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yeyinde · 8 months ago

Note

Brain went brrrrrrrr

Price and the new 141 member getting into an argument. Price is all like if you don't behave ill take you over my knee girl.

She's all like I fucking dare you or you'll have to catch me first or even you don't have the balls.

🫠🫠

i’ve always wanted someone who was super by the book to clash with John “i routinely tell my superiors i’m going to maim/murder/hang them” Price. this gave me the perfect opportunity to do so.

noncon spanking. abuse of authority. power imbalance. size kink. mean, dom!Price. forced submission.

You have this way of getting under his skin.

An impossible itch. No matter how many times he picks and prods at his flesh, you worm beneath the dermis, burrowing deep. Sitting pretty against his goddamn bones. Festering.

Incurable.

He turns to vice to stem the irritation. Cigars. Whiskey. His hand shoved down his trousers like he's a fuckin' boy and not a man on the wrong side of forty.

Thinking of you—of breaking that smart mouth of yours on his cock.

It's the way you saunter around with your head held high, balancing golden eggs on your crown, that irks him something awful. The patronising drawl when you huffily remind him that what he's doing is breaking seven, no, ten, different laws, Price. You can't just do whatever you want, there are rules—

And that's the crux of it.

A difference of ideas. Experience. You still see the world in shades of black and white. Good and bad. Unwilling to acknowledge that the line between is saturated and blurred. A putrid muck that traps all. Bogish.

He knew it was a mistake when they sent him your file, asked if he needed the additional help. Hostage negotiator. He's heard of you. By the fucking book. You recite passages like it's gospel, turning printed words into a knife. A terrible fit for a team that works in the pivotal no man's land you claim doesn't exist.

Yet—

He takes you on. Brings you in. Buries his anger at your fucking gall deep in his chest where it rots. Grows. Swallows down the rage, apoplectic fury, when you undermine him at every opportunity, citing laws and regulations like it's a fucking prayer.

A calamitous decision, he knows. Terrible. But—

Despite it all, you're good at what you do. Brilliant. A budding rose germinating in fecund soil. You'll grow into something wild, won't you? Something untamed.

Under his hands, you'll bloom the prettiest. He knows this deep in his bones. But—

“You're breaking the rules, Captain—”

—pedantic little thing, aren't you?

Obediently following the wrong master.

It irks him. He's been known to step on the toes of his superior officers for less, caustic words hissing foul from between his teeth.

But unlike them, you're worth something. Even as the moral antithesis to his utilitarian dogma, he sees your potential. How you can shape this world dangling on a brittle thread if you lay down your senseless principles and follow him. Listen to him.

But of course, you don't.

And he supposes he ought to have known better. It's dripping gasoline over an open flame. The sequence of events is easily premeditated, seen, when you refuse to listen to what he says (“it's against the law, Price!”), walking away from him, his team, the mission, and take matters into your own, morally righteous hands. Bringing his underhanded methods to the desk of your superior officer, demanding he be investigated for crimes. The result is a loose warning from someone in a suit several sizes too big for them, and your fury when he pulls you back, has you assigned to another mission with the 141, with himself. Preens at your glower when you march back into his office, into his hands.

In the fallout, he has no one to blame but himself, really. Anyone could have seen this coming. But the thing about shirking his morality in favour of a better outcome—above all else—is that he doesn't have to.

And so, he doesn't.

No. He blames you.

(How perfect for him, then, that there's no one on base except you and him.)

“If you think I'm not going to report you again if you do something illegal, Price, you're wrong.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at your fucking audacity.

"Better watch that mouth of yours, Sergeant, or you won't like what happens next."

His palm itches when you look up, offering him a slow, feline blink. Leonine eyes creasing at the corners.

"And what is that, sir? I'm just doing my job—" it's whispered breathlessly, all faux professionalism even as jest leaks down your brow. They pinch, then. Drawing together in a mockery of confusion. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?"

"What is that, mm?" He mocks, arms folding over his chest. He has to breathe through his nose for a moment. Gather himself together before he does something reckless, something like—

It's the defiant little jut of your chin that does him in. That unravels this fraying knot of control until threads slip through his fingers. Falling too fast for him to clench down on them.

He's threatened his superiors for far less. His kin, teammates. You have no one to blame but yourself for this, really. No one at all when he pulls his hand from where it's tucked under his armpit, curling rough, worn fingers around your wrist. Pulls you close, wrenching you into his chest until your nose bumps the buckle of his vest.

"'m'gonna take you over my fuckin' knee, is what's going to happen."

Your swallow is a gunshot. “You—you wouldn't dare—”

He leans in close, closer still. Breath scorching over your cheek. Preening when you bare your little teeth at him. “Wanna bet on that, Sergeant?”

It's easier than he would have expected to wrangle you over his knee, pinning you down with an arm across your lower back. The height of his chair keeps your front bent, belly pressed against his thigh. Ass seated perfectly in his lap. Precious gem.

He hums low in his throat, teeth sinking into the butt of his cigar as he locks you tight against him. Grabbing your wrist, twisting it up behind your back. Holding steady. A warning.

The dangerous twinge in your bone stills you.

One wrong move and he'd snap it in half.

This has you taking a different approach, legs falling limp over the armrest. Head dropping over the other side. Malleable in his grasp—however artificial it is.

“Price—” you breathe, winded. Panic on a spindle. “What are you—what do you think you're doing—?”

He hums, mouth tense around the cigar. Words muffled, slurred. “What I should have done a long time ago.”

“What—hey!”

Your words pepper off into a choked scream when his other hand falls to the hem of your pants, grabbing the fabric in his fist. The shock fades into indignation. Anger. He tastes it in the air as your hips squirm, legs kicking at nothing. Furious little growls spilling from your lips as you thrash, unconcerned by the ache in your bone.

“Better keep still, love,” he taunts, mouth curling over his teeth as he twists his hand high, higher, up the small of your back until your fingers brush the skin between your shoulder blades. Any more and he'll break it—

“I'm going to fucking—!” It ends on a whine. A whimper. The pain makes you shiver. “Fuck, fuck—stop, stop, ow, stop—!”

“Not a fan of a little pain then, mm?”

Your breath is ragged. Paints the air in a fine mist of defeat. He has you. The only option out of this is breaking your bone, a threshold no one is willing to cross.

Price purses his lips back around the cigar, inhaling once, thrice, before he slips his fingers out of the hem of your trousers, reaching up to take hold of the cigar. It's all so matter-of-fact. So nonchalant when he places it in the ashtray. When he brings his heavy, warm hand back to your ass, curling his fingers beneath the fabric. Pulling. Tugging.

They come off easier than he'd expected. A harsh tug, and the cleft of your ass is revealed. Plush skin curving enticingly as he rips them down to mid-thigh—panties and all.

The shock fades back into indignation. You hiss something foul under your breath that makes him huff out a chuckle.

“Not really in the position for that, are you, love?”

“Shut up—”

He likes the way you sound like this. Feral. Furious. There's ash in your throat. It blots soot around each word, giving them weight. Gone is the woman who barged into his office, sniffing like you smelled something foul. Backing him into a corner. Sputtering in his face about rules. Regulation.

Now you're bare-assed, panting, in his lap. Small little fawn in the maw of a bear. But oh, do you fight back—

Teeth bared, indignation bleeding into embarrassment, blotting pink in the whites of your eyes.

The sight is hewn into his hindbrain.

“Look at you,” he purrs, petting your cheeks. “Been beggin’ to be bent over my knee since you got here, haven't you?”

“Begging? Don't be—ahh!”

He brings his hand down with a small huff, eyes glued to your flesh. Watching it shake under his hand. The width of one swallowing up an entire cheek. So big is he that you're nearly made infinitesimal in his clutch. The thought makes him groan.

You squirm more in shock than discomfort. Head craning over your shoulder, eyes misting over with tears. Glaring at him.

“What the fuck, Price!”

He strokes your skin, feeling the heat of your flesh bleed through his palm. Resilient little thing, aren't you? He huffs again, blood buzzing. Electric. There's a kindling fire in his guts. Embers sparking, catching.

He can't deny how badly he's been wanting to have you like this. Craving your tears, your agony, your submission.

“Count,” he barks out, rough. Abrasive. “You're getting ten. Count ‘em for me, and if you miss one, I'm adding two more.”

“You're crazy, you're—!”

His hand comes down again. The impact shakes the fat of your ass. The strike makes you yowl, thrashing to get away. You don't get very far, still trapped in his hold. The threat of a broken bone keeps you from lashing out too wildly, and all you can really do is sit in his lap, and take it—

The notion has him groaning low in his throat. Something wicked spooling in his veins. Wanting. The sight of you heaving, bare-assed, and begging for mercy unleashes something inside of him. Something primal. Starving.

Price takes a breath to steady himself, head buzzing. Heart pounding. It feels like the euphoria of nicotine—all bliss, sedation. Ease.

Cathartic.

“I said count,” he rasps, words cinder in his chest. Smoke. Dragged up from that burning pyre in his belly. Nocuous, hungry. “That's an order, Sergeant.”

His hand is scorching against your skin. Thoughts turning over themselves as you hiccup in his lap. So pretty, he thinks, eyes flitting over to you. Taking in the sight of your shock, your denial. It tastes like fine wine on his tongue. Heady.

“Here comes one—”

“One?”

“I told you, didn't I?” His nail rakes across your skin, cruel. Mean. Something preens when you gasp. Your pain perfuming the air. “M’addin’ two more if you don't count. Thought your speciality was listenin’?”

You scowl, twisting back to level him with an awful sneer. “Oh, fuck you—!”

His hand comes down again, harder this time. Vicious. The scream is tangled in your throat, gagged. He feels pleasure—dark and ugly—bloom in his chest, dripping, liquid, down the length of his spine. The twist of agony on your face is beatific.

“Not gonna count?” He taunts, pinching your inflamed flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “We're gonna be here all day at this rate, love.”

He leans down, broad chest curling over the small of your back, hand cupped possessively over your cheeks. “But maybe you want that, mm? Maybe all this, mhm, insubordination has just been for show. You wanted this. Wanted to be taken over my knee—”

“You're wrong. I haven't—” it tapers off into a squeak when he pinches your flesh again.

Price pulls back, breathes shallowly through his nose.

“You and that smart fuckin' mouth. Told you it was gonna get you in trouble—”

He doesn't wait. His hand rears, and comes down with a loud smack that echoes in the sparse office he has you trapped inside. Your howl races alongside it, curling up the walls. Beautiful in all its agony.

“Christ—” it's a dagger to his resolve. You sound so fucking good howling like this. Oscillating between feral anger and pain, hissing vitriol between clenched teeth. Choking on sobs.

The first few are experimental. Testing the waters. Feeling. You're combative during it all. Fighting. Screaming. Each strike is uncounted, echoed only with a plea for help. One he knows won't come—

The only person on base is his Lieutenant. Ghost knows better than to barge in on his affairs.

“No one's comin’, love,” he grunts, sweat beading along his hairline, dripping down his temple. The room heats along with the blood in his veins, stifling and oppressive. He reinforces each hit with more strength, increasing the tempo until you're screaming on his lap, begging for mercy, mercy, please, please, Price stop, stop—

Your skin raises with each new strike. Swelling. Becoming inflamed. The perfect imprint of his handprint sits on each cheek, edges intumescent. The globes shake, shuddering deliciously under each hit.

He gets to eleven before you break. Tears streaming down your face, voice a threadbare whisper. Hoarse from screaming.

His hand rains down, slaps your left cheek so hard it stings his hand. Burns. You whimper. Mewling. Squirming on his lap, and then—

“O–one—”

He grunts, feels himself thicken in his trousers. “Good girl.”

You shudder, body breaking out in goosebumps. “Price—”

“Ah, ah, love. You're not allowed to speak unless you're counting.”

He hits you again, cock throbbing when you tense up, sniffling. Grinding out a soft two between trembling lips.

You don't break the way he wants you to. There's a glare on your face despite the tears, the sniffles. A defiance that burns over the bridge of your nose.

But that's fine. He has eight more strikes to ruin you, doesn't he?

He sets to it with a low moan, your pelvis pressing taut to his tumid cock, the friction raging in his guts.

But that, he finds, isn't really the point. No. The pleasure, the arousal, is secondary to the way you fall to pieces at his hand. Flesh stinging his palm with each loud smack that rings out sharply in the room. Uneven breaths. Shuddering little ah-ah-ahs that tumble out through clenched teeth.

It's addictive, this. Therapeutic.

There's static in his head. White noise. It renders everything else mute. Moot. Molasses drips down, thick and entrenching, congealing over every churning thought in the back of his head. There's a sense of peace, ease, he hasn't felt in years. In decades.

He feels his belly knot each time your ass jiggles, skin bulging up from the trauma of being hit so harshly. Chafed under his palm. Welts forming in the shape of his hand. A tattoo you'll have for weeks when he's through with you. Aching each time you try to sit. And fuck—

You'll think of him. Of this. Being taken over his goddamn knee like the bad fucking girl you are. Broken in over his lap. Helpless. Submissive.

The whimpers fade, replaced with shallow hiccups. Your throat is torn. Raw, ruined, by your screams, yowls. Each rasping whine sends jolts of pleasure down his spine. Liquid want molten in his marrow.

“S–seven, nngh—”

The moan slips out—scorched, bleached—and drills deep into his loins.

He peels his gaze away from your blistered skin, glancing at your face, but you duck from his view. Hide. Dropping your head over the armrest. Evading him.

It's new, this. This meekness.

You were so combative, so feral before. His gaze rakes down the expanse of your spine, over the curve of your cheeks, before settling, hot and heavy, at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. You squirm in his lap, thighs sliding together. Rubbing. It's no different from before when he'd spank you, but—

He catches it.

It glints in the soft light when you move, and he feels something dark, ruinous, curl in the tar-stained fibrils of his chest. Congealing in the crevasses. Hardening.

Price flicks his tongue out, swiping over his lower lip. The bristles of his beard graze the soft flesh, prickling across it. His throat is suddenly dry. Parched.

His hand comes down again, notably softer than the other hits he subjected you to. Almost—

Tender.

This isn't meant to hurt. Not this one.

He strokes his finger over your skin, cock throbbing with the rasping gasp that spills—a twisted amalgamation of pain, skin still smarting, burning to the touch, and—

His lashes flutter. Nostrils flaring.

Your slick, wet, between your inner thighs.

He slides his hand down, down, until your ass cheek is cupped in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger. Nestled tight. A perfect fit. The sight of your skin—soft, so soft—against his bearish, hirsute paw is sickeningly addictive. He grunts, pressing his thumb into the crease between your cheek and thigh.

