why did Bucky like it too much to stop it?

“Thank you,” she mumbled for the millionth time that night as Bucky finished patching up the superficial wounds littering her skin and wrapping up her sprained ankle.

“It’s not free.” He crossed his arms.

“What?” Her heart started pounding once more.

“I have things I want in return.”

The orc’s words made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She knew she shouldn’t trust him.

“L—Like what?” She drew her legs back as best as she could, afraid of Bucky’s touch once again.

She knew she had nothing to give the orc. She was just an orphan who was sent here without even a dress to her name.

“Like first of all, don’t try to run from me again, especially with a foot like that,” Bucky said sternly, a thick finger pointing at her hurt foot.

She nodded silently, knowing that she wasn’t going to abide by that.

“Good.” Bucky huffed, standing up to put the first aid kit back in place.

“And what else?” She asked nervously, twiddling her thumbs.

“What else?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, his frown glued to his face.

“You said first of all, which means there is more,” she explained, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Ah! Well, I would postpone this conversation until after you’ve had some rest—”

“No!” She interrupted loudly, earning a glare from Bucky.

“I’m sorry, I just— I won’t be able to rest if we don’t talk about our situation. I need to know what’s expected of me here.”

“What’s expected of you is to give me a family,” Bucky replied, a bit harsher than he wanted to sound.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she lost her ability to form words. She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t.

“But since we’ve already established that I won’t be forcing you through that, at least for the time being, I’m willing to accept something different.” He crossed his arms again.

“Something different?” She whispered.

“I’m willing to relieve you from your wifely duties, but only when it comes to sex. Otherwise, I expect you to be a good wife to me.” Bucky demanded, his intense gaze making her feel smaller than ever.

Her anger drowned over her fear and nervousness. She didn’t ask to be his wife in the first place, why was she expected to act like a good one?

“And how exactly do you suggest I do that?”

“It’s simple. You cook our meals, clean our home, wash our clothes and you kiss me before I leave the house and after I come back—”

“What!”

“What?” Bucky crossed his arms tighter in anger.

“I don’t wanna kiss you! You’re a—” She cut herself off before she could say anything more but Bucky understood.

“I’m what? Say it! A filthy orc? A monster?” He spat heatedly.

“That’s not— I didn’t say that.” She shook her head, eyes casted down.

“But you were gonna!” Bucky involuntarily raised his voice and she jumped in her place.

“Okay, fine, I am a monster, and you are that monster’s wife. You are going to kiss this monster good night and good morning, goodbye and welcome back for as long as this monster has you, and that is forever,” he growled angrily, leaving her frozen, unable to even nod as she took in his words.

“That’s not fair!” She teared up and Bucky hated that she was still trying to negotiate.

“Yeah, life’s not fair.”

Bucky walked to the lantern and blew its fire out before drawing the curtains so that the cottage was dimmer.

He went back to where she was sat on the bed, handed her the milk and crossed his arms, wordlessly waiting for her to scoot over.

She quickly got the hint, moving away from Bucky and closer to the wall.

He got into the big bed with her, the mattress dipping under his weight, trapping her between himself and the wall.

“I wanna sleep on the floor,” she said, still determined to get far away from him.

“No.” Bucky’s tone was fed up.

“I don’t wanna sleep next to you. You can’t force me!”

“Watch me.” Bucky looked her in the eyes, daring her to disobey anymore.

She dropped her eyes at once, staring at her milk.

“Drink.”

“I’m drinking!” She raised her voice again and earned a scowl, Bucky’s gaze sharp.

She tried to make it longer, but soon the glass was out of milk and her slow sips couldn’t help her anymore.

She wanted to stand her ground and not kiss him, eyes blazing with defiance.

But the orc wasn’t going to let that happen. Him taking mercy on her when it came to sex didn’t mean he would let her disobey him.

Bucky took the empty glass, putting it on the cupboard. He got comfortable on his back and locked his eyes on her.

“You know what to do.” Bucky’s tone left no room for argument and she knew better than to try.

