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bits-and-babs · 1 year ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆, 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 — 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

synopsis : könig’s job affords him an air of authority and power that few other professions can. an admission that you find this particularly attractive piques his interest.

pairing : könig x f!civilian!reader (‘perle’)

warnings : 18+ mdni. gun kink!!! this is zero plot, 100% filth, i got a little carried away- gun in mouth. könig is flirty and cheeky because he is, damn it. domxsub dynamics, praise kink, fingering, oral sex (m receiving). size kink, degradation kink, uniform kink all present if you really squint.

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Forest green eyes gaze at you through a black, threadbare veil, an eyebrow arching in silent query. Despite the draped cloth obscuring his expression, you can imagine he's smirking, the edge of his lips pulling up as he grapples with your admission. Pride and self-satisfaction roll off König's massive shoulders in waves, though the sheer immensity of his frame makes it feel far more like an avalanche.

"You like my uniform?" He repeats your admittance, his thick accent lilting in amusement. It's mortifying, you think, to let König into your mind and show the elite soldier just how much he affects you.

You'd hate to seem disrespectful, to reduce his valorous job to some kind of uniform kink-

"Schatzi?" König pushes gently, watching you squirm under his interrogation from across the room. Chewing on your lip, you note how it smarts slightly, tender from worrying it with your teeth.

"Mhm- It's more... That I like it on you." The confession makes you cringe internally, expecting König to laugh or reduce your fantasy to that of a 'civvy stereotype'.

König appears momentarily caught off guard. You see both dark eyebrows arch in mild surprise before a sort of realisation and subsequent amusement settle into those viridescent irises.

"You mean I am special?" He muses, setting towards you ever so slowly. For such a hulking mass of man, König moves stealthily, delicate footwork almost inaudible. "Not just any soldier?"

"No!" You insist instantly, cheeks heating up under his inquisitive gaze, "No... It's just you- Just you in the uniform."

König hums softly, a sound of acknowledgement as he advances towards you slowly. The intimidation you feel drips down your spine and settles in the pit of your stomach. He's not as threatening as a lion, with brute force and indiscriminate power. No, he reminds you of a hyena, cunning and wily. The knowing look in his eye only adds to the feeling that he's up to something, and your heart thumps in your chest when he continues to search your expression.

"Tell me. What about the uniform do you like so?" He urges you to detail your desires. You're beginning to wish you'd never mentioned anything because König looks like he's dangling bait between your eyes to coax you into a trap.

"Uhm," you fumble for an answer, those lush eyes calmly studying your trembling frame. When you drag your eyes over König’s body for an answer, you observe the strain of his shirt buttons and the revolver holster strapped to his thigh. He's sown extra length to the leather ties with scraps from a belt, standard military equipment far too small for his tremendous frame.

"I like- The way it fits you? The power, the guns, an-"

"The guns?" He wonders aloud, but there's a sly inflection to his question, guileful. Swallowing thickly, you wonder if you've overstepped a mark, opening and closing your mouth like a witless fish as you attempt to piece together some kind of backtrack-

"You understand their danger, of course?" König quizzes rhetorically, seemingly sated by your vehement nod, "You think they look good? Then... I am willing to share a glimpse of one. That is, if you continue to be so open and honest with me."

It's an odd sensation, the feeling of your blood running cold but the pit of your stomach burning hot with arousal. König doesn't even give you a moment to dispute, halting his advancing footsteps and deciding instead to revert, putting distance between you and taking a seat.

"K- König-" You want to ask him to tell you what he has planned, but the words wither on your tongue when you see him draw the stainless steel revolver from its holster. It glints in the fluorescent lighting above your head, coaxing you forward. It's as though he's pushed cotton between your lips, drying your mouth.

"Perle," he copies you, shifting his hips forward in the seat and slowly letting his colossal thighs part. From here, his eyes look darker, his pupils swallowing his irises as he drops his hand and places the revolver in his lap. "Come take a look."

It cracks up the length of your spine, sparking white hot and burning in your cheeks. W-What? You let out a nervous giggle, stepping forward to begin your approach.

König doesn't seem to like it, though. He tilts his head in silent warning, and you stop dead in your tracks. He told you-

"Crawl for me, Liebchen," König murmurs, resting his bicep against the seat's headrest. Every inch of his body is relaxed, muscles lazy as his eyes drag across the length of his body. You're almost certain you can feel their path across your skin, leaving burning embers in their wake. God, it's genuinely pathetic; how quickly you fall to your knees.

The intensity of his gaze bores into you as you settle on your hand and knees. Embarrassment no longer controls you, your arousal overriding any possible humiliation as you crawl across the floor towards him. König's eyes are an open book, pleased and proud of your willingness to take orders–– it encourages you, prompting you to put a slight sway to your hips.

You'd have to be blind to notice it; the generous length bobbing and straining against the khaki trousers. Despite his obvious discomfort, König does nothing to satiate his arousal, focusing all his attention on you alone when you finally kneel between his feet.

"Mein kleiner Schatz," the purr rumbles in his chest as König reaches forward, stroking the barrel of the gun across your cheekbone. The chromed steel is cold, chilling your skin and breaking goosebumps across your arms. "You look so pretty like this."

Anticipation prickles down your spine, whimpering softly. You lean into König's touch, turning towards the pistol and pressing a kiss to the steel barrel. You see the flicker of arousal in König's green eyes and how his eyelids grow heavy.

"Scheiße, you like that?" he groans, dragging the nose of the gun across your lips like the bullet of a lipstick. "My weapon big enough for my girl?" He smirks when you nod, looking up at your lover through your lashes.

It's downright vulgar, utterly disgusting, but you can't help yourself anymore. The way König looks down at you with this look in his eyes, like he could swallow you whole, makes arousal curl so hot and thick in your stomach that you can't deny your throbbing clit any longer. Sliding your fingers underneath your waistband, you rub small circles on your clit.

"Oh," König sighs, watching as you let out a gasp of relief. The breath expels from your lungs hot and heavy, misting up the reflective steel surface of the revolver. "Look at you, Perle. Share with me; I want to watch."

Fumbling with the buttons on your pants, you desperately work out of them and yank them over your hips, panties and all. The searing gaze above you settles on your pussy as you play with your clit, adding to the bliss that sparks across your skin.

"Mhmm," König hums again, like you've placed an exquisite meal before him. "All wet for me, Schatzi; it's all across your thighs."

You nod weakly, breath shuddering as you grind into your palm with a whimper. "P-Please-"

"Kiss the gun again, Perle. I'll make you feel good," he promised you, his voice thick and deep with his arousal. You nod thoughtlessly, far too overwhelmed by the need to feel his hands on you to deny his request. You press your lips to the barrel of the gun over and over, slowly and sensually, as though you were kissing his cock.

"Good girl," he praises, though his words catch in his throat when you take a leap. Opening your mouth, you bring the barrel tip between your teeth, looking up at König through your lashes and letting out a wanton moan.

Big mistake.

König uses the balls of his heels to skirt forward in the seat, his knees on either side of your head. He stares down at you, chest heaving as he leans down and pats your hip sharply.

"Stand up on your knees," he orders, the severity in his voice similar to how he speaks to his KorTac team. You can’t help but wonder if he gets a kick out of it too– some kind of power surge thanks to his promotion.

"Yes, colonel," you address him by his title as you rise, and König growls so deep and low that you're sure the floor rumbles beneath you. He works his massive hand over your own, taking control and slowing your fingers' ministrations to a maddeningly slow cycle.

"Such a good girl, Shatz," he coos, and once again, you can hear the smirk on his lips as he watches your body crumple with the wave of arousal his control shoots through you. "So receptive. Would you like it in your mouth?"

Whimpering softly, you look up at him in question. Was it safe? Well- Of course it wasn't safe; none of this was.

"Trust me," he urges you softly, finally replacing the swirling touch of your finger with his own. There's no escaping the drag of his fingerprint, the digit so much larger than your own.

You nod again, the blissful arousal so mind-numbing that it overrides your fear. Then, letting your jaw hang loose, your eyes practically roll back into your skull when König rests the barrel of the deadly weapon across your tongue.

"Hahh," König groans, sinking his fingers into your soaked cunt. You wail, body bracing and shuddering at the intrusion as his fingers alone stretch you out. "Is that good, Mein kleiner Schatz? Hmm? Does it feel cold in your mouth?"

You nod slightly, managing a quiet 'mhm-hm' to answer your Colonel vocally. Excitement blooms in your chest when you see it pleases him, his fingers sliding deeper into you while working your clit ever so slowly.

"Does it feel good, though?" He checks in with you, still adamant about your comfort despite his dominant role. You nod again.

"Good," he chuckles, staring down at you with such an intensity that you almost forget his eyes are green, his pupil dilated so much that they've practically devoured his verdant irises. It rocks you, another blissful wave of arousal sweeping from head to toe.

Wrapping your lips around the barrel, you allow yourself to get carried away even further. You hollow your cheeks, eyelashes fluttering as you put on the erotic display to work König up even more.

"Schei- Filthy girl!" You're unsure if he meant to scold you, but König sounds far too wrecked for it to land the way he intends. He rocks his fingers up inside of you suddenly, instantly finding your G-spot and working it ruthlessly. "Alway distracting me, making me lose my min..."

His words are drowning out as your heartbeat thuds against your sternum and in your ears, something sickly sweet and thick like molasses trickling through your veins as your orgasm begins to surge in your abdomen.

The squelching, wet sounds of König's fingers working in and out of your tight cunt are deafeningly loud, though, audible enough that they reach your ears even over the thumping of your heart and heavy gasps of breath. "K- König-"

"Can you take it deep in your throat for me, Mein Perle?" He asks, sounding utterly wrecked and haggard. Your vision blurs, but you definitely see the lurch of his cock in his khaki cargo trousers. "Please- Please, just for me-"

He doesn't need to ask you twice; his begging is interrupted by a filthy groan of your name when you easily take the barrel further down your throat to the point your upper lip could almost brush his thumb on the hammer of the gun.

"Hahhh, fuck!" König spits, watching tears well in your eyes at the stretch in your throat and cunt. He gently pulls the gun from your mouth, careful not to hurt you but knocking your teeth thanks to his trembling hand. "I'm making you cum, and then you'll do that to me, Shatz. Filthy girl-"

The moment the gun leaves your lips, König's fingers arch against your g-spot and his thumb circles your clit simultaneously. It's devastating, and you're barely able to hold yourself up as the ecstasy bursts through you brightly. It's as though a grenade has gone off, but it keeps building and building-

" König-... KönigKönigKo-ooh-" You squeak his name, his brutal, sniper precision knocking the oxygen from your lungs as your tears drip down your face. "I'm cummmmugh-!"

It’s like static in your ears and across your skin when it burns through you. It crackles across your nerve endings, arcs up your spine until you’re leaning back against it, arching your back as if attempting to escape the intensity of the ecstasy he draws from you. You want to scream his name, begging him to stop, to carry on, but the words drown among the wails and whines of bliss.

It feels like it goes on forever, your body suspended in euphoria and caged, grounded, only by König’s thighs.

When your vision straightens, your chest heaving violently, König's hands delicately push your hair from your face. He's careful with you in these moments, the vulnerable aftermath where your mind is drunk on hormones and your body is in shock from the extremity of your orgasm. There's no rush for your recovery; your lover lets you take all the time you need.

It's only when you manage to straighten yourself somewhat, shaky hands resting on his knees in a wordless show of readiness, that König nods his head.

"That's it, Schatzi," he whispers to you, holding his breath as he waits his turn anxiously.