“P–Price—”

And then he pulls, moaning deep in his chest as he peels the fat of your ass away, unveiling your cunt to his rapacious gaze. Fuck—

“What’s this?” He taunts, breathless. Pinched. You squirm, trying to press your thighs together. Hiding your pussy from his scorching stare. He doesn't let you. “Gettin’ off on me spankin’ your arse?”

“N–no, I'm—”

He pushes his thumb up, sliding it over your skin. Gathers your slick on the tip. “Don't lie to me, mm. You're fuckin' soaked.”

The air is punched from his lungs. Spills out in a wretched grunt. In the vacuum, something grows. Knots. Festering inside his chest. Animalistic. Primal. There's an itch in the back of his head.

He lets go of your arm, knows you won't run. Won't try to escape. No.

You're a good girl, aren't you? One who does what they're told. Follows orders. It tangles in the soporific slurry of his head, pitching a bivouac of need when you bring your arm down, curling it through the gap of the armrest, holding tight.

Bracing yourself.

His hum breaks in his throat. He drags his hand away from your cunt, reaching for the snuffed cigar idling in the ashtray. There's a fever in his veins. It makes his hand tremble. Shake. He needs the blunted drag of nicotine to quench this heady anticipation blooming in his guts. A brumous storm gyring inside him, an incipient maelstrom of want thickening. Intensifying. Threatening to spill over.

He needs something to steady himself before he tears into you like a beast—

You cock your head over your shoulder, staring at him with eyes drenched in midnight ink. There's a flicker across your tear-stained expression. Something coy. Feline. Leonine.

There's nothing said. Nothing needs to be. He finds what he's looking for in the fracture of your mien, and scoffs under his breath at your sheer gall. Little fuckin' minx.

Tobacco proves to be a paltry facsimile when he draws in a bursting mouthful. The restive glow of it dulled under the adrenaline coursing through his veins, heady. Syrupy. A roaring deluge of anticipation broiling in the balmy air, crackling around him like a storm cresting over the horizon. Ozone saturates in the thickening atmosphere.

Something will break. Shatter.

He tenses, waiting for the first stormcloud to breach, and drops his hand back to your tender ass. Stroking over the raised welts just to make you gasp. Your hips flex under the shocks of pain riveting down your spine, undulating in his lap. Pitched perfectly over his cock.

His breath shudders through a needlepoint. The friction is electric.

In petty retaliation—and just to see you squirm—he trails his knuckles over your heated skin, luxuriating in the way you shiver. Head falling back down over the armrest, beautifully alluring in your vulpine submission. His fingers dip between the cleft of your cheeks, feeling the slickness sticking to your soft, sensitive skin. Soaked between your thighs. Wretched girl.

His index and middle finger slide over your slit, parting your folds. He feels the small pulses of your drenched hole against his flesh when he slides over it with the press of his fingers. Eager little thing.

He hums under his breath at the sight of his hand seated across your hand, fingers shoved between the globes of your smarting ass. Soft and tender to worn and gnarled. The cropping of dark hair over his knuckles, his hand, against your bare skin is obscene. The picture of sin with your stricken flesh and his thick veins. The contrast curdled in the back of his head, morphing into something ugly and wanting.

Idly, he thinks of making you bounce your sore ass on his lap later, your pussy swallowing up his fat cock. Taking it all the way to the root. Over and over again. Breaking you on it until you're begging for mercy, until this little attitude of yours is crushed between his teeth.

Slick gathers against the rough pads of his fingers, drenching them. The hair on his knuckles is matted down, wet with your arousal. Naughty girl. He'll make you pay for that.

And for the puddle seeping into his trousers.

You mewl when he slips, sliding over your clit. The noise spilling molten over your lips, bludgeoning into his loins.

He drags in another mouthful of smoke. Lets it rot between his teeth as he drops the cigar into the ashtray once more, attention riveting to the slip-slide of your slick thighs rubbing together for friction against your aching clit. Cunt pulsing needily against his hand.

You haven't learned a damn thing at all, have you?

Smoke funnels out of his nostrils when he growls. “Spoiled, aren't you? Need to be taught a lesson in respect.”

“I, ah, am respectful, Captain—”

He sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. This lippiness of yours grates on his nerves. He wants you begging for mercy, limp in his hold. Pretty doll. Waiting obediently for him to put you back together again. Soft and submissive at his heel.

“Got three more to go, love.” You shiver when he strokes over your ass. Petting gently with wet, tacky fingers. “If you're a good girl and take it for me, I'll play with your pretty cunt, mm. You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

Price brings his hand down, grunting when you moan out his name. Sharp and needy. Your plaintive posturing is a spark inside a tinderbox.

“E–eight.”

The next one is harder, sharper. The force twinges his joints. Rattles through his bone.

It's unexpected, and the pain makes you yowl, body drawing tight like a bow. There's no pleasure when it's like that. No friction against your cunt. It's just—

“Price—!” You yelp, shrill and distressed. The lead up to this has been child's play. A soft hand to tender a nervous mare.

His old man taught him to never strike with the whip first but to wean them slowly.

He waits, humming mockingly to your pettering whimpers as you heave, tremulous, into the air. Shuddering in his grasp at the aftershocks of agony rippling through your body.

Waits. Waits. And—

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, cooing low and condescending when you gasp, craning your neck to level him with an imploring, pleading stare as you stammer out a frenetic nine in a breathless rush. Tears soak your lashline, clumping them together when you blink through another deluge pooling against the rim. Your lip wobbles. The stream breaks, spilling over. Fresh tears run down your wet, sticky cheeks.

There's real panic in the whites of your eyes now. That haughty, pedant gleam buried under pyretic desperation. Gone is the coy twist to your lips. The wily little bloom of amusement in your gaze.

Aw, poor thing. But—

Too late. “You didn't count. You know what that means, love.”

That knot in his chest unfurls, and leaks acid into his lungs. This want is corrosive. A poison. The sob breaks through your chest. The first thunderclap. He relishes in it. Leans back in his chair to bask in the potency of your unmaking.

“Good girl,” he husks out, burning lungs spewing black smoke into the air. “Just ten more now, love. Know you can take it for me, can't you?”

Pretty thing. He'll have that haughty attitude snuffed out before the end of the night. Have you begging for his touch, his cock, him, before the sun draws across the horizon.

Your ruination at his hand. The thought strokes along the kindling smouldering inside of his chest. Burning away at the pyre he's been building since the day he met you. When you looked up at him, pretty in your scorn, and disobeyed his command. Undermined him. So righteous in your fury. A burgeoning flame he wanted nothing more than to snuff out under his heel, and now—

Wide, wet eyes plead with him. “Please, Price. Please, please. I'll be good—I promise I'll be good, sir—”

—ash in the palm of his hand.

He strokes over your searing flesh, humming softly under his breath. “I know you will, pretty girl—” basks in the hiccup of relief you let out, lets it glue in his ears, echoing over and over again. So sweet.

He lets your relief live for a moment. Take its first breath of air through aching lungs—

“But I told you, didn't I? That I'd take you over my knee.” Price pats his hand over your cheek, shushing you when you startle, squirming on his lap.

“Now. Be a good girl and count for me, mm?”

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader

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mandarinmoons · 30 days ago

Note

Hi! I’ve been following you for a little while now and I just adore your writing! And I’m feeling brave to finally request a thing ☺️ could I please request an angst/ hurt comfort thing where the unsub kidnaps/ tortures reader. Maybe he and reader are in a secret relationship? And I don’t know I just have this image of Spencer getting frustrated that he can’t find reader and he’s all “BECAUSE I LOVE HER” I don’t know I’m kinda babbling and you can do whatever you want with the request bc your writing is amazing!!

“Spencer! Spencer, help me!”

Those were the last words Spencer heard before you were pushed to the back of a van and taken off into the night.

Spencer was frozen for a moment before the adrenaline kicked in and he ran after you, but he was too late. The car drove off so fast that he never stood a chance. His heart broke when reality set in, where were you being taken? Were you going to be okay? Was he ever going to see you again?

Those were the questions that played over again in his mind as he paced in an office at The BAU. After being treated for some cuts and bruises, Spencer was quick to get back to the line of duty to try and find you. Hotch, however, stopped Spencer from taking another step out the door.

“You need to rest. It’ll do you no good to be out there right now.”

Spencer wanted to fight, he knew you better than anyone else on the team, but with his leg aching he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the search, so he had to stay back.

He felt the taste of blood in his mouth as he was biting his chapped lips so hard they started to bleed. He remembered how you always reminded him to try and quit the habit, a light chuckle left his lips at the memory and he stopped the gnawing so you wouldn’t be too stern with him once you were back.

Or if you were back. No, you had to come back, you just had to, he couldn’t lose you. His anxiety spiked again and he started pacing through the room again, this time with his breathing more irregular.

Penelope noticed Spencer’s actions and quickly moved to try and calm her friend down. She walked to the room and tried to take a hold of Spencer’s arm to try and get him to stop pacing, her fingers caressing his forearms as she tried to get him to take deep breaths.

“Spence, it's okay, we will find her.”

“How? I can’t do anything from here and it’s driving me insane.”

“We’ve found her before and we will do it again just like all the other times.”

“This isn’t like the other times.”

“How?”

“Because I love her!”

Penelope blinked a few times and took in the words Spencer had said. She had her suspicions, which now turned out to be true, but she wished this would’ve been revealed during different circumstances.

You and Spencer had been dating for the past 4 months. With both of you being pretty private individuals you decided to keep the relationship under wraps for the time being, keeping it professional at work and would only attend to more intimate things behind closed doors of each other’s homes.

It was hard at times. There were days when a case was so stressful that both of you needed a break to hold each other, sometimes you’d maybe catch a break when you were in an office by yourselves and you’d press a quick kiss to each other’s lips. It was hard to hide the blush on your cheeks afterwards though and it would’ve been revealed soon enough, namely by Penelope who had gossiped with JJ about her hunch and they were betting to see how long it would take for the secret love birds to announce their feelings.

Apologizing at his outburst, Penelope paid no mind to Spencer’s reaction and pulled him in for a hug, letting him know that she was here for him, the whole team was, and that you would be returned home one way or another.

Hours later, Spencer managed to calm down enough to close his eyes to rest a bit, the only thing keeping him calm was holding onto your sweater. Your scent filled his nose and brought tears to his eyes, when would he be able to hold you again? It was already agony enough that he wasn’t able to have you in his arms during work hours, but now not knowing where you were made his brain work overtime.

His eyes fluttered open when he heard voices coming from outside the office, ecstatic ones it seemed.

Hoping for a miracle, Spencer scrambled to his feet and rushed out the door, his eyes searching for the reason he heard all of the glee. And then he saw it, you.

“Y/N,” Spencer practically ran to you, his arms scooping you into his embrace and holding onto you so tight so he knew he wasn’t hallucinating and that you were really here safe and sound.

“I’m okay Spence.”

Taking your face into his hands, Spencer’s thumbs brushed over the light cuts and bruises on your skin, trying his best not to exacerbate the pain.

“Thank God you’re okay.”

“I thought about you the entire time. You kept me going.”

With teary eyes and a chuckle leaving his lips, Spencer pressed his lips to your forehead in the most gentle way he could. Your arms wrapped around him as you tried to fight off the shaking, resting your head on his shoulder and taking in the warmth of his embrace.

You were safe again, in the arms of the man that meant to you the most.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid au #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid angst

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 4 months ago

Text

but you belong to me

bf!rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader

cw — p in v, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, dumbification, jealousy, rough sex

summary — after rafe sees another guy “flirting” with you, he takes you home to remind you of something.

a/n — currently working on some requests so heres whatever this is. please request more!!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“no, yeah, like i actually did so fucking bad. i got an 84 and almost cried,” your friend, daniel, said dramatically as he spoke to you over the loud music of the party. he shook his head at the thought. “god, i hate that old-ass teacher. he can suck my fucking dick.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him and giggle before taking another sip of your drink. “dude, what are you talking about? that’s not even bad. it’s still a B and i doubt it even dropped your grade.”

unfortunately for you, you could feel rafe’s glare boring into your side as you talked. he was extremely annoyed. he was left wondering what was so insanely interesting that you and this random guy have been talking for 15 minutes already. you looked too engaged in the conversation and you laughed a little too much at what he was saying.

“yo, you good?” topper asked when he noticed his best friend gripping his bottle of beer until his knuckles turned white and his jaw clenched almost painfully hard.

rafe didn’t even spare a glance to him, just continued staring at you. “yeah man, ‘m fine,” he said uninterestedly.

he followed his gaze to where he was looking at you just as you laughed with the boy before chuckling and patting his back. “he’s just some fuckin’ pogue, man. no need to worry ‘bout him.”

“fuck off, top,” he mumbled in annoyance. he never wanted to be interacted with when he was pissed off and this was definitely no exception. unless it was you of course.

while daniel spoke, you finally averted your gaze over to your boyfriend who was still leaned up against the wall like he was when you’d left to get more drinks before being stopped by your classmate. you mentally cursed at yourself. he looked pissed. he nodded over the front door, eyes never leaving yours as he waited for you to follow the silent command.

that was the last thing you could remember from that stupid party. no matter how many times you’d tried to tell your boyfriend that nothing happened, that you were just talking about your grades, he didn’t care or believe that. he knows what he saw and he saw the boy flirting with you.

and that lead you here, face buried into his pillows and your ass up with rafe bullying his cock into your hole with rough hands gripping your hips tight and uncontrollable moans leaving your lips. your nails dug into his bed sheets as you felt the slide of tears run down your cheeks at the overwhelming feeling of his thrusts.

“such a dumb baby,” he mumbled, freezing deep inside you to make you squeal and squirm. “always gettin’ so fucked up ‘nd letting random guys flirt with you huh? can’t even handle your fuckin’ alcohol.”

you cried harder into the sheets as frustration built up inside you from both the situation and the pain of him bottomed out. “di—didn’t have anyone flirting with me, rafe,” you snapped back as sassily as you could manage.