Forcing herself down on her elbows, she leaned in closer to Bucky’s face, piercing blue eyes watching her, counting her troubled breaths as they left her lungs.

His tusks looked bigger up-close.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it. All she could do was press a shy kiss to his stubbly cheek before quickly turning over, giving him her back.

She hid herself under the large comforter, covering up from head to toe as her face burned, buried in the cold wall.

Bucky was having butterflies flying above him on the other side of the bed. He has never had something so soft come in contact with his skin before.

With a sigh, he got an extra pillow from behind him and pushed it between her and the wall so that she wouldn’t be cold.

She was too angry to thank him so she kept still as a log as he moved her back like she was.

Bucky turned on his side as well, giving her his back to hide the big smile that itched itself on his lips. His cheek was buzzing where her lips had touched and he couldn’t wait to wake up to get his good morning kiss.

Next to him, she was contrarily dreading the idea of waking up just to repeat it all again.

This was her life now. She had lived the first part of it an unwanted orphan and was now being forced to continue living as an orc’s wife, isolated and all alone with him in the far corner of the forest.

When Bucky woke up the next morning and she wasn’t in bed. He let out a sleepy sigh, immediately thinking she had fled the cottage again.

However, the sounds coming from his bathroom made him get up at once.

He knocked on the door, softly calling her name but the sounds only continued to get more aggressive.

Bucky opened the door to see her bowing by the toilet, throwing up her guts as she struggled to keep her hair out of her face.

He quickly kneeled down behind her, holding her messy hair back as she continued to harshly throw up.

Bucky frowned at how much her upset stomach was making her suffer when all she had last night was honeyed cow milk.

There was nothing to come out but her tummy still contracted and pushed her over and over.

When she was finally done, she collapsed back on her butt, her cheeks teary and her chin wet with her saliva.

She thought she looked like a nightmare, but all Bucky saw was fairness.

Her back weakly leaned on Bucky’s chest and he welcomed the feeling it gave him.

She was a mess but Bucky only recognized the beauty in her fragility. He wanted nothing more than to take care of her.

He helped her up to stand by the sink and silently handed her a brand new wooden toothbrush that he’d bought for himself as an extra.

He still couldn’t believe those people at the orphanage sent her here without anything on her.

She couldn’t even have enough power to thank the orc as she took the toothbrush from him with shaky hands.

Meanwhile, Bucky moved to the kitchen to see if he had fresh ginger so he could make her some lemon ginger tea or some soup to help her upset stomach. He didn’t get the chance to find out though because he heard the sound of the toothbrush hitting the sink.

Bucky walked back to her and a yellow face looked back at him before her white lips moved to say “I think something is wrong.” With that, she collapsed on the bathroom floor before Bucky could catch her.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in Bucky’s bed with a cold, wet rag on her forehead and a terrible muscle ache all over her body.

She didn’t get to question what had happened as the orc came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with what looked like a large bowl of hot soup on top of it.

Bucky smiled when he saw her eyes open, “how are you feeling?”

She was surprised he could even smile; he was all smirks and scowls last night.

“Ache-y,” she said, her voice faint and sick.

“I made you something that should be light on your stomach,” he told her as he set the tray on the dining table.

“I’m not hungry.” She crossed her arms stubbornly, still mad because of this whole situation.

Even when she was bedridden she could get on his nerves.

“I wasn’t asking,” he replied indifferently, his frown back to his face.

“I’m not hungry I said!”

“Do I look like I care?” Bucky barked, making her open her mouth in a silent gasp.

“I don’t want anything from you!” She wished her muscles would allow her to move so she could turn away from him.

He had her here against her will for goodness’ sake! Did he think a bowl of soup could make her forget such a fact? She was sick because she was trying to get away from him during a thunder storm! Did he forget that?

“You’re gonna eat it!” Bucky ordered strictly.

“Do you have medicine? I can just take the pills and feel better.” She shrugged.

“What I made you is far better than a thousand pills,” Bucky insisted, his words final.

Bucky removed the wet cloth from her forehead and helped her sit up, placing a pillow behind her for comfort.