Your mouth waters at the ruddy colour of his thick, veiny dick, and you lean forward to take the head into your mouth in a repeat of your actions earlier. König's hips jolt forward, grasping the arms of the chair with a white-knuckle grip at the vibrations that rock down his shaft when you hum around him.

"Oh- Oh fuck-!" He chokes out when you gently graze your teeth over the sensitive, velvety head, just as you did the gun barrel. You see König's eyes roll back, and one of his eyebrows arches as the sensation takes over. He's twitching in your mouth already, salty precum dribbling down the arch of his cock and spilling onto your tongue.

You take your tantalising time, kissing at the head of his dick once more before slowwwly easing him into your wet, hot mouth. König's gasps of bliss are pathetic, the imposing man reduced to a clammy mess of whimpers and keens of your name. It's so simple to work him up, the simple act of your palms smoothing across his thighs enough to get his cock jumping against your tongue.

The warmth of your mouth around König's dick is too much for him, his head lolling back in the chair. You see him squeeze his eyes shut, bracing against the heaving of his chest and the slight rocks of his hips into your mouth.

Your hand finds his balls, gently trailing your nails over them, and König's hips suddenly jolt upwards. He slips deep, tip knocking the back of your throat and catching you off guard in a gag.

Pulling back, you squeeze his knees tight and take a deep breath.

"Oh fuck- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-" he apologises fervently, lifting his head like he's got weights tied to it, and it's far too heavy. He can't seem to hold it up straight, and it instantly falls back again with a spluttered wail when you shush him, wrapping your mouth around his cock and tracing his slit to taste his precum.

He's close already; you can tell by the way his dominant energy dissipates and his balls draw up tight. He’s completely forgotten the act he’d been putting on, his revolver discarded on the beside you and desperate pines of your name falling from his lips.

"Scheiße," he gasps, the wooden arms of the chair creaking beneath the pressure of his grip. "Ah, Sch- shhhh-"

Anticipating his orgasm, you sink heavily onto him, taking as much of his impossible length into your throat as possible. König's hands fly from the chair, grasping the hair on the crown of your head and holding you on his cock like he's terrified you'll withdraw.

“Ahah- Ah- Mein Perl- fuck!”

He cums with a lurch of his dick, a pathetic, trembling whine spilling from his lips as you swallow it down, the walls of your throat tightening around him. Ragged gasps of breath reach your ears, and your clit burns with the need for attention yet again as you continue to milk König. There's so much of him-

Suddenly, he's using his grip on your hair to pull you off, and he slips from your lips with a wet, audible pop. You look up at his languid body sprawled in the chair, wiping his wetness from your chin.

"Hah, Schatz…” he watches you, eyelids heavy with exhaustion, "You are too good to me."

You shake your head gently, still sitting on your knees as you rest your head in his lap. They're aching after holding your weight for so long on such a hard floor, but you'll gladly take the bruises as a medal for your hard, valiant work.

His hands immediately find your hair with a much softer, kinder touch, brushing through the threads and skirting his fingertips over your scalp. "No. I just want to show my appreciation for my heroic soldier, remember?"

A soft, tired chuckle shakes his body, and you can't help the smile that splits your lips as a response. "Ah, of course. I remember. 'Not like others in uniform'."

"You're not," you insist gently, closing your eyes as he brushes his battle-calloused knuckles across your cheekbone, "None of them make the uniform look so sexy."

"Ah-hah! I knew it was the uniform!"

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tropes-and-tales · 11 months ago

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Mending Fences

Day 15: Virginity (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Childhood friends; yee-haw angst; idiots in love; pining; smut (PiV, protected and unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count: 6954

AN: This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by an anonymous type!

AN2: Believe me when I say this is not beta read and has not been edited at all. Shitty first drafts, all. Shitty first drafts foisted into publication.

Rhett doesn’t see you again for three years.

Wabang remains largely the same. Maria leaves town and Rhett despairs to have missed his chance. He throws himself into the ranch, into rodeo. He drinks. He scraps with the Tillersons.

Perry and Rebecca make him an uncle, which delights him. Royal makes his disappointment in his younger son no secret, which hurts Rhett deeper than he’ll admit to anyone.

Three years. Cecilia mentions you from time to time. When she runs into your uncle in town, she gets the news, which she conveys over the dinner table to the rest of the Abbotts. By the time it trickles down to Rhett, it’s just facts: how you like college, how you’re getting good grades.

Rhett doesn’t think his mother knows about your falling out. He thinks your uncle can guess at it: when Rhett sees the man in town, he’s met with a stony stare, curt words.

He hates the way he left it with you. Every time he thinks about it, his stomach twists and cramps at the wash of shame that courses through him. There are many times during those three years apart that he thinks of you, that he has the idle thought to reach out. He has your number, your email. He could reach out. He could apologize.

He always thinks of you when he’s working on the lower field of the Abbott Ranch. It butts against your family’s ranch, a quarter mile of shared fencing, and part of the reason why his mother and yours had been such good friends—and why you and Rhett had been childhood friends too. There’s a section of fencing with a gap perfectly sized for a child’s body, and both you and Rhett had squeezed through it plenty of times as you went to each other’s houses.

He doesn’t know why your friendship faded. You used to be inseparable as children, the best of friends. You used to play in the Abbott barn with Rhett until Royal shooed you both away. Rhett used to sleep beside you in a tent in your backyard, your mother within earshot and ready to usher you inside if either of you lost your nerve after a night of telling each other ghost stories.

And when your parents died, Rhett did everything he could to help, in his own childish way: he clowned around to try and coax a smile from you, he offered awkward hugs when you cried. Once, he even baked you cookies (with Cecilia’s help).

The drifting apart came in middle school, he guesses. That’s when the boys and girls started to separate. That’s when Perry made sly jokes about you, called you Rhett’s little girlfriend, and Rhett bristled at the taunt while you looked hurt at Rhett’s bristling. You spent less time together: Rhett fell in with the other boys who drove their trucks outside of town for bonfire parties on the range and dreamed of rodeo and buckle bunnies while you turned inward, studied harder, started dreaming of life outside of Wabang.

When he works on the Abbott ranch’s lower field, he sees the gap in the fencing and marvels that he was ever small enough to squeeze through it…and yet it gives him a pang to see it, to remember those golden years of his childhood he spent with you.

He could reach out. He could apologize. He could, after an opening salvo, express his own confusion and frustration about why you had asked him to take your virginity in the first place. He guesses that you trust him—or trusted him—but he can’t pretend it didn’t unnerve him all the same.

He could reach out, but he doesn’t.

Rhett doesn’t see you again for three years.

-----

It comes with no warning, the next time he sees you. There’s been no chatter about you returning to Wabang for the summer. You’ve spent other summers at college, working internships and taking classes, so Rhett didn’t expect to see you this summer.

Rhett sees you in the town proper, just like that, like it’s just another day. Which it is, except there you are: standing outside of a restaurant, balancing a flat box of pizza in one hand while a six-pack of beer dangles from the other hand. You’ve been cornered by one of the older Wabang residents, the mother of one of your high school classmates, and judging by the expression on your face, Rhett guesses you’re calculating how to extricate yourself from the situation.

He's idling in his truck and only has a moment to study you. You look exactly the same—same face, same hair—yet you seem completely different. It takes Rhett a long moment to realize why; he doesn’t piece it together until he’s pulled away and is driving towards the ranch.

You seem different because you seem taller—because you’re standing straight. Perfect posture, shoulders back. Rhett’s never seen you stand like that before: as a teenager, you had a way of walking bent over a little, your shoulders rounded over and in like you were trying to pull in on yourself.

-----

He catches glimpses of you here and there. He hears people mention you—college girl back from the great wider world—and Rhett can’t quite account for the feelings your name or face stir up in him. Sometimes it makes him duck his head, slink around guilty, like others could read those terrible words his said to you the last time he saw you.

Pity-fucking the town orphan, he had said. The words are seared into his memory, as permanent as any tattoo.

Other times, though, the mention of your name or a glimpse of you fills him with a lightness, an airy feeling he remembers from your childhood together. Like all he has to do is slip through that gap in the fencing to go find you, to take your hand in his for some adventure.

-----

It’s funny how some of the stringent cliques of high school soften once everyone graduates. Rhett still hangs out with his friends from then, since none of them have left Wabang, but interlopers come and go and are no worse for wear for it.

The bonfires still occur out on the range but there’s less stridency about who does and doesn’t belong, who was and wasn’t invited.

You never went to a bonfire in high school. You weren’t exactly friendless back then, but you hung with similarly quiet and studious girls. Girls who spent their Friday nights sleeping over at each other’s houses, watching movies and dreaming about lives far from Wabang. But one early summer night, you turn up at the bonfire, in tow with Billy Tillerson and his girlfriend and a handful of other friends.

That riot of feelings. Guilt and hope in equal measure. The beer Rhett has already drank doesn’t help. He’s just tipsy enough, his thoughts just fuzzy and sluggish enough that when you turn up in the circle of firelight, he openly gapes at you, and it draws your attention.

Three years after that terrible fucking night at the hotel, Rhett Abbott is finally looking you square in the eye.

Pity-fucking the town orphan, his memory hisses at him, and a sick wave of shame washes through him.

But if you’re remembering the terrible thing he said, Rhett can’t tell. You stare at him in the flickering firelight, but then you tip your head at him, a scant nod, and the corners of your lips curve into a semblance of a smile.

It’s been three years, so it’s better than nothing.

-----

He sees you again in the next few weeks, here and there. At the bar, around town. Each time, you exchange nods of recognition but little else.

Cecilia gets wind of you being back for the summer, and she spends a Saturday morning baking up a double batch of your favorite cookies—pumpkin chocolate chip. She underbakes them a shade so they stay soft in the middle, just as you and Rhett always liked them best when you were kids, and then she thrusts the foil-covered platter into her younger son’s hands with the directive to deliver them to you.

Maybe Rhett never gave his mother enough credit. Cecilia seems to know about the rift between you after all.

“Life’s too short to stay mad,” she tells him before she sends him on his way.

“Who says anyone’s mad?”

She rolls her eyes, a universal expression that all mothers seem to have that says I’m your mother, you’re not pulling a fast one on me.

“Her mom and I were best friends, but we had our spats. We never let it turn into a cold war, though. Talk it out, yell if you have to, but work through it.” She pats his shoulder, and her eyes have a film of tears as she remembers her best friend, your mother, dead now for these long years. “Life’s too short.”

-----

Something about his mother’s words make Rhett take the old path to your house—through the lower field, to the gap in the shared fencing, though he has to climb over the fence now that he’s too big to squeeze through the narrow space between the posts.

Each step towards your farmhouse brings back a million memories. There’s the overgrown bank of Rocky Mountain iris. Rhett remembers how you cut a bouquet of them (uneven, stems weeping sap) for when his childhood dog died and was buried behind the Abbott barn. There’s a wide fire pit where your father used to patiently supervise as the two of you caught marshmallows on fire for s'mores. There’s the flat patch of prairie where your parents pitched a small pup-tent that you and Rhett used to sleep in during warm summer nights.

It baffles him that he used to sleep right beside you, tucked in his Power Rangers sleeping bag while you slept in your Sailor Moon one beside him. It baffles him how childhood can be so completely innocent, and how it can slip away in an instant.

The house looks the same from the outside, and when Rhett knocks at the back door, he finds that he’s…not excited, exactly. But not dreading it. You were his best friend, and his mother is right. Life is too short.