“what was that baby? couldn’t hear you,” he teased in that rude, mocking voice you hated. he pushed his hips further into you, pushing your body to lean forward more and allowing him to press into you at a different angle.

you whimpered and leaned up on your forearms with the last bit of strength you had to look over your shoulder at him. “you’re bein’ mean.”

he jutted his lower lip out and fake pouted. “aw, i’m bein’ mean? so sorry, sweet girl,” he muttered before grabbing your hips and pulling them back to their normal position. he slowly pulled back then pushed forward harshly, making you yelp and jolt forward. he repeated the action multiple times. “maybe this’ll teach you a lesson not to fuck around with other dudes.”

you balled up the sheets and buried your face in them when he began snapping into you quickly. your legs began shaking and threatening to give out under the pressure and rough force of his thrusts. “can you be a good girl and keep yourself up for me, baby?”

after another particularly hard thrust, your body finally collapsed and your cried out when he quickly slipped out of you. you could hear him sigh from behind you. “jesus. went all fuckin’ dumb in me and now i gotta do all the work, right?” he mocked before pressing your legs together and straddling them to then slide back into you.

you squeezed your eyes shut and whimpered at the new sensitivity the angle brought. he leaned forward once he was fully sheathed inside you to grab a pillow and wrap one arm under your hips to lift them up enough to slid it under and ease the pain of your back and hips. the small act of care and kindness made you smile against the mattress.

he began to pound into your used hole from behind just enough to make you scream but not hurt you. “feels good, rafe. ‘s so fuckin’ good,” you babbled mindlessly to let him know you were still here and okay. “so—so deep.”

“yeah? can feel you squeezing around me,” he replied, continuing his punishing pace. “shoulda recorded this shit to show everyone how much of a fuckin’ slut you are once you get my dick inside you. maybe then everyone would stay the fuck away from my girl. maybe i should jus’ knock you up, cum inside this little cunt and have you all swollen with my kid so everyone sees you’re mine.”

you felt yourself involuntarily clench at the words before your legs began to spasm again. “oh! ‘m gonna come, rafe. please, please, please,” you begged for sweet release and he fucked you quicker until he felt you cream around him.

he chuckled and leaned down to kiss between your shoulder blades as you continued to ride through it. “that’s it. feels like fuckin’ heaven around me. best pussy i’ll ever have,” he mumbled against your skin. “i’ve got you, baby. ‘m right here.”

his hands gently kneaded the fat of your ass as you finally came down before swiping the pillow out from under you and pulling out. he rolled you onto your back and took in the sight of your disheveled state. your hair was messy and sticking to your face and up in the air, your cheeks were blushed from the intensity of your orgasm, and your tits were sitting so prettily right in front of him. “so fuckin’ gorgeous, angel. what’d i do to deserve you?”

in contrast to just moments ago, he softly pushed the hair off your face and smoothed it down. he leaned forward to gently suck on your left breast and leave deep colored hickeys along your skin for him to look back at later. while one hand toyed with your other breast, the other lined himself back up with you then pushed himself inside.

you bit your lip and whimpered at the stretch of him. “oh fuck,” you heard him moan against your breast before switching and sucking your other nipple into his mouth. he slowly rocked into you at a much more loving and delicate pace. it wasn’t about punishing you anymore, he just wanted to feel you and be close to you.

you sighed in relief when be began hitting that certain spot inside of you a much more tolerable pace and his pelvis gently rubbed against your clit. it felt like you were starting to see stars with how he’d press against it for prolonged moments. he left wet kisses up your neck and to your jaw then finally your lips. he was leaned up on his forearms at either side of your head while he kissed you softly with that same passionate love he always showed you.

your hands reached up onto his head, searching for something to grab onto only then remembering the buzzcut he now has. you moaned into his mouth when you felt him speed up just slightly while your hands continued to roam for something to hold from the overwhelming pleasure you could feel building up again.

he took hold your hand and intertwined your fingers at the side of your head, letting you squeeze him as tight as you needed as your moans began to pick up and so did his soft pants of breath. “fuck, angel. pussy feels so good,” he whispered breathlessly. “‘m gonna come.”

you hummed in agreement and clenched around him, making him groan and gently suck on the sensitive skin of your neck. “inside, rafe. p—please come inside me,” you moaned, desperate to feel him fill you up.

he mumbled a string a curses before spilling inside you and triggering your own orgasm. he continued softly kissing at your skin and allowing you to squeeze his hand through the pleasure until he finally rode it out for the both of you. “you okay, baby?” he mumbled slightly out of breath.

you nodded and huffed out slow breaths. “mhm, ‘m good,” you replied, still in euphoric bliss.

he slowly laid on top of you as to not crush you with his weight before burying his face in your neck, still inside you. “don’t ever let me catch another dude flirting with you again,” he said against your skin.

you rolled your eyes. “oh fuck off,” you said jokingly while pushing him off of you and out of you then rolling onto your side away from him.

he laughed softly and quickly followed, grabbing your waist to pull you back into his chest to smother your shoulder and neck with wet kisses.

#gracie writes rafe cameron 🌺#rafe cameron imagine #rafe angst #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #drew starkey #outer banks #rafe cameron obx #obx

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eclips-moon · 3 months ago

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Batboys headcanon: What type yanderes they would be

Tim Drake (Red Robin) would totally be the Creepy Genius yandere. He’s super smart and uses that brainpower to keep tabs on you. Think of him as the quiet guy in the corner who knows everything about you—like what your favorite coffee order is or the exact time you leave for school. Tim's all about manipulating situations to make you feel like you need him. He’d engineer little “accidental” run-ins and always be there to save you from awkward moments. If you ever hint at wanting space or breaking up, he’d hit you with guilt trips, saying stuff like, “You wouldn’t really leave me after everything we’ve shared, right?” He’s the kind of yandere who won’t get violent but will definitely mess with your head to keep you close.

Jason Todd (Red Hood) is the Obsessive Protector yandere whose love is intense and chaotic, quickly turning possessive. He follows you around, showing up uninvited when you hang out with friends, claiming it’s to keep you safe. If anyone glances your way, he’ll confront them in a rage, insisting they back off. His jealousy runs deep, and if you hint at wanting to hang out with someone else, he’ll spiral, snapping, “You’re mine, and I won’t let anyone take you away from me!” Jason showers you with gifts, but if you assert your independence, he’ll manipulate you, saying, “I did this because I love you. How could you turn your back on me?” At his worst, he resorts to intimidation or violence, convinced that his love is the only protection you need. To him, love is a battlefield, and he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you by his side.

Damian Wayne (Robin) is the Possessive Prince. This guy sees you as his, and he’s not shy about it. Damian expects loyalty from you, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t stray. He’s the kind of guy who’d tell you who you can hang out with and where you can go. It’s all wrapped up in his twisted idea of love, and he’ll spoil you with fancy gifts, but there are always strings attached. If you even think about breaking free or hanging out with someone else, he’ll flip out and say stuff like, “You belong to me, and anyone who tries to take you away will regret it!” His obsession is intense, and he won’t hesitate to remind you of your place.

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) is the Charming Obsessive. This dude is all about charm and romance, making his love feel like a fairytale—at first. He’ll show up with surprise dates and sweet gifts, making you feel super special. But soon, his overwhelming affection starts to get a little suffocating. If you start feeling like he’s too much, he’ll just brush it off and say he’s just trying to make you happy. Dick honestly believes he’s the only one for you, and if anyone else comes around, he’ll be all smiles while secretly plotting how to keep them away. His jealousy can get intense, but he’ll always put on a charming facade, making it hard to see how deep his obsession runs.

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inlovewrafe · 1 month ago

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I still love you, I promise (pt 2)

pairings: ex!lovers; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia;

warnings: angst; sickness; ed; pregnancy;

"Do you need to sit down?” You hear a muffled voice as you feel your feet beginning to give up on you. "What- What do you mean I'm pregnant?” You ask with a shaky voice. You had a feeling that you were but now that your suspicions are confirmed, and you hear it out loud, you can't believe it. Don't want to believe it. You are denying it. "No, I can't-“ You choke on your words, trying to make sense of what you were going to do. You feel a sharp pain in your heart as you realize. He isn't here. He isn't yours. He is hers.

You realize you will have to raise the baby alone. His baby. You were forever going to have a reminder of him. Every time you'll look at the baby, all you'll see is him.

"What if I don't want the baby? Can't I do anything about it?" You blurt out without even thinking. But as soon as the words leave your mouth you regret ever saying them. “I'm afraid you can't. You are already three months and a half in. Your boy is developing.” You freeze in your spot. "What do you mean boy?” “You are having a baby boy, congratulations!” She gives you a warm smile but you feel your stomach drop. A boy. You were having a boy. 'What will Rafe say when he finds out? Should I tell him?' You were deep in your thoughts when you heard the doctor talk to you again. “That'll be all. We'll schedule an appointment to check on him but we'll do that later on the phone.” “Thank you.”

You made your way towards your car as you stood frozen in your seat. You'll be all alone, raising your baby, while he plays happy couple with Sofia. You took a shaky breath as you pulled out of the parking lot, driving to your house.

When you got there you quickly made your way inside, seeing all of them displayed on the couch. The sound of the door closing made them all look towards where you stood. “Where have you been? Do you know how concerned we were?” Topper yells as he is quick to stand up from the couch. “I know, I'm sorry.” You mumble while fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. Sarah and Rafe spare a concerned glance to each other before they turn their attention back to you. “Sarah I need to talk to you. It's important." You say still fidgeting with the rings. "Yeah, 'course” She replies as she starts walking out of the room, following you.

“What happened? Are you okay?” But you don’t answer, instead you pull her in a hug as she remains confused but squeezes you hard as she reciprocates the hug. “I need to tell you something but you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone, especially not Rafe.” “I promise! What is it?” You take a shaky breath as you say the words out loud. “I’m- I’m pregnant.” You wipe away a single tear that escaped your eye. “WHAT?” She looked at you shocked and excited at the same time. “Shhh” You hush her because you don’t want the boys to find out. “I’m sorry. Is it Rafes?” She asks just to make sure. “Of course, who else’s would it be?” She nodded her head with an obvious expression on her face. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I don’t know what to do, I don’t- He isn’t even- How will I raise-“ You mutter between choked sobs as you panic. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, I’m here for you. You’ll be fine.” She tries to reassure you, but you can’t calm down. You sob into your hands as she pulls you in a hug. “It’s okay, let’s just eat something and we’ll sleep, yeah? We can deal with it tomorrow, okay?” She mumbles as she gives you gentle strokes on your back.

“Okay.” You let out a quiet response as you wipe around your eyes. “Do you want to order something? The boys already ordered when you were out. Or we can make something ourselves.” She gives you a light smile as you plop down on one of the chairs. “We can make some pasta if you want to.” You played with the necklace around your neck. “Yeah, sure, whatever you want.” She smiles as she puts a pot with water on the stove. You get up and take another pot where you can make the sauce in. You pour the sauce in the pan and add some seasonings to it.

After some time, the pasta is ready and you plate it. “Wow, this looks delicious! Ask the boys if they want some, while I wash the dishes, please!” You exit the kitchen and made your way towards the living room where you see the boys caught up in a game.

You clear your throat and all three heads snap towards you. “We made pasta. Want some?”

“Did you poison it, or why are you asking?” Topper raised a brow while snorting.

“No, but I’ll make sure to poison it next time, just for you.” You gave him a wink as you waited for an answer.

“Yeah, sure we’ll have some!”

“Come on then!”

You start walking to the kitchen with Top and Kelce in front of you and Rafe behind. You feel a hand on your wrist starting to pull you back.

“Why were you at the hospital?” He asks still holding your hand.

“I-“ You suddenly felt out of breath at the touch on your arm. You stare at his hand and back up at him, and he quickly lets go of you as if your touch was fire.

“Just had to check something.” You murmured, missing his soft hand on yours.

“Check what?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to look for an answer, but couldn’t come up with anything.

He was still staring at you, waiting for a response.

“What’s going on here?” You hear Sarah’s voice interrupt the silence between you and him.

“Uh, nothing. We were just talking.”

“Okay, come eat! You haven’t eaten anything today! Come on!” She grabbed your hand, leading you to the kitchen where you saw Top and Kelce on their second plate already.

“Oh come on! Leave some for the rest of us.” You laughed as you sat on a chair next to Sarah.

You ate half of the food on your plate when Kelce got up to go and plate a third portion.

“Kelce, chill out man! Do they keep you starved?” Everyone laughed as he sat down with his plate.

“You are the best chef ever! I might come over every day if you are cooking.” He laughed.

After you all finished eating, Rafes phone was buzzing with a few texts from next to you.

He was putting the dishes in the dishwasher with Topper so you though it won’t hurt anyone to sneak a quick glance.

As you glance at the texts with pit in your stomach you start feeling sick. The smile from your previous jokes was replaced by a sad expression as you remained quiet, taking out your phone to scroll on instagram. When you noticed the boys finished with the dishes, and he was walking towards you, you got up from your seat to retreat to your room. You repeat the texts from her over and over in your head with a heavy heart. ‘hey baby’. They were calling each other baby. Yours and his nickname. Now you were truly sick. You rushed past them and upstairs to the bathroom gaining a few concerned looks from your friends.

“What was that?” One of the boys asked but it was silent.

Sarah followed you upstairs and Rafe went to check his phone. He saw a few texts from Sofia but he ignored them. He placed his phone back on the table and raised a brow at nothing in particular.

“What was that? She was fine like a minute ago.”

“I don’t know man, she must’ve seen something on your phone when it buzzed ‘cause she seemed happy like three minutes ago!”

You were fast asleep now with Sarah massaging your scalp while you dreamed of how easy things used to be when it was just you and him.

To be honest in your head it was Rafe that was massaging your scalp while you slept next to him, not Sarah.

“Look at this view! Rafe it’s beautiful!” You said as you admired the beauty surrounding you both.

The salty breeze of the ocean giving you goosebumps as it hugged your skin. The sand and the water colliding together like they were made for each other, while the sky was displaying gold rays of sun making the sand that was sticking to your skin radiate your features more.

“It really is beautiful!” He smiled softly while watching you with only love in his eyes.

This was the moment when he truly knew that you were the one for him. That he loves you.

“I love you!” He said with a genuine and soft voice.

You turned around shocked, unsure if what you hear really came out of his mouth. You were not expecting this.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to kno-“ But before he was able to finish his sentence, your lips crashed onto his, hands going behind his neck, while you got closer on the picnic blanket.

When you pulled away you both were smiling like fools.

“I love you too!” You said without hesitation as he pulled you against his chest. You sat there in a comfortable silence, watching the sunset as you replayed his words over and over in your head with a grin on your face.

You looked over your shoulder again to see what he was doing, but he wasn’t there. You sat up panicked as you started to call out for him, but to no avail. He wasn’t answering.

You looked around desperately but all you could see was a bunch of sand, no track of Rafe.

“Rafe!” You called out again, and again.

“Rafe, where are you?”

“Rafe, please, this is not funny!”

“Rafe, please don’t leave me all alone!”