He then put his palm on her forehead to feel her temperature, wiping the dew drops off her skin and her breath got caught in her throat at the mere touch of his calloused thumb.

“Your temperature is down, you just drink your soup and you’ll feel better before you know it.”

Was he caring or did he hate her? Was he crazy? Did they give her to a crazy orc?

“I don’t want to—”

Bucky only gave a silent glare.

There it was.

“Fine,” she yelled, as much as her sick body and sore throat allowed her.

She looked at him with squinted eyes, not believing the care he was treating her with.

Was this a trap? When was her punishment coming? Why was he acting like a grandmother?

“Come on now,” Bucky said, getting her out of her mind.

He was offering her a half full spoon. He wanted to feed her.

She had no idea why he was being so hospitable or why her heart beat so fast, but she didn’t like it.

“I got it,” she managed to say as she extended her arms to take the bowl from him.

She looked at it suspiciously, smelling the liquid in inspection. After all, she had no idea what kind of things orcs ate.

It seemed to be normal chicken soup with a hint of something more.

Bucky carefully handed her the spoon, “it’s a family recipe. I hope I did okay.”

The way he whispered the last few words almost made her smile but she bit the smile back quickly before starting to eat.

“It’s good. Thank you,” she whispered timidly, staring at her soup as she drank up.

The silence was awkward as Bucky just watched her drink so she spoke before she could think, “where’s your family by the way?”

She knew orcs lived in clans, but there was no one here, not for miles and miles as far as she could see.

“Not here.”

“I… can see that.” She dropped her eyes to her soup, “well, where’s everyone else?”

Bucky looked at her questioningly.

“Don’t orcs like to live in big groups?”

“Not this orc.” Bucky’s frown was back as he stood up and left to the bathroom to wash the clothes they had dirtied last night, but most importantly, to avoid this very conversation.

She shrugged off her curiosity, telling herself she didn’t and shouldn’t care about him. If the orc liked to live alone, he liked to live alone. That was not hers to be concerned about.

Three days have passed and she was feeling way better already.

Bucky has been nothing but a gentle orc to her, if that was even a thing.

He kept the fact that she was sick in mind and not once did he push her to comply with his kissing conditions even though they both knew he couldn’t get her human stomach flu.

Bucky only focused on nursing her back to health, doing the housework himself as he took care of her.

The orc was trying his hardest, but their disagreements, nonetheless, never ceased.

It didn’t matter that she was sick, she used all of her energy to get under the orc’s skin and he hated that she succeeded every time because he was so short-tempered.

Bucky was always so fast to snap and it ruined his plans of trying to be nice to her every single time.

She was just too provocative and never listened without making him glare or shout.

It wasn’t how he wanted to continue with her and he silently vowed to work on his anger for the sake of his mate, even if his mate happened to be a very annoying, stubborn, childish human.

Bucky has always been feared and he had liked it that way, but not anymore. Now, he just wanted peace. He wanted a peaceful life with her.

He had found her staring at the mirror on the third day, feeling better enough now to get to the bathroom on her own.

“The floor is too cold for your feet, wear something,” Bucky advised, wanting her to use the slippers he had gotten her, but she didn’t reply, too engrossed in watching her own face.

She didn’t pay him any mind and that angered Bucky a little, but he chose to ignore it because she appeared too sad.

“What are you looking at?” Bucky asked, confused.

“I look so sick… and faint,” she answered, still deep in thought, voice so softly unhappy.

“You look fine.” Bucky wanted to reassure her, but he had no idea how to be smooth.

He had never had to say sweet nothings to a woman before. That wasn’t exactly his area of expertise.

“I look withered, like a dead plant.” She huffed gloomily.

“Not all withered plants are dead! Take garlic, for example,” Bucky blurted, “you could be a garlic!”

He had no idea he just dug himself a deep hole.

“A garlic?! You’re comparing me to garlic? Is that supposed to be a hint at the way I smell? Because you showered me with the same soap you shower with!” She suddenly started arguing and Bucky had no idea when or how they got there.

“That’s not what I meant!” He followed after her as she stormed out of the bathroom as fast as her bad foot allowed her.

