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pearlymel · 8 months ago

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A dance— Capitano

Synopsis : your relationship with him grows, and he seems sweeter than ever.

Wc : 3.2k

Warnings : contains NSFW content, fem!reader, reader is mostly called 'wife', he's super sweet, soft sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink kinda, reader wears a dress and heels.

Notes : part 2 is heree! I highly recommend reading part 1 here. And part 3 is out here!

You've tried creating art, you've tried cooking (with the help of your personal maid, Marina), you've even tried planting.

Yeah, you're a plant mom now. Not only that, you're a cat mom too. Saving the poor kitty from the harsh rain one day, you couldn't leave the poor little one outside. It's mother seeming to abandon it.

All because you have become extremely bored on the days where Capitano wouldn't be here, and he forbade you to even clean your shared bedroom because he thinks it's useless when there are servants present to do the job. (He doesn't want to tire you out.)

Come to think of it, the last time you saw him, he kept avoiding you. Whenever you tried striking a conversation during dinner, he would only hum and nod. Or when you suggested to have another picnic, he flatly refused, and it felt like the hardest rejection to your face.

It's like he had his own mood swings that you had to deal with. One day he would indulge you in the activities you wanted to do, then the next he would refuse.

Like last week.

“I used to do this when i was young.” You tell him with the softest smile to yourself, your fingers working carefully with the flower petals and strings. You were determined to make this flower crown, and you were taking your sweet time just to have him by your side.

Capitano silently listened to your words, his gaze fixed on your gentle movements as you delicately fashioned a flower crown. The air between you was calm, "You have a talent for making flower crowns," he eventually responded, his deep voice breaking the tranquil silence.

"Did you learn it from someone?”

“No… just by myself.” He couldn't help but be impressed by your innate ability to create such an intricate accessory without any formal instruction. "Self-taught." He mused, "You have an unusual aptitude for discovering things on your own.”

You hum back while adding the finishing touches, and he watched your proud display of the finished flower crown.

“this is for kitty!” You smile at the thought of the little one purring with a pretty crown on it's head.

Kitty? Capitano is confused once you start talking about the cat, you seem even more excited when you described how you cuddled with it.

"You just happened to come across this crying feline in the rain, and you brought it home with you?”

“yes! Ah, well… i hope you don't mind.”

“i don't.”

And that was the last of your conversation, and it's been a week since you last saw him.

“my lady,” You recognise the voice of Marina as she knocks on the door, and you grant her the permission of her entry.

You set the sleeping kitten on the fluffed up pillow to reach for the letter she hands you.

An invitation to the grand ball… you read the contents of it, scanning every word as you pull the paper down.

“like a party?” you ask, glancing up at her, "Yes, that is correct. A grand ball is taking place tonight. It's a gathering of the higher-ranking Fatui members and a few... select guests.” she trails off, unsure of what else to add on.

“I can see that this invitation is for Capitano, not to me.”

“lord Capitano doesn't normally attend these grand balls. So my lady, you will have to go instead.” Marina explains this and you feel like you're going to have a headache.

All you wanted to do today was sleep in with the kitten. Not to trouble yourself in some party.

But… if it's for the sake of your husband's reputation, then you are willing to do it.

You hope you don't pass away too quick from your social anxiety.

“Marina, does this really suit me?” You stare at your reflection, and Marina looks at you approvingly, her eyes taking in your stunning appearance. "Sì, my lady, it suits you perfectly," she assures you, "The dress brings out your features beautifully and fits your figure perfectly.”

“and the colour?”

"Oh, yes, the color is exquisite. It complements your skin tone perfectly. You look like a princess attending a royal ball.” and you smile shyly as you take your seat, “You flatter me too much, you know?”

Marina chuckles softly, moving behind you to work on your hair with practiced ease. "It's not flattery if it's the truth. You look truly radiant today." She begins to style your hair, weaving intricate braids and pinning them in place with delicate silver pins.

Though you can't even lie to yourself, you looked absolutely gorgeous, even when you felt a little down since you would be going alone, and you barely knew anyone.

Marina pauses in her work for a moment, her expression becoming sympathetic as she sensed your nervousness. “It's natural to feel that way. But I believe you will be fine. You are strong and independent." She resumes styling your hair, her fingers moving nimbly to create elegant curls.

You smile at her, looking at her from the mirror, “thank you.”

"It is my honor to serve you.” As she finishes your hair, she steps back to admire her work, a satisfied expression on her face. "You are ready, my lady.”

You are ready.

You are not ready.

Because why was everyone's eyes piercing bullets through you as you entered the main hall?

The whispers and murmurs start almost immediately, the guests clearly intrigued by your presence. However, you manage to keep your composure, straightening your back and walking forward with confidence, just like how Marina taught you.

Stay calm they won't eat you, you tell yourself, trying to maintain your composure under the weight of their gazes.

You were here to make friends, hopefully.

You scan the room, hoping that someone would approach you to engage in conversation. Yet nobody, not a single soul, seems to have the courage to do so. The guests continue their conversations and dances, seemingly ignoring your presence.

And so, you find yourself standing alone, sipping on a glass of champagne, feeling lost and slightly out of place.

Well this is boring. You could've stayed in with Kitty and Marina, but at least you get free food. They always taste better, right?

Everyone went silent all of a sudden, but you ignored it at first and continue taking sips of your drink.

But the silence becomes uncomfortable, just what happened to the party?

You turn around, your eyes widening immediately in surprise as you see Capitano walking towards you. Your heart seems to skip a beat as you watch him approach, his presence commanding attention and authority in the room. Capitano stops in front of you, you can't make up what his face must be like right now, but you think he has a stoic expression on his face as he takes in your appearance. His eyes roaming up and down your figure, seemingly appreciating the elegance of your dress.

“husband?” You blurt out, setting your glass aside to greet him.

"Wife," he says simply, acknowledging the fact that you have finally addressed him by that term.

The tension breaks when soft, elegant music begins to play, signaling the start of partner dances in the middle of the ballroom.

Capitano seems to realize this as he glances around at the couples already making their way to the dance floor. He then turns back to you, his expression unreadable as he silently contemplates the situation.

He can see the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your hand clutched at your dress.

"I suppose we should dance, wife.”

“you want to dance?”

"Yes," he responds. "It appears it's customary for couples at these events to dance together." He extends his hand in your direction, gesturing for you to take it. You take his hand, wrapping it gently around his gloved one. His fingers close around your hand, his grip gentle yet firm as he leads you towards the dance floor.

You notice the whispers and murmurs among the guests growing louder. But you chose to ignore them.

Capitano guides you to the center of the dance floor and positions himself opposite you, his hand settling onto your waist, and your hands on his shoulders.

"Do you know how to dance?" You whisper to him, making sure no one listens, and your eyes are on him.

"I may not engage in these social events often, but even I understand the basics of dance." His hand on your waist pulls you closer to him, you follow his lead.

Interesting.

He leads the dance with of assurance and grace, his movements fluid and confident. As you follow his lead and swirl together across the dance floor, your eyes meet his, and you find yourself unable to look away. The closeness between you makes it feel as if the rest of the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you dancing together.

You notice how he seems to turn his head slightly to look at others, mimicking their movements swiftly, it makes you smile to yourself.

His hand on your waist feels warm, almost burning even through the fabric of your dress. It's a strange sensation you've never felt when touching him, despite having already kissed (once) before.

”my dress,” you whisper amidst the graceful dance, “what do you think of it?”

You figured you always needed to give him a little push when initiating things.

His attention drift down to take in the sight of your dress once again. His gaze roams over the fabric, lingering on the way it clings to your figure, and how the color contrasts against your skin.

"It's... " he pauses, you're just wearing a dres, but he finds it difficult to describe what he feels, "Very pleasing to the eye.” he manages to continue.

"You look rather well tonight, as well.”

“Thank you, wife.”

The music suddenly shifts to a slower tempo, and Capitano instinctively adjusts his hold on you, pulling you slightly closer as he continues to dance with you.

You totally ignore how your face is almost pressed up against his chest.

As interesting as the party was, the worst part of was walking back to the estate. Why? Because the carriage decided to break down, or maybe the horses were sleepy, you don't know.

You're glad your husband is with you, or else you might've been sacrificed to the dogs at night, now even ants will fear this big guy.

But what's worse? Your damn heels are killing you. The sides of your pinky toes are already aching that you are sure it will cause nasty blisters by tomorrow.

"Perhaps next time you should wear more comfortable shoes." He stated bluntly, his deep voice betraying no pity for your situation. “but they look pretty, plus i feel elegant in them.” you stop at your tracks, looking up at him with a defeated expression.

"I'm well aware." he says dryly, "But at what cost? You're practically torturing yourself with those heels.”

He's half right, your point still stands. Beauty is pain. And now you'll have to sacrifice your beauty.

Bye bye heels. You slide them off your feet, bow having your poor feet to walk on these rocky grounds. You do feel a little better after, though.

“stay still.” He utters, and you're confused, until he takes your heels in one hand before you feel a shift of your weight off your feet, finding yourself being carried into his arms.

you wrapped your arms around his neck silently, your eyes glancing up at him as he continues walking like he you weigh nothing.

The air around you is peaceful. You feel safe with him, he's not like the scary man you hear from the others. Maybe to others he was, but to you? He was soft for you.

Your head leans on his chest where his heart rested, the beats of his heart makes you sleepy, but you refuse to sleep just like this, you want to spend every single second savouring this feeling.

Capitano carried you all the way to the estate, and through the dark corridors, making his way to your shared chambers.

The soft moonlight filtering through the windows was the only source of illumination, the atmosphere around you quiet.

He gently deposited you back on your feet, you're back home safely.

“thank you.” You whisper, your hands reaching to take the pins out of your hair to let it breath from the scruffy yet beautiful hairstyle, and Capitano starts taking off the heavy layers off him as well, with the helmet out.

You don't notice how one of your dress straps seem to fall off your shoulders, but he notices, and oh did that make something in him stir.

His steps closer from behind you, his hand reaching to put the strap back in place, but instead, he glances at the other strap.

It looked rather lonely being on your shoulder, his fingers delicately sliding the strap down which makes you ultimately still in your place.

Your entire body trembled slightly as Capitano's hands caressed your skin, tracing gentle paths across your shoulders and back down to the zipper on your side. “May i.. help you out of your dress?” His low, gruff voice, asking for permission to help you out of your dress, made your heart beat faster.

You could only nod in response, your voice silenced by a mixture of anticipation and desire. Capitano's touch was meticulous, his thumb and index delicately moving down the zipper with deliberate slowness, prolonging the tension.

Capitano lets out another low hum as he watches the dress slide down to your ankles, now leaving you only in your undergarments. His hands traced the contour of your body, his touch delicate yet possessive. His own breathing became ragged, the sight of you partially undressed igniting a fire in his eyes.

“Will you allow me to touch you?”

The question makes you turn your head, of course he can.

When you don't stop him from wrapping his arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, he takes it as a green light to continue.

His hand first brushed your hair out of the way, to allow his lips to come in contact with the nape of your neck, “you're so beautiful..." he whispered, his hot breath sending jolts of electricity through your core.

“I don't…” he hesitates, wanting to move his hands away, “i don't want to do anything you don't like.”

And your expression softens at his concern, you turn around to take his face into your hands, your thumbs caressing the apples of his cheeks and he nuzzles into your touch, wrapping a hand around your wrist before pressing a kiss to your palm. You further reassure him by littering his face with your lips, giving every empty space of his skin with at least one kiss.

“Allow me to experience this with you, and i shall take care of you till i take my very last breath.” he hoists you up easily into his arms, rough hand under your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist, he laid you down on the soft sheets, his body covering yours as he looked down at you.

“You occupy my every thought,” he starts, “that it feels sinful to even look at your way.” He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as his hand continued its exploration, ripping your bra off to cup your breast, feeling your nipple harden under his touch. He rolled it between his fingers, pinching it gently as he deepened the kiss when you gasp, his tongue delving into your mouth, savouring your taste and angelic sounds.

He leaned down afterwards, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and your hands find his ling strands instantly, tugging on them while being careful not to hurt him.

His fingers traced down to your hip, giving them a firm squeeze before ripping your panties off next, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, feeling you writhe and tense up under him.

It felt like an unknown territory you've yet to explore.

Upon sensing your discomfort, he presses his lips to your eyelids, then to your neck, taking his time until you relaxed, until you started feeling good based off how you were bucking your hips now.

Oh how he wanted to take his time with you, but he was aching so bad that if he continues touching you he might just burst embarrassingly fast in his pants.

“Let me in, my wife.” He gently starts massaging your thighs as he parts them, making you feel more exposed than ever, but he distracts you by softly kissing you again and again while he's unbuckling his pants and pushing them down, revealing his throbbing thick, hard cock.

“Capitano—!” you try to squirm away when you feel his tip push into your tight hole, your lips parting from the way he stretched you open, but at the same time you felt relaxed with his soft whispers of ‘take your time’ and ‘you’re doing well, my wife.’

Your cunt soon takes in every inch, swallowing him whole until you were a panting mess, and you didn't even start.

Capitano then began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, letting you get used to his size, to how you feel, to how he feels as he makes love to you for the first time together.

You feel your heart up to your throat and ears, it felt incredible, something you've never felt before, your soft moans echoing in the air along with a few groans coming from him.

He shivered when he felt your fingertips trace the few scars littering his shoulders and back, his dick twitching almost instantly before his thrusts grew faster, more urgent.

His hand reached down, returning back to draw circles around the bundle of nerves, and he could feel your body tense, your walls clenching around his cock as he continued to rub your clit.

“come for your husband,” he breaths heavily next to your ear, and you come undone, your moans filling the room as he felt you milk his cock. He could feel his own release following after, his balls tightening before he slammed into you one last time, spilling thick ropes into your womb, until you were filled to the brim.

Your legs were shaking slightly around him, yet his warm embrace afterwards made you melt, eyelids heavy with him still being buried inside you.

—

You groggily woke up, still half in a dream-like state, the room bathed in shadows due to the closed curtains blocking out the morning sun.

As your senses slowly returned to reality, you heard a soft meow next to you, and sure enough, your little kitten had made itself comfortable in the middle of the bed. To your surprise, Capitano, who was still asleep beside you, didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the creature's presence.

“pst,” you whisper to your husband who only hummed in acknowledgment of your attention. “Can we go have a picnic this early morning? With our baby kitten of course.”

Tags: @sayastyx, @nastylilcvnt, @bigboygoose,

#Capitano #il capitano #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #il capitano x reader #capitano x reader #capitano x you #fatui harbingers #fatui #genshin harbingers #capitano smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact capitano #il capitano smut

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hanasnx · 10 days ago

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being spencer’s secret lowkey girlfriend who also happens to work at the FBI, but in a different unit. and there’s always talk about how hot you are and spencer always hears how much people want to fuck you.

and he just has to laugh to himself because at the end of the day he’s the one who gets to fuck you into the mattress every single night 🙂‍↕️🩷

OH, SHE’S SO HOT — s.reid

“ be my addiction, material girl / wrapped ‘round my finger like diamonds and pearls ” 🪽

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ✉️ | criminal minds. NOTES. thank god u said smthn anon ive been wanting to write about smthn like this. also im only on s1 so those are the characters i’ll be using. WARNINGS. fem reader ノ established relationship ノ everybody thirsting over you is currently single ノ suggestive material.

“she’s pretty.” jennifer relents with a shrug. her curiosity gets the better of her and she leans forward for a better glimpse of you. this isn’t your unit, but you’re paying a visit to hotch over at the far side of the room. “she’s really pretty.” she muses, her tone shifting to one of admission while she sizes you up. it’s not that you’re any kind of threat or unwelcome presence, but now the wheels in jj’s head are turning, “her and hotch aren’t… they couldn’t be…” SPENCER REID, who’s been sitting politely at his desk, perks his head up. he hadn’t seen you come in, but his pen raises and his lips part, all to claim you as someone he knows until he’s interrupted.

“girl like that? c’mon. at the very least he’s thinking about it.” derek chimes in, smoothly taking an open seat in one of the desk clumps to join the gossiping throng. spencer closes his mouth, pen dropping to his lap defeatedly. jj shifts in her position, having leaned her tailbone on the edge of the desk to cross her ankles smartly. now she needs a better angle to see you and aaron’s conversation. derek gestures to your back with his hand vaguely, addressing the group like he’s an expert in using his background in profiling for this specific strain of body language. spencer obediently follows the direction, furrowed brows landing on you as he cranes his neck to see you. “look at the way he’s standing. toes pointed towards her, making eye contact. he wants her.” derek scoffs, taking a long sip from his coffee as he studies you. it’s hard to tell from just the sliver of your face visible, but he’s seen enough of you to know you’re a catch. the genius starts to scratch his head.

“guys, hate to be the buzzkill, but can we get back on task?” elle interrupts just as jj was opening her mouth to continue scheming. “we don’t know anything about her. besides, hotch isn’t the kind of guy.”

“kind of guy to what?” jj clarifies with an impish tug to her lips, pivoting her head to cast elle a sly glance.

elle meets her gaze. “to get into a workplace relationship. he’s too professional for that.” she pinches her one shoulder in a shrug as she organizes a pile of files. spencer’s lips purse, mind racing at the prospect of being judged for unprofessionalism. it did occur to him there would be some scrutiny involved, which is why you and him have mostly been sneaking around thus far. still, it’s intimidating to have it laid out like this in front of him… and oddly thrilling. his fingers begin to fiddle with the pen in his lap. big, brown eyes glance from person to person as they lead the conversation, soaking in all the information like a sponge.

“he’s a guy.” derek once again imposes his theory, and says the statement like it’s definitive. even jj rolls her eyes. spencer clenches his jaw, tilting his head to himself as if it say, yes, that’s true. i fell for it, too.

“just because you haven’t been getting any doesn’t mean you get to go and make it everyone’s problem.” the blonde teases, straightening to her full height, heels clacking as she passes behind derek, giving him a healthy pat on his shoulder while he laughs sarcastically.

“ha. ha.” it’s a dry reply, one that leaves the group quiet for a second while penelope takes the recently departed’s place. “hey, garcia.”