“Baby, please come back!”

a/n: Hey guys!!! Hope you like the chapter. This is PART 2 of my series IslyIp!! Please leave a feedback so I know if I should keep going and also if you have any requests please lmk!!

#rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #outer banks #rafe x you #rafe fic #rafe imagine #drew starkey obx #drew starkey

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navybrat817 · 6 months ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 7

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 6 | Series Masterlist | Part 8

Chapter Summary: You meet some of the staff at the club and try to reason with one of Bucky's men about your situation.

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, mention of stalking, inner conflict, insecurities, manipulation, possessiveness, flirting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren't sure exactly how far the club was from the bookstore, but you didn't say anything for a minute after his declaration. You’d read stories about instalove before, the accelerated trajectory of feelings and relationships. It wasn't something you thought you’d ever be on the receiving end of. That mixed with a dark antihero.

How was this your life?

Bucky chose to break the silence. “You can change here if you want.”

Your heart rate spiked as you stared at the garment bag. There was a chance that the dress was to your liking, your style. But in the car, it wasn't like you could shield yourself if you undressed. He’d see you. Maybe even try to touch you. Was it worth the risk?

Reaching for it, you took a deep breath and curled your fingers around the hanger. The moment you grabbed it though, you set it right back on the hook. You wouldn't bother unzipping it to take a look. You weren't a doll for him to play dress up with.

“Sorry, Bucky,” you began, shifting to face him. “I’m sure it’s a nice dress, but I'm not wearing it.”

“You sure?” He asked. “You haven’t even seen it.”

“I don't need to see it. You got your way about me going to the club and I think it's fair I get my way about the outfit,” you said. “We both know I could've met your friends another time. It didn't have to be tonight. So they'll meet me like this or not at all."

His eyes snapped to you, pinning you in place as you froze. Giving him an ultimatum over something he may consider trivial wasn't a smart move and it wouldn't be a hill you'd die on, but you needed some sort of win. Part of him had to understand that.

Bucky's lips curled in a small smile, but you still swallowed nervously. “You look stunning to me just as you are,” he said, tracing the collar of your shirt with his fingertip. "Perfect even.”

“What?” You asked. You were far from stunning. “You're really okay with me going into your club like this? I don't think it meets the dress code.” You were lucky your black dress was nice enough to get in the first time.

“And? I said in the bookstore that you can wear whatever you want since you look beautiful in anything, so of course I’m okay with it,” he said, his finger gliding down the middle of your chest. “If you're worried about anyone saying anything, don't be. You’re my girl and my friends and I will shut anyone up who tries to make you feel less than perfect.”

Your eyes widened at the casualness of the threat. There was no reason to threaten anyone on your behalf. You could also hear Marc's voice in the back of your mind, reminding you that Bucky was dangerous. “Bucky, you don't have to do anything.”

“If someone upsets or hurts you, yes, I do,” he said.

Addison was the type of person who would defend you if you were upset or hurt. You would do the same for her. A boyfriend type defending you was entirely different. He could've just said that to make you lower your guard or play on your insecurities. So why did it still sound like he meant it?

You gripped his wrist before his touch could move further down your body. “What if you upset or hurt me?” You asked.

Bucky blinked at your question, an unfathomable look in his eyes. “I promised I’d never hurt you,” he whispered. You were the only one safe from his underlying rage, weren't you? Because something was lurking beneath the surface that you hadn't yet witnessed. “But I'd do whatever I could to make you happy again if I upset you.”

“You realize dragging me to your club didn't make me happy?”

“I didn't drag you. You got into the car with my help,” he teased. When you didn't smile, he sighed. “I'm sorry. You told me you wanted a quiet night and I pushed you to go anyway. I just got so excited for everyone to finally meet the girl of my dreams and…” He shook his head. “That doesn't matter. I should've listened.”

The apology sounded so sincere it threw you for a loop. If gaslighting was an Olympic sport, he could take the gold. Everything about the man had you second guessing just about everything. “I appreciate that,” you said, going with a safe response.

He smiled as the car rolled to a stop. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, his gloved hand taking yours.

You wouldn’t ask how he planned to do that. “Wait,” you said, pulling him back slightly before he could open the door. “Can we just sit here for a second?” You weren’t ready to go into the club. Maybe you could buy yourself another minute or two.

“You're stalling,” he smiled. You didn’t disagree. “We can't stall for too long. The longer we stay, the more it pushes back the evening and I promised you’d be in bed by 10.”

“I just want to talk for another minute. I still don’t feel like I know much about you.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“Things like your family? You said there was a story about your mom,” you said.

A swirl of emotions passed in his eyes, a range of sorrow to anger and even hope. “There is, but I want to tell you that story when it’s just us,” he said. Just the two of you. Alone together. “I will say though that the original club belonged to her before I turned it into The 107th. It helps keep part of her memory alive for me.”

“That’s a beautiful thing,” you said honestly. She clearly meant the world to him. “And your dad?”

“He deserved what he got,” he said, not an ounce of pity or sorrow in his voice.

“Oh.” There was no lost love there. You wouldn’t linger on the topic since that was likely another story for another time. “Can you tell me why your left hand is always covered? You said I'd never be a mistress, but are you covering up a wedding ring or something?”

The storm raged in his eyes again and you had to keep yourself from shrinking back when he wrapped a hand around your neck. Your heart pounded as he applied a light amount of pressure, but he didn't squeeze any further. Would anyone help you or care if you tried to scream? “Do you feel a ring beneath the leather?”

“No,” you whispered, your eyes shutting when he leaned in.

His breath fanned across your lips. “I told you before that you’re the only one I see,” he whispered. “So when I do wear a ring on that finger, it’ll be on our wedding day.”

You let out something like a whimper when his thumb rubbed along your pulse. While you wanted to stall before, the car now felt too small. Too hot. You wouldn't be able to breathe if you stayed in there much longer. “I think we waited long enough to go inside,” you whispered.

Both of you sighed when he let go of your neck. “I think we did, too,” he agreed, taking your hand again. “But before I forget, you owe me a picture of you since I found you.”

You glared at him since you hoped he’d forget about that, but he only smirked before he helped you out of the car. Parked right in front of the club, you nearly jumped when you saw Raymond standing close by, his gaze flickering between you and his boss. “Hey, Ray,” you said as Bucky pulled you along.

Raymond said your name in reply as he followed close. There were already a few people lined up to get in, but your attention was on the bright sign of The 107th. It welcomed you. Taunted you. You had a feeling you were going to become very familiar with the ins and outs of this place.

“Let’s go, Kotyonok,” Bucky whispered. You hadn't realized you stopped walking until he slipped his arm around your waist and guided you forward.

Bucky nodded to the doorman and walked tall with you beside him. Of course he wasn't nervous. He had no reason to be. This was one of his castles and he was the king. And he chose a peasant to be by his side. A peasant he wanted to make his queen.

The music vibrated through the floor as you went inside and bypassed the coat check. The sound grew louder as you approached the main floor and watched the crowd, all dressed to impres. The lights bathed everyone in red and it felt like you had walked into a sensual version of Hell. And Bucky, the devil of the establishment, tugged you closer by the waist, but he might as well have put a collar around your neck to show everyone that you were his pet.

“Breathe,” he said close to your ear, making it hard to exhale. You were out of your element, the territory somewhat terrifying since you weren't in the company of your friends this time around. At least your legs weren't shaking. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.

“Maybe later,” you replied over the music.

“Then let me introduce you to some of the staff. And don't worry. They know who you are,” he said. Before you could respond to that and ask what exactly they knew about you, he turned you back toward the way you came and waved a couple of men over. Your breath caught in your throat when they approached. Both wore a black top and pants and were as large as Bucky and looked just as dangerous.

“This is Ari,” Bucky said, nodding to the darker haired man who had a scowl on his handsome face. “And this is Jax.” The blonde smirked when you made eye contact with him. “They’re two of my best bouncers and they’ll help keep an eye on you when you're not with me.”

You scooted closer to Bucky on instinct when both of them stared at you, but you didn't lower your gaze. Their looks could never be as penetrating as the man who owned this place. “Keep an eye on me? Are you my babysitters?” You asked. Would they watch your every move, too, and report back to Bucky?

Ari didn't smile, but the scowl softened. Jax, however, chuckled. “Guess you could say that, but we don't mind,” he said, his grin flirty and eyes twinkling as your cheeks warmed. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, darlin’.”

“Jax,” was the only thing Bucky said, his fingers digging a bit more into your side. Ray gave the bouncer a warning glance, too.

Jax shrugged. “Just being polite,” he smiled. The man likely had people hanging all over him during his shifts with his charm. He probably wouldn't have looked at you twice under normal circumstances, but you smiled back anyway.

“I appreciate the politeness,” you said.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not being polite. You're flirting with my girl,” he said to Jax, your smile falling immediately when the air around you thickened.

“Just being polite,” he said again, not at all bothered by the look his boss gave him.

“Nice to meet you,” Ari cut in, his voice deep and even. People probably hit on him, too. And as domineering as they were, you felt an odd sense of security.

“It’s nice to meet you both. Hopefully you won't have to babysit me too much,” you said, glancing at Bucky. His fingers were still digging into your side, his muscles tense. Was he jealous? “Breathe,” you urged, giving him the same instruction he gave you moments ago.

The bouncers each had a look of surprise on their faces when Bucky listened and slowly exhaled. “Okay. Thank you,” Ray said, gesturing for them to get back to work. “Boss?”

Bucky’s hold on your relaxed a bit. “Let’s introduce you to Hal and then we’ll go to my office,” he said.

“Office?”

“Quieter than the VIP section,” he explained.

You weren't sure if people recognized Bucky or if it was just the aura of power that he gave off, but people moved out of the way without prompting as he led you toward the bar. He smiled as he did so, completely at ease in his domain. “You know, I don't need babysitters,” you told him.

“You need people to look out for you, especially if you’re with me,” he said.

“Because you’re dangerous,” you said. You’d eventually have to find out why. “Once again, you aren't giving me a choice.”

“When it comes to your safety, I can't,” he stated unapologetically. You grit your teeth as he took you to the bar where a couple of bartenders were working. You didn't pay much attention to the guy at the other end since the one right in front of you had no shirt on, his toned torso on full display.

“This is Hal. Our top bartender.”

“Hey!” The bartender flipped his light brown hair back and flashed you a smile almost as bright as his tan. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Again?” You repeated, nodding as your mind flashed back to Addison’s bachelorette party. “That’s right. You gave my friend a shot before we went into the VIP section. You have a great memory.”

“I’m good with faces and you have a very pretty face,” he smiled.

The attention from his staff was dizzying. It wasn't anything you were used to. What was it going to be like when you met everyone else? You felt so lost.

“First Jax, now you,” Bucky muttered. For a split second, you thought he would try to cover your eyes. “Would you put your fucking shirt back on and stop hitting on my girl?”

“Oh, c’mon. I'll put it on after my shift. This is getting me tons of tips already and will only continue through peak time.” Hal winked at you and you tried to smother a laugh. Between Jax and Hal, you wondered if the two of them had a bet going to see who could make their boss snap. If so, they were brave.

“Bucky, I’m not looking at Hal’s abs,” you said.

The bartender snorted when his boss's eye twitched. “Just get back to work,” he grumbled, stepping a couple of feet away from you to speak to Ray.

“You can look. I won't tell,” Hal smiled, leaning on the bar. “Boss man said you’d make an appearance tonight.”

“And here I am,” you smiled, leaving out that it wasn't by choice.

“Is there anything I can get you? Your drinks are always on the house.”

“I’m fine for-” A man in a blue suit elbowed his way in before you could finish. “Excuse me.”

The guy sneered at you as he gave you a once over. “Ugly underdressed bitch,” he said, making you flinch before he snapped his fingers at Hal.

You glanced down at your clothes, your throat tight. You stubbornly refused to wear the dress Bucky got you on principle, but the jerk’s comment was another reminder that you didn’t belong there. What would prompt someone to be so rude?

“Hey!” The guy snapped at Hal again when he didn’t serve him right away.

The bartender smiled, but it didn't look right as he stood back to his full height. Had he heard what the guy said? “You know, it’s not nice to interrupt a lady, John. Maybe you should apologize.”

“Fuck that,” the guy, John apparently, scoffed. He must’ve frequented the place enough if Hal knew the guy's name and you weren't about to cause a scene. A complete stranger shouldn’t make you feel bad anyway.

Hal’s smile disappeared completely. “Do you know who she’s here with?”

“It’s okay, Hal. Thanks,” you said, your burning eyes on the floor as you moved back to Bucky’s side. You didn't want to be there. You didn’t belong there. Why couldn't you just-

“You okay, Kotyonok?” Bucky asked, lifting your chin with a look of concern. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” you answered, giving him a tight-lipped smile. You just wanted the night to be over. “Can we go to your office, please?”

Bucky intently searched your face, something dark taking over his eyes as your heart raced. “Ray?”

“Boss?”

“Quick change of plans. You take her upstairs and wait outside my office,” he ordered, swiping his thumb along your cheek. “I think Hal and I need to have a quick chat before I join you.”

“Hal didn’t do anything,” you said quickly. He was a sweet guy from what you could tell and he didn’t need to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s anger for something insignificant.

“But someone did,” Bucky guessed, his eyes still dark when you didn’t deny it. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised, ushering you toward Ray.

“Bucky, it’s fine,” you said over your shoulder, but he had already waved Hal over to speak to him.

“This way, please,” Ray said, leading you away from the bar.

Before you knew it, he took you up a flight of stairs and down a corridor, the decor sleeker than the main floor. The closed double doors at the end of the hall you could only assume was Bucky’s office since Ray had you stop just outside of them. You took a breath and leaned against the wall. Though you could feel the beat of the music against your back, it was much quieter. Less crowded. You didn’t feel completely overwhelmed.

“What’s he going to do?”

“Depends on what or who upset you.”

“You’re my girl and my friends and I will shut anyone up who tries to make you feel less than perfect.

You took a moment to look at the bodyguard as he stood against the opposite wall. Stoic. Pristine. “What am I doing here, Ray?” You sighed. This wasn’t your scene. It wasn’t your world.

“Meeting some of the boss’s staff and friends,” he answered.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant… God, I don’t even know what I mean,” you groaned and wondered how long it would be before Bucky joined you. “But I don't belong here.”

“Yes, you do,” he said.

Why in the world would he think that? “How long have you worked for Bucky?” You asked. It wasn’t that you wanted to really talk, but you didn’t want to let your mind race while you waited.

“A few years now,” he replied.

“You’ve seen him date people then. Has he stalked any of his past girlfriends that you’re aware of or am I the unlucky one?” You asked. Bucky told you he tried to go the traditional dating route and that the last woman he saw tried to rob him.