She only huffed in response as she got under the heavy blankets to warm up her freezing feet.

“Garlic doesn’t lose its taste or aroma no matter how old or dry its skin gets!” Bucky tried to explain as he fetched her a pair of socks but her face made him aware of the impact his words had as she opened her mouth wide.

He was just making this worse.

“So now you’re calling me old with dry skin? Wow, thanks, husband!” She snatched the socks from him, her face now sadder than it was when she was before the mirror.

“That’s not what I mean—”

“Then what did you mean?!” She snapped.

How dare he comment on her age or skin or smell when she was deadly sick like that?! She normally took good care of herself and she was neither that old nor that unpleasant! Maybe she wasn’t the fairest of them all but—

“All I wanted to say was that you’re beautiful!” Bucky snapped back before watching his tone for the sake of her health, “sick or not… you’re still beautiful, little human.”

Taken aback by his sudden admiring comment, she remained stunned and silent as the orc gathered his axe and fled the house to go take his frustration with himself out on some dead trees.

Wow.

She may have just gotten compared to a dried bulb of garlic, but her heart was waltzing inside her chest as if that was the loveliest compliment to receive.

That orc confused her.

Part III

Tag List:

@harrysthiccthighss

@tinystudentfirepurse

@lavendercitizen

@tumblin-theworldaway

@pretty-pop-princess-hs

@lilymurphy03

@idontwannagomrstarkk

@glxwingrxse

@littlelioncub43

@mathletemadison

@canned-rootbear

@pandaxnienke

@loveisallyouneed1125

@floral-recs

@littlemoonkiller

@hallecarey1

@vespasianphantom

@vicmc624

@winters1917

@ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal

@blkmystery

@millercontracting

@trappedwriter

@am-3-thyst

@obsessedwithquinn

@sydnielauryn

@alittlerayof-pitchblack

@olipiaa

@peterparkersgirl-blog

@buckybarnessweetheart

@thealyrs

@colorfulbluebirdpainter

@stuckysgirl27

@ihavetwoholesforareason

@princess-bee0

@pastel-noah168

@steeph-aniie

@buckitostan

@onthr-dream

@sapphirebarnes

@123iloveyou456

@ciaqui

@lindasweetie

@justherefortheficandsmut

@xxdiaqiaoxx

417 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 2 years ago

Text

five more minutes: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

I'm (not) sorry, but that smug face fits right into this fanfiction!!

request/summary: Dick getting clingy when the reader needs to go somewhere

A/N: so, I think I'm back? Two weeks break and I'm getting into the swing of things again, so please go easy on me with this story......

***

When she wakes up in the morning something seems off almost instantly.

It only takes a second to realise that said thing took the form of Dick Grayson, her beloved boyfriend, the man by day and the fearless vigilante by night. The protector of Gotham and its people.

Well, if only the people could see him now.

Sleeping in a weird position with the imprint of the pillow on his cheek, messy hair and some dried saliva in the corner of his mouth.

He so cute and adorable like that. Y/N does the quick scan of his face and body in the search for any injuries he might have obtained during the patrol but her heart rests easy when she noticed him being all in one piece with no blood or stiches. Either it was a quiet and peaceful night or he already took care of himself. Her bets are the latter, but since it’s work day she doesn’t really have any time to wait until he wakes up to blame him for not being careful.

As quiet and swift as she can, Y/N tries to move out of bed, but since Dick’s senses are heightened she doesn’t really get far, when his arms wraps around her, keeping her in place.

“Dick……” she mutters

“Mhmmmm……” he mumbles into the pillow

“Come on, I have get up!”

“no you don’t.”

“I gotta get to work!”

“I’m the only work you need……” he grins, still half-asleep, but so full of himself and she almost rolls her eyes at the joke

“God, please stop…. I need to earn money you know? Not all of us have a billionaire daddy!”

“You’re dating the billionaire oldest son, isn’t that enough?”

She wonders for a moment. On a second thought maybe it is. Dick seems to use that heartbeat of hesitation, shifting his body weight on her, pinning her to bed, his eyes still closed, but this little shit knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Dick!” she gasps feeling all those muscles crush her “shit!