“hey, what’re we talkin’ about?” she asks in that perky voice of hers, it’s only the throng’s hushed tones that bring her down to their level. she ducks her head symbolically. “sorry. didn’t know we were swapping secrets.”

elle may not act amused, yet she’s still participating. “they’re talking about hotch and the new girl.”

“tattletale.” derek taunts.

“grow up.”

“the new girl?” penelope confirms quizzically, twisting her face to match her dialogue as she scans her surroundings. it’s clear when she’s spotted you because her jaw drops, “oh, she’s hot.” once again she’s scolded by her colleagues shushing her, ducking down a second time with some exclamation about how weird they’re being. semi-hidden behind a desk’s partition, she goes for a second look. she doesn’t announce to everyone that you made hotch laugh. it’s a small kind of chuckle, a clear smile on his lips. it’s something spencer notices though, and he bows his head to avert his prying eyes. he doesn’t know hotch to joke around like that, and he doesn’t like the way it feels. instead, penelope points something else out, “she kind’a looks like spencer’s type, don’t you think?” her thumbs gestures to you lazily, and everyone looks at you through a new lens.

derek sets his sights on something to antagonize, “huh. awfully quiet there, reid.” he muses as he leans over, the flat of his hand batting spencer’s shoulder to get his attention. “what d’you think of her?” he asks coolly, sinking back into the chair while he sets his ankle up on his knee.

“hm?” spencer responds as if he hasn’t been listening, pulling the pen from between his lips. he meets derek’s gaze over the coffee cup, and all derek does is point and nod towards you discretely. spencer obliges now that he’s been asked directly. “oh, um…” he takes his time. “i dunno, she’s… i dunno.” brown eyes drool down like molasses, from your hair, to your smart outfit, to the seams from your pantyhose at the backs of your calves, to your black heels. you know he loves that. he’s broken through a couple pairs of those tights because he just couldn’t wait. “she’s… you know…”

the speechlessness causes a small eruption behind him, the group swapping expressions and silent conversations about his reaction. the spencer they know would start talking about the quality of fabric you’re wearing, the history of it and how—fun fact—it started some war in some country that doesn’t exist anymore. any useless knowledge he could spit out because his brain is a computer. they don’t get a chance to break the silence, you and hotch split. hotch begins his ascent to their desk clump and you pass by. everyone averts their eyes, everyone but spencer. you’re not shy either. you hold his eye contact, you even give him a small knowing smile, and a deliberate nod. derek’s jaw seems to unhinge witnessing such an obvious bid. spencer glances back at everyone, “now, guys—now, now—“ he stutters out, trying to fit words in with innocent gestures and a nervous grin. derek’s hand clamps on his shoulder and jostles him in some kind of show of manly camaraderie.

“dr. reid, you dog!”

“she was totally looking at you, spencer!”

“oh, my god.” derek, penelope, and elle respectively all give their input just as hotch approaches.

“what’s this about?” he asks, brows knit together at such an unusual display. spencer can’t seem to answer that either, shoulders stuck in a shrug and mouth open to make some case that never gets made.

@HANASNX 2025 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

#1k #indy: drabbles #ch: spencer r.#spencer reid drabble #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #reader insert #[🃏]

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mvth3r · 1 year ago

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daryl doesn’t think he’s anything special. he never has. but to you? he’s everything.

5 times daryl feels your affection down to his core and the many 1 time he unconsciously returns the favor.

cw: 18+ MDNI, p-in-v, mention of injury, swearing, mostly fluff, 4283 words

a/n: this draft got the most votes in the poll, which was surprising tbh! next up medieval au, princess reader, forbidden romance?? hmmmm

one.

daryl hears you coming before he sees you. he knows it’s on purpose, so you don’t startle him (“and get an arrow in the tit or something, i don’t know!” you had explained, laughing). he’s long since taught you how to be quiet when walking over leaves and branches.

his eyes drifted in the direction of the noise, watching you melt out of the trees, water bottle in one hand and knife in the other. you had a bad habit of speeding through or ignoring your own duties in favor of tracking him out into the woods while he was hunting. the teasing looks from rick and carol when they saw the gates open in the evening, revealing the two of you instead of just him, were enough to have him blushing up to his ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop you. if anything, daryl found himself lingering closer to the prison when he was first setting out for the day and making his tracks a little easier for you to follow as he went on. he liked to think of it as a teaching moment, encouraging you to follow his lessons, but he knew what it really was.

he liked having you here with him, away from prying eyes and ears. daryl wasn’t big on pda, he’d never been, and you knew that, but you could be as affectionate as you wanted out here.

the smile that split you face when you saw daryl was blinding, creasing your eyes and cheeks, “hey, handsome.”

daryl felt his heart start to pound immediately in his chest and warmth radiate through his belly and down his limbs. he had the distant, bizarre thought that any walker for a few miles would probably be able to smell his blood as it rose rapidly to his face, coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

he scoffed quietly to keep the words he really wanted to say from spilling unbidden from his throat as you caught up to him, instead deadpanning, “handsome? really?”

you hummed, raising a hand to card through his long bangs, eyes tender when they met his, “mhm, very handsome. don’t i tell you every day?”

you leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, no longer than a moment. you hand drifted from his hair down to cup his jaw as you did, and daryl found himself leaning into your palm, his own hand coming up to grip your wrist loosely.

you pulled away with a smaller, more intimate smile, one that daryl had only ever seen directed at him. and, if you had felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt or seen the intensity of his flush, you didn’t say a word.

two.

daryl was distracted.

this council meeting was dragging on much longer than intended. what was initially supposed to be a quick conversation about planning a run to get supplies for judith and a few of the other kids had turned into a heated debate about possibly opening up the council to a few of the people from woodbury. he could understand why. there was still a stark divide between their group and the new people, but daryl had been content to sit back and let the situation mend itself, so long as it didn't escalate.

the discussion was split down the middle. or.. maybe there were more in favor of maintaining the current council? daryl couldn’t tell because he couldn’t focus and he couldn’t focus because every time he tried to lock in on the conversation, he could feel your fingers brush over his knuckles.

earlier, when the meeting started, you had sat yourself right next to daryl, reached under the table, and grabbed his hand where it was resting on his knee. no fanfare, no lovesick gazes, just your fingers intertwined with his calloused ones like they belonged there. which, he mused to himself, maybe they do.

and so there your hand had remained as the meeting went on. every so often, you would brush your fingers lightly over his knuckles, or give his fingers a squeeze if you happened to catch his eyes… which would lead to you chuckling quietly to yourself when his neutral expression would warm over with a blush.

the meeting had been going on for at least an hour. god.

“daryl, what do you think?”

glenn’s voice cut through daryl’s thoughts like a knife. he jerked a little, almost dislodging your hand when he looked across the table, meeting the expectant stares of the council.

“uhh,” he grunted eloquently, “‘bout bringin’ some of them folks on?”

hershel nodded expectantly, his voice thoughtful, “don’t you think we could afford their input? after all, this is their home now just as much as it is ours.”

your fingers brushed again over his knuckles and daryl willed himself not to lose focus. not to allow his mind to run on with thoughts about the softness of your fingers and how much he liked the feeling of your palm against his. how comfortable-

no.

daryl blinked and cleared his throat, “we don’ even have rick on the council right now, i’on think it’s a good idea.”

glenn nodded along with maggie and, reluctantly a moment later, hershel did too, though his mouth had settled into a thin frown.

daryl felt your hand squeeze his twice, taking it as a nonverbal ‘good job!’, and paused only a moment before squeezing back his own nonverbal ‘thank you’. he saw a small smile flit across your face out the corner of his eye.

before the debate could start up again, you were leaning forward and speaking up, saying, “alright, let’s table this for next time then. the run is already planned for the baby stuff, so—?”

hershel’s eyes swept across the table and he nodded, “meeting adjourned, i suppose.”

three.

the woods were clear as daryl looked out over the gate. he could see everything from the watchtower, as was intended, but for once the calm darkness was not a comfort.

instead, every moment that passed heightened the panic that had been swirling in his gut since earlier that evening.

it had been roughly fourteen hours since you had left on a run with glenn and maggie. there was a small gas station a little ways out that looked to be mostly untouched, and you had been pulled to fill in daryl’s usual slot since he was already slated to go hunting.

he was regretting it now, though, as he continued to watch the road leading up to the gate for any sign of maggie’s headlights.

while the general rule of thumb was to be back to the prison before dark, everyone knew that sometimes shit happens, whether it be walkers appearing at the worst possible time, or not being able to secure the haul. hell, shit happened more often than it didn't, as far as daryl was concerned.

maybe the haul had been much larger than the three of you had planned for, and you had to hide some of it away for a return trip.

maybe y'all had come across a herd large enough to block the car's path and had to find a way around it to get home without leading them back behind you.

maybe the gas station had been a bust all together and you’d gone further out in hopes of not returning empty handed.

the thoughts swimming through his mind sent daryl pacing across the small area of the watchtower. back and forth he went, eyes flashing over to the gate of the prison every few seconds.

“you’re gonna wear out your shoes like that.”

oh right. daryl isn’t even on watch, not officially at least. he’d joined carol a little after the sun went down and been up here ever since.

carol continues on despite his brooding silence, “they’re okay. something probably held them up, it happens.”

daryl turned to face carol, scrubbing a hand down his face. he opening his mouth to respond, but before he could, the sound of wheels crunching across gravel made him whip back around.

he barely registered that it was maggie’s car before he was yanking the floor hatch open and climbing down. rick, who’d been poking around the farm despite the late hour, unwilling to admit his own anxiety, was already pulling the gate open to let the car in.

daryl stopped further up the hill to meet you, and, as soon as you popped the lock on your door, he was tugging it open with one hand and reaching for you with the other.

you went willingly, a sheepish smile on your face as you let him turn you this way and that, checking for any injuries or bites, neither of which you had.

“sorry i’m late, handsome,” you whispered, “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

daryl grunted in response, resisting the urge to press himself against you and feel your heart beat against his skin. he understood that you were capable, and that you had lasted just as long in the apocalypse as he had, but he can't help but wonder if he'll ever get used to this, or if he'll spend any moment you aren't within his reach on the edge of a panic attack.

by then, rick had made his way up the hill to the car and was helping unload their findings from the boot. all things considered, the three of you had brought back a pretty decent amount of stuff.

“everyone alright?” rick questioned, eyes skirting over the contents of the trunk to scan the three of you instead. "what held y'all up?"

maggie shook her head with a smile, “nothing like that. we found a good bit at that gas station, but there was a map of a small trailer park a little ways away, and we thought it was better to go for it while we were right down the road.”

“and we had the space anyway. didn’t make sense to waste a second trip, but it took a little longer to search than we thought,” you added. you had turned to face the group and, under the cover of the dark, you leaned back just slightly into daryl’s side.

carol, who had followed daryl down from the watchtower, hummed, and rick nodded thoughtfully. they both followed behind maggie and glenn, grabbing as much as they could carry from the car and heading up to deposit it for sorting tomorrow.

now alone, daryl took a moment to breathe you in, but he was moving soon as well, heading for the trunk to grab what was left.

he didn’t notice you coming up next to him until he felt your fingers slipping into his pocket.

“found something for you,” you said quietly, standing at his side.

daryl patted his pocket, feeling the dented box of what he assumed to be cigarettes and looked over at you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“i noticed you ran out the other day,” you answered his unasked question, a small smile lifting your cheeks, “combed through every trailer looking for ‘em.”

with that, you turned away from him and back to the trunk.

daryl stood speechless, his heart building up to that rapid thrum he only seemed to feel in your presence.

you had brought something back for him. had spent the daylight rummaging through dirty trailers on the off chance that you’d find a pack of cigarettes to replace his empty one that he himself hadn't even bothered to go searching to replace.

he wanted to think he didn’t understand why you would do something like this, why you would care, but he did. he’d done the same for you, time and time again on the road, if only to see you smile. he understood exactly why.

“‘preciate it,” he grunted, thankful that the darkness surrounding you kept his blush from being too obvious.

you hummed in acknowledgment, and daryl could your small smile growing out the corner of his eye.

four.

having sex in the prison was no easy feat, mostly due to the lack of privacy. a sheet could only provide so much, and even then it did nothing for the noise echoing constantly off the concrete walls.

as far as most were concerned, maggie and glenn had found the best spot early on, making the most unused watchtower their designated private retreat, but you and daryl knew otherwise.

deep in the tombs, which were no longer a threat as they had long since been cleared and sealed, there were a few tucked away offices that had sat empty even after the woodbury residents had been moved in. noise didn’t escape the tombs, and no one ever just wandered in, especially not in the middle of the night, so despite the cell that you and daryl shared, you both much preferred spending your more intimate moments here.

well, daryl did. you weren’t picky, and could be quiet when you really tried, but it made daryl more comfortable.

he’d like to think it was just because he was wary of any listening ears, especially with all the children roaming around, but he knew the truth of his resolve.

daryl had never been a selfish man, and certainly not after the world fell. everything he had, everything he was, he would give to his family in a heartbeat.

but this.. this was just for him.

your body arched beautifully under his, legs falling open to accommodate his weight settling against you. daryl’s hand left your heat, fingers dripping with wetness, to squeeze your hips, using them to guide you as your moved against him.

you were already bare, both of you having stripped each other of your clothes between heated kisses while you stumbled in the office. you hadn’t even made it to the double-stacked cot in the corner, daryl instead pushing you firmly down on the dusty desk and leaning in to mouth at your neck.

you moaned under him now, a breathy sigh of his name, and the sound sent a shiver down daryl’s spine.

“needy girl,” he grunted teasingly, reaching down to grasp his hardness. he dragged the head of his cock up your slit, collecting your wetness and smearing it over your clit.

your head knocked back against the desk and a loud groan burst out of your throat. your knees tried to close around daryl’s waist as if to keep him away, but you arms came up to wrap around him, pulling him closer to your body, and he leaned into you willingly.

your voice trembled when you spoke into his ear, want dripping from every syllable, “please, baby. need you inside me so bad.”

and god, daryl wanted to make you beg for it. he wanted to wait until he could see the desperation in your eyes and then wait some more, but he couldn’t. not when you looked so pretty spread out beneath him and your hands were petting over his shoulders and neck just how he liked. he almost thought you were doing it on purpose, but he knew better. this was just you.

you couldn’t stay off him when he was in you, always tugging at his hair or rubbing his chest, hands scrabbling for any skin you could reach. it used to send him reeling, flustered and blushing bright, but now he looked forward to it. he could feel the want in your touches like physical imprints of your affection.

daryl pushed into your slowly, groaning deep in his chest. your slick walls felt heavenly around him, but daryl was more focused on you right now.

soft whimpers fell from your lips as your hands drifted over his sweat slicked skin. daryl’s thrusts were slow but purposeful, and he ignored your legs squeezing around his waist, trying to urge him to speed up.

“relax, peach,” he soothed, hands drifting up and down your sides in pace with his thrusts, “i’ma take care of you.”

“kiss, please,” you whispered, voice floating past daryl’s ear. he would have missed it if you weren’t pressed together like this.

daryl would not describe himself as a selfish man. he might have had his moments in the past, but now, with the dead walking and a prison full of survivors to protect, it was virtually out of the question.

but as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, feeling your hands finally make their way up into his long strands, daryl thought that he might be a possessive man.

he’d sooner spread you out deep in the woods than have you where anyone could see you like this or hear the noises you make.

no, daryl thought, tongue sliding in your mouth to tangle with yours, this would always be just for him.

five.

daryl came into awareness slowly and then all at once. he startled, trying to sit up, but a searing pain made itself known in his abdomen. the pain clouded his senses, blooming out across his torso and down his limbs. he flops uselessly, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him.

hearing bits of voices above him, daryl wills himself to focus. he’s hurt, obviously, and it’s pretty fucking bad, but he’ll have to suck it up and figure out a way home if he’s in bad company.

the voices start to filter in. the volume makes his temples throb in rhythm with his abdomen and his heart as the situation starts to force adrenaline through his body.

“—harder! put more pressure on it!”

daryl relaxes just a bit. that’s rick. frantic, angry, but rick all the same.

“what the fuck do you think i’m doing?!” the other voice, higher, snarls in response, “just drive the damn truck!”

and daryl feels his body try to relax all together. he would recognize your voice in his sleep, and this milky haze of pain is no different. he can feel your hands pressing a wad of something soft into his abdomen.

he can hear your panicked breaths and feel the way your fingers flex continuously against his skin. whatever’s wrong with him must be bad, and it definitely hurts like hell, but daryl takes comfort in the weight of your body against his. you won’t let anything happen to him if you can help it, you’d sworn that fiercely, and if you can’t help it then he doesn’t think anyone could have.

daryl can just barely make out the creaking of the gate being pulled open over the sound of rick laying on the horn.

as they pull in, the gravel of the path rocks the truck and daryl feels the ache in his abdomen bloom again, distracting him from his thoughts, but here, knowing he’s safe and back with his family, he allows himself to drift away.

—

this time, when daryl comes into awareness, the first thing he feels is fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently as if to untangle a couple of knots and snarls.

without even opening his eyes he knows it’s you. he can feel the heat of your body settled next to him and smell the soap you like to bathe with. daryl leans towards you, chasing the warmth of your hand against his skin.

the bandages on his stomach are wrapped tight, but it’s more annoying than anything and the pain has finally, thankfully, subsided to a dull ache. daryl stretches on the cot, trying to loosen him limbs from their inactivity, but what he focuses on is your fingers immediately pulling away.

“daryl?” your voice prods quietly, “you awake?”

he opens his eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight that streams through the bars of the cell. the privacy sheet isn’t down, actually there’s no sheet at all, daryl notes as he looks out. he must be in one of the cells near hershel’s.

“‘m up,” he grumbles, a cough working its way out of his throat. before he can attempt to clear the dryness, you’re standing to grab a bottle of water off some boxes stacked nearby and pressing it into his hand.

your fingers linger against his wrist as you pull away, but you’re resuming your previous position anyway, in a chair brought right up to his bedside.

daryl hasn’t sat up yet, staring instead at you as one of your hands return to his hair and the other rubs down his arm.

a few quiet moments pass before you speak again, head bowed and voice a little choked, “we almost lost you. i almost lost you.”