“You’re the only person he has gone to extremes for,” Ray carefully answered.

“Extremes. You mean stalking,” you said. Did that make you feel better or worse that it was just you? “So, you’re fully aware that he stalked me. And that he plans to move me into his place.”

Ray gave you a single nod, though you wouldn’t say he looked proud. “I am.”

“Can you stop him?” Your stomach dropped when he shook his head. “Why not?”

“You can’t stop or delay the inevitable. He wants you and I’m afraid that’s that,” he said.

Incredulity crossed your face. He sounded like Bucky, but this was somehow worse. Did he not see that his inaction helped upheave your life? “Oh, it’s that simple, huh? Bucky wants me, so he gets me? Did you even try to stop him when he began to do ‘research’ on me?”

“No,” he stated. One simple word that held so much weight.

“What the hell?” Fury seared through you as you pushed yourself off the wall. “You didn’t think to step in and at least tell him, I don’t know, that stalking is crazy and wrong and illegal?!”

Ray blinked and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You think he’d listen to me?”

Your fury didn’t dissipate, but you did step back. “Well. I assumed…”

“That what? That we’re friends? He may respect my opinion from time to time and he may consider me a friend, but he’s my employer first and will not hesitate to remind me of that,” he said, glancing down the hall. “And perhaps it is not my place to say so, but as wrong as it is this is the happiest I've ever seen him. You ground him.”

“So, as long as he’s happy, it doesn’t matter what he does?” You asked, feeling more hopeless by the second. “Why am I bothering? You don’t care.”

There was no reasoning with Bucky nor his men. At this point, you were going around in circles. It was exhausting.

Ray blinked again. “You assume I don't care because I’m not stopping him. His methods are unconventional, sure, but he just wanted your full attention.”

“There are other less creepy ways to get my attention.”

“Are there? You know what we found when we researched you?” He asked rhetorically. “You never go out. You're either home or at work. When you’re at work, you don't give a second glance to any of the men who come in. Where was he supposed to naturally meet you?”

“That doesn't…” Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to weep. Being a homebody shouldn’t be a tool to use against you or used as a means to manipulate you. “I went out with my friends. And he flat out said ‘where’s the fun in that’ when I asked why he didn't just ask me out. Stop making excuses for him.”

It was no wonder Bucky did whatever he wanted unchecked.

“You went out with friends who are all in relationships and aren't interested in meeting anyone. So you didn't go out of your way to meet others which no one is faulting you for. Breaking in was a bit much, but he was desperate and took drastic steps to get to and keep you,” he said. He spoke like it was natural, logical. “You're afraid. I know. But you’re the one in his eyes. If you try to run, we’ll be forced to catch you. Is that really what you want?”

Your hands shook. “I just want normalcy.” Was that so wrong?

“And you wanted someone to love you. So did he,” he said with more gentleness than you expected. “There’s always some madness in love.”

“And between love and madness lies obsession,” you said. That’s what Bucky was to you: obsessed. “Why am I the one? Why is he so desperate to have me?”

The bodyguard considered your question. “Does there have to be one reason? He has no family left. Work and friends can only take so much of the emptiness away,” he said, glancing down the hall again.

You bit your lip. “When you dug into my life, was there something specific that set me apart from anyone else he ever encountered? An incident or anything?”

Bucky convinced himself you were his soulmate, mind, body, heart, and soul. Ray stood across from you and stated he was happy since you were in his life, the happiest he had ever been. But why? Was the man obsessed simply because you were you or was there a piece of the puzzle you were missing?

“That’s not for me to tell, but I can say he’s devoted to you and you only.” He glanced down the hall again before he straightened up. Was there something for Bucky to tell you then? “Be angry with me if you wish, but know that I’m not just looking out for my boss now. I’m looking out for you, too. We all will.”

You heard Bucky’s footsteps as he walked toward you, but your eyes remained on his bodyguard. “Okay,” you whispered. Ray wasn’t going to help you any further. Not tonight.

Bucky stood in front of you, effectively blocking your view of Ray. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“I hope Hal isn’t in any sort of trouble,” you said.

Bucky gave you a wolfish smile, energy buzzing around him. “Not at all. In fact, I’m giving him a raise,” he said, slipping his arm back around you. What did the bartender tell him exactly and what did he do in response? “I do want to warn you before we go in, they may stare since they’re not used to meetings like this.”

“What, they’re not used to you having someone on your arm?” You asked. You found that hard to believe.

“They’re not used to me having someone I’d burn the world down for,” he said proudly, nodding for Ray to open the doors. “All you’d have to do is give me the match.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, gulping when you heard the chatter and laughter inside.

Once again, you were the lamb going into the lion’s den. But you could do this. You just had to mingle a bit longer and then you could go on your way. Bucky swore he’d have you home and you’d hold him to it.

The moment Bucky took you into the office, all conversations ceased. The men appeared relaxed, like they weren't aware of or didn’t care about the aura that surrounded the man beside you. He was right though. They all stared. Including a man with a pair of blue eyes you recognized.

The man who bought tulips from your shop.

“It’s good to see you again,” Steve smiled.

With a sinking heart, you began to accept that there really was no escaping Bucky Barnes.

Sorry to cut this off before meeting the rest of the friends, but it was a natural stopping point. And we'll find out what happens to John in the next part. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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demonpiratehuntress · 2 months ago

Text

bug trouble (Straw Hats + Ace, Law, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader

summary - you ask them to remove a spider because you are afraid.

warnings - none

a/n - im approaching 1k followers, so as a thank you to all of you, whom i greatly appreciate ❤, please let me know what you think i should do as a special event!

EDIT - someone reminded me that Usopp is actually not afraid of spiders, so im sorry if it is inaccurate. i write for a few fandoms at the moment so it's hard for me to remember some of these things especially for characters that im not romantically interested in. please just bear with it 🙏🏽

ZORO

Zoro is woken up from yet another attempted nap by the sound of two very familiar screams. He groans, already knowing what that entails, but forces himself up anyway because one of those screams came from you.

Sure enough, when he walks into the dining area he sees you and Usopp on top of the table, holding onto each other and shaking as you cried. This earned another sigh from the swordsman, who almost didn't want to ask what was going on.

You didn't give him a choice, wailing, "There's a spider on the floor!"

Zoro heaved another sigh. If it was just Usopp, he'd have left him on his own until one of the other crewmembers took pity on him. But it was you as well, and he promised to protect you, so...

"Where is it?"

"There!" Usopp pointed.

"Where?"

"Turn around!"

He turned to the left.

"No, completely around!"

He did a 180, ending up facing the right now.

"Zoro!" You cried. "Take this seriously!"

"I am! But I don't see it!"

You opened your mouth to say something, but stopped short when the massive bug climbed onto the kitchen table with you and the sharpshooter. Usopp promptly fainted, and you screamed and fell off the table.

Now catching sight of the spider, Zoro stalked over and just casually impaled it with one of his swords, before going outside and dropping it into the ocean. When he returned, you got up happily like nothing had happened and ran over to hug him, squeezing him in your arms.

"Thank you!!" You beamed, kissing his cheek before rejoining Usopp and continuing whatever conversation you'd been having with him before the spider came.

"No," Zoro grabbed your wrist and pulled you away, "For that, you have to nap with me."

"You say that like it's a punishment," you laughed.

He did not let you go for the rest of the day.

ACE

Truth be told, there were a lot of people aboard the Moby Dick that you could ask to get rid of the spider. Literally anyone passing by. But your predicament right now needed Ace specifically, because you were hiding in your bathroom with nothing on but a towel wrapped around your figure.

Someone had heard your cry for Ace and retrieved your boyfriend, who raced to your room when he heard you needed him. He burst into your shared room with misplaced enthusiasm, thinking of a completely different need.

"Ace?" You called, and you sounded like you were scared.

"Baby? What's wrong?" He asked worriedly, rushing over to the door. "Are you okay?"

"No!" You cried, "There's a spider in the room!"

"Huh? A spider?" He repeated, then saw something crawl across the floor. "Babe that thing is huge! You're on your own."

"ACE!" You yelled. "I swear to-"

"Relax, I was kidding," he laughed. "I'll handle it baby. Sit tight."

You had no idea what he did with it, hopefully he threw it overboard, but you opened the bathroom door just a sliver to take a peek. Ace was just coming back into the room, and you watched him approach the door.

"Okay, you can come out now baby," he cooed. "It's gone."

You sighed in relief and opened the door completely, wrapping your boyfriend up in the tightest hug you'd ever given him. Your towel slipped, but you didn't care.

"It was so big," you complained into his neck. "My hero."

He puffed his chest out proudly, engulfing you in his strong arms, "Anything for my pretty baby. But I think I deserve some kisses."

"I think so too," you smiled when you pulled back, then proceeded to pepper kisses all over his face, ending with a deep, slow and loving kiss on his lips.

SANJI

The moment your scream rang out through the ship, the cook dropped whatever he had been doing to rush to your aid. He was panicked himself upon hearing your cry for help, wondering what had gotten to you while everyone was busy. When he burst into your room, you were on your bed, curled up in the furthest corner against the wall.

"My love, what happened?" Sanji asked you worriedly, coming closer. "Are you hurt?"

"No. Just scared," you told him, trembling slightly.

"Why are you scared? Is there something in your room?" But even as he asked that question, he scanned your room and couldn't find what might have gotten this reaction out of you.

"There's a spider on the wall behind you," you offered weakly.

Your boyfriend turned around to see what must have been the biggest spider he had ever encountered. Now he understood your reaction. He, too, trembled in fear at the sight. But he was your boyfriend, he needed to protect you.

"Sanjiiiiii!" You whined when he just stood there. "It's moving!"

"Have no fear my love, I will take care of it!"

And then he ran out of the room. Leaving you to cry, terrified by the fact that now your boyfriend had abandoned you. Stupid, huge spider.

Sanji came running back in moments later, however, holding a pan. You gape at him, wondering how that was supposed to help, before he threw it at the massive eight-legged creature. This only pissed it off, and it started moving. Sanji screamed, grabbed you and sprinted out of the room again.

"Sanji!"

"I have a plan b!"

His plan b was, in fact, Nami. She had to go in and remove the spider, and Sanji felt terrible. He failed you as a boyfriend.

"Thanks for at least trying," you laughed when you finally calmed down, kissing his cheek. "It was pretty brave of you, considering you're also afraid of them."

His eyes bugged out of his head, heart-shaped, "Anything for you, my love!"

LUFFY

When Luffy heard you crying for his help he thought that you were being attacked. He rushed to help you, because you never cried for help like that unless you were truly terrified. And when he got to where you were, in the bathroom, he stopped dead when he saw you in the corner with your towel around your body, staring at something in the sink.

"(Name), what's wrong?" He asked you, confused. He didn't see an immediate threat.

"Look in the sink," you answered, voice shaky.

Your captain approached the sink, his eyes going wide when he spotted the spider, "Oooh, cool!"

"Luffy!" You cried. "Get it out of here!"

"But why?" He turned to look at you. "It can't hurt you."

"Luffy please!" You squealed, curling up into yourself and hiding your face. "You know I hate spiders!"

He pouted, not seeing the problem, but since you were so bothered by it he picked up the spider like it was nothing, and turned to you. You screamed and fainted on the spot, and Luffy panicked. He ran out and threw the spider overboard before running back to you.

"(Name)!" He picked you up and shook you, thinking that would wake you up.

You did wake up, but not when he shook you. He had taken you to Chopper, towel and all, and you screeched as you sat up and covered yourself, "Luffy!"

"(Name)!" He grinned, "You're awake!"

"You brought me here in my towel?!"

"I was worried!" He answered. "Besides, Chopper didn't look. He told me you just fainted and would wake up soon."

"You showed me a spider," you shivered. "Of course I fainted."

"I'm sorry," he apologised sincerely. "I won't do it again."

"You better not."

LAW

You try to keep your terror to yourself, not wanting to bother or irritate Law. He was busy, so you figured you had to do this yourself. It was absolutely horrifying, sitting on the table and staring at the eight-legged creature you would eventually have to remove.

Bepo was your saving grace, or at least you thought so until he also got scared and quickly left the room. Fortunately, he ran into Law who was looking for you, and told the captain that a spider was holding you hostage.

"A...spider," Law repeated incredulously, then sighed and made his way to the room you were stuck in. "Where is it?"

You were too busy trying to throw your shoes at it that you hadn't noticed Law enter. He frowned when he saw your eyes glistening and your form trembling.

"(Name)-ya."

You finally looked up, sighing in relief when you saw him, "Please help me, Law."

You sounded so terrified, that your boyfriend found it difficult to be annoyed. You didn't have to be afraid, you shouldn't be, not when you have him around. So, worried that you might pass out from fear, he just room, shambled it into the ocean, a shell taking its place on the floor.

You finally breathed, relaxing as you got off the table, "Thank you, Law. I'm sorry for disturbing you."

He came over to you and, in a rare display of affection, hugged you and kissed the top of your head. He said nothing, but his actions comforted you and you slowly calmed down.

And in that moment you knew he would always be there to help you, regardless of what he was doing. That proved his love, better than words ever could.

KAKU

Kaku returned home to find you were not in the kitchen like you usually were, ready to greet him with dinner and a kiss. In fact, dinner hadn't even been started, and this struck Kaku as extremely odd. Cautiously, he made his way upstairs only to hear things being thrown around and multiple crashes and thuds.

He burst into the room thinking you were under attack, only to see you running around room crying and tossing things over your shoulder. He couldn't see anything wrong, until he looked down and noticed a massive spider following you.

"Kaku!" You sobbed in relief when you spotted him. "Can you please get rid of this demon?"

He chuckled at your name for it, "Of course, sweetheart."

Your eyes almost bugged out of your head as he, with absolutely no hesitance, bent down and grabbed the spider by its legs. He stood up with it and you yelped and tumbled backwards onto your bed as he took the eight-legged creature outside.

"Is that better?" He smiled at you sweetly when he returned.

"Much," you smiled back, relaxing again, "Thank you, baby." You got up and walked over to him, kissing him sweetly. "Now let me go make you the biggest, best dinner you've ever had."

"I'll help," he offered, ever the sweetheart.

"No, no, no," you shook your head, taking his hand and leading him downstairs. "My hero gets to sit there and look handsome."

He chuckled again, his cheeks going pink at the praise.

USOPP

This guy...is on the table with you. Seriously, when you screamed and he came running, he took one look at the floor before he jumped so high that he ended up with you on the table. He was shivering and shaking more than you were, and you gave him an 'are you kidding me' look.