“I like it when you call my name in such a desperate words. Do it just one more time and the neighbours will hate you forever.” He chuckles and his makes her skin tingle.

You’re heavy…..” she squirms trying to break free, but it’s no use. “You brought it on yourself….” The girl mutters poking on his ribs in the place where he’s extremely sensitive because of an old injury.

“Hey!” he yells, trying to defend himself and letting go off her in the process.

Y/N is quick to jump out of bed and rush towards her wardrobe, grabbing her jeans and t-shirt and struggling to put them on.

“Not so fast!” Dick tears her clothes from her hands and holds them high out of reach.

“Not fair Grayson!”

“You called me fat.”

“I called you heavy!’

“Same thing!”

“It’s not….. You know what, fine. I’ll just wear something else….” She shrugs and runs towards the drawer, but before she could reach it Dick grabs her from behind and holds her tight to him

“Dick…….” She whines stretching out just to grab something to wear. Anything.

“I know. I’m irresistible.”

“A pain in the ass is what you are!”

“I can make you breakfast….” He tempts

“You’re not Jason, Dick. Making me breakfast means putting cereals In the bowl and poring some milk over it in your dictionary. Cold milk. And that is only if I bought both cereals and milk.”

“did you?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Can’t you see how hard I’m trying? Just for you. Come on, you are like an employee of the month. Or even a year. Stay…..” he kisses her neck playfully “you can call in sick.”

“I used all my sick days because of you.”

“How about casual leave?”

“and what may be the emergency?” she sighs in defeat, her body going limp as she drops the fighting knowing well enough she won’t win it. “Clingy boyfriend?”

“You called me boyfriend!” he grins again and she facepalms herself.

“We’ve been together for a year Dick. Why do you seem surprised?”

“I could never get bored with hearing that word from you. Makes me proud that you’re mine.”

“trying to sweet talk me? Won’t work. By the way, you are soooooo cheesy Grayson.”

“And?” he asks

“ And? What and?” at this point Y/N is confused, her eyebrows furrowing as she turns to meet his gaze

“And you love me?” he insist, spinning her around in his arms so that he can get easy access to her kissable face.

“Yeah…..” she smiles dreamily “yeah, I do love you, you idiot” she trails with a love sick puppy expression. But it doesn’t mean I’m gonna stay and be you babysi…..ah! Put me down!” she yells suddenly feeling her body lift of the ground without her knowledge or will. “Put me down Grayson! What are you……?! Damn it…!”

Dick does not listen or does not get impressed by her poor attempts to break free. He’s Nightwing. He’s got so many ways to immobilise the opponent. Or, in this case, lover.

“Dick I swear I am going to kick your ass if you don’t….!” the threat dies on her lips as he throws her onto the mattress and kisses her softly shutting her up in the process.

“Stay?” he pouts looking at her with those pretty doe eyes “Pretty please?”

“You act like a five year old!”

“A five year old that wants you. A five year old that misses you…”

“I’ll be back, you know……” she brush the strand of hair from his face. She’s already gone but still tries to keep the appearances.

“Yeah, at 6 p.m. or later. It’s almost the time when I get ready for my night shift…… Please…..”he whines nuzzling his nose over her neck “stay…..”

“please…..” she mimics his whining, caressing his cheek “let me go……”

“But I need you…….” He hide his face in her belly and his hair tickle

“Why do you always need me when I am supposed to go to work?’

“It’s a terrible and uncontrollable disease…..” he laughs

“Is there a cure?” she laughs back

“I can think of something….” He closes the gap between them, nibbling on her bottom lip. “and it may be working…. But I;m not sure. Need some more testing” he repeats his action. “Mhm, yes, it’s definitely working… You don’t want me to be sick, do you?”

“Not really. You are whiny and attention seeker when you are sick.”

“I am not!” he shouts in denial “ok, maybe I am. A little. But come on, you can stay some more time with me……”

“How long, dickie?” she smiles at him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“five more minutes?”