“didn’t though,” daryl croaks. he feels your grip tighten on his arm and just knows. knows that you’ve been sitting right here every moment that you could since he went down. knows that you probably haven’t had your hands off him. knows you’ve spent the time, however long it’s been, agonizing over what went wrong and how to keep it from happening ever again. he knows.

“i didn’t,” you agree with a barely restrained sniffle. you refuse to allow the tears beading your waterline to fall, but daryl sees them all the same.

oddly, he feels that familiar warmth blossom in his chest. he hates to see you upset, but to see your love, your heart laid so bare for him? daryl thinks he can finally understand the depth of your affections.

plus one.

to anybody who knew what to look for, it was obvious that you and daryl were.. something.

you remembered when the woodbury residents had really began to settle in, how they began to whisper about ‘the hunter and his lady’.

it had confused you at first. the group knew, of course, nothing could be kept a secret from them for too long, but for strangers? it was odd, given that you weren’t very public with your affections.

regardless, with an entire prison to secure and almost triple the amount of people to provide for, it was nothing to think too hard about. there was always something that needed to be done or something bigger to think about. you couldn't afford to think about it now.

eventually, though, you ended up mentioning it to carol, and the older woman had laughed, a teasing edge to her smile as she considered you.

“i think it has less to do with you and more with him, if i’m being honest,” she said.

“more to do with.. daryl?” you said slowly, raising an incredulous eyebrow, “nah, no way.”

carol hummed, her smile turning knowing, “just watch. he’s more affectionate than he gives himself credit for.”

you’d left the conversation feeling like carol had no idea what she was talking about. later that evening, though, when you were sitting with the group for dinner and daryl was sliding a couple pieces of meat from his plate to yours despite your multiple protests, you understood.

your face must have been the textbook picture of a lightbulb going off because carol sent you a wink from across the table, lips twitching like she was hiding a laugh.

it wasn’t that the woodbury residents were over analyzing the very minimal physical affection that passed between you and daryl in a day, no. instead they were observing his quieter, more unconscious actions.

they saw the way that daryl always took care to come and find you before leaving for a run, even if it meant holding everyone up a little.

and how every so often they could find daryl sharpening a knife that was far too small for him to be wielding safely while you sat nearby, watching with a grateful smile.

and how whenever you were in the same room, you always had his eye. daryl had been adamant about keeping you within his sights while you were on the road, and the habit hadn’t left him just because you were behind walls now.

even now, months later, the newer additions to the prison were starting to catch on quicker and quicker.

they overheard daryl talking to glenn about taking your place on the run later today because you’d overdone it in the sun earlier and he wanted you to get some rest.

they saw you gush excitedly every time daryl brought you back any kind of gift, whether it be a pretty rock that he thought you’d like, or your favorite animal to cook into the stew.

they watched him watch the road every time you left for a run, regardless of who was with you, and also saw him come back to be the first to greet you when you returned if he could help it.

daryl was a quiet lover and a private man if you didn’t know what to look for, but if you did, you’d see that his affections ran just as deep as yours.

your thoughts brought a sleep smile to your face as you stretched out on the cot in your shared cell, waiting for daryl to shut off the lantern on your makeshift nightstand in the corner.

you could barely make him out in the dark, but the weight of him settling in next to you sent you right into his arms, your head pillowed on his chest while his arms came up to wrap around your back.

you tilted your head up to place a small kiss to the bottom of his jaw, mumbling a quiet, “love you.”

daryl’s arms tightened around you momentarily before loosening again. you felt him lean down to press a kiss to your hair in turn.

just over the steady thumping of his heart against your ear, you could hear him whisper back, “love you too.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd imagine #daryl x reader

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vunblr · 1 month ago

Text

Foundations (#6)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Possible Smut. Neurological Damage. Depiction of Symptoms. (Bucky)

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 6.4.k.

note: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok. Let’s just pretend for a bit.

Previous Chapter

Bucky exhaled through his nose as he threw another punch at the training bag and his knuckles landed with a solid thud against the reinforced material. The compound gym was mostly empty this early, which was fine by him. He never did well with crowds.

Steve stood a few feet away, casually wrapping his hands, watching with mild amusement. "You know, Buck, as the guys say, you look rested for once. Must be the extra help at home."

He grunted in response, not offering him much. It was true, having her around had helped. But thinking too much about that came with… complications.

And then, the doors swung open, and Sam walked in fresh from a run, with a towel slung around his neck. "I saw your nanny last night," he commented, pointing at Bucky like he was delivering breaking news. “Boy, can she dance.”

Bucky’s hand froze mid-punch for half a second. It was barely noticeable, but Steve caught it.

"Yeah?" Bucky forced his voice into something bored, tugging the wrap of his hand tighter than necessary.

"Yeah," Sam continued, oblivious -or maybe not- grabbing a water bottle from the rack. "Didn’t know she had it in her, but man, she was feeling that music."

Steve turned, brows raising ever so slightly in interest. Oh, he was going to have fun with this.

“What pub was this?” he asked, tone oh-so casual.

"Some place called The Velvet Pine," Sam said, stretching his arms. "Never been before. Seemed nice. Drinks were decent."

"Huh," Steve mused, rubbing his chin. "And who’d she dance with?"

Bucky knew exactly what the punk was doing.

Sam shrugged. "Started out with her friends, y'know, girls hyping each other up, just having fun. But eventually-" he took a long sip of water, "I saw her with some guy."

Bucky this time tightened the wraps around his wrist. The fabric stretched to its limit as something hot and unpleasant curled low in his stomach.

Steve definitely saw it.

"And?" he pressed, because of course he did.

Sam lifted his hands. "I don’t know, man. I wasn’t exactly watching her all night. At some point, I noticed her friends were still there, but she wasn’t."

Bucky bent the metal clip on his wrist wrap. Didn’t even realize he did it.

From a few feet away, Clint -who had been silently lifting weights until now-chuckled, dropping his dumbbells with a clank. “Oh. Naughty nanny.” He grinned.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, muscles ticking beneath his stubble as he exhaled slowly through his nose. His grip on the wrist wrap tightened further, the already-strained fabric pulling taut around his poor fingers.

Steve, who had been enjoying poking the bear just moments ago, suddenly didn’t feel so amused anymore. He saw it then, the shift in Bucky’s expression. It wasn’t just irritation. It wasn’t even anger.

It was something heavier.

Possessiveness? No. That wasn’t fair. But something bordering close to it.

Steve cleared his throat, giving Clint a quick, subtle glance to shut him up before casually steering the conversation back. "Well, wherever she went, I’m sure she was just having a good time," he said carefully like he wanted to smooth over whatever storm was brewing in Bucky’s head.

----

Monday came, and she picked up Thomas from kindergarten like usual. The walk home was filled with his excited chatter, small hands swinging in hers as he told her about his day. When they arrived at the apartment, Bucky was already there, waiting.

He greeted Thomas as warmly as ever, ruffling his hair and kissing the kid’s temple. But something was off, she felt it immediately.

Short answers. Little eye contact. Still, she tried to keep things normal, moving around the kitchen, and talking to Thomas about what they needed to pick up at the store. It had become their thing, a routine that had started naturally. But today, when she asked if they should go before the hot discount items run out, he shook his head.

“I’ll go alone,” he muttered, already grabbing his keys.

Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard, but she nodded, pretending not to notice the way her chest suddenly felt too tight.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was quiet. She played with Thomas, helped him with the items he needed to bring the next day, and folded some laundry.

Bucky never came out of his room. He wasn’t asleep, she could hear the occasional creak of the old bed frame when he moved. But he stayed away. It was like he was hiding.

Eventually, she knocked on his door, pressing a hand against the frame. “Dinner’s ready,” she called gently. “And I’ll be heading out soon.”

Silence.

Then, after a beat, his voice came through, low and hollow. “Alright. Thanks.”

She lingered for half a second longer than necessary before pulling away. No see you tomorrow. No safe trip home. No let me walk you down.

----

He knew she had noticed something, how could she not, if he was acting like a boy? Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing a hand down his face.

This had to stop.

He wasn’t sixteen. He wasn’t some kid sulking because a girl he liked went out and had a good time. He didn’t have any claim on her.

She was just the damn nanny, for fuck’s sake. Someone who kept his home in order, who made sure that Thomas was cared for when he couldn’t. So what if she had a life outside of these walls? So what if she went out, laughed with people, danced with some guy, or even fuck-

No.

He clenched his jaw, forcing the thought away before it could turn into something ugly, something he wasn’t ready to face. He had no right to feel this way and no right to let it fester.

Because this worked. The dynamic they had, the structure, the balance, it worked. And he wasn’t going to fuck it all up just because his dumb, touch-starved brain had decided to fixate on something it could never have.

So he’d suck it up. Just like he always did.

Tomorrow, he’d get his shit together. He’d act like a normal person. He’d even -fuck- ask her about her weekend like any regular, functioning adult would.

And he’d pretend.

Pretend it didn’t matter.

----

Tuesday afternoon, after she brought Thomas from the kindergarten, Bucky tried. Really tried. He put on that practiced smile -the one Sam always told him didn’t fool anyone but was the best he got- and forced himself to act normal. Like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t spent the last two days trying not to picture her dancing with some faceless stranger, disappearing into the night with him. So, when Thomas ran off to the bathroom at some point while she was making a snack, he casually made his way to the fridge for a glass of cold water, buying himself a few seconds.

He shouldn’t ask. But before he could stop himself, the words were already out. “I forgot to ask, how was your girl’s night?” His voice was so detached, so casual. Like he wasn’t already bracing for impact.

She stopped mid-motion, hovering the butter knife over the slice of bread, and looked at him as if deciding what to say. Then- “Not so great.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed before he could stop them. If dancing with some guy and leaving early wasn’t so great, well… “Oh?” He set the glass down on the counter, watching her carefully. “Why’s that?”

She pressed her lips in a thin line, exhaling sharply through her nose. “I-” She hesitated, then forced it out. “Someone put something in my drink.”

The world stilled. Bucky’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The fridge door clicked shut as he took a step forward, and his body moved before his mind could even catch up. His fingers twitched at his sides, his breath came out slow and measured like he was trying to keep something dangerous contained. “What?”

She swallowed, dropping her gaze to the counter for a second before she continued. “A guy invited me to dance. He seemed nice, you know? Attentive. At some point, he bought me a drink, and I accepted. After a while, I started to feel… weird. And he started to-” She waved her hand vaguely, like she couldn’t -or didn’t want to- say it out loud.

Bucky saw red.

His jaw locked so tight it ached, and something dark curled in his chest, coiling tighter and tighter with every beat of silence that passed. He wanted to ask questions, to demand names, and answers. But he restrained himself and let her talk.

“I don’t remember much,” she admitted, quietly. “But someone noticed something was off. The bartender, I think. He called someone from the staff, and they got me a secure cab. I managed to tell them my address.” She took a breath, “I sent a voice message to my friends while I was in the car. I couldn’t think straight, so the woman driving the car had to help me inside. I… was fine after a couple of hours. Just dizzy. Nauseous.”

Bucky was not fine. His fingers curled into fists so tight his knuckles cracked, and his vision tunneled as he fought the instinct to destroy someone.

She must have noticed the shift in his behavior because her hand suddenly did touch his, just barely, the lightest press of her fingers against his wrist. "I'm okay, Bucky," she said softly. "It didn’t go further than that."

Didn’t go further than that.

That shouldn’t be comforting. His chest ached with the effort of holding it all back, of swallowing the rage and forcing himself to breathe. “Who was he?” The words came out quieter than expected. Deadly.

She hesitated again before shaking her head. “I don’t remember his name but either way, it could have been a lie.”

Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose. You should've told me. Called me. Instead, what came out was, “You should’ve taken yesterday off. You needed time to recover.”

Then he realized. He had ignored her all of Monday while she’d been dealing with this. While she’d been sitting with the weight of what happened alone. He felt like a fucking dick. “Do you wanna go home?” he asked softly.

“No. I- I don't want to be alone right now, if that makes sense. I prefer to distract myself.”

Of course, it made sense. She just escaped a fucking rapist by a hair. Bucky’s fingers flexed at his sides, and his protectiveness twisted tighter and tighter inside him. “Whatever you need, sweetheart.”

Fuck it.

“Can I… I'll understand if you say no, but- just need a hug.” The last words came out lower like she was embarrassed to ask. But before she finished saying them, her body was enveloped in his. Warm, big, protective. And she let herself dive into it.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest, and he let out a slow breath, resting his chin on the top of her head.

It felt… right.

For both of them.

She shouldn’t want to stay there. Shouldn’t want to let herself sink into his warmth, into the solid comfort he provided her. But she did. And when she felt his arm pressing just slightly around her back, when he lingered, she dared to think that maybe… he didn’t want this to end either.

But while she was thinking about holding on, Bucky’s mind was already elsewhere.

Already planning.

He wasn’t a killer anymore. He wasn’t the man who mindlessly hurt and destroyed on command without thought. But when he finds the bastard who did this… when Bucky finishes with him, he’ll wish he was dead.

----

That night, he didn’t hesitate.

He called Steve and asked him to take care of Thomas, kept it vague. Steve asked if everything was alright and Bucky just answered, “I need to handle something.”

His first stop was the pub. It took all of ten minutes to get the surveillance footage. No one argued when he asked. Whether it was the weight of his name or the look in his eyes, he didn’t care.

The next stop was the Tower.

"Friday, pull up the security feed from Saturday night. Find her." Seconds later, there she was, black dress and nice hairdo, the picture of someone out to have a good time. Completely unaware.

Bucky fast-forwarded until he spotted her on the dance floor, spinning in some asshole’s arms. His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to keep watching.

Fast-forwarded again, there they were at the bar. “Friday, enhance the footage. Close-caption the movements."

And there it was.

The bastard dissolved something into her drink while her back was turned. Then he rejoined her near the dance floor, charming, smiling. They flirted -another painful churn in Bucky’s gut- and then, she took a sip.

It didn’t take long. A shift in her posture, a slight lag in her coordination, the way she started leaning more into him, like gravity had shifted.

Then the hands. On her thigh, on her hip. Bucky didn’t finish watching. He couldn’t. It felt wrong.

But he had seen enough.

"Friday, run a facial recognition scan. See if he has a record." It took less than ten seconds. Convicted of multiple sexual offenses. Vicious ones.

Bucky’s blood turned to ice. "Give me his last known address."

A pause.

Then, a map appeared on the screen. And Bucky was already grabbing his jacket.

----

The news broke early the next morning, spreading like wildfire across the city. A known sexual predator had been found unconscious at the doorstep of a police station, it seemed his battered body was dumped there in the dead of night. Law enforcement officials remained tight-lipped, refusing to release details, but unofficial sources painted a far more gruesome picture. Multiple broken fingers, a savage beating that left him barely recognizable, and the most horrifying detail of all: his own severed testicles shoved into his mouth. Whoever had done it had made sure he lived through it, going so far as to cauterize the wound with a knife, ensuring he wouldn’t bleed out before he was found.

Speculation ran wild. Some whispered about vigilante justice, others murmured that the man had it coming. The brutality of the act sent shockwaves through the media, but behind closed doors, some simply nodded in grim understanding. No suspects had been named, no witnesses had come forward, and no security cameras had caught a thing. It was as if the man had been plucked off the streets, punished, and discarded without a trace.

Bucky sat at his kitchen table, sipping his morning coffee as the radio droned on in the background. He didn’t react to the report, nor did he stop munching his toast when the anchor speculated about the motives behind the attack. He simply stirred a little sugar into his cup, took another slow sip, and went about his morning routine as if it were any other day.

----

In the afternoon, Thomas asked to watch a movie, so she picked Toy Story. The kid was thrilled by the idea that his toys might secretly move and talk when he wasn’t looking. Every now and then, she caught him sneaking glances at them, with his eyes full of wonder, as if he could catch them in the act.

At some point, he begged for popcorn, and she laughed, ruffling his hair before heading to the kitchen to make some.

She was rummaging through the cabinets, searching for the right pot, when Bucky emerged from his bedroom. His hair was a mess, sleep-tousled and falling loosely over his shoulders. He moved on autopilot, going straight for a couple of plums. His heavy steps and sluggish posture told her he hadn’t been awake long from his nap.

She turned on the burner, setting the pot down, and spoke as casually as she could. “Saw the news today.”

He didn’t answer. Just let the water run as he rinsed the fruit, lowering his head slightly, his strands of dark hair covering his face like a curtain.

She gripped the pot handle a little tighter. No point in dancing around it. “The man at the police station,” she continued, voice even. “It was him.”

He stilled. Just for a second. A fraction of hesitation before he reached for a bowl, placing the plums inside with slow, deliberate movements.

"Figures," he muttered, shutting off the tap, and reaching for a towel. But before he could step away, she moved without thinking, brushing her fingers over his bicep, rubbing slow, careful circles with her thumb against the fabric of his shirt.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

He still didn’t look at her.

“I would do it again,” he murmured.

There it was. The cat was out of the bag.

Now she knew -or was reminded- exactly what he was capable of. What kind of man stood before her.

Would she flinch away, look at him differently? He wasn’t sorry for what he did, wouldn’t regret it for a second, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think that actions didn’t have consequences. And maybe this -whatever this was- was something he was about to lose.

But then, instead of pulling away, she did the last thing he expected.

She pressed her forehead gently against his arm. “Want to watch what’s left of the movie with us?” she said softly, as if nothing had changed. “Thomas is loving it.”

Bucky let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

She wasn’t afraid of him.

He nodded, still without looking at her. "Then go sit with Thomas and I'll bring the popcorn when it's ready." She instructed, taking a step back and turning around.

----

She wasn’t stupid.

When she saw the news the next morning -just the night after she told Bucky what had happened- it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.

He could have just reported the guy, turned him over to the authorities, and let the system deal with him. Instead, he had gone out, hunted him down, and made sure he’d never hurt anyone again.