"Hey! Those things are freaky!" He defended himself.

You rolled your eyes, "Okay, but now who's going to save us?"

"...I didn't think this through."

"No, you did not."

The two of you sat there for a while, wondering who you could call and who would actually come help if you did. Meanwhile, the spider stayed where it was, taunting you both.

"I mean I could...hit it with a flaming star?" He suggested.

"And risk burning the floor? And the ship?"

"Right..."

"Throw something else at it," you told him. "Ooh, throw your shoe."

"I'm not throwing my shoe! You throw yours!"

"You were the one who got us in this situation!"

"But you-"

Robin walked into the room at that moment, only to stop when she noticed the two of you cowering on the table. She looked at the spider, then at you two, and laughed.

"Do you guys need some help?"

"Yes please!" You both begged.

Robin used her devil fruit power to get the spider out, making a trail of arms that eventually led overboard.

"Thanks, Robin," you smiled, which she returned before leaving. You whirled on Usopp, about to ask what that was when you noticed how pale he had gone. "Come on, let's go get your mind off the spider."

You took his hand and led him away, shaking your head.

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charredpages · 9 months ago

Text

[Alt text] ten screenshots of text posts by the user themme_fatale on Instagram. The text reads:

(1/10)

Do you remember the exact moment that anti-masking stopped being a far-right talking point

And became advice you were willing to follow?

(2/10)

I try to make the ways I communicate about COVID as compassionate and non-judgemental as possible because I understand that we have all been failed in this and my primary anger is always upwards.

BUT

I also need you to understand - if you are not taking precautions, you are aligning yourself with eugenicists.

The person who actively says “fuck disabled people they deserve to 💀” and never masks, and the person who never masks because “It’s annoying and besides-no one else is” are BOTH devaluing people’s lives.

(3/10)

And that might feel confronting for some of you, and I know the knee-jerk reaction is probably going to be to deflect by accusing me of “shaming people” or whatever.

I’m not shaming anyone though - it’s just uncomfortable to sit with because if you’re the kind of person who follows me chances are you don’t actually want to be engaging in eugenics.

And re-engaging with the idea that COVID is not only still around, but still actively dangerous is asking a lot of you when the alternative is the comfort of denial.

Especially when so many of the tools to keep ourselves and each other safe have been taken away from us. But the thing is none of that is actually a reason not to act.

(4/10)

There are people IN YOUR COMMUNITY relying on you to take precautions so that they don’t d1e.

(5/10)

With love, and compassion for the fact that this shit is hard - ignorance is running out as an excuse. It’s time to do better, and help your mates do better too.

People in your community shouldn’t have to constantly remind you not to put their lives in danger. Surely you can see that’s a pretty fucked up dynamic, right?

(6/10)

We shouldn’t have to push so hard on “it’s good for you to protect yourself too!” Like it still absolutely is, but saving the lives of people in your community should actually be enough to motivate you to act.

It’s genuinely fucked up to be ok with a whole proportion of the population being either being locked in their homes indefinitely or at risk of 💀 on the daily.

(7/10)

It should be considered more socially awkward to engage in eugenics by k1lling and isolating disabled people in your own community than it is to put on a mask

The fact that it’s not should embarrass all of us until we change it.

(8/10)

It should be considered more selfish to put people’s lives at risk than to ask to be kept safe

Your choices can change or reinforce that culture.

(9/10)

Government inaction puts a weapon in your hand

Pretending it’s not there puts us all in danger

(10/10)

Why do you require a mandate to care about other people?

#it makes me nervous posting this #but the friends I have on here are some of the people I trust the most #like OP says #this is coming from a place of compassion #and as much as I want to be #we’re not don’t with covid yet #covid #covid 19 #long covid #covid conscious #covid is airborne #covid isn't over

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 6 days ago

Text

"Buck's still baking."

There's a long pause following these words, though they've been uttered in such an alarming way. Apart from that, Tommy can't make sense of it.

"He's ... baking?"

"Yeah, well, you know," Howie stretches each word, he's chewing on them.

"I sure don't," says Tommy.

"Wait, has nobody told you?"

Disbelief is dripping from Howie's voice now, and Tommy can only bite his lips to not remind him of the obvious: no, nobody has told Tommy anything about Buck in the past months, and he's not dared to ask. That's the uncomfortable truth, and since he doesn't really know where his and Howie's friendship is to place right now, he doesn't say it. He doesn't need to, because Howie is quick to talk on.

"He's been baking since you two broke up," he explains, as if that would explain anything. "Breads and cakes and pies and whatever, he's just not stopping. At first, he said it distracted him from calling you, but now I'm not so sure."

Oh, thinks Tommy. His mind doesn't stop there, he did want to call me? Why didn't he? Why did he need distraction? What does it all mean? It's an endless cycle of why's, and his stomach kind of hurts about all the missed opportunities. His own fingers have typed messages, almost on their own, so many times. He's deleted them all.

"And now," Howie continues, "now Eddie's gone, and he said Buck came by to say goodbye and he brought him some cookies. He's made cookies for Eddie, so he's still baking, and Tommy, we can't take it anymore."

"You can't take it anymore?"

He's thinking about the constant ache, that Evan-shaped gap in his heart and mind and how it never went away, never got any smaller. Weeks turned into months, but the pain persisted, like caries eating away at teeth, gnawing away more and more of the enamel because it wants to get to the core. And the core, well. The core is his feelings, Tommy knows that. He's just not sure what Howie understands of all this. Why he would care.

"No. Our fridge is packed, the cupboards are loaded, Tommy, he doesn't stop baking, and we're paying for it! He's at our door all the time, not only at ours, he's been baking for Hen and Bobby and the whole dispatch and ... everybody, really. But it still doesn't stop. There's tons of baked goods!"

"You... you called me because you're sick of cake?" Tommy asks, he can't believe it.

"The cake is a lie!" Howie almost screams now, close to hysterical. "Why are you two not talking? You need to talk."

He calms down a bit, takes a deep breath before adding, "It's not the cake, Tommy. It's ... he's sad. He's unhappy. He's not well."

"I can't fix him," Tommy snaps.

"You're sure about that?"

Yeah, Tommy, are you?

"Look, Howie, I don't really know what you expect me to do."

"Talk to him," he replies, as if it were really that simple.

But isn't it?

"You're guilt-tripping me because I'm the one who left," Tommy says.

What he thinks, however, is that it's been months, how can Evan still be unhappy? How can he still be sad? The answer is obvious.

"Yeah, does it work?" Howie replies. "Because we don't know what else to do, Tommy. At least talk to him. I know you want to."

That's bold.

"Why would you say that?"

There's a typical Howie-laughter, a low chuckle close to a crack.

"I got friends at your station," he claims, which is probably not true, but Howie is a prankster. Howie knows how to pry into secrets. "So I know," he continues, "that you pounce on every hour of overtime. You've slept in the hangar. You're not dating anyone. You're on some strange diet that is apparently so time-consuming that you haven't had an after-work beer since you broke up. Shall I go on?"

Tommy curses at the satisfaction in Howie's voice, but what can he say? All of that is true (and some is a lie, and Howie knows it).

"All of this means ..."

Don't say it, thinks Tommy.

"... Buck's still got a chance."

That's not quite the right conclusion, because he never not had a chance. This is Tommy thinking he didn't have another, that he didn't deserve it.

"Please," Howie pleads, "we don't need more breads and cakes. And Buck deserves to be happy again. You know he was happy with you, right?"

This is not Tommy's fault. And it is Tommy's fault. And maybe, maybe it's just a big misunderstanding. Something adults can work on, even if they - he - said some hurtful things.

"You think he would bake me some cookies?" he asks, and he's not even joking.

#BuckTommy #bucktommy fic #my fics #I don't know what this is but it was on my fingertips and it needed to come out real quick #tevan #kinley #tommy kinard #howard han #911 fanfic

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 2 months ago

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The Emperor’s Gaze Part 2

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Maid! reader

Warnings: Fluff, smut, Caracella being an ass

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy! I unintentionally made this a series and I love it-

Word Count: 3.8k

Masterlist | Previous Next

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The days following your time in the garden blurred into a strange mix of normalcy and heightened awareness. While you carried out your usual tasks, your mind wandered back to the emperor’s words, his touch, and the way he had looked at you—as though you were the only person in the world who mattered.

The garden had become your sanctuary. He summoned you there often, under the guise of needing someone to help with tasks like arranging flowers or cleaning the statues. Yet, you both knew it was an excuse.

He didn’t just speak to you as an emperor to a servant. He asked about your life—your family, your dreams, your fears. Slowly, your guarded responses began to crack, and you found yourself sharing pieces of yourself that no one else knew.

In turn, he shared fragments of his own life. He spoke of the weight of the crown, the constant fear of betrayal, and the loneliness that came with power. For all his authority, Geta was just a man, burdened by expectations and longing for something real.

But not everyone was blind to your growing connection.

One evening, as you returned to the servants’ quarters after another day spent in his presence, you were cornered by one of the senior maids. She was older, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of your flushed cheeks and the faint smile you hadn’t realized you wore.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, girl,” she hissed, her voice low but cutting.

You blinked, startled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me,” she snapped. “The emperor may have taken a liking to you, but do you think that makes you safe? There are people in this palace who would kill to gain his favor—or to destroy it.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine. You tried to brush past her, but she grabbed your arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

“Whatever he’s promised you, remember this: you’re replaceable. Don’t get too comfortable.”

You yanked your arm free, her words echoing in your mind as you hurried away. That night, sleep eluded you, the weight of her warning pressing heavily on your chest.

The next day, as you worked quietly in the garden, Geta noticed your unease immediately.

“You’re quiet today,” he observed, watching you as you arranged a vase of flowers.

“I’m always quiet,” you replied softly, not meeting his gaze.

“Not like this,” he said, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him. But the concern in his eyes, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you—it made it impossible to lie.

“Someone warned me,” you admitted finally, your fingers trembling as they adjusted the flowers. “They said I’m… replaceable. That being near you puts me in danger.”

His expression darkened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. “Who said this to you?”

You shook your head quickly. “It doesn’t matter. They’re right, aren’t they? I don’t belong here, my lord. I don’t belong with you.”

His hand shot out, gently but firmly grabbing yours and stilling your movements. “Y/N, look at me.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. His jaw was set, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity.

“No one decides where you belong but you—and me,” he said firmly. “Do you think I’d let anyone harm you?”

“It’s not just about harm,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to be used to hurt you, either. I don’t want to be a weakness for you.”

His grip tightened on your hand, though his touch remained gentle. “You’re not a weakness. You’re a reminder of the man I want to be. And if anyone thinks they can use you against me, they’ll learn how wrong they are.”

You swallowed hard, his words both comforting and terrifying. How could he be so certain? How could he promise to protect you in a palace full of schemers and spies?

Before you could respond, the distant sound of voices reached your ears. Geta’s head snapped up, his expression hardening.

“Come,” he said, pulling you toward a hidden alcove tucked behind a wall of ivy.

You barely had time to protest before a group of noblemen entered the garden, their voices loud and full of laughter. Geta’s grip on your hand remained firm as he pressed you into the shadows, his body shielding yours from view.

“Your Majesty,” one of the men called, scanning the garden. “Are you here?”

Geta sighed quietly, his breath brushing against your temple. “Stay here,” he murmured, his voice low. “Don’t move until I come back.”

You nodded, your heart racing as he stepped out of the alcove, his demeanor shifting instantly to that of the confident, commanding emperor.

“Gentlemen,” he greeted, his tone light but firm. “What brings you here?”

As the noblemen launched into a discussion about some trivial matter, you watched from the shadows, your chest tightening. This was the reality of being close to him—the constant need to hide, to tread carefully around those who might twist your connection into something dangerous.

And yet, as he glanced back at the alcove, his eyes briefly meeting yours, you felt a flicker of hope.

Whatever challenges lay ahead, one thing was clear: you weren’t facing them alone.

——

The next week passed in a tense haze. You tried to stay out of sight, avoiding the prying eyes and whispers that seemed to follow you wherever you went. Despite Geta’s assurances, the warning from the senior maid still lingered in your mind.

But Geta had other plans.

It was a week after the incident in the garden when a grand feast was announced. The palace erupted with activity, servants scurrying to prepare the banquet hall, polish the silverware, and arrange the finest delicacies from across the empire. You were swept up in the preparations, your every moment occupied with tasks, though you couldn’t shake the sense of unease that hung in the air.

The evening of the feast arrived, the palace glowing with the light of a thousand torches. Nobles from across the empire filled the grand hall, their laughter and conversation blending into a cacophony of sound. You stood at the edge of the room, hidden among the other servants, your gaze flickering nervously to the head of the table where Geta sat, his expression calm and composed.

The feast began as expected, with music, dancing, and an endless parade of food and wine. You kept your head down, trying to ignore the way your heart raced every time his gaze drifted in your direction.

And then, as the night wore on and the hall began to quiet, Geta rose from his seat.

The room fell silent instantly, all eyes turning to him. He surveyed the crowd with the air of a man who commanded absolute authority, his expression unreadable.

“My friends,” he began, his voice carrying effortlessly over the hall. “Tonight, we celebrate the strength and unity of our great empire. But I must confess, I have another reason for calling you here.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, curiosity lighting the faces of the assembled nobles. You felt your stomach twist, a sense of foreboding washing over you.

“For too long, this empire has lacked an empress,” Geta continued, his gaze sweeping the room. “A partner who will stand beside me, guide me, and share in the burdens of rule.”

The murmurs grew louder, excitement and speculation buzzing through the crowd. You felt frozen in place, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure everyone could hear it.

“And so, I have made my decision,” Geta said, his voice steady and resolute. “I have chosen my empress.”

The hall fell silent once more, every eye fixed on him. He paused for a moment, letting the tension build before his gaze turned directly to you.

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name seemed to echo in the vast chamber, drawing every head in your direction. You felt the weight of their stares, a mixture of shock, disbelief, and anger radiating from the crowd.

You took a step back, your mind racing. *This can’t be happening.*

“Come forward,” Geta commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you toward him even as your mind screamed at you to stop. The sea of nobles parted as you passed, their whispered words slicing through the air like knives.

When you reached the dais, Geta extended his hand to you, his eyes softening as they met yours. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. But then you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the promise of protection and devotion, and you found yourself nodding.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He smiled, a genuine warmth breaking through his composed exterior. Taking your hand, he turned back to the crowd.

“This woman,” he declared, his voice strong and unwavering, “has shown me courage, kindness, and strength unlike any I have ever known. She will be your empress, and you will honor her as you honor me.”