Your uncle is the one who answers the door, and the cool expression on his face pulls Rhett up short. But he says nothing other than “c’mon in, then,” and once Rhett steps into the house, your uncle hollers for you somewhere deeper in the home. Tells you that you have a visitor and that he’s heading into town for supplies.

Then Rhett hears the familiar cadence of you running down the stairs, and it tugs at something in his chest—you ran down those stairs the same way as a child, hitting the top three carefully, then rushing down the rest. You must meet your uncle near the front door because he hears the two of you murmuring, but he can’t make out the words. Then the door slamming, the roar of your uncle’s truck’s engine, and then you’re standing in front of him, the same semblance of a smile from the bonfire.

*****

The two of you sit outside near the fire pit, the platter of cookies between you. You have no idea what bit Rhett’s ass, but after the barest bit of small talk (“How’s it going?” and “How’s college?”), he immediately launches into the big shit.

“I hate how we left it,” he starts. “That night. You know.”

You bite back a snort, and you pluck another cookie from the platter, break it in half, pop it in your mouth. You chew slowly, give yourself time for that old wash of shame to course through you, then ebb away. It still makes your face burn hot, three years later. Every time the memory surfaces, you shove it down, but not before you remember the mortification of getting cold feet, of standing in front of him half naked while he called you the town orphan.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“I should have never said it.”

You shrug. “S’fine.”

“It’s not.” He sighs, takes his ball cap off and swipes his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I shoulda said it sooner. Should have apologized that same night.”

You glance over at him. You take in his profile: his jaw twitches at how tight he must be clenching it, and his blue eyes are fixed out in the field, the stretch of land between your ranch and his. He’s so damned handsome, but you often forget the fact because you still think of him as just the boy next door, your childhood best friend, and you didn’t think of him in terms of “handsome” or not back then.

You shift your gaze back to your shoes. “I should have apologized too. I should have never put you in that position in the first place.” A beat, and you add, softer, “I’m sorry, Rhett.”

You hear movement beside you and feel his eyes on you. “You don’t have to apologize for that.” He sounds surprised, and it makes you turn and look him in the eyes for the first time since you sat down.

“I do. It was awkward, and I made it more awkward, and it was stupid.” You shake your head, huff in frustration to remember the girl you’d been three years ago. Not that long, really, but you’ve grown up a lot since then. “I was an idiot.”

Rhett chances a smile. “You’re a lot of things, but idiot isn’t one of them.”

“Yeah, but it was stupid to ask you.”

His smile slips a bit; he leans back a shade. “It wasn’t stupid—”

“I mean, I put you in a weird position. That’s all I mean. And it was stupid for me to be so worried about it. It’ll happen how it happens. We aren’t…I mean, we weren’t…” You trail off, huff in frustration again. “We used to be best friends.”

He sighs too. “Yeah, I know.”

“And then we weren’t.”

“I know.”

“And I guess I was getting nervous about leaving Wabang, and nervous about going away to college, and I missed my friend and had this…this problem, I guess, so…” You hold up your hands, helpless, and it makes Rhett smile again.

“Not everything is a problem that you need to solve,” he says, and he sways towards you, elbows you in the side just like he used to do.

You laugh a little. “That was, though.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“Says the guy who never had that problem.”

He laughs, elbows you lightly again. “You give me too much credit.”

That makes you remember the tenor of the situation three years ago. High school. Rhett pining over Maria. She left Wabang, you heard.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him now. “I heard Maria left town.”

He shrugs but doesn’t say anything about it. He reaches out for another cookie and eats it, licks a crumb off his thumb.

“Anyway, I accept your apology, and I’m sorry I made things so weird,” you add.

He chuckles, elbows you a third time. “I accept your apology, and I’m sorry I made things fucking awful.”

You elbow him back finally, the answer to his outreach, the old call and response from your childhood. “I missed you, you know. In high school and in college both.”

“I missed you too,” he replies, and it feels good, like you’ve excised some old wound together, and now you can perhaps be friends again.

*****

The two of you don’t go all the way back to childhood, but you build something else. Tentative at first, stilted moments of conversation when you see each other in the wild, but each time feels a little easier.

You’re interning with the town veterinary clinic, and you join the old doctor as he makes house calls from ranch to ranch. You help steady horses while he vaccinates them. You smear on paste for ringworm, hold his instruments when he cleans a hoof abscess. You help him birth breech cattle; you stroke the muzzle of an old dog when it’s put to sleep.

Rhett sees you when you join the vet at the Abbott ranch one day. Royal’s favorite mare has a bad back hoof, and it makes Rhett smile to see you so professional. You question Royal about the horse’s diet; you question the vet about what he thinks. The vet asks you for your opinion, and you pause before you answer, look off into the distance thoughtfully before you tell him that a supplement of copper and zinc will help.

Cecilia invites you in afterwards for lemonade, and you accept gratefully. The two of you chat, and Rhett is left as a third wheel so he gets to look his fill of you. You seem more…comfortable with yourself. He noticed it that first day when he saw you again in Wabang. You sit up straight; you don’t curl in on yourself like you want to be invisible. He remembers you from high school, how you always seemed to be mid-cringe…and it reminds him of that night in the hotel, how you had cringed away from him, shirtless as he got frustrated because you had been nervous.

He knows he apologized and you apologized and it should all be behind you, but it still makes him feel queasy with shame. Pity-fucking the town orphan.

“Your mom would be proud,” Cecilia tells you, and you duck your head, mumble something, and just like that, you’re that high school girl again. It makes the queasy wash of shame cede to a wave of protectiveness in Rhett.

Then you stand up and thank her for the lemonade, and she makes you promise to join them for dinner soon. When you nod at Rhett, you try to step past him but he blocks your path.

“Hug tax,” he says, but it makes you burst into laughter. Your mom used to do that: block yours (and his, when he visited) path, demanded hugs as payment for passage.

“I smell like horse manure and sweat, Rhett Abbott.”

“I guarantee you I smell worse, but rules are rules.” He holds his arms open, and you laugh again, step into them for a moment. When he whispers “you stink” into your ear, it earns him a squawk of outrage and a pinch to his side, but you laugh the whole way back to your truck.

-----

You join them for dinner a few nights later. You get to meet the newest Abbotts, Rebecca and Amy, and you break up the general tension that radiates off of the dour Royal like a miasma.

The dinner is largely uneventful. Rhett catches you matching faces across the table at Amy, which makes the little girl laugh. Cecilia asks about your years at college so far, and Perry jokingly asks if you’ve had any boyfriends since Rhett.

“No, none,” you reply simply, but it makes Rhett think. It makes the gears start to turn. He always assumed your so-called problem was solved while you were away, your virginity shed in some dorm room or apartment or at a party. But he searches back to that conversation you had when he brought you the peace-offering cookies. What did you say as you stammered out your own apology?

It’ll happen how it happens.

Present tense, not past.

-----

He verifies it over that same weekend. There’s another bonfire. You turn up with the same crew as before—apparently you’re friendly with Billy Tillerson’s girlfriend. Now that you and Rhett are back on good terms, he approaches you halfway through the night, and the two of you peel off a little separate from the rest.

“Big fan of the Tillersons then?” he asks, his tone mock-disgusted. You hear the underlying playfulness and laugh.

“There’s a certain brand loyalty there, yeah.”

Rhett pulls a face, which makes you elbow him. “Why?”

“Well, their cousin Drew took me to the winter formal sophomore year.”

“So?”

Another elbow to his side. “He was my first kiss.”

“Gross.”

You laugh again. “It could have been worse. He popped a mint beforehand, at least.”

Rhett grunts at that, but he lets the moment lie for a beat before he asks, in a tone he hopes is casual, “did Drew Tillerson help you with your other problem too?”

You laugh again, but there’s less merriment in it. “Negative, Ghost Rider.”

Maybe he shouldn’t push it, but he’s had a few shots of Fireball chased by plenty of beer, so he plunges head-first. “Someone at college, then?”

That doesn’t elicit a laugh. “No,” you reply, and now there’s an edge of tension in your voice. A tread lightly edge. Which…Rhett Abbott rarely treads lightly—he more often charges headfirst like a bull, and that’s exactly what he does now.

“Someone I know?”

“No.” He glances at you, catches your narrowed eyes fixed on the fire. “Leave it, Rhett.”

He doesn’t leave it. He plunges head first. “So it’s still a problem?”

It must be. You must still be a virgin because you’re so discomfited. You obviously hear judgement in his voice—judgement that doesn’t exist, of course—because you hike your shoulders up around your ears and hunch away from him. You look so much like your high school self, suddenly insecure and cringing, and you mumble something about it not being a problem for you, so it shouldn’t be a problem for anyone else, and then you duck away to go find someone else to talk to.

-----

The two of you hang out through the summer. He works at the ranch and you have your internship, but you fall into the habit of spending the evenings together. The weekends. You go to the rodeo with him, watch from the stands. Sometimes you sit with Perry and Rebecca when they come, and Perry makes sly comments to Rhett afterwards. He calls you his girlfriend, just as he had teased when you were kids, but it hits Rhett different now.

Things with you feel easy. Low stakes. You’re friends again, and you slowly open up to each other. Rhett tells you a little about Royal, their difficult relationship that has only grown more strained the older Rhett has gotten. You talk about college, how lonely it can be since you are so focused on your studies. Veterinary school is more competitive than med school, you tell him, so how can you make time for friends?

The corollary is how can you make time for love? How can you make time to lose your virginity?

When you asked him to take your virginity three years ago, he had been confused and a little uncomfortable about he. He couldn’t understand why you’d ask him, but with three years’ worth of added life experience, Rhett guesses that you asked because you trust him. Wabang isn’t that big of a town. There’s a dearth of available men you could have asked, especially back in high school.

Three years later, the memory makes a million emotions flit through Rhett. A nostalgia for when life was slightly easier back then. Shame that he had said what he did, sadness that he didn’t reach out sooner, that he let the bad feelings lie for three years.

But you had trusted him, even back then, so he wonders if you trust him now. Would you ask him again, if you weren’t so embarrassed? What if that evening in the hotel room had gone differently? What if, instead of getting frustrated with how nervous you were, he had been a gentler man—what if he had handed you your shirt, pulled you into a hug, laid down on the bed with you and watched a movie instead? What if you had fallen asleep together instead, just like when you were kids?

He has to wonder if that disastrous evening has made your virginity an even bigger deal. That you had a plan to lose it, and that plan had gone horribly, so now it’s more of an issue.

Pity-fucking the town orphan. The memory stings. There were so many kinder things he could have said.

Well, he has a semblance of a second chance now. He sees you nearly every day. You laugh with him again, have long chats. Maybe he can do it over again, better the second time around.

-----

He’s the one who asks, the second time around.

The two of you are in his truck, driving back from Wabang. Your truck is in the shop, so Rhett picked you up from work, but he takes the long way home. You fiddle with the radio, scan through the static until you find the old country station out of Jackson. There’s an old Loretta Lynn song playing that you hum along to, and you seem to be in a good mood, so Rhett plunges headfirst into it.

“If you wanted to try again,” he says, and his voice is rough at the edges. “I was gonna offer…”

He trails off, and you stop humming along, and Loretta finishes her song, gives way to Merle Haggard singing about how his mama tried.

“Rhett,” is all you say, but his name is both a sigh and a warning.

“I’m just saying.” He swallows, tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “I messed up before. Ruined it.” He glances over at you, but your face is turned away from him. You’re looking out the window at the Wyoming dusk as the sun sets.

“Rhett, c’mon.” Less a warning now, more a plea.

“I want to,” is all he says, and you don’t reply. You don’t say anything else other than to murmur your thanks for the ride when he drops you off, and he doesn’t talk to you again until you call him days later and say, “okay.”