This wasn’t about justice. It wasn’t even about punishment.

It was personal.

Why? Because she was Thomas’ nanny? Because, somewhere along the way, she had become part of something he wasn’t willing to risk losing?

She thought about that night, when he had offered her his bed, and told her outright that he didn’t mind her there, that she was part of his household. Maybe that was why he felt compelled to do this. Maybe, to him, this was just… protecting his own.

----

Bucky was done pretending.

Done pretending this was just a comfortable, familiar routine. Done acting like this was enough when it had long since stopped being so.

And after what happened, after hearing what almost happened to her, the dam was close to breaking.

He was on edge.

Because if she had been with them that Saturday, she wouldn’t have been in danger. She wouldn’t have had to look for a good time with strangers and wouldn’t have been put in that position. And maybe that was the worst part. Not that she had gone out. Not that she had almost gotten hurt. But she had to go somewhere else to look for what she wanted.

What she needed.

Because he was a coward.

Trailing after her like a touch-starved idiot for months, basking in the warmth of the status quo. Letting himself be pampered, doted on, and wanted, but never taking it. It was time to admit, to face it head-on, that under all his layers of self-deprecation and doubt, part of him had noticed the signs. The ones Steve had subtly and not so subtly tried to make him see.

It used to be easy for him. To read those signs. To know when someone wanted him. And if they didn’t, well, he had once been the kind of man to make it happen.

But that man had died the moment he fell from that train.

Now, he was this. A fractured thing. A man with too much past and too many scars, with a kid who deserved a better role model than someone who spent his nights fucking his own hand inhaling a damn scarf because it smelled like her.

Yeah.

She hadn’t lost it, as she thought.

He had found it in the laundry pile weeks ago and, instead of leaving it out like a normal person, had tucked it away like some depraved, desperate little secret.

Like a fucking creep.

And now, after what happened, he didn’t just want to protect her. He wanted to keep her. Not just so she wouldn’t have to expose herself to the dangers of the world, but because-

He was a selfish bastard.

And he’d had enough.

----

Bucky was sprawled across the couch when she returned, popcorn in hand. He shifted slightly, making room for her, but hesitated -just for a second- before not removing his arm from the couch’s backrest.

Oh.

Subtle. But not that subtle.

She sat down, careful and deliberate, placing the bowl within reach. At first, she kept her posture straight, too aware of the space -or lack of it- between them.

Minutes passed. The movie played on. Eventually, her back started to ache, as a dull protest against how stiffly she was holding herself. She needed to lean back. And still, he didn’t move his arm.

There was no way he hadn’t noticed, no way this was anything but intentional. A week ago, he would have given her space, even would have put Thomas between them. But now…

She let out a slow breath and took the offer. Slowly, carefully, she eased back, resting her head against his shoulder.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, his arm shifted, pressing her closer, barely brushing the edge of her sleeve with his fingers.

Okay, she wasn’t imagining this.

She was cuddling with her boss.

Her boss, who had just tacitly admitted that he was the one who hunted down and beat the life out of the man who had almost hurt her.

The realization should have made her tense, should have made her overthink every second leading up to this moment, but instead, her body acted on instinct. She shifted -just a little- closing more of the space between them, pressing herself against the warmth of his body. She felt it. The way he caught his breath, the way his muscles went tight for a brief second, before exhaling and resting his cheek against the top of her head.

----

As the movie went on, Thomas remained fully engrossed, laughing and gasping at all the right moments. But the same couldn’t be said for the two adults on the couch. Neither of them was really watching.

At some point, she shifted again, adjusting herself against his body, and Bucky felt it, all of it. The warmth of her body against his side, the subtle weight of her head resting just right on his shoulder. She smelled like something soft, and warm, like lavender and the faintest hint of chamomile, and he knew if he moved even an inch closer, he’d drown in her scent.

She wasn’t faring much better. Every slow rise and fall of his chest made her hyper-aware of just how solid he was. How warm. How big. His arm, resting along the back of the couch, wasn’t quite touching her, but she could feel its weight hovering there like it wanted to.

Her fingers, resting idly beside her, shifted just slightly, brushing against his thigh. A featherlight touch. Accidental. But the way Bucky tensed made her stomach flip.

Neither of them moved away.

Another slow inhale. Another shift.

Bucky turned his head slightly, just enough that his nose brushed against the top of her hair. He breathed her in, slow and quiet, and let it out on a slow, controlled exhale. And then, in the quietest, rawest voice she had ever heard from him-

“Fuck.”

It was whispered, barely audible, slipping past his lips before he could bite it back. She felt it more than heard it, the vibration of his voice against her temple.

He went still after that, like he’d just let something slip.

And she couldn’t help it. Slowly, carefully, she tilted her head up to look at him, brushing her nose along the rough stubble of his jaw.

He inhaled sharply, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Then, almost hesitantly, he moved, shifting ever so slightly, just enough to press his forehead against hers.

A slow, shared breath.

The space between them was nonexistent.

It would be so easy to close the distance. To press her lips to the corner of his mouth, to finally give in to whatever had been simmering between them for months.

And judging by the way his fingers pressed ever so slightly on her arm, he was thinking the exact same thing.

But.

As much as she wanted it, as much as he seemed to want it, Thomas was sitting mere inches away.

It was wrong.

All it would take was a second -a moment of distraction from the boy, a glance in their direction- and he would see everything transpiring between them.

A sudden laugh from the kid at just the right moment brought reality crashing back down. So, she swallowed, ignoring the heat curling in her body, and lowered her face slowly, resting her head on his shoulder again.

And that was when Bucky moved.

His arm, which had been resting on the back of the couch, scooped her closer, dragging her fully against him. Her cheek was pressed into his chest, and her hand landed against his ribcage, feeling his strong heartbeats beneath her palm.

She let herself sink into his body, into the way he held her there, firm and certain, like he needed it just as much as she did.

----

The movie ended, and with it, the fragile atmosphere built between them.

Thomas was practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing in his seat as he fired off questions, questions that Bucky could only half-assedly answer because, truthfully, he had barely processed a single second of the film.

How could he?

Not when he’d spent the last hour fighting the urge to shift, to press closer, to let his hands wander where they shouldn’t.

Not when the scent of her arousal had curled into his senses, sweet and warm and impossible to ignore while she let him hold her, and press her against his chest.

Not when the dull ache between his legs had made every passing second feel like torture.

Fuck, he was wrecked.

She got up, answering Thomas’s rapid-fire questions easily -she’d seen the movie countless times- while making her way to the kitchen, and Bucky forced himself to move, standing up with a quiet grunt as he rolled his shoulders, discreetly tugging at his pants to adjust himself, willing his body to calm the fuck down.

A cold shower. He needed a cold fucking shower.

Throwing a glance toward the kitchen, he watched her move, hawking at the sway of her hips as she reached for a cutting board, the way she bent to reach a pot. Jesus. He clenched his jaw and forced his feet to move, heading straight for the bathroom.

----

She heard the shower start, and that was when she remembered. The towels.

Her fingers stilled on the knife for a beat before she turned to Thomas, mustering the most casual voice she could. “Sweetheart, can you take a clean towel to your dad? I forgot to put them back after laundry.”

The boy nodded happily, grabbing one from the pile and running down the hall.

And just like that, she was alone.

Alone with the feeling of his body pressing against hers. His smell. The weight of his arm. The slow, almost reverent way his fingers had traced just under her breast.

The way her body had reacted to his, aching, wanting-

Eventually, the sound of the bathroom door opening snapped her out of it.

And when she turned-

Oh.

Bucky stood there, fresh from the shower, water still clinging to his collarbone, shoulders, and forearm where he had missed a few drops before putting on a tank top that left almost none to the imagination. His beard was neatly trimmed, his jawline sharper, cleaner. And fuck, that damn ponytail again, like he knew exactly what it did to her.

She swallowed, forcing her gaze lower, only to regret it instantly.

The grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and her stomach flipped violently, while heat crawled up her neck.

And God, then he looked at her.

Like he was devouring her with his eyes while he reached for a piece of bread from the table, biting into it with slow, deliberate movements,

She swallowed, gripping the wooden spoon tighter, forcing herself to focus on the food in front of her. Stirring. Stirring. Not thinking.

She gave the sauce one last absentminded stir, then shut off the burner.

Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she exhaled slowly before turning back to the table. "Alright, I should get going."

----

Thomas frowned from his seat, already settling in for dinner. "Already?"

She ruffled his hair with a small smile. "Yeah, kiddo. Gotta catch the bus before it gets too late."

Bucky, who had been watching in silence, shifted in his seat. Then, without a word, he stood, tugging his phone from his pocket and typing something before shoving it back in.

“I’ll walk you down.”

It wasn’t a surprise. It had become routine at this point, the act of accompanying her to the door, sometimes even down the street if it was late. If she ever protested, he’d just look at her. That flat, unimpressed stare that made it very clear she wasn’t going to win that argument.

So she just nodded, grabbing her jacket before saying goodbye to Thomas, who, as always, made her promise she’d be back tomorrow.

With that, she followed Bucky out of the apartment.

The hallway was quiet, save for the buzz of the overhead lights and the muffled sounds of life behind closed doors. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them looked at each other. Even as they stepped into the elevator.

She risked a glance at him, catching the way his fingers picked absently at a cuticle, and his jaw worked like he was thinking too much.

The elevator descended, floor numbers ticking down in a slow rhythm.

Her stomach flipped for no reason at all.

Bucky moved.

His arm slowly reached out, and before she could process it, his palm pressed the stop button.

The elevator shuddered to a halt.

Slowly, so slowly, she turned her head, looking at him.

And, oh.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… dark, intense, burning.

Her lips parted, and then-

His hand shot out.

Not to touch her. Not quite.

But close enough.

His fingers braced against the wall beside her head, caging her in, while his body got mere inches from hers, radiating heat. He leaned in, just enough for his breath to ghost across her cheek.

His voice, low and rough, sent a shiver down straight to her pussy.

“Tell me what you want, doll.”

Her stomach clenched, and her pulse hammered against her chest.

Oh, fuck.

There was no point in pretending anymore.

She shifted her face to the side, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

He tensed beneath her lips. But she didn’t stop.

Slowly, she traced a path along his jaw, breathing warmly against his skin, teasing, waiting, until she reached the corner of his mouth.

And then he just took what she offered.

A low sound rumbled in his chest as his vibranium hand came up, cradling her face with a gentleness that contradicted the hunger of his kiss. His other hand remained firmly pressed against the elevator wall, keeping her caged between him and the cold metal.

He kissed her hard, like he had been holding himself back for too long, because he had.

And she melted.

A moan escaped her lips as she parted them for him, surrendering as his tongue swept inside, claiming, coaxing, demanding more.

Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, threading her fingers through his hair, nails grazing his skin, sending shivers down his spine. His body pressed into hers firmly, as if daring the space between them to disappear entirely.

The elevator walls blurred away, and the world narrowed down to nothing but heat and mingling breaths.

He growled against her mouth, raw, almost desperate. His hands found the bare skin of her thighs beneath her jumper, digging his fingers into her soft flesh as he lifted her effortlessly, pressing her back against the elevator wall.

A gasp tore from her lips as her instincts took over, wrapping her legs around his waist, and locking him in. And then, he ground against her. A slow, deliberate roll of his hips, pressing the hard, aching length of his cock against the heat between her legs.

His eyes rolled back, as the pleasure ripped through his body like a live wire.

Fuck.

The thin fabric of his sweatpants did nothing to dull the friction, to stop the rush of sensations shooting straight up his spine. He barely had a second to gather himself, to hold on to what little control he had left, because if he didn’t, if he kept moving just like that-

He was going to fucking come in his pants like a damn teenager.

She took advantage of his momentary stillness, curling her fingers into his hair, and giving a soft, teasing tug at his ponytail. His breath stuttered, and his grip on her thighs tightened just before she latched onto the exposed skin of his neck.

Her mouth was warm, and her lips soft as she nipped and suckled at his skin, careful -too careful- not to leave a mark. Not that she could, really. She’d have to work damn hard to bruise him, to claim him in any visible way.

And still, he let her.

He thought he was going to die right there.

His neglected, touch-starved body struggled to process all the stimulus, the heat of her body pressed against him, the teasing scrape of her teeth, the friction, the fucking wetness soaking into the fabric of his sweatpants. He didn’t even know if it was his or hers or both, but he needed-

His hand moved on its own, slipping beneath her jumper, sliding up and brushing the rim of her panties, guided by pure desperation-

And then his phone blared between them.

The sharp sound sliced through the haze, snapping them back to reality for a fraction of a second.

He tensed. She gasped.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His past self had set that damn alarm. A fail-safe, a reminder, because he knew something could happen. Not this, definitely not this far, but something. He didn’t want to leave Thomas alone in the apartment for too long. Panting, he pressed his forehead against hers, squeezed his eyes shut, and muttered a curse under his breath.

She couldn’t stop herself, just one last time, and she rolled her hips against his, biting her lip when she felt just how hard he was.

His sharp gasp sent a thrill down her spine.

“Sorry,” she blurted, breathless.

His eyes snapped open, dark and hazy, his pupils blown wide. His chest heaved against hers, their warm breath mingling in the charged space between them.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid her down, letting her body drag against his, while his hands glided up the backs of her thighs, fingers splayed. She barely had time to catch her breath before he squeezed both hands on her ass, hard enough to make her gasp.

But before she could say anything, he exhaled sharply and fished out his damn phone, silencing the alarm. His fingers curled around the device as if fighting the urge to crush it in his palm.

“Sorry,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Thomas…”

“Of course,” she managed to say, forcing herself to focus. “He’ll wonder why you’re not back.”

She ran her hands over her clothes, smoothing fabric that had been wrinkled in his grip, and fixing her hair in a vain attempt to make herself look less like she had just been thoroughly manhandled.

Bucky wasn’t fairing much better.

She caught the way he stiffened and looked down, muttering a curse under his breath.

She followed his gaze-

A wet patch stained the front of his sweatpants, where the fabric struggled to contain his very prominent erection.

She swallowed, and heat sparked again deep in her belly.

Bucky scowled, tugging his tank top down in a pitiful attempt to cover himself. It didn’t help. At all.

With his jaw tight, he reached for the elevator panel and pressed the button, setting it back into motion. The sound of the machinery filled the small space, but neither of them spoke.

He barely even looked at her.

Couldn’t.

Not when he still felt her warmth against his skin, still tasted her on his lips, still throbbed painfully inside his damn stained sweatpants.

When the doors slid open, she stepped out first, and he followed instinctively, keeping close behind, using her frame to shield the evidence on his pants from anyone lingering in the hallway.

They walked in silence. When they reached the doorway of the building, she finally turned, meeting his gaze, with a small, timid smile playing at her lips.

Something in his chest pulled.

Without thinking, he lifted a hand, brushing his fingers gently along her cheek, tracing the warmth of her skin. And, instead of doing what he wanted -instead of kissing her the way he needed- he dipped his head and pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of her hair.

Soft. Safe.

All he could trust himself with right now.

“See you tomorrow, doll,” he murmured.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” she murmured, almost hesitant. Before he could pull away, she lifted her hand, cradling his where it still rested against her cheek.

Bucky swallowed hard as she brushed her thumb over his knuckles, slow, absentminded. Like she didn’t want to let go. But then she pulled back, releasing him and letting the air settle cool where her warmth had been.

She turned, walking toward the bus stop without another word. Will have the whole way home to think about what happened.

And him?

He had all night to regret letting her walk away.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @sebastians-love @vicmc624 @lucylovexx @ethereal-witch24 @wannabakewithsomebody @unicornqueen05 @ddrewcameron @danzer8705 @mcira @technicallytinyheart @put-trash-here @chinggay85-blog @tulippix @dumblani @chuiisi @calwitch @civilbucky @neyr100 @tanyaherondale @theflowerswillbloom @stars4birdie @soberbabes @greatmistakes @littlesuniee @casey1-2007 @escapefromrealitylol @thriving-n-jiving @vxllys @hi172826 @imaginexred

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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a018233 · 10 months ago

Text

ೀ Identity v men with a s/o that sleeps naked.

Characters: , Eli Clark, Norton Campbell, Naib Subedar. Edgar Valden

content warnings: gn!reader, mostly sfw. Not really yandere, but can be read as one. Established relationships. Cockwarming in Norton's but it's not really sexual.

A/N: almost at 100 followers so I kinda wanna do a special. Someone should commission me and I'll write you whatever you want, give me sanrio photographer or buffy and my life is yours‼️‼️

Eli was surprised after finding out, he's a little traditional and modest when it came to clothes, but oddly enough, he wasn't against it. Eli can't help but think it's a little cute and endearing, though. Mainly because he thinks he's at the point of your relationship where you're comfortable doing 'weird' things with him. His biggest concern is you catching a cold. Eli prefers to keep his sleepwear on, so he won't join you in sleeping naked. Though, maybe on a hot summer night, he'd strip down to his boxers just so he can spoon you comfortably without overheating the both of you. Eli likes having you relying on him whether you realize it or not, so he prefers to stay up until you've fallen asleep so he can cover you with a blanket, it's more an act of love and reassurance that you won't accidentally catch a cold.

After you started doing it, It didn't take Norton too long to follow. He likes the close intimacy he gets from cuddling nude with you. Norton is aware he's high maintenance as a lover, to him, it's total reassurance that he's the only one for you. Reassurance that you love and trust him no matter what. The type of intimacy only he and he alone can have with you. It gives him a little pep in his step the next day. It's something looks forward to each night. He looks forward to your shared nightly routine just as much as waking up with you. I'd think at some point you two decide to kick it up a notch with cockwarming, something to keep you two locked in place together. He finds nothing as relaxing than burying himself nice and deep inside you while his arms keep you in a tight embrace.

Naib already likes sleeping in his boxers, so he doesn't really have a reaction. At least, that's what you think when you go under the covers on your shared bed. He's internally questioning himself. Is it okay to hold you? Where does he even put his hands without it being weird? Is he even allowed to look? For the first couple nights, he doesn't hold you like he usually does. But after a while, he gets used to it. Although, he won't join you in going full comando unless he just got out of the shower and dried himself fully, but he's keeping his boxers on when it comes to sleep. Naib isn't one for opening up or heart to heart conversations but having your head against his chest, and your limbs entangled with his provides comfort for him. He's a mercenary, someone who has killed for his own benefit. So it's complete solace when you ramble in a sleepy voice about your day knowing you trust him wholeheartedly.