The room erupted into chaos. Some nobles cheered, their voices filled with forced enthusiasm. Others whispered furiously among themselves, their faces dark with outrage. But Geta paid them no mind, his focus entirely on you.

“You’ve just made a lot of enemies,” you murmured, your voice shaking.

“So have they,” he replied, his grip on your hand tightening. “But let them come. I’ll face them all if it means keeping you by my side.”

In that moment, as he stood beside you, his presence a shield against the storm brewing around you, you realized there was no turning back. You were no longer just a maid—you were the chosen empress, a target for intrigue and danger.

But with Geta at your side, you felt a spark of hope. Together, perhaps you could navigate the treacherous waters of the court and forge a future where love and loyalty triumphed over fear.

——

The days following the feast were a whirlwind. The announcement of your elevation to empress had sent shockwaves through the empire. Courtiers whispered behind your back, and the palace was abuzz with speculation. Despite the overwhelming attention, Geta stood firm beside you, his presence both a comfort and a shield.

But not everyone celebrated the news.

Caracalla had been away from the palace on a campaign when the feast took place. His sudden return only days later sent a ripple of unease through the court. Known for his ruthless nature and volatile temper, Caracalla was a man who inspired both fear and respect.

The first time you saw him, you understood why.

He entered the throne room with an air of authority, his dark eyes scanning the room like a predator sizing up its prey. Taller and more imposing than Geta, his presence seemed to suck the air from the room.

Geta stood at your side, his expression carefully neutral as his brother approached.

“So,” Caracalla said, his voice low and sharp, “this is the woman who has bewitched you.”

You stiffened, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. The way he looked at you was unnerving, his gaze cold and calculating.

“She’s my chosen empress,” Geta replied evenly. “And you’ll treat her with respect.”

Caracalla’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “Respect is earned, brother. Not given.”

The tension between them was palpable, the unspoken rivalry hanging thick in the air. You felt like a pawn caught between two kings, each vying for dominance.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Caracalla continued, his eyes flicking back to you. “Bringing her into the palace—it’s a bold move. But boldness doesn’t always equal wisdom.”

“She’s under my protection,” Geta said firmly. “Anyone who threatens her will answer to me.”

Caracalla raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Careful, little brother. Threats like that can come back to haunt you.”

With that, he turned and strode away, his cloak billowing behind him. The room remained silent until he was gone, the tension slowly dissipating like a storm passing.

“Are you all right?” Geta asked, his hand brushing yours.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. “What does he mean by ‘come back to haunt you’?”

Geta’s jaw tightened. “Caracalla doesn’t approve of anything I do. He sees me as a threat to his power, and now he’ll see you the same way. But don’t worry—I won’t let him hurt you.”

Despite his words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Caracalla’s return marked the beginning of something dangerous.

---

In the weeks that followed, Caracalla’s presence loomed over the palace like a dark cloud. Though he remained outwardly cordial, his every word and action seemed calculated to sow doubt and discord.

He would make veiled comments in court, questioning your suitability as empress without ever addressing you directly. He lingered in places he wasn’t expected, his sharp gaze always seeming to find you.

One evening, as you walked alone in the gardens, you felt a presence behind you. Turning quickly, you found Caracalla standing there, his expression unreadable.

“You should be careful wandering alone,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with menace.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you replied, though your voice betrayed a hint of unease.

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Brave words for someone so far out of their depth.”

“What do you want?” you asked, your hands clenched at your sides.

“To understand,” he said, stepping closer. “What is it about you that has made my brother so reckless? What spell have you cast over him?”

“I’ve done nothing but be myself,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “If that’s a threat to you, perhaps you should look inward.”

His smile vanished, replaced by a hard, calculating expression. “You’re clever,” he said quietly. “Clever enough to know that your position is precarious. Be careful, little empress. The palace is a dangerous place, and loyalty is a fleeting thing.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

——

The days following your tense encounter with Caracalla passed in a haze of unease. The palace seemed colder with him there, his shadow casting a long, dark presence that crept into every corner. But in the quiet moments, when the court had settled and the whispers died down, Geta found ways to draw you away from the chaos.

He would pull you into hidden alcoves, his hand warm against yours, his touch grounding. Sometimes, he’d bring you to the gardens at night, the moonlight casting silver over his sharp features. In those moments, it felt like the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you.

One evening, after a particularly tense council meeting where Caracalla had all but accused you of manipulating Geta, the emperor found you in your quarters.

You were seated by the window, staring out at the flickering lights of the city below. When he entered, you glanced at him, your expression guarded.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmured, though your heart leapt at the sight of him.

“And yet here I am,” he replied, his voice low and steady. He crossed the room, his presence filling the space, and knelt before you, his hands resting on your knees. “You’re worried.”

“Of course, I am,” you admitted. “Your brother… he hates me. He hates that you’ve chosen me. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, and one wrong step…”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re not alone in this. I’m with you, every step of the way.”

His words were a balm, but the tension in your chest didn’t ease. “Geta, you’ve made enemies because of me. What if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he interrupted gently. “You’re my empress. My choice. And I would choose you a thousand times over, no matter the cost.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any hint of doubt. But his gaze was steady, filled with a quiet resolve that stole your breath.

He leaned closer, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” he murmured, his voice a bare whisper.

And then his lips were on yours, soft and warm, a promise in every touch. He kissed you like you were the only thing grounding him, like the rest of the world could fall away and it wouldn’t matter as long as you were by his side.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you.

“I love you,” he confessed, the words slipping from his lips like a vow. “Not as an emperor. Not as a ruler. Just as a man who’s hopelessly, irrevocably yours.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. “Geta, I—”

“Say it when you’re ready,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

---

Later that night, Geta insisted you join him in his private chambers, away from the prying eyes of the court. The room was warm, the golden glow of the fire casting soft shadows across the walls. He had dismissed his attendants, insisting on pouring wine for the two of you himself.

You sat together on a plush divan, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. The closeness was intoxicating, the weight of his presence a comfort you hadn’t realized you craved.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “Something no one else knows.”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your goblet. “There’s not much to tell. My life before the palace was… ordinary.”

“Ordinary is relative,” he countered. “To me, everything about you is extraordinary.”

His words brought a flush to your cheeks, and you ducked your head to hide your smile. “Fine. When I was a girl, I used to sneak into the fields near my village to watch the stars. I always imagined they were the gods’ way of watching over us.”

Geta tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “And what do you think now?”

You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing that mattered. “Now, I think the stars are reminders to find light in the darkness.”

He leaned closer, his hand coming to rest on your cheek. “Then you must be my star,” he murmured. “Because you’ve brought light to my life in ways I never thought possible.”

His lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, filled with a longing that left you breathless. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you closer, his touch igniting a fire that burned away every fear, every doubt.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, your foreheads pressed together as you shared a quiet moment of intimacy.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You nodded, your heart swelling with a love that felt too big to contain. “Always.”

Geta's hands roam your body as he pushes you down onto the silk sheets, his golden jewelry glinting in the candlelight. He kisses a trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "You're mine," he growls, his voice low and possessive. "Mine to claim, mine to protect."

He settles between your legs, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your gown, and you arch up to meet him, desperate for more.

Geta's fingers find the hem of your dress, pushing it up inch by inch until cool air meets your heated skin. He pauses, drinking in the sight of you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his hand skimming over your stomach, your ribs, your breasts. "So beautiful."

He leans down, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. "I'm going to worship every inch of you," he promises, his words sending shivers down your spine. "I'm going to make you forget everything but my name."

His mouth trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. He kisses your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

Geta looks up at you, his eyes locked with yours as he parts your folds with his fingers. "You're already so wet," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. "Is this all for me?"

You nod, your breath coming in short gasps as his tongue makes contact with your most sensitive parts. He groans, the sound vibrating against your skin, and he sets about his task with a single-minded determination that leaves you writhing beneath him.

He brings you to the edge again and again, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to drive you higher and higher. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Not yet," he pants, his voice strained. "I'm not done with you."

He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick heat. "Tell me you're mine," he demands, his eyes boring into yours. "Tell me you belong to me."

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Geta. All yours."

With a low groan, he thrusts forward, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth stroke. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your back arching off the bed.

Geta sets a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours with a force that rocks the bed. Each thrust drives him deeper, harder, until the room is filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh and the creaking of the mattress.

You meet him thrust for thrust, your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly until it explodes, washing over you in waves of ecstasy.

Geta follows soon after, his body tensing above you as he spills himself inside you with a guttural moan. He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck.

"My star," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My beautiful, perfect star."

You hold him close, your heart swelling with a love that feels like it could burst. In this moment, the rest of the world falls away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms.

It's a perfect moment, a rare glimpse of peace in a world that's constantly at war. And you hold onto it, cherishing it, knowing that it's a gift that can't last forever.

But for now, you're content to stay in Geta's arms, to let the rest of the world fade away. Because here, with him, you're exactly where you belong.

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Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

Tag list: @captainostella

#x reader #emperor geta x y/n #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x reader #geta x you #geta x reader #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #emperor geta x reader smut #joseph quinn gladiator #gladiator ll #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator movie #gladiator x reader

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pretty-little-mind33 · 10 months ago

Text

Count Alexei Vronsky x wife!fem!reader

Summary: When you start feeling insecure, your husband reminds you just how much he loves you.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), kissing, praising, passionate/sensual sex, kinda cock-warming, breeding kink, they already have a daughter, porn basically no plot for this one <3

COUNT VRONSKY MASTERLIST

Under the Moscow snow, the shine of Count Alexei Vronksy's blue eyes matching his army uniform is always eagerly anticipated by the women, and men, in the station.

Of course, The Count's reputation is widely known around Russia. He is a player. A womanizer. A handsome gentleman who could have an lady he possibly desired.

You had believed those rumors once and sometimes, even as you lay in bed with him now, that dainty, sparkling, promise sitting pretty on your bedside table, you wonder if there's still some truth in them.

It feels unfair to think that way now. Alexei is your husband. He'd married you, and not by force or by convenience, but because he's madly in love with you.

Since the moment you met him, he had never stopped showing you how much he loved you—so why couldn't you fully believe him?

"Alexei?" you whisper into the darkness of the room, turning onto your stomach and gently running the ends of your fingers on his chest until he stirs. You smile when he nuzzles into you in his half-asleep state and mumbles incoherent words into your hair.

"Honey," you say a little louder and lean down to kiss him behind his ear, moving his blond hair to the side. Once he feels your lips on his skin, he opens his eyes and automatically tilts his head to capture your lips in his.

Alexei kisses you and then sits up, running a hand in his curls. "What is it, my dove?" he asks gently, his voice thick and hoarse from being asleep.

"Why did you marry me?"

It sounds like an even stupider question said aloud than when you had said it in your head. Alexei must find it stupid too because he laughs, his eyes flittering. "Because I love you, принцесса (princess)."

"Yes, I understand, but why?"

"Why?" Alexei is fully awake now and his hand has found a way into your hair as he gently massages your scalp, trying desperately to soothe whatever worries you have out of your head.

"Why do you love me? What do you love about me?” It feels selfish to ask this, very egotistical in some way, but you yearn to know the answer, "Why have me when you can have anyone you wish?"

Your husband grins, "Anyone? You think so highly of me."

"It is because it is true,"

"Well, I don't want just anyone," he hums and you feel his hand slide down to caress your cheek and pull your head up so that you can see him in the dim light of the moon from your bedroom window, "I want you."

You open your mouth to ask why again but Alexei kisses you. He mumbles into your mouth once he catches his breath and says, "God, I adore your lips. I love how they're always so soft and eager for me.”

Your cheeks burn and you muffle a moan.

Alexei's hand slides down your neck and your body, his fingers trailing between your breasts and down your stomach. You're wearing his favorite silky nightgown—easy access—he likes to tease and when you remember this, you become flustered all over again.

In one motion, your husband is on top of you, his weight resting on his forearm as he looks at you with sleepy eyes and kisses your forehead.

"I love this, and this," he kisses your cheekbone, and then your nose, followed by the corner of your eye, "and this and this," he continues as you giggle and squirm.

Alexei lifts himself and smiles at you fondly, "May I?” he teases again, sliding his hand down the curves of your sides and thighs, until he plays with the hem of your nightgown. You look up at him, eyes wide and glassy—the portrait of femininity and innocence.

You nod and his hand slips under, finding what he's looking for. He smiles and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, kissing your cheek.

"I love all of you, my dove. Including this pretty pussy," Alexei smirks triumphantly as his fingers start exploring your folds. You're already aroused and you squeeze your legs around his hand as if to hide that admission of guilt. Your husband just smiles and opens your thighs again.

"No, my lovely, I want to see you," he murmurs and moves to hook his arm under your thighs as he shifts further down the bed and his breath is warm on your skin. You shiver, your breathing becoming harsh as you squeeze the sheets in your hands and try calming your harsh breathing.

"Муж (husband)!" you gasp, arching as you feel his lips on your sensitive skin.

Alexi smirks and kisses your pussy again, his hands tightening on your thigh. "Жена (wife)," he smirks and licks up your folds. "I want to worship you like you deserve," he smiles and continues to use his tongue.

He takes his time, making sure you're open and dripping for him as he licks your juices until his mustache is slick with your arousal. Alexi looks up, his hair falling in front of your eyes as he sends you a devilish smirk and licks his lips before he dives in again, eating you out like a starved man.

You whimper and moan the entire time, feeling weak as you're so close to breaking. Your hands find your husband's hair, tugging gently as your back arches away from the mattress and you let out broken whimpers. The moonlight shines on Alexei's bare back as he continues to suck and licks with fervor.

"I'm close," you whimper.

This causes Alexei to shake his head and he sits up. Your eyelids flutter and you whine at the loss of contact until you feel an all-too-familiar sensation and you gasp.

He's pressing himself into you and your eyes snap open to watch him as he does so. "I want you to finish when I'm inside you, my love. I want to fill you up with my seed. You're gonna give me more pretty children, aren't you, принцесса (princess)?"

You nod, holding him close as you feel him inside you. You rock your body in time with his, fucking him passionately as he holds you and his lips press to your ear. "You feel delightful, my lovely. Such a good little wife for me. You're all I want," he mumbles, his breathing heavy and harsh as he snaps his hips into yours.

Alexei nips at your skin, smiling as he moans, "You look so pretty carrying my child. So claimed. Claimed as mine. My woman," he chuckles and thrusts into you harder, earning small whimpers of pleasure from you, "Gonna give Klara a sibling, hmm? Gonna make our little angel a big sister for me, won't you? Make me proud? Show everyone how well you carry my child?"