-----

Three years later, he does so much better.

He keeps it simple this time. He remembers all those sleepovers in the pup tent, your parents within earshot of any nighttime terrors. He remembers sleeping beside you, waking up to dawn bleeding in through the nylon of the tent, dew coating everything when your mom would unzip the little door and tell you that there were chocolate chip pancakes ready for the two of you.

You’ve never been a high maintenance sort of girl. You’ve always loved the wilderness around Wabang, the endless sky and wild storms and purple mountain ranges in the distance. Where better than to do this than under the night sky, out on the range?

Rhett lays down a thick bedroll in the bed of his truck, then covers it with blankets. It’s a banner night in Wyoming: cool but not cold, the warmth of the summer day bleeding away to a comfortable coolness. The bugs are few. The sky is a velvety blue-black above you, the stars a scatter of diamonds tossed across it. The faintest band of orange glows in the west, the last bit of sunlight before it’s full dark.

You’re just as nervous as before, but Rhett keeps his head this time. He’s not a boy masquerading as a man this time; he’s older, smarter, has more experience. Three years ago, Rhett only had a handful of sexual encounters to his repertoire—a handful of disappointing moments, drunken rendezvous with girls from high school, a couple of flings. Nothing deep or meaningful.

He smooths his hands over your arms, then reaches up and cups your face. He studies you a moment, takes in the unsteady way you’re breathing. You’re his oldest and dearest friend, and he feels a weird twinge in his chest. He chalks it up to nervousness on his part, but he’ll wonder later if perhaps it is love.

“Okay?” he asks, and you nod.

He bends his head and kisses you, and it’s the same as before. You’re tentative with each other, but you warm up to him quickly: you kiss him back, tease at him with a shy little sweep of your tongue, and when he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, you’re right there—sighing against him, sinking your teeth lightly into his lower lip before you suck against it.

You must have kissed, at least, in college. You’re better at it now. The thought should encourage him—he won’t be your only experience—but he feels an odd wash of jealousy. He pictures you making out with someone better than him, better looking and smarter and on track to being more successful.

He takes it as slow as you need. He lets you set the pace. He strips you out of your clothing, and he allows you to strip him out of his, and you don’t cringe from him this time. It’s likely because it’s dark outside; Rhett can’t see much, but you feel amazing under his searching hands, soft and warm. When he trails his fingertips over your bare skin, he feels how you break out in goosebumps, and he marvels at how sensitive you are.

Rhett’s learned a lot in the intervening years. He’s no longer an eighteen year-old fumbling through sexual interludes. He has a better understanding of women. He spends a long moment stretched out beside you in the bed of his truck, working his fingers into your tight heat, feeling how wet you get as he eases you into this. He pushes one finger, then a second. He scissors them inside you, feels the slick muscles of your core push back against him.

“Just relax,” he whispers against your neck, and he kisses you there. He feels your pulse under his lips, and he nuzzles against you, takes in the scent of your skin. A moment later, he feels you relax a fraction, the tight grip on his fingers released just a bit.

He can feel you relax more as he kisses you, as he fingers you. You’re warming up to the moment, pushing past whatever insecurities you have. The setting helps, he thinks. It’s not some anonymous hotel room with beige carpeting and the faint scent of old secondhand smoke. It’s outside, the open range of your home that you love so much. A waning moon and a million stars burn above you. It must be a million times more magical than a three-star hotel by the interstate exit.

It's certainly better for him. It takes him no time at all to get hard, even if he’s nervous. You’re his oldest, dearest friend, and he’s never thought of you as a woman, really. He’s never considered you as a sexual being, so it’s a revelation to see your naked body under the faint moonlight. It’s a revelation to touch you, to cup your breasts and to put his lips against your pebbled nipples, to grind his cock against your bare hip to relieve the tension that coils tight and hot in his belly.

Rhett stretches out on the bed roll. He fumbles for his discarded jeans, finds the foil packet. He scrambles to roll a condom onto himself, and then he encourages you to take charge, to take your first time into your own hands.

“You’re in charge,” he murmurs. He takes your hand, threads his fingers through yours. He tugs you towards him until your face is pressed near his, and he brushes his lips against yours. “Just like ridin’ a horse.”

You snort softly. “Am I gonna need a riding helmet for this?”

He grins up at you. “I won’t buck you off.”

He guides you as you straddle him, grasps the softness of your hips as you settle over him. He grips the base of his cock, gives himself a couple of strokes, then holds himself steady as you lower yourself, slide against his length, and even through the latex he can feel how warm you are.

Then you reach down and take him in hand, and it should feel weird, his best friend wrapping her fingers around his cock, but it doesn’t, and Rhett doesn’t question why because you may be a virgin but you understand the mechanics of this, and you notch the blunt head of his cock at your entrance. When you start to slowly lower yourself onto him, every blessed thought drains out of his head, and every bit of his attention focuses on where he’s entering you—the unbearably tight grip you have, the way your hands settle on his chest as you brace yourself. You take it slow—so goddamned slow—stilling, taking a breath, then pushing onwards.

When you’re settled onto him, when you’re sitting flush against him, Rhett breathes out a harsh, punched-out breath, and he asks if you’re okay. His voice is rough. His throat feels too dry. It feels unreal. His oldest, dearest friend, the girl he used make s’mores with and trade ghost stories with…you’re naked, you’re nodding at his question, you’re sitting on him, and his cock is buried in your depths. He’s just taken your virginity, and his throat feels too dry and too tight, and his brain struggles to think of the perfect thing to say to you, but your body starts to move above him and he never has a chance to say it.

Your rhythm is clumsy at first, too fast, too jerky. Rhett grasps your waist and guides you gently. He sets you in a slower, more even rhythm; you ride him steadily and you make the cutest little whimpers each time to settle back on him. Each time you do, the coil of tension in his lower belly tightens more, and Rhett breathes carefully to avoid coming too soon.

He slips one hand from your hip and reaches to where you’re joined to him. He finds your clit, slick and swollen, and he traces an infinity symbol there, around and ‘round with his thumb that makes those cute whimpers turn into outright moans. He senses that you’re holding back, but you’re in the middle of nowhere.

“No need to be quiet,” he tells you. “Lemme hear it, baby.”

You moan louder at that, the command or the sweet-talking nickname or both, and he notices that you start to pick up the pace, riding him faster, so he does the same—he rubs against your clit harder, faster, because he feels his own orgasm coming up fast at him. His balls feel heavy and taut, and he’s so damned close—

“C’mon, let go,” he growls, but his sedate passivity crumbles. He sits up underneath you, jerks a squeal from you as he sits up and wraps his arms around you. He pulls you closer to him, and the change in position grants him another quarter-inch into you, and it makes the base of his cock grind against your clit with each bounce in his lap.

“Let go,” he orders; he mumbles it against your lips. “I wanna feel you come, baby. Wanna feel you come for the first time,” he says, but when you open your mouth to respond, he kisses you, shoves his tongue into your panting mouth, licks against you as you whimper from deep in your throat.

Then he feels it. He feels it—the way your orgasm breaks through you, the hard snap of your hips as you arch against him, as your cunt grips him: your breasts pressed against his bare chest, your arms tight around his shoulders. You drop your head on his shoulder, and he feels your mouth there. You stifle the sounds of your pleasure against him, and he’d admonish you, but as your orgasm tears through you, he feels the sharp bite of your teeth into his skin, and it unlocks a kink Rhett never knew he had because the sting of pain is what makes the tension in him snap. He groans out your name, manages a shit—fuck—baby, then he comes too, ropes of his cum spilling in the condom as you tremble in his arms.

-----

In the end, Rhett Abbott claims your first time that night on the range, under the stars.

He gets your second time too, later that same night: him on top of you, you with your legs wrapped around him, making good use of the spare condom he brought along.

He gets your third time as well, the next day. It’s a quick moment, a bona fide quickie in the Abbott barn, the scent of clean hay and sweat as he bends you over the railing of an empty horse stall. He pulls out in plenty of time, pants as you turn around to grasp him and jerk him off the rest of the way, his cum spilling over your warm palm.

And your fourth time. He sneaks into your bedroom, and though your uncle is out of town for the night, Rhett still pretends you need to be quiet: he spoons you from behind, hikes your leg over his and slides into you. He breathes quietly as he fucks you gently, and he clasps a hand over your mouth as you come, and when your teeth nip into his calloused palm, he groans and comes too.

The next morning, your fifth time as you sit on the kitchen counter and wrap your legs around his ass as he drives into you.

Rhett never examines his feelings around it. When he’s alone—baling hay, fixing fences along the ranch parameter—he doesn’t let his thoughts ruminate over you too much. There’s a truth there, buried under all the sexual interludes and underneath all the shared history and hurt, but he doesn’t excavate it.

He only lets the facts stand. You’re his oldest, dearest friend. You are sexually compatible. End of story.

*****

You have plans to meet Rhett in town, at the bar. You’ve had a long day at your job, deworming a flock of sheep, and you smell terrible, so you stop home to shower and change your clothes. You stare at your closet critically; you’ve suffered for lack of a mother in your formative years. You don’t quite understand how to be a woman—you know there’s different lengths of skirts, for example, that work best depending on one’s height or shoes, but you’re damned if you know what those rules are.

Still, you want to look nice. You want to look nice for Rhett. Under torture, you’d probably admit it, but you can barely even admit it to yourself: you’re in love with him. You have been for a while. You loved him when you were children in that vague, puppyish way kids love each other. You loved him when you were in high school, pined from afar and moped over sad songs on the radio because he never looked your way.

And now here you are. Hope bubbles up in you from time to time, when you’re alone and considering what your future might hold. You always had a deep, bleak dread that you’d always be alone—sudden orphanhood can warp a psyche, you guess. But for the first time, you have tentative moments of hope.

You find a sundress, the cotton a little faded but in the low lights of the bar, no one should notice. You pull on a pair of strappy sandals. You dust your face and neck with some of your mother’s old luminating powder, and the scent of it makes a sharp blade of melancholy lance through you.

Then you drive into Wabang, and your stomach gets those fluttery butterflies as you park, slip your keys into your purse, and walk in.

It takes a moment to find him. He usually posts at the bar when he’s waiting for you, the door in his line of sight, but when you enter the din of the bar, he’s nowhere to be found. Maybe he found a buddy and is chatting with him. Maybe he’s in the bathroom.

If your hope bubbles up in you, effervescent, then your hope is easily popped when you find Rhett. He’s not in the bathroom and he hasn’t found a buddy, but he’s found Maria Olivares. The wayward dream girl has returned, and she’s as gorgeous as ever (she must understand skirt lengths, you guess), and her lovely face is tilted towards Rhett as she laughs at whatever he says. And worse, his handsome face is lit up like a damned Christmas tree, laughing too, and your hope is popped and burnt to the ground and the earth around it is salted because Rhett has never looked at you like that.

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, and you turn on your heel and fast-walk out of the bar. The path back to your truck shimmers, wavers in front of you. You realize it’s because your eyes are full of tears, and when you realize it, they break free, start to course down your face.

“It’s okay,” you tell yourself, and you repeat it over and over: as you get into your truck, as you turn the ignition, as you peel out of the parking lot and as your tires throw up an arc of gravel. You repeat it like a mantra, and you fix your attention on the road. You drive home; you leave Rhett at the bar, and it’s a confirmation when he doesn’t text you until the next morning asking where you’ve been.