Edgar can't help but scoff when you join him nude under the covers, he's seen your nude form before. You're his lover and muse, of course he'd seen every inch of you. As much as you're breathtaking, he's annoyed. He bought you a whole collection of all sorts of sleepwear made from the most richest material money can buy. Only the best for his lover, he can't have his muse wearing cheap clothing. Linen, silk, cotton, satin, and chiffon. With all sorts of designs he commissioned personally. Tailored to your exact size, some with your favorite colour's, colour's that match you. He even made sure the fabrics were light and breathable, and yet you choose to sleep naked? When the initial annoyance settles, he begins to feel a little flustered, yes he's seen you naked before, he has done full body portraits of you. But somehow this feels different. He can't explain why, but it feels more intimate than any canvas he's painted of you. Now, to him, it cements your love for him. That in the dead of the night, that you aren't his muse right now. But his lover. The one you love the most.

#idv x reader #yandere identity v #yandere idv #identity v x reader #౨ৎ. seer #eli clark x reader #norton campbell x reader #naib subedar x reader #edgar valden x reader #yandere edgar valden #yandere norton campbell #yandere naib subedar #౨ৎ. prospector #౨ৎ. painter #౨ৎ. mercenary

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saffusthings · 2 months ago

Text

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part twelve: the watcher

word count: 2.5k

warnings: similiar themes of stalking, feeling watched, paranoia, etc.

eleven | twelve | thirteen

It might as well have been written on a billboard in big, neon letters,

Lando noticed it as soon as he stepped into Brews & Books the next evening.

She wasn’t usually jumpy. A little awkward, sure, sometimes hesitant in conversation, but not jumpy. Today, though? She was tense, her shoulders held a little tighter than usual, her hands moving in small, anxious motions—tugging at the hem of her sweater, smoothing the already-flat surface of the counter.

She greeted him with a smile just like she always did, but he saw the tightness in it.

“You alright?” he asked as she started making his drink.

“Hm?” She glanced up, blinking like she hadn’t expected the question. “Oh– yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Lando tilted his head slightly, watching the way her fingers tapped absently against the counter. He didn’t press yet. Instead, he leaned on the counter, pretending to inspect the pastry display.

“You sure?” His tone was lighter this time, almost teasing. “You look like you’re waiting for something to jump out at you.”

That made her exhale a short, almost-laugh. “It’s nothing.”

But she still didn’t relax.

"You look tense," he added a beat later, glancing at her subtly so as not to spook her by bringing too much attention to it. Yet when he said it, she nearly dropped the cup.

It was such a simple statement, but the way he said it made her feel seen. Too seen.

“Oh,” she said quickly, forcing a laugh. “Just a long day. Lots of customers.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You sure?”

She hesitated. Just for a second. But he caught it.

“I—yeah. Just a little tired.” She focused on the coffee machine, avoiding his gaze as she frothed the milk. “It’s nothing.”

Lando didn’t push further. Not immediately, at least. Instead, he leaned against the counter, casually observing as she worked. The almond croissants were a new addition to their lineup of baked goods. Perhaps he’d try it sometime, he mused.

She could feel his presence, even when she wasn’t looking at him directly. It made her more aware of herself—the way her hands trembled slightly, the tension in her shoulders.

After a pause, he spoke again, voice much lighter this time. Quieter too, like the words were intended only for her to hear. “You know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

She finally glanced at him, brow furrowing slightly.

He tilted his head, offering an easy, almost amused smile. “You said we’re friends, right?”

She forced a smile of her own, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I.. yeah– yes, I mean. I did say that, that’s true. And thanks. But really, I’m fine.”

He hummed, not entirely convinced, but he let it go.

For now.

She didn’t say anything else either, uncharacteristically quiet for the reminder of the time Lando spent sipping at his coffee. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all until later.

By the time the last customers left and she locked the door behind them, it was just the two of them in the shop. Lando had stayed longer than he usually did, taking his time with his drink, absently flipping through one of the books from the shelf while she tidied up. Mostly just for something to do – reading had never really been his thing.

She remained quiet as she wiped down the counter, lingering near him like she was debating something. She hesitated near the door, glancing out at the darkened street before turning back to find him still lingering at his usual spot.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she really was just being paranoid.

Finally, just as she set the rag aside, she exhaled and said, “Okay… Maybe I have been a little weird lately.”

Lando slowly closed the book, resting his arm over the cover as he turned his attention to her. “Yeah?”

HIs face seemed carefully neutral, no sign of teasing or worry or anything that would indicate his thoughts at all, in fact. It was slightly unsettling, but she felt encouraged by the fact that he seemed to care enough to have noticed in the first place, and that he had willingly offered to be a listening ear.

Hell, he even called them friends.

She leaned her weight against the counter, crossing her arms. “It’s stupid. Probably. But…”

You can still back out. You don’t have to make a fool of yourself by saying anything.

“I think someone might be watching me.”

Lando went very, very still. Other than that, there was no visible reaction – he only watched her, dark eyes sharp and unreadable.

It was intimidating, to say the least. Maybe she was acting crazy, and now she’d gone ahead and blabbed like some crazy cat lady who wore tin foil hats that thought the government was spying on her and her cats.

She shifted under his gaze, suddenly regretting saying anything.

What were you expecting? That he’d actually take you seriously? That he’d care?

He kept his expression neutral, tilting his head slightly. “What makes you think that?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. I just—sometimes it feels like there’s someone there. But never when I actually look? And maybe I’m just being paranoid, because nothing’s happened per se, and I haven’t seen anyone exactly, and—” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply as she shook her head as if it’d somehow physically shake off the craziness. “See? Stupid.”

Lando’s grip on his coffee cup tightened for half a second before he forced his hand to relax.

She wasn’t stupid. She was just too damn observant.

She ran a hand over her face, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just losing my mind.”

“Or maybe you’re smarter than most people.”

She glanced up at him. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain sharpness to it—a flicker of something knowing.

For a second, she wondered what he knew about being watched.

Before she could even think to say anything about it, however, he leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “It’s not stupid if it’s making you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice calm, even.

“Have you told anyone else?”

She blinked. “No. I mean, who would I even tell?”

He shrugged. “A friend. Family. Your boss.”

She shook her head. “Margot would just worry. And I don’t—” She hesitated. “I don’t have anyone else here, really.”

That made something flicker in his expression. Something almost imperceptible.

She shifted uncomfortably. “Anyway, it’s probably nothing. I should just drop it.”

For over two weeks now, Logan had been tasked with keeping an eye on her, feeding Lando reports—nothing serious, nothing intrusive. Just the usual movements. Her schedule. Who she spoke to. Where she went. It was a precaution, a necessity, but now?

Now she was picking up on it.

He couldn’t have that – Logan was a professional, after all.

Subtly, he pulled his phone from his pocket, typing out a short message under the counter.

Loosen up. Don’t disappear, but make it less obvious, would you?

He hit send.

“Hey, look–”

Her voice pulled his attention back to her.

Her brow was furrowed, her lips pressed together. “You don’t have to sit here and humor me. I know how it sounds. Like I’m–”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Lando said simply.

She blinked. “Oh.”

He leaned back, fingers idly tracing the rim of his cup. “If something’s bothering you, then it’s worth paying attention to.”

Crystalline green eyes met hers, momentarily taking her breath away with their intensity. “You’re not imagining it,” he added.

She blinked. “How do you know?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he sat back slightly, drumming his fingers lightly against the counter. Then, in the same easy tone he always used, he said, “I’ll walk you home.”

She hesitated. “I don’t want to be dramatic—”

“You’re not,” he interrupted smoothly.

She blinked.

He leaned back slightly, tilting his head as if weighing his next words carefully. “It’s late when you close up, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…?”

“And you walk home alone?”

She hesitated again before nodding reluctantly.

Lando let out a slow breath, almost like he was holding something back. “That’s not exactly safe, you know.”

She laughed, though it came out a little forced. “Yeah, well. Not all of us can afford a car and a driver.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smirk, but something close to amusement. “So I could walk you home.”

When she shot him a dubious look, he had to sigh. “You finish late. You live alone. Doesn’t hurt to be careful, does it?”

She frowned, shifting her weight. It does make sense, she reasoned with herself. It wasn’t like she wanted to be paranoid. And the truth was, knowing someone was walking with her would probably help her sleep better a bit better at night.

“…I guess not,” she admitted.

His lips curled slightly, like he had expected her to agree. “Good.”

“I can stick around more,” he said, tone even.

She frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Walk you after,” he shrugged. “Make sure you get home safe.”

She laughed, caught off guard. “So now, what, you’re like my bodyguard or something now?”

He smirked. “If you want to call it that.”

He took another sip of his coffee before adding, “I could also give you a ride to your uni if you want. S'not far.”

That caught her off guard. She raised an eyebrow, chuckling incredulously. “What, so now you want to be my personal chauffeur too?”

Lando huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t push your luck.”

It was easier to joke about it, but underneath it all, she could tell he was being serious. And something about that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

But still, the idea of not having to take the bus every morning was appealing...

Noticing her thoughtful expression, he decided to give that extra nudge. “You know. Since we’re friends and all.”

Her lips parted, the words stuck somewhere in her throat.

He’s using my own words against me! How dare he.

Finally, she managed a weak, “I… you really don’t have to.”

“And yet, I’m going to.”

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “You don’t listen, do you?”

“Selective hearing,” he grinned, eyes shining with mischief and dimples on display. He waited for a retort, and when none came, he grinned even wider. “Then it’s settled.”

She frowned. “That’s– That's not how this works, Liam.”

He grimaced inconspicuously at the use of his fake name, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he picked up his coffee again, leaning back slightly, looking entirely too comfortable. “You’re not exactly arguing very hard,” he observed.

She exhaled through her nose, crossing her arms. “Because I know it’s a bad idea to walk alone at night, I just—” She shook her head. “I really don’t want to be a bother.”

He lifted an eyebrow, chuckling lowly. “You insult me. You really think I’d offer if it was a bother?”

She paused, caught off guard by the sincerity. Something about the way he said it made her feel… safe. Certain. Assured.

Not in the way she should feel safe, necessarily. Maybe there was something too composed about him, something about his ease that made her wonder just what kind of man could offer protection like that without the slightest hesitation, as if it was second nature.

Like nothing in the world would dare touch him.

She sighed, then muttered, “...Fine. I guess, if it makes you feel better...”

Wearing yet another smug expression (or perhaps his face was permanently stuck that way), he nodded like it had been inevitable, but said nothing else.

“Alright then. I’ll wait outside, yeah?”

And just like that, it was settled.

Lando walked her home.

She tried to tell herself it wasn’t a big deal, that it was just a precaution, that it didn’t mean anything. But there was something about his presence beside her—calm, steady, entirely unbothered—that made her feel safer than she had in days. It was nice not to feel like she had RedBull running in her veins, hyper and on edge.

They didn’t talk much. He let her lead the conversation, responding only when necessary, but never prying. Still, she could feel his eyes subtly scanning their surroundings, always aware.

By the time they reached her apartment building, she felt a little less ridiculous about the whole thing.

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly, shuffling her feet. “For, um. This,” she gestured vaguely to the space around them.

Lando just shrugged. “Anytime.”

Something about the way he said it made her hesitate.

“…I’ll be fine tomorrow, though,” she added quickly. “You really don’t have to—”

“You have class in the morning, don’t you?”

She blinked. “Well yes, but–”

He raised a brow, leaning lazily against the side of her building. “Want a ride?”

Her stomach twisted with something dangerous. “I—”

“Relax,” he said, amused. “I’m not asking for your social security number. M’only offering a ride.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Just casually offer to drive random girls to school?”

His smirk widened. “Only the ones I’m friends with.”

Friends. There was that word again.

And she really needed to stop liking the sound of it.

“…Okay,” she finally said, sighing. “But only if it’s not out of your way, okay?”

Lando’s lips twitched before letting a chuckle escape. “No.”

That made her even more suspicious.

After a beat, she shook her head, clearly at a loss. “You are very confusing.”

He just smiled.

But when she finally went in, her shoulders were less tense than they had been in a while, a calm beginning to settle where this once was a nagging unease.

And so she found herself waiting for him the next morning anyway.

Logan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He read the message from Lando, his lips twitching slightly in amusement.

She’s caught on after all, huh? Good for her.

From his spot across the street, tucked into the shadows near a parked car, he exhaled and took a step back. Maybe he had been a little too consistent.

Time to switch it up.

Rolling his shoulders, Logan removed the camera strap from around his neck, clicking through the photos he’d captured of her that day—some in the café, others as she left, a few of her walking alone. Satisfied, he set the device in the passenger seat beside him and slid into the driver’s seat. His nondescript Vauxhall Astra eased away from the curb, the hum of its engine fading into the night.

High above, from the rooftop of an adjacent building, another figure remained perfectly still.

Stormy blue eyes peered through the darkness, framed by sharp features and an air of quiet control. Unlike Logan, he didn’t need the shadows to disappear—he belonged to them, woven into the city's fabric as seamlessly as the skyline itself.

A slow smirk curled his lips.

“Well, well,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Look at you.”

Long, pale fingers hovered over the ridged button atop his sleek, black camera. He took his time, watching, analyzing, before pressing down.

Click.

A single frame captured – evidence of a hunter tailing another.

And just like that, George Russell was gone.

#formula 1 #formula 1 fic #saffu's works #second chances #lando norris #lando #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris fic #lando imagine #ln4 #part twelve #chapter 12 #mob boss! lando x reader #mob boss!lando norris x reader #mob boss au #chapter twelve

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mistiell · 10 months ago

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We Keep this Love in a Photograph

summary: since Joel gifted you a polaroid camera for your birthday, you've developed a habit of sneaking pictures of him whenever possible. He doesn't think he's worth the film "wasted" (His words, not yours), but after catching you looking over your accumulated gallery, you manage to win him over.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Joel's a little self conscious, Reader's gender isn't specified, and they have hair but the length isn't specified either. If I accidentally did use a gendered term, lmk and I shall fix it. <3 NOT PROOFREAD (will likely come back to fix any mistakes later)

a/n: HOLY SHIT I'M BACK!!! This fic was inspired by this TikTok. I saw it and the Joel obsession possessed me so viscerally I had to make a comeback lmao.

**NOTE: I've linked ways to help Palestine here. If you're in a position to donate anything at all, please do! If not, you can reblog the post that's linked so it gets out to more people.

---

It started on your birthday.

You’d shared with Joel one evening, wrapped warm and snug in his arms within your soft haven of sheets, during one of those late night conversations where vulnerability doesn’t seem like a thing so daunting, that you used to love photography. Loved immortalizing things you loved or things you found beautiful. He’d asked what kind of camera you’d had, what kind of things you usually took pictures of.

“Polaroid.” you’d told him softly, fighting you keep your eyes open with his tracing shapes into the curve of your waist. “And I already told you. Whatever I found beautiful.”

The morning of your birthday, you woke to the smell of coffee and a clumsily wrapped box sitting on your bedside table with a note taped to the top; Happy birthday, honey. Love, Joel. And in smaller print near the bottom left corner; P.S. Wait until I’m here to open it. Wanna see your face.

You’d smiled, bashful, brushed your teeth in record time, scooped up the box, and made your way downstairs towards the sound sizzling and the tapping of a spatula on a pan. He gave you a good morning kiss, pretended to make a fuss about waiting until after breakfast to open it and watched with a smile as you carefully tore it open, popped off the lid, and visibly softened at first sight of the contents.

It was a polaroid camera. Coincidentally, the very same one you’d had twenty years ago.

You’d cried, he’d panicked. You hugged him so fiercely, any worry that he’d fucked the whole thing vanished as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you close.

That was months ago, and in the time since, you’ve accumulated quite the gallery. You take pictures of just about anything and everything, but your main muse is Joel.

Which is what’s led you to have half a shoe box full of polaroid of mostly him. He’s no idea of your little stash, and you intend to keep it that way. You’ve come to learn he’s got a thing about being photographed. Always nitpicking his appearance no matter what you say. He asks sometimes when he catches you why you don’t choose something nicer to look at, and your answer is generally always the same. There is nothing nicer. He walks into a room, and all you want to look at is him. Yeah, he’s got some more lines, got some more meat on his bones, his hair is a little more grey than it is brown these days. But he doesn’t see it the way you do.

He’s got crows feet and smile lines etched almost as deep as the crease between his brows. He looks healthy now that he’s actually got food to eat, meals you’re both sure to share every morning in your kitchen and every evening in the dining hall. His greys are a tangible reminder that he’s alive, that he’s survived, and that he now gets to live, and you’re incomprehensibly grateful for every russet strand turned silver. He’s all the more beautiful for all of it. And here, tucked into your armchair, polaroid pinched between thumb and forefinger, you get to commit every little detail picked up by your camera to memory.

Your gaze follows the sloping curve of his lovely nose, profile softened by the sun shining white behind. It’s only one half of his face, but the beaming smile he’s sporting makes you feel whole. His hair was just starting to get longer, then, curling near his nape and flicking round his ears to kiss his jaw.

“What’s all this?” You startle, head leaning into the plush back of the chair to look at him upside down as you press the pictures into your diaphragm. He seems curious, if a little confused.

Caught, you swallow, “If I said nothing, would you believe me?”

“Not for a second.” He smiles teasingly, bending to give you a quick peck, bottom lip warm where it slots between yours. Your hold on the photos loosens, and when his gaze dips to them, the smile shifts into something closer to a frown, a little cagey, “S’ that me?”

“Yeah.” You answer simply, before joking tentatively, “Swear I’m not a creep. You’re just pretty.”

“See now, that’s exactly what a creep would say.” He teases, and you’re glad for it – that he’s not upset. Rounding the chair, he sits on the arm, elbow propped up on the soft back of it and knuckles warm on the nape of your neck.