"Yes," you whisper breathlessly and that's all it takes for Alexei to finish inside you with a growl, causing your own pleasure to crash over you in waves as you hold him closer. You're both panting as he collapses onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his cock twitches inside you a little.

"I love you," he kisses your cheek, his hair tickling your skin, "Please, never doubt how much I love you, my love. You understand me?" His hand caresses your cheek and you hum, too exhausted to even think of arguing with him. You feel like you're in heaven. Alexei takes your silence as an understanding and looks at you as he kisses your lips.

"Go back to sleep now, lovely. It's still early," he says as it is still dark outside.

"Alexei," you murmur, squirming a little when he stays inside you but he holds your hips down so you're still.

"Just a little longer, dove, I want to make sure it works," he chuckles and makes a few slow thrusts just to fuck his cum deeper inside you.

You whine at the feeling, your pussy already sore from his size and your previous orgasm. Still, you turn your head and nuzzle into the pillows as exhaustion takes over and your husband's warmth spreads across your skin. His sweet voice lulls you to sleep with praises and his lips kiss your neck.

"You're my happiness," he whispers with a smile.

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sunarinscat · 8 months ago

Text

(s/o with sensory overload)

“Waves”.

He was the first to notice.

You have always struggled with sensory overload. It’s noise, lights, texture, temperature, movement in your line of sight… It just builds up and you can’t help but break down. It’s embarrassing honestly. You aren’t even sad but you’re sobbing and heaving for air. What? Because some silly flashing lights were too bright for you? You hide away in a corner or a bathroom and wait for the waves of panic to wash away. Then you clean yourself up and face the world again. Nobody was ever any the wiser.

He noticed. He saw when your breath began to quicken. You stopped making eye contact with people and glued your gaze to the floor. He tipped his head to the side as your trembling hands grasped the nearest surface. You slipped outside into the cold night air and he followed.

As you slumped against the wall and let the tears wrack your body you heard the door creak. Shoes scuffled against the pavement and you hid your face in your arms, away from prying eyes.

“Hey baby, are you doing alright?”

He slumped down beside you, leaving a gap between your bodies.

You tried to keep your voice even as you spoke but it cracked and trembled.

“Yea-h I’m ju-ust P-peachy!”

You hiccuped.

“Do you need hug?”

“N-no!”

His hands which were reaching to comfort you returned to his sides.

“No, it’s just a lot righ-ght now I can’t h-handle anyone touching me.”

Oh. He was starting to understand.

“What can I do sweet heart?”

You swallowed hard and took a breath, removing your hands from your tear stained face. You offered him a small smile as a tear slid down your chin.

“We could just talk quietly.. it helps distract me sometimes.”

He grinned back.

“Okay, okay. Eyes on me.”

He pointed to his eyes.

“I want you focused right here.”

You turned your body to face him and he did the same, sitting cross legged.

“How’s your day been? Tell me your favorite and your least favorite thing that happened today.”

And you sat like that for fifteen minutes. The tears receded and the sobs turned into soft laughter. When you pulled yourself up from the concrete you grasped his hand. You turned your eyes to the floor again, this time bashfully.

“Hey can I have that hug now?”

It was barely a whisper.

He turned around and wrapped his arms around you. He just held you. Your body relaxed and you let out a sigh. If you ever had a home it was this.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me honey. I love you. I will always be here, whatever you need.”

Sugawara Koushi, Tetsurou Kuroo, Hajime Iwaxumi ,Keiji Akashi, Osamu Miya, Daichi sawamura, Eijiro kirishima, Shoto todoroki, Albedo, Diluc, Al Haithem, Kazuha

author’s note: as someone who struggles with these issues I hope this made you feel seen. I haven’t been on this blog in awhile but I am back to give it a little TLC, !Friendly reminder that my asks are open! Dont be shy to send something my way, I want to hear every detail..

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billybutcherrtrash · 3 months ago

Text

Throne

Link to Pt 2 <-

CW: 18+ (MDNI) oral (f) and fingers and smut.

You and Spencer are friends who attended at party for a mutual friend and find you have an interesting shared book fantasy.

It had been several hours since you’d arrived at the party for a mutual friend. Reid had been cautiously watching you as you talked to everyone and gave them a small amount of your time. Every so often your gazes would meet and you’d exchange a smile from a distance. Although you’d greeted him when he walked in, you’d been rushed away my another friend for some kind of emergency. Every guy you talked to made Reid anxious. He hated the idea of you walking out of this place with someone else. Anyone else but him. Finally you made your way over to him, sitting down beside him and smiling.

“Welcome back”. Spencer said as you took a sip of your drink.

“Thanks. It’s been very hectic. You’d think for a going away party it would be more fun. Instead I’m chasing down my drunk friends.” You sighed.

“Yeah, I think I saw one of my drunk friends fall off the bar earlier.” He laughed.

“I saw that. I think we’re the only two here that aren’t drinking.”

“I like to be in control of myself. I drink occasionally but in this atmosphere I don’t think it’s wise.”

“I agree. To much going on and I’m already over stimulated”

“Glad I’m not the only one.” He nodded.

You tucked your hair behind your ears and shifted closer to him. “I’m really happy you came.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up, “I’m glad too. I’ll admit I was on the fence until I heard you’d be coming too.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah. This isn’t my thing. Bars. Or people.”

“I would much rather be at home reading. I hate all this.” You shrugged.

“Oh, that’s reminds me I started reading this book about ancient erotica and I think -“

At that you held up your hand to stop him,“Did you just say erotica?”

Spencer nodded, “Yeah, but not in the way you’re thinking of pornography. It’s rather tasteful compared to today’s idea of erotica. I’ve read a few of what is considered erotic today and I think it’s just porn on paper.”

You stared at him for a long moment. His brown eyes stared back anticipating your response.

“Porn on paper is called smut now.” You smirked.

“Yes, and it is just sexually charged writing. Ancient erotica is art. Paintings and images that are tastefully done.” Reid explained.

“I guess my bookshelf is filled with porn then.” You laughed softly.

“You read…smut?” He bit his lip.

Suddenly you felt hot. Did the temperature go up? You’d just admitted you had read spicy books.

“I-wel-…I mean…I have other kinds of books too.” You stammered. “I have biographies and nonfiction also. Fantasy.”

Spencer was enjoying watching you squirm. You were flustered now. He could see trying to save whatever semblance of a normal conversation there was left.

“Fantasy? What kind of fantasy?” He asked.

“No sexual fantasy…I have Fourth Wing. Have you read it?”

“Dragons and thunder…I have read it and its sequel.” Reid nodded. “But may I ask…how you felt about the throne scene?”

He was torturing you now. He watched as your eyes went wide and your breathing halted just enough to notice.

“I…uh…Spence…you’re doing this on purpose.” You said softly.

“Am I? I’m just curious.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Are you?”

“Very…” He nodded.

He watched you bite your lip. The conversation had taken a sharp turn and now you were staring at each other, both quiet. You wished you knew what he was thinking about.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Spencer finally asked.

“Yes”. You agreed.

He stood and held out his hand for you. You took it and slipped out of your seat, following him out the door. You felt anxious as you walked out into the cold air, cautiously looking up at him.

“Did you drive?” He asked, looking back.

“No…I came with (your mutual friend’s name).”

“You should probably tell her you’re leaving.” Spencer smirked.

“I can text her.” You blushed a little as you arrived at Spencer’s car.

You turned to face him as he opened the door for you. It was only now that you realized he was so much taller than you. All the time working with him at the university and you’d never noticed. He stepped closer and slid a hand around your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer asked.

Your brained seemed to short circuit, unable to form words, so you nodded almost too enthusiastically. Spencer leaned down and cupped your face, kissing you gently. The feel of his mouth on yours was dizzying. You weren’t drunk but you felt like it. He pulled you a little closer and you welcomed the feel of his body. After a few long moments he pulled back leaving you aching his touch. He gazed at you, stroking your cheek gently.

“Still want to go home with me?” He asked.

“Yes” Was all you could managed, still seeing stars.

Spencer helped you in the car before closing the door and running to the other side. You watched him get in and start the car.

“Don’t forget to text (your friend’s name).”

“Oh, right.” You reached for your phone and sent a quick text letting them know you’d found a ride.

They sent a reply with eggplant emoji’s and water droplets. Thank God it was dark because your cheeks were red at the idea of them knowing who you’d left with. The man you’d confided in her to having a crush on from the minute he’d walked into your life. As he drove you pulled your sleeves over your hands and fidgeted with them anxiously. You couldn’t have possibly expected him to not notice. He reached over and laced his fingers with yours.

“You play with your clothes when you’re nervous.” Spencer said, glancing at your hands.

Of course he’d noticed. The many meetings you’d sat in together, the times you’d been in the elevator together alone, the time he’d come to you asking for your opinion on a case, he’d seen it every time he was near you. You looked up as you felt the car slow to a stop. He put the car in park and you both sat for a moment. Finally your eyes met his. He gave you a soft smile.

“Do you still want to come inside?” Spencer asked.

“I do.” You answered.

He nodded and got out of the car, coming around to open your door and helped you out. Her nerves were started to become more noticeable. You didn’t do this. You never went home with guys. Especially not guys you worked with. Especially not anyone with an IQ of 187 and read books on ancient erotica. Spencer took your hand and led you into his building. Once in the elevator you chewed at your lip, your fingers linked with his as he pressed the button to his floor.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ear.

“Spence…you need checking on me. I’m fine. I’m sure. I promise.” You said, standing on your toes to kiss him.

He cupped your neck, returning the kiss. He was gentle and soft. You could only hope he maintained that once you were in his apartment. The elevator dings upon arriving at his floor. He pulled away reluctantly and you stepped off, making your way to his front door.

“I’m slightly surprised we aren’t stumbling down your hallway, too impatient to get inside.” You joked.

Spencer slid his key in the door, “We could have been but you deserve more respect than me just trying to fuck you.”

Your jaw dropped, surprised. “Spencer Reid said fuck!” You smirked.

“I’ve been known to swear on occasion.” He replied, letting you inside.

You stepped inside the apartment, looking around. He closed the door and locked it.

“So…what now?” He asked, stepping closer to you.

“Spence…we both know what’s going to happen…but can we pretend for five seconds that you’re not thinking about undressing me and be making obscene sounds shortly thereafter?” You asked, taking his hand.

“Well now that you’ve put that image in my head…it’s going to be hard not to.” He smirked.

“You mentioned you had books. I want to see the collection.”

“The lady gets what the lady wants.” He replied, leading you to his bookshelf.

It seemed to overflow with classic literature in many languages. You looked at the titles, a few familiar and many you’d never seen or heard of. Then your eyes caught a familiar gold cover. You smirked and pulled out Fourth Wing.

“You really did read it.” You smirked.

“You and Penelope wouldn’t shut up about it, I was curious what had you so worked up. It’s not my thing but it peaked my interest.” He replied. “Especially chapter 48 in Iron Flame.”

You froze, knowing exactly what he was referring to. He leaned in close, his breath hot on your skin.

“My house. My chair. My woman.” He whispered.

You looked up at him, your mouth suddenly dry. You had forgotten he’d mentioned the throne room scene.

“You…um…you know the exact chapter.” You stammered.

He smirked down at you. “Of course I do. You never told me how you felt about it.”

“I mean…obviously it’s hot.” You turned to face him. “What woman doesn’t want a man worshipping her on his knees on a throne.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Do you have a throne?” You asked.

“Not quite a throne, but I definitely have a chair we can pretend is a thrown.”

You licked your lips as you felt your pulse rising. You felt hot again. You knew why you’d come to his apartment and now was the time you stopped pretending it was innocent.

“Show me.”

Spencer gave a soft smile and led you to his room. It was neat, bed made and everything orderly. Your eyes fell upon a gorgeous leather chair near the window. It was the perfect reading chair, but tonight it was going to be a throne for him to worship you on. He walked you over and you admired it. You could see it was tall enough that your feet might dangle if you sat down, and the leather was soft. God forbid you dig your nails into it and mark the leather.

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked from behind you.

You felt his hands sliding up your arms, stroking your biceps gently. His breath was hot on your neck as you leaned back into him.

“Yes.” You said, eyes closing when he kissed your neck.

“Then sit down.”

You swallowed anxiously, turning to face him before sitting down. You could have sworn his eyes darkened just a bit as he moved to the floor. Surprisingly the chair was the perfect height for you to be face to face. You pulled him against you and kissed him. His hands ran through your hair and down your shoulders. You knew exactly want was coming. He pulled away and removed your shoes. As his hands moved to your jeans you feel your pulse racing and your breathing quicken. He pulls you to the edge of the chair and tugs them down your legs. The air conditioning sends goosebumps over your skin as Spencer looks up at you. His eyes met yours and you forgot to breathe. He didn’t look away as you placed kisses on your legs, creeping higher and higher up your thigh.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He said, stroking your opposite thigh. “God, you’re perfect.”

You bit your lip, having trouble forming words. All you wanted was for him to devour and absolutely worship you. His hand slid over your hips and to the top of your underwear. The second they were gone you knew you’d never be able to recover. You ached for him. Slowly he slid them down and you watched him carefully. Spencer’s eyes darkened even more at the sight of you bare before him. He could see the moisture pooling at your core and he was instantly rock hard.

“Last time…you want this?” He asked.

“Last time, yes.” You panted, “Please, God, just touch me.”

Begging wasn’t something you’d thought you’d be doing but you were desperate. He nodded, moving one leg to sit over the arm of the chair and the other over his shoulder. You nearly came as his tongue slid through your wet folds. You let out a loud gasp, your head falling back against the back of the chair. He swirled around your clit, toying with it gently.

“Spencer, fuck!” You moaned, nails digging into the leather.

He smiled as he continued his actions, lapping up your juices. His hands held you firmly in place and you squirmed under his.

“Don’t stop, please.” You whimpered.

Spencer watched you coming undone, enjoying every second of it. Watching your breathing catch when he licked your clit. You moaned even louder when he slid a finger into you. It was nearly enough to finish you. Your hand moved to his hair and you tugged at it, causing him to groan against you. The vibrations only added to the pleasure. He added another finger, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…” You panted, so close to cumming.

Spencer felt you clench around his fingers and he moved them faster. His tongue massaged your delicate folds until finally you couldnt hold on.

“Spence, oh, fuck…” You whimpered before coming undone.

He smiled, working you through it. Finally you could breathe again and you looked down at him. He was just watching you, stroking your thigh gently.

“You okay?” He asked.

“More than okay.” You blushed as you sat up.

“How was it?”

“It rivaled all the fantasies I had about being worshipped in a thrown”. You admitted.

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