By then, though, you’re already halfway gone. It’s August, after all, and school is starting again soon, and leaving Wabang a few weeks early is easy enough.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #outer range #tropes and tales #kinktober 2023

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yiiyiiwrites · 2 months ago

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🍁 | Autumn Equinox | Azriel

Summary: you’ve been mated to Azriel for over a year now, but it’s your first time celebrating the autumn equinox outside your home court. Azriel tries his best to make it a good one 2075words

Azriel x Autumn court reader

Also Have one for [Cassian] & [Eris] & Lucien coming soon

[Acotar masterlist]

The autumn equinox used to be your favourite celebration, now it just reminded you of everything you’d lost. A bitter sweet holiday you wasn't sure if you could do each year.

You may have gained your fated lover, your other half but you’d given up your home and family.

There wasn’t any other way, you knew that. The moment you’d stumbled upon the shadow singer in the golden forests of autumn was the final fraying thread snapping.

If you didn’t hurt Azriel by your own hands, Beron would make an example of you and use you in what ever way to break the bond. To snuff out any flickering ember that remained for your mate.

So you were as sly as a fox, crawling under the overgrown hedges of molten brown thorns keeping you in the court.

Your mother understood, she packed your things as sobs shook her whole body. Even now as you closed your eyes, you could smell the tendrils of her smokey caramelised scent and the undertones of cinnamon washing over you as if she were embracing you for the last time again.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. You opened your eyes, dark wisp falling away from caressing your cheek. For a moment you imagined the touch of your mother's hand warming your cheek.

Azriel sighed as you sunk into his embrace, his presence more frequent the days leading to the equinox. You’d refused to hold him the first few days after you caught the mark on the calendar, afraid your touch would burn him.

Velaris offered a similar bout of weather that reminded you of home. The nights growing longer, colder and you were thankful there was still a little scrap of heritage you could clutch onto.

Your magic however seemed to be like a fizzling firework in the night court. Touch running hot and cold, that you didn’t stand close to your mate for months as you got used to the warmer seasons.

The restraint you’d built since your arrival dulled your flames. You no longer needed to apologise for scorching holes in Azriel’s sleeve or slapping the fiery embers from the fabric a bit too harshly as you tried to it stop marring his skin.

In the beginning he’d gifted you a pair of leather gloves, but that increased the distance between you both. You wondered why the gods had strung you two together in the beginning, everything you were, summoned painful memories for Azriel. The simple action of holding his hand reminded you why, why you needed to cage the flame to offer him a semblance of the same affection he gave to you.

"I have something for you," he said, nose tracing your jaw and pulling you out of your thoughts.

The cold crept in as he slipped away, the winter breeze pushing the stray strands of hair out out of your face. You breathed in, another wave of smokey scents and sweet aromas tipped with oak prickling the warmth beneath your fingertips. Turning around to meet your mate, you took a step back.

In his gloved hands laid a whicker hamper, tartan blanket sticking out of the box. You gasped, adding another step back. No wonder you could smell their scents. "You saw my mother?" Your voice trembled, hands diving into your coat pocket, fists clenching as you tried to expel the overpowering scents that even mingled with his shadows.

He nodded, ever the cool and controlled mate, never raising his voice or moving too fast as if he'd spook a fox in Autumn. "Yes, it's customary to exchange gifts," Azriel said, pulling the blanket out of the hamper and rolling it out on the ground, he stilled. "Isn't it?" His hazel eyes snapped up to yours, shadows freezing under the curve of his wings.

You couldn't fight the smile, nodding down at him kneeling beside the hamper. He patted the space opposite him and that damned tether tugged you closer. "Yes Az, exchanging gifts are customary but I did not get my family any." You didn't see the point, there was no way you'd be able to step in Autumn without dire consequences.

"That's fine, I did." He shrugged, laying a pumpkin pie in front of you, steam curling off the brown pastry.

A tradition in your family to gift handmade presents to each other during the autumn equinox. Your mothers famous, pumpkin pie, honey tea and spiced apples.

"You got gifts for my family?" You asked, scooting closer to Azriel who didn't offer you a glance, his attention on the contents in the hamper. "What did you get my father?" You leant forwards dipping your head and tried catching his gaze. "My father hates you and you gave him gift?"

"I got him a hunting knife." He said it like it was the most logical thing, as if your father would not be thinking of gutting him with it. His shadows seemed to follow your line of thought, a dark wisp pushing you back to sit.

"Is that why you met with my mother instead?" You laughed, even though you wanted to cry at the thought of your mate stepping into autumn for a spec of your happiness and his own demise.

Azriel finally let his gaze fall on you, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. Always searching you before he decided what words to choose. "You're mother actually requested for me." His ears tinged a darker shade, hand scratching the back of his neck.

It was odd to think of your mother with him, you knew she'd be gentle and careful in her approach. Something you thought Azriel didn't receive much of in way of interaction. You also wondered what she thought of your mate, hoping she didn't worry and didn't judge alone from his stony features.

The grey cable knit sweater (the one you'd knit him last year) hugged his muscular arms, bicep flexing at his movement that you forget for a second what he said. A wave of your mother's scent hit you like a whip and brought you back.

"How the Gods does my mother manage to request your presence?"

"Well, she knows a lady in winter, that knows a lady in day and knows..." he trailed off the sentence, stumbling over his words trying to grasp the order of whatever your mother had told him. Trust your mother to use her network of gossips to send word to Velaris in order to find your mate.

"And how many ladies do you know?"

"Many," he smirked leaning in to you, "the only lady that matters is you though." His lips pressed against yours, warmth spreading through your chest as his hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you closer.

You smirked, storing away the memory so that you could show Feyre later and make your mate sweat about his duties to a high lady that didn't matter.

"Smooth, I bet my mother saw right through you." You said, tracing your swollen lips. You leant across Azriel's lap and plucked a ruby red apple from the hamper, teeth sinking into the shiny skin.

"Your mother probably thinks we're an equal match. How many guards did you court till you made it to me?" His lip twitched, fingers pinching your thigh for another swift attack. You swatted him way, squealing as his shadows skimmed the small slip of skin where your top had rode up over your hip.

It were true, you'd worked your way through nearly every division of the autumn army in the hopes of finding someone who wasn't just focused on following the high lords every word. What else were you supposed to do for five hundred years?

"I'd be quiet if I were you, recon I could get a rank higher than you back in autumn.” You swatted the curling wisps out of your face, sending them hissing back to their master.

"I doubt your mother would approve."

You didn’t argue with him on that, knowing that your mother was never fond of any suitor you’d brought home before.

“I take it these are from them?” You asked, lifting a small wooden box out of the hamper. A yellowing envelope stuck to the lid and sealed with red wax. You ripped the letter and scanned over your mother’s cursive writing.

The usual sentimental words she’d say to you around the table whilst you thanked the gods of harvest for giving you all good things and planting new seeds of regrowth and learning. At the very bottom below her signature however was a blurred splotchy mess, as if she’d written it last minute and folded the paper.

I hope this equinox brings you many blessings and offers you new fields to plant your own seeds. May you nurture the connection between you and your fated. My daughter you’ve been blessed, as have I now that I know you will be loved and safe.

Azriel peered over your shoulder, “I think she likes me,” he said, cutting a second piece of pumpkin pie and shoving it in his mouth.

“Just thank the stars you didn’t meet my father.” Now that you were banished from autumn, you doubted that you’d see him again. Too proud of his home to step out of tradition.

He hummed in agreement, pouring a cup of honey tea and setting it down in front of you. The view from the house of wind's balcony was your favourite, always bringing a smile to your face and reminding you that you could find beauty in any court. You did miss Autumn, but Velaris had grown on you, the constant stars blinking in the inky sky each night.

A small fire flickered in a homemade pit, copper bowl keeping it contained. Peeling the overlapping cloth, you traced the knitted mittens. Charcoal grey yarn that looked like liquid mercury woven together with softer orange, the two colours a symbol of your union with Azriel. Picking them up from the box, you slipped them into your pocket, freezing as something dropped out of one the mittens. A dark wisp dove out from its owner and caught the small object.

The shadows held it up and twisted it in front you, a fox figurine carved from wood and painted orange and beige. Tiny brushstrokes imitating fur, looking oddly like the fox you had as a child. A gift from your younger sister, you'd left your other figurines back in Autumn and hated yourself for it ever since. Least you had one now.

Azriel was silent as ever, watching you intently.

"My mother didn't give you anything? I mean I know I am gift enough Az," you said, laughing as he bumped his shoulder to yours.

His head dipped, Shadows concealing his face. "She did, wouldn't let me leave till I finished a pumpkin pie she made. Your sister made me a little fox of my own." Thats when you noticed the tiny wood carved fox pendent on a thin string around his neck, dark ink peeking out underneath it.

"Oh god's Az, don't let your enemies hear you say that. If that's all it takes." And by the looks of it, he'd enjoyed it so much, he was half way through the pumpkin pie from the hamper.

Cool metal met your fingertips as you lifted the cloth again, your reflection staring back at you in the silver blade. "I take it this gift is for both of us," you joked, Azriel picked it up and turned the hilt in his hand. A red stone embedded in the pommel, a scripture you couldn't quite make out on the hilt.

"Hunting knife, a few centuries old," he said glancing at your furrowed brows. "Look the hilts worn, the leather binding it, is coming away. Blade needs sharpening too, must have been in your family for a long time." He passed the knife back, blade pinched between his thumb and pointer finger.

You wrapped it back in the cloth, sandwiching it between the thick layers. "No idea why he'd give me that old thing," you mumbled, slamming the box shut. You were never one to use a knife, more inclined to using your magic and merging it with autumn's fighting techniques.

"No idea, just don't gut me with it in my sleep."

"Never," you gasped. "Just remember good behaviour or its a blunt blade my dear."

Since its nearly autumn equinox I wanted to do some prompts for it :) there's other characters to come - Yiiyii

#acotar azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel #azriel fic #azriel fluff #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic

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sweetsweetjellybean · 2 years ago

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Twisted | Eddie Munson x FemReader

AN: 18+ A little something quick & dirty while I work on my series. Brought to you by Smutterpiece Theater and their sponsor Horny Hours.

TW: creampie. pretzel position, dirty talk, a little rough, a little spank, a little tiddy fucking. ENJOY

"Baby. Bay-be," Eddie presses wet kisses up your spine, lifting your thin sleep tank. You're sprawled out on your stomach, twisted slightly with one knee bent and your hands tucked under your pillow.

"Eddie, I'm tired," you mumble, eyes closed tight, still heavy with sleep.

"But baby," he pouts, his warm chest pressed at your back, lips tickling the shell of your ear. His hand slides up your side until the underneath of your breast is exposed, "you're going to be gone for five whole days, and there's going to be no one to sit on my face," his fingers squirm there way between you and the mattress until he's teasing your nipple into a hardened peak.

"Your face will be just fine. I'm sleeping," you roll more fully in your stomach, pulling your breast from his grasp. Your folds are still swollen and sticky from his cum and the possessive sex you had a few hours before falling asleep.

"And you're so cute when you sleep. Especially with all that drool," he tickles the side of your lips with one finger.

Your eyes pop open, "I am not drooling," you wipe the back of your hand across your mouth, double-checking.

He chuckles in your ear, and you roll to your side to face him. He's propped up one elbow, wearing just his boxers and a sly smile.

"I have to get up so early," you whine, pecking his soft lips, "You already fucked me twice today. Didn't you get enough?"

"But you already wiped all my cum away, baby. I want you to leave all filled up," he kisses you back harder, more demanding, "I want everyone to know you're mine."

"Eddie," you cup his jaw pushing him back, "It's an all-girls retreat at catholic camp, and you're the goddamn reason my parents are making me go in the first place."