“Pretty.” He echoes, blowing a short puff of air out his nose, “Never been called that before.”

“Well, you are.”

He smiles again, bashful and a little disbelieving. There’s a short moment where he just looks at you like that, backs of his fingers sliding down your spine a few notches then back up in a tender line before he juts his chin toward your collection. “Show me?”

Warmth blooms in your stomach and fizzes up behind your sternum. You grin, handing him the one you were holding before sifting through the shoe box for your best works. He accepts your compliments and sweet talking reluctantly, but hangs onto your every word as you describe where you were, what you were doing, what made you sneak the picture in the first place.

You start to worry his limited responses mean he’s gotten caught up in his head until his hand slides up the side of your neck and settles over the side of your head, the warmth of his calloused palm encompassing the entirety of your ear as he guides your temple to his lips.

“Love you.” He murmurs into your hair, and the warmth sizzles like its carbonated, bubbling and burbling within the cage of your ribs.

You turn your face, slip your fingers beneath the curtain of hair at his nape and lift your chin to kiss him soft and slow. He rubs an affectionate line into the soft skin behind your hear as he hums, vibrations thrumming against your lips.

You lean back just enough to murmur, “I love you to.”

He smiles, kisses you again. And again. And once more. He asks you to show him more of your pictures, and you oblige. It’s early evening when you’re finally through, at which point Ellie’s come home and Joel’s started on dinner. You let her sift through the polaroids while you move to join Joel at the counter.

You won’t realize until later that she’s snuck a photo of the two of you by the stove, Joel’s large palm on the small of your back where you’ve taken over stirring a pot, gazing at you like you’re the only thing he’d like to listen to for the rest of his days as you talk and talk and talk.

That one, he hangs on the fridge.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #soft joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller

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deadpanjisung · 1 month ago

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ʚ♡all your fantasies♡ɞ

pairing: bf!bangchan x afab!reader x hyunjin genre: smut, drabble, suggestive, angst

MDNI!!!!

wc: 2.8k cw: cockwarming, unprotected sex, hyunjin’s a third wheel for a sec, angst, swearing, alcohol, making out (sorry if I missed any ~) feedback is encouraged ◡̈ i hope you enjoy ♡

happy 7th ♡ -˚₊‧꒰ა ginny ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・

“Baby, c’mon. Just this once. The kids are in their rooms, they won’t notice.” Chris pouted at you, tugging at the blanket that covered both of your bodies.

You were cuddling on their dorm’s new sizable couch. The boys all chipped in to buy it after their latest comeback, which was a huge success as expected. The couch cost them a pretty penny as it was a modular sofa because they were especially adamant that their new couch must fit all eight of them at the same time. $4,000 and many add-ons later, they reached their goal. The sofa looked ridiculous in their small-ish living room; it wasn’t usually set up for them to sit side by side unless they were all visiting. With how the couch was arranged and your bodies lying down, only one more person could sit next to you, or two, at most.

At that moment, you prayed that none of the members grew bored of their hobbies and sought for yapping time, something you usually didn’t turn down. Mostly because you and Chris hadn’t had much alone time since weeks before their comeback. You were “watching a movie” which mostly consisted of small conversations and doomscrolling through TikTok edits of him, whilst Chris blushed. The movie blended with the background soon enough. Chris dragged his body closer to yours whenever you pushed him away, his face was hidden in your neck, peppering your skin with light kisses. His hard-on was pressed against your ass.

“Let’s go to your room and I’ll gladly let you hit.” You mused, looking back at him.

“But it’s so comfy here. We haven’t even christened the couch yet!” He chuckled. You playfully hit his arm.

“Okay. What if I cockwarm you now and we start the movie again. If you can keep still until the movie ends, we go back to my apartment, and I let you rail me.” His face lit up as soon as you said the words; mainly because Chris knew that, with you, cockwarming always leads to, at least, a quickie.

“Deal.” His hands were quick to lift your dress and pull down your panties as if it were his second nature. His fingers slid through your folds, which were embarrassingly soaked. Chris, despite his risqué performances, always leaned to taking the safer option when presented with such situations. When you had sex, it was always in his room or yours. He wouldn’t have sex in your apartment if your housemate was there either. The fact that he initiated a sexual encounter in a different setting aroused you more than it should’ve. You felt his now-naked erection press into your bare ass. You could feel him throbbing when he bumped his tip at your entrance. You were already pooling with arousal, and you could faintly hear Chris’ wet cock as he jerked himself off before starting to push in. Fitting his cock in you was always a stretch, his thick tip getting caught on your tight entrance.

“Baby. It’s been a while since we’ve fucked, right? You’re too…tight.” He grunted in your ear as he pushed more of his cock inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of slowly becoming full of him. Of your Chris, after what felt like forever. The stressful comebacks and tour dates frequently made you push back the wavering desires of your libidos. Chris grunted as his cock rested snug inside of you. “Feels so good. I’m so comfortable now.” At that moment, you realized your mistake. You knew he was teasing you, but you would not succumb so easily.

“Oh yeah. It feels nice, baby. I think we’ll enjoy the movie so much more like this.” You said, suppressing a moan as you shifted, and he pushed just a little deeper inside. You hit the restart button. The movie seemed interesting enough, Cleopatra, a nineteen-seventy-something animated film your housemate had recommended. You were in awe at the intricate animation when the sound of a door opening instantly froze both you and Chris. Chris stared at you as Hyunjin emerged from his room.

“Oh! Is that the Cleopatra movie?” He asked as he stood behind the couch. You nodded, as no words came out, terrified that Hyunjin would notice what you were doing. Chris was equally scared; you could feel a drop of sweat fall from his face onto your shoulder. “Nice. I’ve wanted to see it for like ages, but I was kind of not up for it.”

“Really? Why?” Chris perked up when he heard that. You went into watching it blindly, following your housemate’s recommendation without a second though.

“It’s supposed to be kind of… erotic? I think.” He started as he took his seat next to you and Chris, your head just inches away from his thigh. You attempted to pull away from Chris, he grabbed your hips. Hyunjin noticed. “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t mind you guys cuddling here. But no kissing, that’s disgusting.” Chris nodded with a sigh of relief, as Hyunjin seemingly hadn’t noticed you weren’t just cuddling. Chris’s hands found your hips once again and pulled you closer. You let out a moan, covered up with a cough. Hyunjin looked down at you.

“Sorry, I think the candle you lit earlier is sparking up my allergies.” You explained, a half true statement. The candle was in his room, only a faint scent of sweet peach managed to escape from his door left ajar.

“Oh, shit! I forgot to blow it out.” He stood up and descended the hallway in a hurry.

“Are you crazy?” You asked Chris in a whisper as he softly ground his hips against yours.

“Calm down, he has absolutely no idea what’s going on. Plus, we’re not really doing anything bad, kind of. At least not in front of him.”

“Chris…”

“What? Aren’t you the one who always asked to try this out?”

“Okay, yeah but I meant, like, having sex in an empty parking lot, not fucking in front of Hyunjin.”

“Well, good thing we’re not fuckin’, then.” His movements halted as he heard the door to Hyunjin’s room closing.

“Thank you for reminding me, Y/N-nnie. I could’ve burned down the whole dorm.” He chuckled, you gave him a half-smile and tried to focus your attention back to the movie.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Changbin and Jisung had quietly slipped out to have dinner, you hoped they’d ask you or Hyunjin to go with them because focusing on the film wasn’t helping. Despite the interesting themes that composed the film and some the depicted a romanticization of things that shouldn’t be romanticized, given the situation, the erotic nature of it was getting to you. The movie was half over, Chris had barely moved but you could feel him leaking a generous amount of pre-cum inside of you. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was very conversational about the art and composition of the film. He even took out his sketchbook and started drawing. You had grown to know Hyunjin pretty well during your relationship with Chris. He would only take his sketchbook out when he knew that he’d be alone or if he was feeling nervous. At first, you assumed he felt comfortable with you both. But his constant chattiness died down, and his hands started fidgeting with anything he could find. The movie’s lewd sounds were almost unbearable to you, the feeling of your wetness mixed with Chris’s didn’t help your discretion. Hyunjin kept looking from the screen to you and back to the screen.

“Hey,” You sat up a little whilst managing to keep Chris’s cock inside of you, making him jolt after apparently falling asleep. “We can watch something else if you’re not comfortable, okay?” You noticed Hyunjin pressing his sketchbook to his lap.

“Uh, no, it’s not that…” he started as he stared at you with widened eyes. You could feel Chris doze off behind you, trying not to mind his throbbing dick inside of you. Instead, you were worried about his younger friend’s sudden behavior. “Is this movie supposed to, like, turn you on?” A blush creeped onto his face. “Forget I said anything.” He lifted his hands and covered his face. You slipped off of your boyfriend’s dick and fully sat up, making sure that the blanket still covered you both.

“I mean, it is an animated erotica, so I do think it is supposed to make you feel kinda horny. I guess…”

“Okay.” He sighed as he uncovered his face, and you felt he was just reassuring himself more than anything else. He kept looking at the screen then, not even glancing at you. You took the opportunity to observe him. Hyunjin was surely a sight for sore eyes. You couldn’t imagine any human being finding him unappealing. He was sweet and shy but a little flirty when he wanted to. You stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Chris was deep in his slumber now and your dress covered you enough so that Hyunjin couldn’t see that you didn’t have underwear on. You grabbed two shot glasses and half a bottle of peach soju. Hyunjin helped you halfway through, unnecessarily grabbing the two shot glasses from your hands. You sat down and served them.

“Maybe this’ll help you relax a bit.”

“Actually, I’m afraid that soju and being alone with a pretty girl just makes me more anxious.”

“Well, then, I’m glad Chris is still here and that I’m not really that pretty.” You teased as you took your drink from his hands. You looked back at your boyfriend, his sleeping form always gave you a sense of peace. Chris was usually restless, there wasn’t a day that he wasn’t worried about his members, their new songs, how STAY would react to them exploring new sounds, how he looked-

“Baby,” Chris whined, mostly asleep. “I slipped out.” He still had his eyes closed, whereas yours and Hyunjin’s were wide open.

“What are you talking about?” You chuckled nervously as you shook him awake. Hyunjin looked away with deeply reddened ears.

“Huh?”

“Oh…Oh!” Hyunjin exclaimed in realization, looking down at the sketchbook that, once again, sat on his lap.

“Yeah…”

“You could’ve just told me and I would’ve left!” Hyunjin said whilst looking at you.

“We weren’t having sex, I swear.” Chris blushed, hiding his face with a pillow.

“And we didn’t mind you watching the movie with us either…” You added.

“Why was his thing inside of you, then?”

“Hyunjin, are you really asking me to explain myself?”

He shook his head, visibly embarrassed at his own questioning of your actions.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” He apologized. “But that doesn’t make what you were doing any better! I mean, having sex in the dorm? In public?”

“We weren’t having sex.” Your boyfriend refuted, Hyunjin glared at him. “We’re sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Well, I’m kinda not. If there’s something that this movie taught me is that women are entitled to have their sexual liberation. I get that it’s inappropriate and I’m sorry about that. Though, I think it is unfair that you only questioned me instead of both of us!”

“I said I was sorry…” he muttered.

“Okay, then, this seems like something you two should sort out by yourselves. Peacefully.” Chris suggested as he stood up. “I’ll be back in, like, half an hour. I love you.” He kissed your cheek.

“Chris…”

“Hyung…”

“Work things out, please.” Chris said a bit more sternly as he took his car keys from the table. You both watched him as he stepped out the door.

You and Hyunjin stared at each other, his brows were furrowed. After a while, he looked away and started scribbling on his sketchbook. You took out your phone and scrolled mindlessly through social media. You knew that Hyunjin had a right to be uncomfortable with the situation, but you still stood your ground. He didn’t have any reason to target you instead of Chris or both of you. You registered movement from his side but didn’t pay mind to it until he scooted over, offering a shot glass full of soju. You took it from his hands and drank it, the sweet yet sour flavor was your favorite, a maladaptive form of comfort.

“I’m s-” you both said in unison. He gestured for you to go first.

“I’m sorry, Jinnie… I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive. You have all the right to be uncomfortable with what was happening. I just felt like you were only blaming me for it…”

“No, I mean, yeah. I am uncomfortable with what was happening and the fact that you couldn’t even tell me. Despite that, you’re right… I was angrier at you than hyung. I did take it out on you and…” he gave a frustrated sigh. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I have to, right?” That question was directed at himself because once you opened your mouth to answer, he kept speaking, “Ugh. I was jealous. I think you’re pretty. I think you’re beautiful. I’ve told you billions of times and you keep pretending that it doesn’t happen, even today! And I know it’s wrong and that I shouldn’t be jealous because you’re his girlfriend not mine. But I am! I think you’re amazing and I have a huge, incomprehensible crush on you since before we really knew each other and you’re dating my hyung. Then I met you and everything about you is so fun and interesting and…I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m so sexually deprived that I just cling onto you; or that you’re… No, I’m the reason why I can’t maintain relationships with anyone. It’s so fucked up. I’m so fucked up.” His brow remained furrowed, his face blushed, beads sweat fell from his neck to his shirt and he looked absolutely breathtaking.

“Okay, Jinnie, hold up.” You interrupted. “This is a lot. I need just a second to process this, okay?”

“I won’t mind if you hate me. I needed to get everything off my chest.” He announced with a stern voice, contrasting his worried expression.

“No, Jinnie. I don’t think anything could actually make me hate you. I think you’re so charming, and, just looking at you truly does take my breath away sometimes.”

“This isn’t making things better…” He pouted.

“I’m sorry to not have caught on to your flirting, I guess. I just never thought it was a serious advance… given the fact that I’m Chris’s girlfriend.”

“Wait, no. I don’t want to break you and Chan hyung up or anything. I think you’re great for him, better than you would be for me. It’s just… you love each other so much. Sometimes I think I could’ve been in his place instead and it makes me sad. I understand, though…”

“Does he know?” You interposed.

“Of course he does. The guilt was eating me alive during the first, like, year of your relationship.”

“He must really love you because he didn’t even hint at it with me.” You chuckled. “Jinnie, I love you so much. I’d do anything for you…except reciprocate your romantic feelings. I know you’re not expecting that, but I feel like I need to tell you anyways. I think you’re a beautiful person. Maybe in another universe we’d be together, I don’t doubt it at all. But I’m happy where we are here and I don’t want to lose our friendship…” He looked at you with glossy eyes and you heart couldn’t help but break.

“I really want you to stay in my life, Y/N.”

“I really want you to stay in mine too, Jinnie.”

“But I really really want to kiss you, so I don’t know if I can.”

“I think you’d better ask Chris about it, then.” You remarked as you heard the door unlocking.

“I did not just hear you telling my girlfriend that you wanted to kiss her.” Chris teased as he walked in with a few bags in his hands. “And I certainly did not hear my girlfriend tell my friend to ask me about it, right?” Hyunjin buried his head in his hands once again. “Just kidding. She can do whatever she wants. She’s a sexually liberated woman and I’m not going to stop her.” He shrugged. You smiled, knowing that your boyfriend was so accepting of your wishes. Hyunjin’s eyes widened.

“Do you think that’ll help you in any way?” You looked at Hyunjin and he shrugged. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Chris?”

“Nah, it’s just a kiss. You know we’ve had our fair share of experiences before you came into my life.” Chris replied as he walked into the dining room.

“Okay, then. Jinnie? Are you sure?” You asked, he nodded.

Your face inched closer to his as he remained static, eyes closed, and lips puckered. You pressed your lips on together, the plushness of his was as satisfying as you imagined. It took a second for him to kiss back, but once he did, the kiss deepened almost instantly. His hands took place on your hips, whilst yours tugged at his hair, earning a moan from him. You broke the kiss to stare at him, he sheepishly smiled, and you realized that this was probably a mistake. Mostly because you did, in fact, enjoy it more than you hoped.

“Baby, that was actually really, really hot.” Chris commented from the doorway. “You’re both attractive as hell.” You and Hyunjin stared at him in surprise. “You can keep going if you want, as long as I can keep watching…”

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・

#skz smut #skz x reader smut #skz x you #stray kids smut #stray kids hard hours #stray kids x you #bangchan x reader #hyunjin smut #bangchan smut #hwang hyunjin smut #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #ginny writes!#my works!!

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just1cefor4ll · 2 months ago

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— And suddenly Valentines isn’t so bad

Sirius Black x fem!reader

genre. fluff

"So, where are you taking [Name] for Valentine’s Day, Pads?" James asked, raising a brow as he finished rambling about the fancy restaurant he planned to take Lily to in his hometown.

Sirius blinked, caught off guard. Valentine’s Day was less than a week away, and he hadn’t given it much thought.

He had considered a few places—the cinema? Too cliché. A restaurant? No, James was already doing that with Lily, and he needed something more original.

With a frustrated sigh, he turned to his friends, desperation evident on his face. "Come on guys, a little help here?"

His friends exchanged knowing looks as they gathered their books—class was about to start. "Sorry mate, this one’s on you," Remus said with a smirk, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, if you want to impress [Name], you’ll have to use that infamous Black charm," Peter added with a chuckle.

Sirius groaned, running a hand through his hair. He was doomed.

As they made their way to class, his mind raced. What could he do that was special? Something that wasn’t overdone, something that would actually mean something.

Then, it hit him.

A slow grin spread across his face. Oh, this was going to be perfect.

The corridors of Hogwarts hummed with excitement, students weaving through the halls, their conversations full of talk about Valentine’s Day. It was impossible to ignore—the grand gestures, the nervous confessions, the love in the air. You had never been the type to get caught up in it, but since this year you had a special someone.. Would Sirius do something?

He wasn’t exactly the hearts-and-flowers type. Spontaneous, dramatic, even reckless? Absolutely. But romance? That was another question entirely. Still, with James endlessly boasting about his plans for Lily, there was no way Sirius hadn’t been dragged into the Valentine’s spirit.

Your musings were interrupted as the classroom door swung open, and Sirius Black strolled in—late, as always. He looked entirely unbothered, a lazy grin pulling at his lips as he slid into the seat beside you.