“ok. Five more minutes. She sighs deeply, letting go of any of her objections, letting Dick lay beside her and act like a big spoon, while holding her tight to his chest and caressing her sides and belly.

“You’re not letting me go, are you?” she whispers closing her eyes and getting lost in his touch.

“Never.”

And she’s pretty sure she can live with that.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x oc #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson fic #nightwing fanfiction #nightwing imagine #nightwing fluff #dc x reader #dc fluff #fluff

1K notes · View notes

whisperingmidnights · 9 months ago

Note

i’m sooo ready for flufftober- thank you for all that u do for us! would it be possible to do feysand x dove x azriel for nightmares? 🫣🫣

The AU where they all end up together would be the best, wouldn't it? It's something we need and deserve.

Raindrops pepper the windowpanes when I wake, for the first time in a long time, to a cold, empty bed. Pressing my palm against my chest, I take a few deep, steadying breaths to calm the erratic beating of my heart. Without two or three other bodies to warm the bed, the room feels too large and empty.

Apparently, none of us are resting well tonight.

Stuffing my feet into the slippers at the side of the bed, I tug on my robe and quietly creep past the nursery and subsequent bedrooms, where our babes all seem to be sleeping soundly. My mates have likely looked in on all of them since I'm the last one awake. A glance at the grandfather clock in the hall tells me it's almost three.

Too early for us to be out of bed, in my opinion.

I find them in a smaller sitting room in the family wing, the one looking out over the back rose garden. A fire blazes in the hearth, and Azriel's shadows swirl in the warm firelight like fish, weaving intricate patterns on the floor. Their master is tucked into a far corner of the couch, a book on the history of Raskian weaponry propped open on his bare chest. Feyre's bare feet are tucked beneath his thigh as he rubs idle circles on her ankle. Her blue eyes stare listlessly into the fire as she reclines back against Rhys, clinging tightly to the arm banded around her while he flips through a book of his own.

Neither male appears to truly be reading, though. Their eyes flick to me the moment I lean against the doorway, my arms crossed over my chest.

"Bad dreams?" I croak, clearing my throat to try and shake off the remnants of sleep. Rhys's book appears in a swirl of darkness. His hand twitches like he might reach for me, as he usually does, but his fingers curl into a fist instead. I'm not sure what to make of that.

"You too?" Feyre asks, glancing up at me with an echo of a smile. I hum in affirmation, giving her a short nod before I peel myself off of the doorframe and wander towards the kitchen. I know something that will lift all of our spirits.

I'm in the process of heating milk on the stove when the first of my mates arrives, winding strong, tattooed arms around my waist. Azriel's mist and cedar scent washes over me like a balm, and I lean back into his embrace as I continue to slowly stir the milk to keep it from burning.

His lips map a trail along my jaw to the corner of my mouth, and I make a small, contented noise as scarred fingers gently tilt my chin up, allowing him to kiss me properly. My closest friend, the lover who knows me best of all, I could never deny him an ounce of affection. He so rarely openly seeks it, but when he does, it's a bit like watching a flower bloom.

He takes his time, and I savor the quiet moment. It's only when I hear the milk beginning to bubble that I remember to keep stirring, and he smiles against my mouth before he pulls back, rustling his wings as he peers over my shoulder.

"Warm milk?" He asks, looking at the sizeable pot on the burner.

"It'll be hot chocolate if you chop up the bar in the cabinet. I may have forgotten to do that step first."

"Mhm." Azriel drops a kiss on my temple before he steps away, shuffling to the cabinet at the end of the counter, where all of the baking supplies are kept. Feyre drifts in while he's chopping up a bar of rich, sweet chocolate, greeting me with her own kiss before she tucks herself against his back, resting her head between his wings. His chopping doesn't falter as he tucks his wings tighter, squeezing her between them for a moment before they fall loose again. The way she tightens her grip on his waist brings a smile to my face.

I'm mixing in the chocolate when Rhys finally joins us, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as he presses a kiss to the crown of my head. "Sorry," he whispers into my hair, and I just shake my head, reaching up to squeeze the well muscled forearm tucking me against him. I can't remember my own nightmare, and I don't need to know what tore each of them from our bed on such a cold, dreary night. It's enough that they're here with me now, safe and warm.