His fingers circle your wrist, gripping tightly, pushing you onto your back, pinning your arm over your head against the pillow, "Might as well do something worth confessing," he dips his head, those plush lips attaching to the soft skin of your neck, sucking hard creating a vacuum of pleasure straight to your pussy.

"Everyone is going to know, baby," he leaves a wet trail as he moves new spot to mark, "they'll know that you get fucked so good."

A moan mixes with your exhale as you rub your legs together, the soft material of your sleep shorts starting to dampen.

He pulls your shirt over your head and starts on your breasts, adding the scrap of teeth over your nipples, "I need these tits covered, looking like works of art," he says between sucks drenching you with his spit. He moves from one to the other, your nipples red and aching when he finishes with one last hickey on the underside of your breast, his big doe eyes on yours, making sure you understand you belong only to him.

"Fuck, you got me so hard," his chin shiny with spit as he stands up and drops his boxers. His cock stands out from his body, the pink fat head leaking precum down the veiny shaft. He leans over and kisses you once while he climbs back on the squeaky mattress, straddling your chest, bringing that hard length to your lips.

"Spit on it, baby. Get me soaked. I want to fuck your tits."

His cock jumps when you press a kiss to the head before sucking in his tip. Letting your tongue swirl around it like a popsicle before working it into his slit.

"I said spit," he says, dragging it from your mouth with a pop.

"So impatient," you tease, gathering your spit, letting it drool out into his dick, and using your hand to spread it.

"That's it," he praises, looking down at you, his eyes almost black. He pulls away, moving down your body, spitting into the valley of your breasts before settling his cock between them. Calloused thumbs rub your nipples as he pushes them together and starts thrusting his hips.

"They look so pretty. All my little marks," he admires, watching himself slide in and out, "Hold 'em, baby," he brings your hands up to take his place, leaving him free to stroke and pinch your nipples, causing you to whimper at the pleasure mixing with a bit of pain.

"Ahh, Eddie," you rub your feet against the sheets, your clit pulsing in time with his thrusts.

"Are you getting needy? I thought you were tired?" he tuts.

"Not anymore. I want you," your tongue licking out trying to reach his tip when pushes through your cleavage.

"You like getting used," he reaches back and rubs you over your shorts, "You want me to use your pussy? Fill it up and send you home to your daddy."

"Mmmhmm, please. Use me," you buck your hips against his hand.

"How can I say no to that?" he smiles wickedly, his tongue sneaking out to trace his plush lips. He moves off your body and grasps the waist of your shorts.

"You better not say no, or I'll find someone else to say yes," you tease, lifting your hips and legs while he slides off your pajamas.

"On your side," he says, his eyes flashing.

The smirk you wear as you start to roll is quickly replaced with surprise when his fingers dig into your hips and flip you roughly before giving your ass a hard slap. The crack echoed through the trailer.

"Careful, or you're going to have some handprints to match those hickies," he lifts your top leg and straddles the lower.

"Ready, baby?" he asks as the head of his cock pushes into your waiting entrance, the delicious stretch of that first thrust always leaving you gasping. You twist your torso just in time to catch his eyes as he slides against your walls, fillings you incredibly deep until his heavy balls slap against your clit.

"Fuck," you cry out when he leans forward, wrapping your top leg over his hip as he ruts into you, grunting as he bottoms out every time.

"Beg for my cum," he leans down and bites your breast, fucking you harder, his bedframe slamming into the wall, "beg for it, and I'll decide if you deserve it."

"Please, Eddie," you whimper, not knowing if you've ever been fucked this hard or deep before.

"Please what, baby?" he licks his thumb and brings it to your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

"Please, I want your cum," you plead, trying to tug him closer, "Fill me so full it will be leaking out of me until I come back."

"Will that get you off?" he stays deep, his shallow thrusts punishing that spot on your velvety walls, "If I fill up this tight pussy?"

"I'm going to cum so hard."

The feeling of him pulsing cum into your pussy, sets you off, your whole body shaking, feeling completely used and fucked had you cumming harder on his dick than you ever had before. He collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat, placing lazy wet kisses on your cheeks. You're so full you wish he would stay inside forever.

"Eddie?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"Maybe I can skip camp and stay with you this week?"

If you've enjoyed this fic, please reblog and drop a comment. It makes a big difference in helping others find my work. Thanks. xoxo -Jelly

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson filth #twisted #quick and dirty

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homelanderbutbig · 6 months ago

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As Long As We're Together (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2538 words. Hurt/comfort and fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Your anniversary gift exchange doesn't go exactly as planned.

Made as part of the Cozy Corner Domaystic event put together by @cozycornerevents, using prompt #11 "unexpected gifts" and prompt #29 "peace offering".

It's officially been a month since you and Homelander started dating. Your relationship is still under wraps from the spying eyes at Vought, so the two of you can't celebrate your anniversary publicly. But that won't stop you both from having a special day.

As his personal assistant, you're trailing behind him on the set for 'Dawn of The Seven', making sure he has his lines ready. It's been a pretty busy shoot, and the two of you have not had much time to yourselves.

Eventually, there's a lull in between filming. You're following him as usual, flipping through the script to keep a strict tab on the upcoming scenes, but you are confused when he suddenly halts right in front of his trailer. Looking up at him, you can see a sly grin accompanying a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Come inside for a second," he smirks, bending down at the waist to whisper into your ear. "I have a surprise for you."

"I can't honey," you mention, pulling your phone out of your pocket and tapping the screen to bring up the current time. "I need to head back to the Tower in 15 minutes, I have a meeting with your marketing team."

Leaning back up to his full height, Homelander stares down at you in disbelief. You so nonchalantly took the ground right out from under him; he wasn't expecting any resistance, especially not on your anniversary. The day he confessed his love for you.

"N-no… no. No. Blow them off, come on," he stutters with a shaky smile, doing his best to regain his composure. "Come."

"I really can't stay," you divulge. "It'll take me at least 10 minutes to make it to the Tower and to the meeting room. Can this wait until I get back?"

Your words cut through him like a knife. All he wanted to do was to prove his devotion to you, and you're refusing him this chance. Your schedules have both been so chaotic today and he doesn't want to wait any longer for his surprise, definitely not until the evening when you're both off work.

"P-please," he mumbles quietly, his voice barely sounding audible. He can't let you leave, not yet.

Despite Homelander standing a menacing eight feet tall and you only reaching his abs, he could not seem any more small to you right now. All you see is a dejected puppy with big glassy eyes, so desperate for a scrap of your undivided attention. With a sigh, you walk up to him and reach for one of his large hands, squeezing your palm around the leather of his glove.

"This won't take longer than 5 minutes?" you ask.

"Of course not," he exclaims with a toothy grin. Your simple question is enough to wash away his fears and recapture his giddy childlike energy from moments ago. "Trust me, you'll love this."

Leading you to the trailer, he opens the door to let you in first so he can watch you spot his gift on the table. Your gasp fills him elation, ravishing in the way your body chemistry changes with delight. Carefully, you climb onto one of the oversized chairs in the dining area to get a closer look at what he got for you.

In the middle of the table is a perfectly designed bouquet, composed of a red rose heart nestled in a cloud of baby's breath. Tucked in between the flowers is a note card, wishing you a happy anniversary. Homelander even signed it himself, with a little heart doodle for you alongside his name.

"Oh hun," you exhale, bringing the flower vase closer to examine them. "These are so beautiful."

As he studies your reaction, he is perplexed as to why you appear to be blinking away tears. Are you upset at his gift? He thought this was a proper anniversary present; in every romantic movie he's ever seen the gentleman always brings his special someone a bouquet of flowers.

"Is something wrong?" he ponders, kneeling down so he can be at your eye-level. You can't help but smile at his face right next to yours, and the dread in his expression over making you cry.

"No, no…" you sniffle as you dry your eyes. "I'm just… I'm just happy. Nobody's ever gotten me flowers before."

"Thank you Homelander," you state, cupping his cheeks right before kissing him. Nearly instantly, he closes his eyes and exhales deeply through his nose as he melts into your affection. He leans more into your lips, softly keening as he chases after the genuine love that he's been searching for his entire life. Your palms petting his face have him entirely enraptured, and the noises of the movie set are long gone from his ears. Right now he feels like he's in heaven with the gentleness of your fingers running along his skin. His massive frame has practically encompassed yours with how close he's getting, but you don't mind. It's something you cherish, letting him forget his size around you.

When you pull away from your kiss, you can see how pleased he is just by the serene sparkles in his blue eyes. He has one hand placed on the back of your chair while the other is resting on your lap, taking up the length of your both your thighs.

"I have to get going now," you remark while you look up at the Vought-branded clock on the trailer wall. Sadly, your five minutes are up. "But I'll be back in an hour."

"Promise you'll come back as soon as you're done?" he asks, furrowing his brows slightly. He's so proud of himself for his gift, and he hates that he has to cut his time with you short now that he's received your gratitude.