“So,” he drawled, stretching out as if he had all the time in the world, “you busy this Saturday?”

You shot him a skeptical look. “Why?”

His grin widened. “Because I need to know if I should start planning the best Valentine’s Day of your life.”That caught you off guard, eyes narrowing. “Oh? And what exactly does that entail?”

Sirius leaned in slightly, mischief dancing in his expression. “Now, if I told you, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. “Bold of you to assume I don’t already have plans.”

Sirius let out a dramatic scoff. “Ah, yes, your many admirers.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “If there is another contender, do let me know now so I can challenge them to a duel at dawn.”

A laugh slipped past you lips before they could stop it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected.

You sighed, shaking their head, but they couldn’t hide their smile. “Fine. Surprise me, Black.” Sirius grinned, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Oh, trust me darling, I will.”

The next few days Sirius mostly avoided you— but not enough as to annoy or hurt you. He flashed you a smile in the halls, passed you notes in class and gave you a kiss to the cheek when you seperated ways to different classes. His friends however knew their best friend since 1st year and noticed his weird behaviour— he was definitely planning something.

"You know he’s planning something ridiculous, right?" Remus had mentioned casually at lunch, stirring his pumpkin juice as if this was just another normal day.

"You mean stupid," James corrected with a knowing smirk. "Let’s be fair," Peter chimed in. "It can be both."

You had only sighed, shaking your head. Whatever Sirius was up to, there was no getting the truth out of him—or his friends. They were all sworn to secrecy, though James looked seconds away from slipping before Sirius shot him a warning glare.

By the time Saturday arrived, the suspense was unbearable. You weren’t sure what to expect, but knowing Sirius, it could be anything. A grand, over-the-top stunt? A reckless adventure? Something unexpectedly sweet?

Your answer came in the form of a small, enchanted note that landed in your lap during breakfast. Unfolding it, you recognized the familiar, fancy— but a bit messy— handwriting:

"Meet me by the Astronomy Tower at sunset. Dress warm. No questions."

Your stomach did a little flip. You glanced up to find Sirius already watching you from across the Great Hall, chin propped on his hand, his lips curled into a smirk like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Oh, this was going to be interesting.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. No matter how hard you tried to focus on your classes, your thoughts kept drifting back to Sirius and whatever he had planned. You caught glimpses of him throughout the day—leaning casually against a wall, twirling his wand between his fingers, sending you knowing looks that only made you more impatient.

By the time sunset was approaching, your curiosity had reached its peak. You bundled up in warm clothes, as instructed, and made your way toward the Astronomy Tower. The air was crisp, the sky painted in streaks of pink and deep purple as the sun dipped lower.

When you reached the top, you paused.

Sirius was already there, leaning against the railing with his hands tucked into his pockets, his black hair tousled by the wind. A thick blanket was spread out on the stone floor, a small enchanted lantern floating beside it, casting a soft golden glow. There was a basket beside him, and the scent of something sweet lingered in the air.

He looked up as you stepped forward, his grin widening. “Right on time.”

You raised a brow. “So, are you finally going to tell me what this is all about?”

He pushed off the railing and gestured dramatically to the setup. “Took me all week to put this together, you know. Sneaking food out of the kitchens, charming the lantern so it doesn’t blow away in the wind. Nearly got caught twice. James was useless, by the way.”

You let out a soft laugh, warmth spreading through your chest. “You did all this?”

He scoffed. “Of course I did. You didn’t actually think I’d just take you to dinner like some boring couple, did you?”

You shook your head, amused. “No, I suppose not.”

Sirius plopped down on the blanket and patted the space beside him. “Come on, sit. I brought all your favorites.”

As you settled beside him, he pulled out an assortment of food, pastries, chocolates, even a thermos filled with hot cocoa. You raised an eyebrow. “Did you rob the kitchens blind?”

He winked. “Let’s just say the house-elves like me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face was impossible to hide. As you sipped the cocoa, the warmth of it spreading through you, Sirius draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

You glanced up at him, your heart full. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sirius.”

He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “So.. does this mean I win Valentine’s Day?”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to meet his lips in a gentle kiss. “You might.”

His grin against your lips was unmistakable. “Knew it.”

#⚖️just1cefor4ll #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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aemonds-gf · 2 months ago

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dating Martin from modern world hcs

Author Note : I’m still so rusty at writing but Martin has definitely awaken something inside of me, I hope I did him justice. Feedback is appreciated and requests are open for him, Aemond and aegon.

Trigger Warnings : Martin might be ooc, no use of {y/n}, written with afab in mind, allusions to smut, pussy slapping, spanking, bondage, use of spreader bar.

Martin is fairly observant. He noticed some of the snacks you like to eat and started stocking up on them, he made a place for them in his pantry so when the both of you have a sleepover, you'll feel like you're at home.

Before Martin asked you out, he made a playlist of all of the songs that reminded him of you, out of the blue one night he sent you the playlist and you've been drawn to him since.

He takes you out for late-night dinner dates at his favorite rundown diner. Not many people dine there anymore; mostly, it's the older folks, but that makes it quiet. Every time, both of you order the same thing: blueberry pancakes with a side of oatmeal.

Martin doesn't start conversations much; he much prefers to sit back and paint while you tell him about the day you had at work or college or whatever you were doing that day. He relaxes this way.

When he is unable to sleep, he finds solace in taking walks under the moonlight at the park near his apartment. After spending a few months together, he invites you to join him one night. It was a balmy summer evening, with warm air and a peaceful atmosphere. As you walk together through the park, the moonlight lights your way, creating a soft glow around you. The gentle rustling of leaves and distant of the town sounds add to the tranquil ambiance.

Martin may not appear to be the type, but he is a hopeless romantic and, to add to that, he's touch-starved. Whenever you're together, he finds subtle ways to touch you, even if it's not obvious to those around you in public. For example, if you're reading, he might softly stroke your thigh, or when you both decide to watch a movie, Martin will lay his head in your lap.

Martin is accustomed to receiving strange looks; he knows he's the outcast. As a metalhead with even more exotic pets, he embraces his uniqueness. This doesn’t bother him—he doesn’t feel a need to fit in with everyone else. However, he doesn’t want you to endure the same treatment he does. He would do anything you wanted or needed. Want to wear that outfit? Go for it; he can fight. Want to dye your hair? Go ahead, he’ll stand by you and protect you from everything.

Martin will get you anything you want, he's down for anything. Tickets to your favorite concerts, or maybe a fair you'd like to go to. Never worry because he'll always try to be there for you.

We can all agree that Martin is a freak in the sheets, #1 number one pussy eating champ™. Martin loves to eat you out, he'll have you sit on his face, the edge of his bed, or the bathroom sink. Just anywhere.

He loves bondage, loves to make intricate patterns with you. Loves different color ribbons, rope. Speaking of bondage, he loves to use his spreader bar. Martin had surprised you with it one night, after a long day of work. You felt a bit nervous about the contraption, but Martin, being the loving boyfriend he is, reassured you that if you didn't want to, you didn't have to.

Definitely has a praise kink, he loves to be told that's he doing a good job. He praises you a lot too, his favorite phrases are "his favorite girl, his good-girl, and his favorite cumslut."

Wax play is a must for him, Martin enjoys to mixing the wax. He loves to make you his muse, and your body becomes his canvas. Blue candles are a favorite of his.

Brat taming, he's quite good at it. He likes to feel like he's in control, and will spank you as punishment.

Size kink, need I say anymore

Postion wise, he's simple taste. He enjoys missionary and reverse cowgirl. If you wanted to do something spicer he's down, to try everything once.

It's easy to turn Martin on, wear his band shirt with your just your panties underneath. Listen to his reptile facts, he'll meet you in the bedroom.

#martin in the modern world #martin ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell #Martin #aemond #Martin (its amazing to be young)#Martin lafaff x reader #Martin in modern world x reader #ewan nation #Ewan mitchell crumbs #fontaine #Martin lefevre x reader #Martin lefevre #Martin lefevre x you

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luxaofhesperides · 1 year ago

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Dancing in the rain ; requested by @wandixx!

He hadn’t been expecting the Signal to chase after him. It is, after all, well after midnight, and he had seen the vigilante out earlier during the day.

Maybe the Bats are understaffed tonight, he muses as he leaps over the rooftops, a wild grin on his face. Being on the other side of a chase is a lot of fun, he’s discovering. He can see why Selina enjoys it so much.

Though, it probably has to do more with who’s chasing her than it is the chase itself.

But Danny’s become a bit of an adrenaline junkie after a few years of being a hero, fighting ghosts and governments. He’s not a hero anymore, especially not in Gotham, but being Catwoman’s partner in crime is way more fun than being responsible for everyone’s safety.

It’s like he’s doing anything bad, either. Selina can steal whatever she wants; if they couldn’t protect things against her, then should they really have it? Danny doesn’t focus on jewelry or gems. No, he takes ghost artifacts or items contaminated with ectoplasm back to the realms where they won’t cause problems to any humans. There are enough ecto-contaminated people in this world, solely from Amity Park. Best not to let that number grow.

So here he is, leaping over rain-slicked rooftops and only using a little bit of flying to keep ahead, holding a cursed pocket watch that a ghost had requested he return to them, with the Signal chasing after him, disappearing into shadows and popping up unexpectedly.

“Stray! Get back here!” Signal yells, and Danny takes a moment to spin on his heel to face the vigilante to stick his tongue out at him, then backflips away.

“I didn’t even steal anything important!” he returns, tossing the pocketwatch in the air ahead, then jumps up to catch it and scales his way up to the roof of the next building.

“Seriously,” Signal says, suddenly in front of him. “Stop running and we can talk this out.”

“Woah!” Danny tries to get around him, trips over his own feet, and crashes into the Signal’s chest.

“Careful, there.” He looks up to see the Signal’s smile, and he absolutely can not be blamed for having his half dead heart skip a beat. He’s in the arms of a hero who’s smiling at him so sweetly, what’s a guy to do? “Ready to talk now?”

Danny goes intangible for a moment, smoothly sliding out of the Signa’s grip. “Nope,” he grins, starting up the chase once again.

The rain isn’t very strong, and the drops feel cool against his face as he runs, getting a little more air with each jump as he uses more of his flight to keep ahead. He can hear the Signal chasing after him again, heavy footsteps that start and stop unpredictably as he travels between shadows.

Just to be safe, Danny stashes the pocket watch inside his chest, leaving his hands free to grab onto the rough brick of the walls and scale them up, aiming to go higher and higher. Maybe if he finds a good building, he can dramatically fall off the edge and fly away invisibly.

“Got you!”

The Signal pops up out of the wall and grabs Danny, who yelps and tries to pull his arms away. The Signal is too strong, and his tight grip on Danny’s wrists is warm against the chill of the rain.

They stand there for a moment, just staring at each other as they try to catch their breath. And then, “Is that any way to treat a guy?” Danny jokes, trying one last time to pull his wrists free.

“It is when it’s you,” the Signal replies. “Man, you sure know how to run.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume for my next heist.”

“Seriously, can we talk?”

Danny eyes him curiously. The other Bats mostly tried to take back whatever it is he’d stolen that night, occasionally trying to get information from him. None of them had outright asked to have a chat with him. The Signal at least has some manners, compared to the rest of him. There’s no harm in sticking around for one conversation.

It helps that the Signal is cute, especially when he had saved Danny a few weeks ago.

Sue him, he’s a bit soft on the Signal. Wouldn’t anyone be with their favorite hero?

“Alright,” Danny says, relaxing. “Go ahead. Talk.”

“Great! Okay, um.” The Signal bites his lip and Danny should really look away, but his eyes are fixed to his mouth. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute, during which Danny really begins to feel the chill of the rain. “Can I get less comments from the peanut gallery?” he says suddenly.

“What?” Danny laughs, confused.

The Signal sighs. “My comms are on. The others are being annoying. If they wanted to ask you questions, they should have caught you first.”

“Oh, protecting me from the big bad Bats? My hero,” Danny says sweetly, pretending to swoon. Except, the Signal follows his movements, releasing his wrists to catch him by the waist, holding him steady. Danny’s breath hitches, and from how close they are, he has no doubt that the Signal heard it. They freeze for a moment, then the Signal dips him like some fainting Victorian maiden.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind sweeping you up in my arms.” The smirk on his face only lasts a moment before he grimace and says, “I shouldn’t have said that on open comms. Man, they’re annoying. It’s not my fault I know how to flirt.”

Danny…

Well. Danny short circuits for a moment, running the words over his mind again, then blushes so hard he’s sure there’s steam coming off his cheeks. “You’re flirting?” he squeaks. “With me?”

“Flirting,” a new voice confirms, making them both jump, stumbling against each other as Black Bat hops down onto their rooftop. “Both shy and silly. I’m better.”

“You can’t even ask out Spoiler,” the Signal retaliates.

“She can’t even WHAT?” Spoiler yells as she also vaults herself over the alley below to join them. “You want to ask me out?”

Though she doesn’t say anything, Danny can practically feel Black Bat’s glare through her mask. The Signal winces, then says, “Oops.”

“Man, you can keep yourself busy, clearly Sig doesn’t need backup,” Spoiler says. “I need to go on a date with Black Bat. The rest of you suckers are on your own!” And then she grabs Black Bat’s hand and grapples away.

There’s a beat of silence, then Danny and the Signal share a glance and start laughing.

“Well,” Danny says, “Good for them! Good for them.”

“They’re probably just going to Bat Burger.”

“And are you going to be treating me to a burger any time soon? I should be compensated for this conversation, you know.”

“Please, if I was taking you out on a date, it wouldn’t be to Bat Burger. I’d take you out dancing.”

It sounds like a date his dad would take his mom on. It sounds nice. Danny smiles and leans in closer to the Signal, taking hold of one of his hands. With the other, he puts Signal’s hand on his waist, then brings his own up to the Signal’s shoulder.

“Why not dance with me now?”

Danny leads them in a few clumsy turns of a waltz, silently thanking Sam for forcing him to take a few ballroom dance lessons with her. The Signal seems a little dazed, following his lead, and when he lightly squeezes Danny’s waist, he shivers.

Catwoman should be done with Batman soon. They had agreed to meet up at the newly opened Vintage Boutique in Diamond District, and he intends to beat her there.

Reluctantly, Danny pulls away from the Signal with one final spin, and hops up onto the edge of the roof. “If you can find me during the day,” he says, “Then I’ll dance with you again. See you around, Signal!”

And with that, Danny hops backwards off the roof, free-falling towards the ground before he lets gravity lose hold of him and slips into invisibility, flying up just as the Signal peers over the edge, searching for him.

Unable to help himself, Danny floats closer until he can give the Signal a quick kiss on the cheek, then flies off, grinning wildly.

He certainly can’t wait to see the Signal again.

Maybe if he hired a few guys to pretend to rough him up while Signal’s out patrolling…

Well, either way, this cat is already half dead so he can jump straight to satisfaction bringing him back. And, hopefully, back into Signal’s arms again when they won’t be interrupted by other Bats.

He’s already looking forward to it.

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #stray!danny #first time writing stray danny but i love him :) i think selina can make him worse :)#duke really worked overtime just to have a chance to flirt w danny #he heard that stray and catwoman would be out that night and suited up immediately like. dont worry guys i got stray :) yall can go now :)#thank you for the prompt!!#prompt fill #my writing

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codfishing · 4 months ago

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Part 2 of this

Pairings: ghoap x single mom!reader

TW: cavity-inducing fluff, Christmas

“We goin’ to see Simon n’ Johnny?” Your daughter’s voice asked excitedly from the backseat of your car, causing you to smile.

“Yes, sweetie; we’re going to see Simon and Johnny,” You answered, buckling up and putting the car in drive, your stomach a bundle of nerves as you pulled out of your parking spot.

It was one thing to be taken out for dinner by the two men (both with and without your daughter), but it was another thing entirely to be asked to spend Christmas Eve at their house overnight so that you could celebrate Christmas morning with them as well. And you couldn’t deny the excited feeling in the pit of your stomach at the thought of spending the night at their place for the first time.

Your daughter chatted absentmindedly the entire car ride there, singing ABC’s and Jingle Bells (which you had no idea she knew and smiled at the thought of Simon and Johnny melting once they heard her singing it). Soon you were pulling up to their house and your daughter was gasping and pointing when she saw her two favorite men waiting in the driveway.

You had just barely parked before Simon was opening up the back door to get your daughter out of the car seat while Johnny was a gentleman and opened your own door, something you always teased them for but secretly loved.

“There’s our girls,” Johnny said affectionately, helping you out of the car and pulling you in for a hug that you happily reciprocated.

“Hi Johnny,” You beamed, squeezing your eyes shut briefly before pulling away just in time for Simon to lift your daughter out of the car with a playful grunt of effort that was drowned out by your daughter’s squeal of laughter as he lifted her up into the air.

“How’s my best girl doin’?” Simon asked as he brought her back into his arms. “You behavin’ at daycare?”

Your daughter nodded, completely unfazed by his black balaclava and started chattering about the new animals she had learned about while he listened with rapt attention, slinging her bag over his shoulder and shutting the door.

“Sounds like she’s had a busy week,” Johnny mused, watching as you opened the trunk and reaching for your overnight bag before you could.

“She has,” You laughed, knowing better than to argue and simply grabbing the bag of presents you had brought. “They were learning about the north pole this week.”

He made a noise of understanding, eyeing the gifts you brought. “Ya better not’ve spent a lot on us, bonnie.”

You simply grinned, not answering him as you followed Simon into the house. Their house was always warm and inviting every time you had come over (which was surprisingly often in the past month after the first couple of dates they had taken you and your daughter on). Johnny immediately shut the door behind him and made a detour through the kitchen to drop a kiss on your daughter’s cheek before disappearing down the hall with your bag, where you assumed he was putting it in the guest room.

“Dinner should be ready in thirty,” Simon said over his shoulder between your daughter’s conversation. “She likes turkey, right?”

“She did the last time I gave it to her,” You said with a doubtful laugh as you went to the tree to start putting your gifts down under it.