#talk to me #ask game #flufftober #flufftober bingo #feysand x reader x azriel #azriel x reader #feysand x reader #feyre x reader #rhys x reader #cs related #cs au

149 notes · View notes

twice-inamillion · 2 years ago

Text

Momo in the Studio

Smut (dirty talk, sex, penetration, creampie, sex crazy momo)

Chapter 216

1,570 Words

(OC and Momo spend some time in the studio. They work together on some lyrics but gets messy in the end. 😏)

After arriving in Korea, you have spent most of your time in the studio. The members use their time at the company for dance practice or to work on lyrics for songs they want to submit for the next album.

Momo is one of those who is excited to show you some lyrics she wrote for a potential song.

“Amazing work, Momo. How did you come up with this?”

“Really? It’s good?”

“Yeah, it gives a different vibe.”

“Thanks! Hmm… I went around and asked unnie for help.”

“Nayeon and Jeongyeon?”

“I can’t say, but they gave me some pointers.”

“Thank them because I can see this as a potential song.”

The two of you spent a couple of hours in the studio trying out some potential beats. Momo became interested in the process and stuck to you like glue. “So if you change this, it gives a different vibe to the song? It’s supposed to be a love and hate type of song, but it’s also kind of hot,” as Momo presses her breast to your arm.

“I think we can emphasize more on these words” as you mention the words “Love, I love you, love you, hate, foolish.”

“Yes, like you love someone and hate them too, seems like a hot way to have sex.”

“You must be sex crazy.”

Momo looks at you with lustful eyes, “It’s because I’ve only used my fingers and toys. You haven’t been filling me up as of lately.”

“You know how busy we’ve been. The wedding and the tour.”

She pushes your chair and gets on top of you, “Still, you could have given me a good fucking. Don’t think Jihyo would mind.” You know that she’s teasing you, and it’s working.

She notices you staring at her chest, “Wanna see my tits, Oppa?” Momo doesn’t wait for an answer and takes off her shirt, revealing her beautiful breasts held by a thin bra. She slowly undoes her bra and tosses it onto the nearby chair.

With her large nipple in front of you, it doesn’t take much for you to shove your face to her breast. You attach yourself to her nipple and suckle. Momo moans loudly and says, “Oppa, there’s no milk; I’m not Jihyo.”

You don’t respond and keep on focusing on her breast and move to the other. You place her nub between your teeth and give a slight bite. Momo cries from her nipple getting bitten and digs her nails into your arm.

After detaching yourself, Momo unbuttons your shirt and tosses it to the floor. She gets off of the chair, starts to undo the remainder of her clothes, and moves to remove your pants.

When she removes your boxers, your cock springs out hard. Momo looks at you with hunger in her eyes and says, “fuck, I missed your cock so much.” She gives it a few pumps and gets back on your lap.

You see Momo grab your cock and aligns it to her entrance. You ask, “No foreplay?” Momo looks at your crazed eyes, “No, I just want your cock in me, now,” and lowers herself to take in your head. She moans to the tip of your cock inside her, “Ooh, that feels so good, and it’s just the tip.” She lets the remaining of her weight go, and her cunt swallows your whole length.

“Fuck! You’re stretching me wide open!” Momo arches her back from the sudden pain of your massive cock invading her hungry womb.

She doesn’t hesitate to bounce on your cock aggressively. Momo grunts and moans loudly to your thick cock, spreading her walls wide open. “I hate you; you make me such a bad girl. You make me feel like I’m high.”

You notice her spouting out some of the lyrics of her songs as she rides you like a bull and you decide to tease her a bit. “Why do you hate me?”

Momo, with her hands fondling her massive breasts, yells, “I hate how Jihyo has you wrapped around her little fingers. She shouldn’t have you all for herself; she needs to share with the rest of us!”

She continues to ride your cock as you enjoy the show. Her perfect breast bounces right in front of you, “fuck, Momo. I love your breasts; I just want to milk them dry.”