"I promise," you respond, giving him one last quick kiss before stepping out of the trailer. You wave him goodbye as you head off, unaware that he is standing solemnly at the window as he continues to watch you with his X-Ray vision even after you've left the movie set.

~~~

You end up running a bit longer than you expected, and are confounded to find that when you finally return to the movie set, Homelander is not there. Ashley tells you that he flew off from the set an hour ago without a word. But you know there's only a few places he'd run off too, and take a taxi back to Vought Tower. As you thought, you find him in his penthouse living room, staring out the window with his arms crossed behind his back. You find it a bit odd when he doesn't acknowledge you, but you enter the room anyway.

"Hey sweetie, there you are! I couldn't find you on the set," you call out cheerily, carrying a small package in your arms. "Why'd you leave?"

"You lied to me," he answers in a blunt tone.

"…What?" you utter, confused to his change in mood.

"You. Lied," he retorts sharply, cutting you off before you can infuriate him any further. He slowly turns around to advance towards you, until you are forced to crane your head straight up to see his scowling face.

"I went by the Tower, to see how your meeting went," he clarifies as he looms his expansive stature over you. "No one had seen you. You were never there."

" Well, I-" you start to say.

"You promised," he snarls, baring his teeth. "You promised me you were different. You promised that you loved me. But you don't. You don't love me. You lied, just like everyone else."

His eyes are wild with fire, not from his lasers but from the torrent of antagonism swarming his mind. He sat alone in his trailer, expecting your return. He waited and waited, until the ticking of the clock and the ringing of his ears became too much for him to handle. He sought solace in his secret companion, his reflection, who was swift to manipulate his anxieties in order to turn him against you.

Throughout your relationship, you've come to understand that Homelander values honesty above anything else. He detests when people lie to him, even moreso when they lie to save themselves from his wrath. You have never lied to him before… until today.

On your anniversary.

Why should he have expected anything less from a human, his reflection goads him. You left him alone, with the present he so thoughtfully picked out for you, going who knows where and doing who knows what. Your kind can't be relied on, not after everything humans have done to him.

You broke his trust, and now he is out for your blood. He is a god that demands sacrifice.

Regardless of his rage, you know he really isn't going to hurt you. Gazing into his furious eyes, you can still discern the lonely little boy buried deep within his psyche. His face is twitching because he's overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. He's mad at you because you made him worry. He's upset because you disappeared; he's scared because he thought he was going to lose you. And you know you that the only way to quell his ire is with the truth.

"Homelander, just… just listen please," you breathe, cautiously planning out your next words as he stares daggers straight through your being. But he does not interrupt, and waits for you to continue.

"Today is our anniversary. This is a momentous event for the both of us," you explain, fiddling with the package tucked into your arm. "I was trying to think of the perfect gift for you, especially when you already have everything. I just… I wanted to get you something special. From the heart… Here."

You lift the box up for him, which he rips from your hands with a scoff. He can't see how a stupid present would somehow make up for what he perceives to be the ultimate betrayal of his trust. However, his irritation at your gesture evaporates the second he lifts the flaps up.

Inside is a small teddy bear, with scruffy and well loved brown fur that smells so intoxicating. It smells like you.

Totally and wholly you.

The box falls unceremoniously from his hands so he can hold onto the plush toy, running his fingers along its pelt. It's so miniscule in his grasp, practically engulfed by his fingers, and yet it feels so much larger. At this moment, it feels like the only thing in the world that matters.

"That was my bear when I was a kid," you detail to him. "I slept with it every night, it meant the world to me. I had to call in some favours to have it taken out of my hometown storage and shipped so fast."

"And now I want you to have it," you smile, walking up to him to place your hand on his thigh. "I know you didn't get to have much of a childhood, so I thought you could share mine."

Whatever anger Homelander was holding onto has completely drained from his body, filling the void with intense sadness. He can't believe he so easily let his reflection turn him against you, when you didn't even do anything. This resentment he felt was for nothing, you were never plotting some nefarious human scheme against him. Instead, you were just at the post office, retrieving your teddy bear for him.

Ever since he's known you, you have always put him first. Nobody has ever treated him with as much care and love as you have.

And now he's blown it.

The tears begin to flow freely down his cheeks as he grapples with his guilt. The constriction in his chest twists a spike deeper into his heart, fearful of what is coming next. You're going to break up with him, he just knows it. You're going to realize he isn't the big tough superhero he claims to be; you'll see him for the insecure child that he really is. Any minute now, the words are coming out of your mouth. It's over, I'm leaving, I hate you, I-

"Hey, hey. It's okay, baby boy, " you say, watching as he spirals deeper into panic. Luckily, your hands pressing into his padded suit are enough to refocus his attention. When his distressed eyes turn down to your face, you spread your arms wide to signal your intentions. "Can you pick me up please?"

With a tense swallow Homelander lifts you up with one arm, holding you close to his chest. Although he does his best to not address you, he can't fight nuzzling into your hands when you start caressing his cheeks. You touch him like he's made of bone china, so delicately, that he can't help pursuing after your affection no matter how upset he feels.

"I am so, so sorry that I lied to you," you console him, wiping away his tears with your thumbs. "I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted this to be a nice surprise, like the flowers you got me."

"S-sorry… s-s-sorry," he whispers timidly as he buries his face into your shoulder in an attempt to hide from his growing shame. However, you don't let him wallow in his irrational worries.

"Sweetpea, you don't have to apologize," you reassure him. "You're entitled to your feelings too, you shouldn't beat yourself up about that."

He doesn't know how to respond to that. During his youth he was never been given any level of autonomy over himself; he was created to serve Vought, so his emotions came second. They always came second, a trivial afterthought to the importance of what he represented to the company. And yet, here you are reminding him of his humanity, of what he had taken from him. You give him encouragement that he is more than just 'The Homelander, leader of The Seven'. Deep down, your words help the isolated little boy see the light shining through his abusive upbringing. He does matter.

"Happy anniversary Homelander," you declare, hugging his big head still snuggled heavily on your shoulder. You comb your fingers through his undercut as you feel him sink further into you. "I know this one might not have gone as well as we hoped, but I know our two month anniversary will be perfect."

"P-promise?" he mutters in a hushed tone, almost as if he's trying to hide his faith in you from his reflection, whom he is concerned might be listening.

"I promise," you assert, giving him a kiss on the top of his head. "From the bottom of my heart, you and I will get through anything as long as we're together."

"T-together…" you hear him mouth weakly to himself. It's a word he's never really thought about before, but hearing it out loud brings a whole new meaning to his life. He's not alone anymore, like he was growing up in the lab. He doesn't have to face his demons all on his own. Now he has you.

And no matter what the world brings, the two of you will always be facing it side by side… together.

#the boys #the boys tv #homelander #homelander x reader #g/t #size difference #my writing #cozy corner domaystic #shamelessly rewriting the scene where homelander gave stormfront flowers #and it's the longest fic i've written lmao

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leighsartworks216 · 1 month ago

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The Raven

Sylus x gn!Reader (more fem coded)

Can be read as a prequel to Lap Dog or as a standalone. (There are inconsistencies when read as a prequel.)

I love them, your honor. I just love the idea of Sylus with a badass partner that he knows can take care of themself. I spent all morning doing nothing but writing this and now my head hurts ;-; worth it

Warnings: violence, injury, implied/reference torture, selectively mute reader, flirting, drinking, alcohol

Word Count: 3,569

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

First Meeting:

A name in whispers spreads around auctions and black market galas. The hush is a silent, fearful reverie for the one who owns it. A prayer to their godhood. It crops up more and more, stoking the flames of curiosity.

The Raven.

Sylus has spent hours trying to dig up scraps of information about this fascinating newcomer, a testament to their ability to stay secret. Usually, he can have everything there is to know about a person in a few minutes or less, down to the second they were born and their favorite places to frequent. It was easy, child’s play. So to come up with mere scraps of speculative guesses at best, it draws him in deeper. The only thing he can find for certain is the protocore purchased by them almost three months ago.

He has an invitation for the next auction before it even becomes announced to other interested parties.

The products on display are boring. He glances at each one, but there’s nothing interesting about them at all. Instead, his attention is focused on the potential buyers who browse each selection like they’re in search of a fine wine. Most of them linger for a second or two, then walk to the next. Others place starting bids. But one person does neither. They stand in front of a red protocore, staring it down like they’re dedicated to studying its every intricacy.

It’s the same kind of protocore the Raven purchased months ago.

He flags down a bid assistant. “Ten million on the red protocore,” he says.

The assistant looks down at her datapad. “I’m sorry, sir. The highest bid on it currently stands at 12 million.”

He smirks. “Double it.”

“Right away, sir.”

He watches the stranger from afar. The assistant nearby cautiously walks to their side. They don’t look up or react at all as he speaks to them. The assistant stops speaking. Sylus holds his breath.

Play the game, won’t you? he thinks.

The stranger’s hand gestures for the datapad. The assistant hands it over. They study the screen, before slowly turning, scanning the crowd. Their eyes land firmly on Sylus. He doesn’t budge or falter, doesn’t react to being “caught”.

They grin slightly as they tap at the screen, then look up. The assistant next to him clears her throat. “Excuse me, sir? The bid has gone up to 120 million.”

They raised the bid by 5 times. They are playing the game.

“Two hundred.”

They look back at the tablet. Press a couple keys and look up. The assistant by them is antsy, but politely stands to the side.

“It’s at 249 million, sir.”

He tilts his head. They smile. “Two-fifty.”

They glance at the screen and hand the tablet back to the assistant. They calmly turn around, looking at the 250 million red protocore. He passes the assistant his black card. She scans it quickly and hands it back with a bow.

He crosses the bidding floor to stand beside the stranger. “How would you like it wrapped?” he asks.

You look up at him, sly and mischievous in the red glow. You tap your earlobe.

He chuckles. “Earrings, then.” He looks at the protocore. Now that he’s up close, he can see for certain that there is nothing unique about it whatsoever. It hasn’t been altered and it’s not especially rare, not when compared to the rest. He wonders what you see in it. “And how should I have them delivered to you, Raven?”

You tilt your head, like you’re surprised to hear him know that name. But you just smile, shake your head, and walk away. He doesn’t follow. He wonders what game you’re stringing him into.

Second Meeting:

It’s not an auction he sees you in next, but a gala. You’re dressed in a rich red color, black feathers accentuating your shoulders and drawing in the eyes of other attendees. You pay none of them any mind. You stand on a mezzanine, idly sipping from a glass and watching all the little people below. You spot him first.

He grabs a glass of wine for himself as he joins you. It’s smooth and rich, if not overly floral.

You lean against the railing as he approaches, expectant. He smirks as he pulls a box from his inner coat pocket and passes it over. You set your glass on the railing to open it. Inside the black box is a pair of earrings. Golden wire cradles the protocore fragments delicately, like a hand around a throat threatening to squeeze. You smile.

“I trust they’re to your liking?”

You hold the open box out to him and he holds it in one hand. You pull out one earring and hold it up to the light of the elaborate chandelier above. It shimmers and shines. Red light glimmers on your face. You immediately slide it in place, adjusting by feel until it sits right. You take the other from the box and do the same. They make you look regal.

“Beautiful,” he compliments softly. You smile and take a sip of your drink. He closes the box and tucks it back into his pocket. “Are you here for business?”

You nod and look back down over the banister. He steps closer and joins you, looking over to try seeing what you’re searching for. It’s his fault for letting his guard down when he feels your hand pluck his phone from his pocket. You lean your back against the railing again, screen faced away from him as you type.

He chuckles at your misdirection, crossing his arms as he leans over to see what you’re doing. You’ve unlocked his phone with no issues and scroll calmly through his contacts, reading the numbers carefully as you search. “What are you looking for?” he wonders softly. You smile, but don’t look at him.

You glance over your shoulder to the ground floor, then back to the phone. You open a new message and type in a number he doesn’t recognize. He scans the words as you quickly type them out.

My partner for the evening is interested in the guns you claim to have hidden away here. Care to show them around?

“Is your trade in assassination, Raven?” he muses. You tilt your head. “Or, perhaps, information?”

You grin up at him at that. A response comes in.

Who is this?

You roll your eyes. From the way you searched his contacts earlier, you must have a multitude of numbers and names cataloged in your head; the thought of someone seemingly high profile not knowing whose phone this belongs to must bore you.

Sylus.

Oh, Mr. Sylus, of course! My sincere apologies!

Meet me in the garden. Statue of Venus. 10 minutes.

You pass the phone back over to him. “Already using my name to open doors.”

You smirk. You drain the rest of your glass and push yourself from the railing. He offers you his arm without needing to be asked. You pat his arm when you take it, as though praising him for it. You walk together to the garden, neither leading nor following. Silent equals.