You paused when you realized just how many they had bought not only for your daughter, but for you as well.

“Those better not be for us,” Simon called out, making you jump slightly.

His tone was light and you could tell by now when his scowl was playful instead of serious (mostly because he rarely had a serious scowl around you).

“Are you going to say no to presents from her?” You teased, raising an eyebrow as you continued placing gifts.

Simon simply huffed before your daughter wriggled out of his arms, wanting to get down.

“Course not,” He grumbled as he set her down, leaning against the counter and watching her run towards the tree with sharp eyes.

“Only look, don’t touch,” You warned gently as she stared up at the tree before giving her an insane amount of trust and walking away towards the kitchen.

Simon held out an arm for a hug and you happily obliged, molding into his side and returning the hug.

“And how’s my other best girl?” He asked fondly, pressing a kiss against the top of your head through his mask and making your heart flutter.

“A little tired,” You admitted with a sigh, leaning up into the affectionate gesture. “Work’s always busier around the holidays so I don’t get much of a break.”

He hummed thoughtfully at that as he rubbed your arm before Johnny emerged from the hallway and joined you and Simon in the kitchen.

“Pack-n-play’s set up,” He announced with a grin.

You blinked. “But…it’s still in the car?”

Johnny looked back at you and waved you off. “We got it taken care of, bonnie.”

Your jaw dropped slightly as you stared at him but he didn’t seem to notice as he focused on going to get a hug from your daughter, leaving you to look up at Simon questioningly.

With a deep chuckle he explained, “We thought it would be good to have one here. Just in case, y’know?”

You stared at him speechless but he simply smiled behind his mask and rubbed your arm again, looking out at Johnny play-fighting with your daughter as her peals of laughter filled the house.

Dinner was the usual affair; your daughter decided that she actually didn’t like turkey at all and the only thing she would touch was the rolls, much to your chagrin. Johnny and Simon didn’t bat an eye however, with Simon calmly talking her down from her near-tantrum while Johnny quickly fixed up some mac n’cheese (you caught a glimpse of a few boxes in the pantry that weren’t there before and felt something you weren’t quite sure what to call, but it made your heart ache with affection). And when Johnny returned with a small bowl of the eagerly accepted food, he refilled your glass of wine while dropping a kiss to the top of your head.

The rest of the evening went much more smoothly, consisting of old timey Christmas movies that your daughter loved followed by getting her ready for bed (which was mostly her showing off her new onesie to the two men who fawned over her), followed by setting out milk and cookies for Santa Claus and was finished up with reading a book before bed.

In the middle of her favorite book, a sudden thumping from the roof made you tense as you looked up at Simon and Johnny in the doorway, panic coursing through you. But that was quickly doused by their mock-surprised faces as they looked at your daughter.

“Who’s that now?” Johnny asked her, his voice light with a hint of excitement.

Your daughter of course didn’t know, but she happily took Simon’s hand as he offered to go check with her and you curiously followed, giving Johnny a playfully suspicious look as he grinned at you.

“What are you two doing?” You asked Johnny in a hushed voice as you followed Simon and your daughter.

Johnny chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Just wait.”

A sudden excited gasp from your daughter caught your attention and you stopped in the entryway to see another large man dressed in a red suit and an obvious military sack on his back. He had a white beard, but upon further notice it looked almost more like muttonchops.

Your daughter didn’t notice though as she squealed and jumped up and down, pointing excitedly towards ‘Santy!’

The man chuckled and knelt down, beckoning her forward with a gloved hand. You tensed slightly but Simon and Johnny obviously knew this man, and Johnny’s hand rubbed up and down your back reassuringly.

“I’ve heard you’ve been a very good girl this year,” The man dressed as Santa said in a deep voice, causing your daughter to giggle and nod excitedly.

He led your daughter to the couch and sat her up on his knee, asking her what she wanted for Christmas. Your daughter shyly said something about a babydoll, and Santa chuckled before reaching into his bag and pulling out a brand new babydoll, the exact one that she had been wanting.

You stared as she squealed and took the doll, your mouth dropping as your gaze flicked to Johnny and Simon, who simply returned a pair of smug grins.

“Now,” Santa started, smiling down at your little girl. “Off to bed, little one. Make sure to be good for your mother, and for Simon and Johnny, alright?”

“Okay,” Your daughter nodded happily before giving him a hug and hopping off his knee, eagerly running to show you her new doll.

You responded just as excitedly about her new toy and started to take her back into the guest room, but much to your surprise she insisted on Simon being the one to tuck her in.

Simon was gracious about it and promised it was alright when you asked, that he was happy to do it and he took your daughter’s hand as he led her back to the guest room, humming with intrigue when she babbled about her new doll.

As soon as they were out of sight you turned to Johnny and ‘Santa’, who was pushing himself up off the couch with a grin as he shed the coat to reveal a simple white shirt and chiseled arms tatted up in a strange geometric pattern.

“I think ya’ve found your look, Cap,” Johnny teased, his hand still in the small of your back.

“Watch it, Soap,” The man warned with a laugh, pointing to Johnny. “You’re lucky I’m about to shave it all off anyway.”

He then reached out a hand to you with a warm smile. “Name’s John Price, but you can just call me Price; I’m the captain of your two muppets.”

You laughed at that as you shook his hand in return, glancing affectionately at Johnny who simply shook his head and returned your fond look.

The door opened again and another man walked in, this one about Johnny’s age and just as handsome.

“Did it work?” He asked eagerly, mostly to Johnny and Price.

“Like a charm,” Johnny grinned. “Could’na done it without ya, Gaz; you’ve always been great at making noise.”

“Gaz?” You asked, looking to the new man curiously as Johnny slowly led you into the kitchen as Price followed.

“Kyle,” He corrected with a warm smile as he followed the three of you into the kitchen. “Gaz is my callsign.”

“Ahh, that makes more sense,” You laughed quietly, watching as Johnny opened the fridge.

“Would our resident Santa Claus like some eggnog?” Johnny asked teasingly as he pulled out a container followed by two glasses from the cabinet.

Price scowled, leaning back against the counter as Kyle stood next to him. “Nah, but I’ll take a bourbon if you’ve got one.”

Johnny shook his head with a sigh as Simon rejoined your little group in the kitchen.

“I’ll have some of that, Johnny,” He said, nodding towards the eggnog that Johnny was pouring out before nodding towards Price. “Nice beard, Price; you bleach it?”

“Figured paint would be too obvious for a smart kid,” Price shrugged with a grin, crossing his arms against his chest.

Simon took one of the glasses of eggnog and said, “At least you get a preview of what you’ll look like here in a few years.”

Price only scoffed at that while Kyle said, “I happen to like how it looks; though it does cover up the silver hair I’ve grown fond of.”

“Listen here, brat,” Price warned playfully, nudging Kyle with a scowl while Simon and Johnny chuckled.

You could only giggle before taking the freshly-filled wine glass that Johnny offered you, returning his smile before looking back at Kyle and Price.

“That was really wonderful of you two, doing that for her,” You said gratefully. “She’s been ranting about Santa coming to visit for the past couple of weeks now.”

Price waved you off with a fond smile before saying, “It was nothing at all.”

“Hell, you might’ve found the job for him for after he retires,” Kyle teased, earning him another playful scowl from Price that he returned by crinkling his nose up playfully at the older man.

“Oh that would be a riot; we’ll be sure to visit for a team holiday card,” Johnny laughed, which Simon agreed with and Price only gave an exasperated sigh.

The five of you hung out in the kitchen for a little while before Price and Kyle left, both of them giving you a warm hug and a peck on the cheek before leaving.

After the door shut, you turned to scowl playfully at Simon and Johnny.

“How long had you two been planning this?” You demanded with a smile.

Johnny grinned at that and you heard Simon chuckle before answering, “Since you agreed to come spend the night with us for Christmas Eve; We figured the little one would love it.”

“She definitely did,” You laughed, taking a drink from your wine. “You guys set the bar high for future Christmases.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to top it next year,” Johnny said then with a wink, making your heart flutter at the thought and the subtle promise woven into his words.

The next morning was filled with excited squeals and giggles with every present your daughter opened, her favorite surprisingly being a little tea set that she convinced Simon and Johnny into using with her (which led to some wonderful pictures that you knew Price and Kyle would love). Your own presents were beautiful, and the men were delighted with what you had gotten them, though they were still insistent that you didn’t need to get them anything.

It was a warm feeling that filled your chest as you sat there, watching as Simon and Johnny had tea with your daughter. For the first time in a while, everything felt right in the world, and you couldn’t have imagined a better gift than the sight in front of you.

#call of duty #cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap x you #ghoap x reader #simon riley #johnny soap mactavish #ghoap #ghost x soap x reader #fluff

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ilycosy · 1 year ago

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❝ DO YOU MIND ? ❞ | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing : luke castellan x child of calliope!reader

summary — being the child of the mother of all muses, you're used to affections. boys and girls flock to you like you're a sweet, lovely thing, but they soon drop it when they realize that you're nothing like a muse. what happens if the camps precious, golden boy starts talking to you?

warnings : reader is a little toxic under their politeness, reader is also described to be feminine but there's no specific prns! luke is also kind of obsessive? he wants reader so bad.. not proofread (that's for babies /j)

aﾉn — i haven't written in a long time so bare with me, nor have i written for the pjo fandom ever (though ive been in it for a while..) this is also vv self indulgent (daughter of calliope here <3) so sorry if this isn't relatable ♡ lowercase intentional :)

being the child of the mother of muses has always been annoying— you've never had a break to just be. whether it be people chasing after you, or people who envy the attention you attract. there was always something, which you resented extremely.

if people were asked about you, they'd have only good things to say. you're beautiful, lovely, polite; but not a muse. it sometimes got annoying that it mattered so much to people, having others constantly talk about how you were never romantic.

you seemed to be uncomfortable with it at the very least, very few felt the resentment you held for love. those few could never confirm it though, having you reassure them that you're just a private person. ("there's no need for grand things, dear. i love you without such things." you'd say, through gritted teeth.) which is what might have drew luke castellan to you.

he saw through the politeness, observing you almost ever since you got claimed. he can picture when you got claimed, your embarrassed smile when an apollo girl had written a song for you. publicly performing it, you had lit up; literally. you were fifteen then— nothings changed in these past years.

luke can't remember all the times you've been confessed to, having songs, poems, even paintings done of you for your affection. but he can remember all the times he watched your facade crack; the way your smile stretched too wide to be real, your eyes dimming when you realized it was just another confession, or how you seemed to never interact with aphrodite boys anymore.

he finds it amusing mostly, how could such a pretty thing resent something people would kill for? either way, he finds himself being drawn in like you're a siren. the way your eyes darken at the mention of your mother, how you reapply gloss whenever you're nervous— he could go on really.

"are you going to eat that?" he finds himself asking you before he can stop himself, pointing at the yogurt bowl right next to your plate. he has half a mind to make sure he doesn't clam up when you look up at him, fluttering your lashes.

you gently push the bowl towards him, continuing on your morning like the best swordsman in the camp isn't talking to you. he pauses for a moment, licking his lips as he thinks of a reason to prolong this conversation.

fate seems to be on his side though— his brother, chris, being to busy talking to clarisse to even glance his way. he sits down, looking across from you as he eats the yogurt. he almost forgets that staring is rude.

"do you mind?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a bite out of your crossiant. somewhat annoyed by the curly haired boy, your leg bounces steadily. "do i mind what?" he asks, like he's stupid— for some reason, you can't help but let your annoyance take over.

"why are you here," you start, pointing at the empty table. void of friends, you always sit alone until somebody claims they're in love with you. "you usually sit with your brothers and annabeth."

he shrugs at your questioning, not being able to find it in himself to hold back a teasing remark. "you know where i usually sit?" he asks with a small small, but the glint in his eyes show a certain smugness that gets under your skin.

you smile back at him, stretched too far and there's a bite in your voice hidden under honeyed words. "bye castellan," you croon sweetly. "hope you find your way back to your seat!" is all you give him, a morsel of fake attention that sends him reeling.

the next day, you wake up a bit later than normal. rising from your bunk around nine means you've missed breakfast, a deep feeling of anger surges through your core in a flash before you stretch and get dressed for the day.

when you leave the hermes cabin, you're stopped by a familiar figure. tall, brown hair, and a stupid smug grin. "hey angel," luke almost sings with how pleased he sounds with himself. "i have a presant!"

he reveals a crossiant and cold coffee, the faint warmth of the once fresh crossiant eases the deep feeling in your core even more though the coffee makes you want to vomit. "i don't like coffee." you state, taking a bite of the baked good. "but thank you, castellan."

he barely has time to respond with a you're welcome or an im sorry before you're smiling, too wide for his liking, and walking away. he debates following you, trying to talk to you like he's desperate for a friend. but he decides against it, wondering how to keep a conversation going with somebody that hates being sought after.

a week passes of the same routine— luke catching you at odd moments during the day, offering you little things to keep you around for a moment longer. you find it annoying, but keep a pleasant attitude anyways, it certainly helps that he's not bad to look at.

a small rumor spreads through camp, luke castellan having a crush. it barely takes the day for people to speculate that it's you.

it almost disappoints you, not having expected the camps favorite to fall so easily— doesn't he have any other girls? you debate on telling him that you're not open for relationships right now, having been in so many already, you could very easily blame any one of your exes.

but you don't have the chance to reject him the next time you see him because he's talking already, smiling at you like you'd fall so easily. "do you wanna help plan an activity with me?" he asks, offering you a delicious smelling tea.

"why would you want me to do that?" you question him, almost allowing yourself to have a genuine lazy smile but you just force a docile confused tilt. you sip on the tea, the once tart raspberries are now sweet in the tea mixing with a hibiscus flavor.

you're too busy drinking to notice him begin talking, he's mid laugh when you tune in. "— maybe you could help with setting up the theater?" he suggests, you pretend like you know how you got into a full conversation with him by subtly trying to exit it.

"why not have the apollo counselor help?" you say sweetly, setting the tea down and turning your full attention onto him. he feels sick to his stomach at how you look at him, soft features with a sugared tone. your eyes look at him like he's below you, like he's a nuisance, and for some reason that might be his favorite part.

he searches your face for a moment, glancing at your cold eyes before he chuckles. "maybe i want to spend time with you," he smiles like a cat, curling on his face with a pride that shouldn't make you as heated as it does. "i think you want to spend time with me too, yeah?"

you almost roll your eyes at his suggestion, but unable to squeeze out of this one without being mean, you agree to help him.

it only takes a couple weeks to fix up the theater due to the lack of counselors wanting to help, so it's safe for the younger kids to have a play— after that, it's back to the apollo children to plan. you sit back on the stage floor, sipping on a water bottle as you bask in the cold dusk breeze. "do you mind?"

a voice speaks from behind you, rasping slightly. you don't even have to look to know who it is, "no, castellan." you say, because you can't think of a reason for why you would mind.

luke sits himself down next to you, his knee brushing yours as he looks down at your water with a stare that could only be described at halfway pathetic and endearing. "here," you say, handing him the bottle. "i don't need you to die of dehydration on me."

he takes it gratefully, drinking it almost empty in three big gulps that make you roll your eyes with a small scoff. "did you just scoff?" he questions, an odd excitement in his voice.

you quickly try to deny it, hands coming up to animate how you didn't scoff or anything of the sort. but he already has a grin like he's drunk of the noise, "you definitely scoffed! that was so funny," he says with a loud laugh that makes you shush him, afraid of other campers hearing.

"i don't know why you hide that." he mumbles on your hand, fighting the temptation to lick it so you release him. those thoughts subside when your pretty eyes look up at him in confusion, "your annoyance." he clarifies.

"im not annoyed," you say, a bit defensively as you pull your hand away from him. "bit rude of you to say that, castellan."

he rolls his eyes in response, one of his arms coming behind you to rest on the stage. you can feel the ghost of it barely grazing you, "you're definitely annoyed," he says matter-of-factly. "you're almost always annoyed, or angry."

you fight back a scoff, but then give up. rolling your eyes you turn to him, searching his face for how he noticed, why he's doing this— but you come up with nothing. "why do you care?" you almost snap at him, drumming your fingers on your knee.

"i don't," he says like it's obvious. "im the same way." there's a beat after he says it, a silence that seems more comfortable than awkward like it should be. admitting his anger to you felt like a breath of fresh air, because he knew you'd understand him.

you bite your bottom lip, turning to face him. "that hatred," you start, almost in disbelief that you finally have the opportunity to talk about this. "it doesn't go away huh?" the question is phrased more like a statement, barely asking for confirmation.

he nods, not speaking as he watches you. there was no need for an explanation on what the hatred was, he knew as soon as you began talking. the gift from your mother was never really a gift to you, a burden of what it means to be a demigod is all it was.

you never knew what was genuine, or what was your mothers doing. but you felt a sense of ease with the hermes boy, nothing like all your previous relationships. "do you think it's bad," you mumble, almost ashamed.

"do you think it's bad that we feel this way?"

your question is softly spoken, genuinely interested in his opinion. he feels himself almost feel guilty for you, but he can't lie. "no," he wraps an arm around your waist. gently bringing you closer. "i think we might be the only ones in the right."

he says it with such confidence, a lack of guilt or unease in his voice that it makes you smile. not a sweet one, but a prideful one. one that could reflect the pride of a god, finally validation for the deep seated resentment that almost quenches that thirst for revenge.

minutes of silence pass by, the sun fully set as you lean your head on his shoulder. inhaling the pine and deep smell of his cologne, you hum. "are the rumors 'round camp true?" you ask.

he feels a small blush creep up his neck and ears, spreading across his face as he realizes that you heard about those. he never meant for his half-brothers to over hear a private conversation (said private conversation was in the bathroom, luke washing his hands while chris talked loudly about how he could get clarisse to go on a double date if he'd just ask you out already.)

"uh," he laughs awkwardly, his fingers drumming on the soft skin of your waist. "do you mind?"

you can't help the small smile that spreads across your face, "no." is all you need to say before his wet lips are on yours. hungry and desperate for your attention, which you give him without another thought.

#cosywriting #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan fluff #castellanswrld

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