“Only way you’ll get that is if you breed me,” giving you a smirk.

“You would want that, huh.”

“Yes! I enjoy the feeling of hot cum inside my womb.”

“I want to see you become a complete mess,” place your hands on her butt and stand up. With her arms wrapped around your neck, she holds on for dear life. You begin to fuck her in a stand-and-carry position as you walk to lock the door of the studio. You walk back and press the “recording in session” button to ensure that no one bothers the both of you.

“Make sure you fill me up real good, okay.”

You stand in the middle of the studio and fucking her mercilessly. Momo lets her full voice out as she grunts and moans loudly. “Just like that! Fuck me with your big, fat cock. Mess up that slutty pussy of mine.”

You give her a heavy slap on her ass and increase the pace of your thrusting. She digs her nails deep into your back, “Ahh… you’re going to make me addicted to your cock. Don’t stop, please.”

“Tell me where you like my cock.”

“Ahh… in my cunt.”

“Where?”

“I said in my cunt!

“I can’t hear you.”

“I said, I like it when you fuck me in my tight little cunt with that big fat cock of yours!”

“See it’s not so hard.”

You decide to change up the pace and let her do all the work. Momo uses her strength to bounce on your cock as she avoids falling. “Oppa, don’t let me do all the work; I’m about to fall.”

“You’re doing a good job, Momo. Just keep going, okay?” as you kiss her on the lips. She’s surprised from the sudden kiss and giggles, “Okay, but make sure you give me a reward after for doing all the work.”

Momo continues to bounce on you for what feels like an hour. As time goes by, her rhythm goes slowly, and her breathing becomes heavier. “Oppa, I can’t hold on anymore. My arms are about to give up.” She presses her head onto your chest and is entirely out of energy. You lift her up, pull out and reinsert your cock and do some slow but hard thrusts.

“In or out?”

She lifts her head and shyly whispers, “In.”

You walk towards the couch across the studio and slowly place on the sofa into a mating press. Standing in front of Momo, you get on your knees and tease her with your cock by tracing your head against her lips. With your cock in hand, you slap it on her cunt before inserting it back inside. You hold her legs up to her head and thrust yourself deep inside.

“Oh fuck!! Fuck… fuck… you’re too rough. You’re going to mess me up.”

“You told me to mess you up, so here it is. Take it like a good girl.”

Momo bites her lip as she feels the tip of your cock reaching the deepest part of her womb. She doesn’t resist and whines, “Cum inside me already; I want to feel it in my…”. You don’t let her finish her sentence as you pull out and slam yourself once more. Her eyes widen as she pulls her womb gets pumped with a large amount of thick hot cum.

“Hmm….fuck! Keep pouring that hot baby batter inside my slutty cunt!”

You watch as her belly grows bigger by the amount of cum you’re pouring inside of her. “You’re taking it like a good girl, Momo,” as you watch her satisfied face. You give her one last thrust before pulling out.

“Woah, you look so hot,” as you watch Momo’s creampie. “I really did a number on you,” as she lays on the couch with her legs spread wide open. You see a thick trail of cum oozing out and dripping onto the sofa and on the floor, creating a small puddle.

You walk to Momo and ask, “Hold a peace sign. I want to take a picture.” Momo holds a peace sign with both hands, sticks her tongue out, and rolls her eyes back.

“Haha, you really know how to turn on a guy, huh.”

Momo laughs at your comment, “I wouldn’t know. You’re the only guy I’ve been with.” You can’t help but smile and thank Jihyo for allowing you to play with her “sisters.”

You stare at Momo’s delicious body and see a slight bulge in her tummy. You give her belly a hard press and see a large amount of cum gush out of Momo’s used cunt.

With her two fingers, she traces her folds and collects as much cum as it can hold. She puts it in her mouth and says, “Tastes so good, it’s sweet,” as she licks her fingers clean.

#twice smut #kpop smut #twice fluff #kpop fluff #twice momo #twice momo smut #hirari momo #momo smut #momo hirai #momo #hirai momo #TM smut

871 notes · View notes