Third Meeting:

He received a message a week later from an unknown number.

Deal proposal: you help me negotiate with a client and I’ll give you information on your competitors.

What information do you have that I couldn’t get anywhere else?

I have a crate of their supplies, blueprints detailing their alterations, and their sketches for their next model.

Sylus chuckles.

You must have stolen it straight from the horse’s mouth.

Deal?

He mulls it over for a minute.

Where are we meeting?

His motorcycle growls as he weaves it through the N109 Zone to the outskirts of Linkon City. His destination is an old shipyard. From a distance, he can see the worn, forgotten ships that line the docks, rusted and beyond repair. You stand at the land-end of one, staring out at the array of ships as you wait. It’s the first time he’s seen you dressed so casually.

A gun is obviously strapped to your thigh.

He pulls up and kills the engine. You don’t bother watching as he removes his helmet and leaves it on the leather seat. He steps up next to you. “Which one is she in?”

There’s no use pretending you’re still waiting for your prey to show up. You smirk. He follows you down the lineup to an abandoned ferry. Out of date cars line the hold, vintage, soon to be antiques.

You lead him up to one of the passenger floors, where plastic seats have been broken off metal bases or crumpled beyond use. There’s only one that’s occupied.

Your “client” is tied up solidly with a length of steel wire. Power tools nearby point to your methods of tightening the wire around her wrists and ankles. More wire dangles in loose curls around her body, her arms, legs, neck. A cluster of car batteries from several of the models below sits nearby with jumper cables and rubber gloves. Two rubber mats have been neatly laid out; one for him and one for you, just in case.

He chuckles darkly at the sight. The last time he witnessed your methods, they were improvised with the surrounding materials available to you - garden shears being your favored tool for the evening. While these materials have been primarily gathered from here, he can see the planning behind it, the precautions you’ve taken and measures you’ve met to ensure this transaction goes according to plan. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

You don’t react to his words. Your face is neutral, unresponsive. It’s like witnessing a switch being flipped.

You step around the woman, flicking the loose wire around her neck as you do.

It’s going to be a long night.

Fourth Meeting:

Masquerade tonight. Join me.

Sylus takes apart and cleans his gun carefully, ritualistically.

His phone has been silent for hours since he sent the message. He has no reason to demand your time or attention, certainly not when you seem to be actively working to retrieve intel from all over the N109 Zone and Linkon City.

He wipes the old oil and gunpowder burns off with a rag, diligently getting in between the nooks and crannies. His brow is pinched, eyes sharp with focus. He turns the piece in the light, searching for any spots of improvement. Then he reapplies fresh gun oil, massaging it into place.

His phone buzzes. He glances at it.

Incentivize me.

He chuckles. He sets the piece down among the array of parts, a puzzle he’s quite familiar with by now. In less than 10 seconds, everything has been put back together. The gun sits weightily in his hand as he flips it around, admiring his work.

He sets it aside like a toy he’s grown tired of and picks up his phone.

I have a deal I want to propose. In person.

You’ve got my interest, but that’s not enough incentive for me to join you. What else will you offer, aside from the deal?

Dinner, and another item of jewelry to match the earrings.

A few minutes pass. He reaches for another gun to take apart and maintain.

I’ll see you there.

His mask is perfectly tailored to his face, formed and decorated to resemble a crow. The inky black feathers contrast with his white hair and suit. Wearing white is certainly a branch out from his usual tastes, but it prevents the ensemble from being drowned out.

He scans the crowd of people with a discerning eye. With no idea what outfit or mask you’ll choose to disguise yourself in tonight, he scans everyone with a similar build to you in search of that dangerous aura you exude. He doesn’t have to look hard, when someone enters and everyone gives them a wide berth.

You wear the protocore earrings he gifted you before to match the intricate white and red ensemble you wear. Your mask is also red and gold, white raven feathers fanning out like a crown upon your head. People awe at you as you seamlessly glide into the party proper. He watches as you look around, searching for him amongst the sea of paper faces.

Sylus crosses the marble floor to you. “I don’t think you needed the incentive,” he teases. You look up at him and a secret smile, tilting your head coyly to ask what he means. “It takes longer than a few hours to have an entire outfit tailored.”

Your grin widens. He hit the nail right on the head. You were planning to come all along, but you managed to squeeze a free dinner out of him. He looked forward to it. But for now, he offers his hand and leads you to a quieter area of the party. It’s you who pulls him onto a balcony, shutting the french doors behind you both. You lean against the railing once more, not letting go of his hand until he’s standing in front of you.

He gets a sense of deja vu as he pulls another jewelry box from his coat pocket. The box is thin and narrow. He holds it while you open the lid.

Inside, resting delicately on red velvet, is a black choker. The centerpiece is a red protocore, just as the one used for your earrings. Golden feathers circle the red jewel. You smile and pull out a box as well.

He searches your face for answers he won’t find as he opens the lid with one hand. Inside the small box is a set of studded earrings. Red protocore jewels gleam back at him, held in place with gold detailing. He smiles.

You turn around, glancing at him expectantly over your shoulder. He takes the choker from the box and nimbly lays it across your neck, clasping it in the back. When you turn back around, it rests beautifully against the hollow of your throat. His eyes linger for a moment longer as he takes in the sight.

You tap his chin and his eyes are drawn to yours once more, framed in your fierce raven mask. You grab the collar of his shirt and gently pull him down to your height. Your fingers on his chin turn his face to the side.

He listens to your soft breathing as you gently place one stud into the lobe of his ear. He wonders how long you’ve known that his ears were pierced. He doesn’t frequently wear earrings.

You turn his head again. Your fingers are precise, the sign of a professional. He shoots you a look when you playfully blow against his ear. You smile. Once you’ve finished, he stands back up to his full height.

“You look radiant,” he tells you, voice hushed, like this is a secret only you can know. You touch his chest, conveying the same message to him as you feel the silky fabric. “Would you care to dance with me?”

Your brow furrows slightly as you tilt your head, questioning him. He chuckles.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about my proposal.” He takes the box from your hand, setting both on the railing. “You can dance and talk business, can’t you?”

You stare at his offered hand for a moment. Then, you take it. He leads you back inside and toward the ballroom, where dozens of guests have taken up partners and move as a unit through a waltz. He leads you toward the center, within a gap. Less prying ears on his business this way.

You rest your hand on his shoulder. His finds your waist easily. He leads you through the dance. You’re only a few steps in when he ducks his head to whisper in your ear.

“Now, for my offer…” He pulls you in closer, keeping you from accidentally bumping into someone as an intoxicated pair stumbles. “Work with me. The information you’ve been interested in revolves around protocores, correct?”

You glance at him.

He grins. “I have an advantage in position; I can help you find the information you seek, and the people that have it. You’ve used my name once already. Imagine how many more doors would open for you.”

You consider his offer as it stands. Your current sources can only get you so far, he’s right about that. And with Onychinus’s position as a dealer in all sorts of trades, you could find information across a wider network.

“Interested?” You tap on his shoulder twice. “Good. I ask for your skills and resources in return. You’ve been able to get past my competitors’ lines easier than I can. So I propose a quid pro quo: You get the information I want, and I get you the information you want. Sound fair?”

You tap him three times. You want more information.

“The deal ends whenever you want it to,” he says, as if he can read your mind. “I won’t throw you away, I promise you that. You’re more valuable to me than you realize.”

You run the offer through your head. Information for information, with an oath not to throw you under the bus. It really is an equal trade, a transaction of loyalty. You grab his collar again, leaning up to whisper into his own ear. “Deal.”

The sound sends electricity down his spine. He stands back up to his full height, both of you smiling at the agreement you’ve just made as you dance. Once the song ends, he takes your hand to lead you to dinner.

You’re almost free from the dance floor when a hand grabs you and tugs you away from Sylus.

A man dressed in a rather mundane tuxedo and mediocre animal mask holds your hips, lower than his hands should be. “Hey, darling. How about sparing a dance for me, huh?”

You pry yourself from his hands, glancing him up and down, studying him with a precision he should be terrified of. He just thinks you’re checking him out. You quickly turn to smile at Sylus. It’s sweet, reassuring, and doesn’t match the fire burning in your eyes. He lets your hand go.

You turn back to the man and hold out your hand to him, silently accepting his offer for a dance. He takes it, and your smile drops.

You grab his fingers in a death grip and push back, hard, forcing his fingers as far back as they’ll willingly go. His arm contorts oddly to compensate, straining his wrist. “Ah! What the fuck are you doing?!”

People back away from you, the man, and Sylus. The music dies on a discordant note.

He tries to grab your wrist and pull you off, but you grab his instead and pull him to the floor, never letting go of his fingers as you twist his arm behind his back. He lands on his hand and knees, gasping in pain as you push his fingers back further. The tendons begin to burn and creak, desperately trying to keep his fingers in place.

“Help! Get them off of me! They’re gonna break my fucking fingers! Do something!”

Sylus chuckles darkly at the display. Your face has remained impassive since your little trick, but your intentions are clear. “You’re making things worse for yourself,” he chides, amusement dripping from every word. He glances at the security that come rushing from the doors. In a second, all of them are wrapped up in black and red tendrils, mouths covered and arms pinned by their sides.

The man screams as a loud crack shocks through the room. The crowd murmurs. Some of them have to leave before they lose their lunch. One person faints.

“YOU CRAZY FUCKER- AHH!”

Another crack.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, EH? MONEY, I GOT MONEY!”

A third. Few people look on with as much grim satisfaction as you and Sylus, even if you didn’t show just how much fun you were having teaching this man a lesson.

“You’ve only got two fingers left. I suggest you make them count,” Sylus chimes in.

The man’s tears stream down his face uncontrollably, saliva and snot dripping from his face onto the polished marble floor. His whole body shudders with agony. His free hand clutches at the ground helplessly, barely able to keep himself from falling face first into his own mess.

His next cry rips from his throat like a child, high pitched and desperate. You only press the next finger back threateningly. “PLEASE! I-I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! PLEASE, STOP! PLE-EA-ASE!”

You hold the tension a second longer, before finally releasing him. He collapses, heaving as he finally bends his arm back to normal. Three of his fingers are red and swollen, hanging limply. One swells around a gold ring until it looks like it’ll pop.

You sigh as you fix your clothes, brushing invisible dust off and adjusting the fabric. You look at Sylus. He waves his hand and the security guards are released. They don’t move, too scared to get anywhere near you.

You step around the man and toward the exit. The crowd parts for you. An unconscious body is dragged by its feet out of your way for fear of upsetting you further. Sylus walks beside you and takes your hand once more in his.

“Where would you like to go for dinner?”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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myfictionaldreams · 2 years ago

Note

Hello to one of my favorite writers! I saw requests are open. If I may request one in the mafia au with Steve x reader x Bucky. I'm currently sick and clumsy so I have a broken wrist on top of it. Could I request the boys taking care of sick or clumsy reader please? Fluff and sexy times with them melt my heart!

No Touching // Mafia!Stucky x fem!reader

A/N: thank you so much for the request (and the compliment ღ). I hope you are feeling better soon! x

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, fluff, smut, hurt/comfort, injured reader, anxiety, dom/sub, size kink, size difference, sir kink, daddy kink, hint of subspace, edging, oral sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise kink, begging, pet names

Words: 6666

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“Are you sure you have to go in today?” you asked in a hopeful tone, following Bucky around your home, almost like a lost puppy as he and Steve prepared to leave for work.

“Sorry Doll, but you know it's shipment day and if anything goes wrong, Fury will be on our asses and that’s not a sight I particularly want to see”, Bucky joked, leaning down to peck your lips before walking past to stand by the front door, easing each glove onto his hands.

Your shoulders sagged, resorting to childish tactics by sticking out your bottom lip but that only caused Bucky to chuckle and continue to get ready to leave. “Are you sure both of you need to go? I’m sure they could survive this one time without one of you there”.

“I don’t want Fury on my ass either”, Steve quipped, as he descended the stairs, kissing your cheek as he passed, pulling on his own leather jacket and zipping it up. Glancing between both of your boyfriends, you decided to do your next tactic, tiptoeing over to Bucky as he waited for Steve to finish getting ready.

From only your expression, he knew you were up to something, particularly as you raised further on your toes, hands on his shoulders to kiss him gently on the lips, breathing in the faint scent of his aftershave mixed with his leather jacket. “You know… I think Steve’s just saying you can’t do the job by yourself Buckaroo”, you tease with a sly smile, eyes flicking between his crystal blue eyes.

Bucky laughed, his gloved hands cupping your cheeks tenderly, muttering against your lips, “nice try hot mama, but we are both still going”. He released his hold as you sighed in defeat, leaning into his chest as the brunette kissed your temple.

“Just please be careful and drive slowly, the snow from last night is starting to turn into ice and if anything happens I will personally trek through this winter storm and-”.

Any further threat was cut off as another warm body slide behind you, two hands gripping your hips, swiftly turning you on the spot and distracting you with soft lips which you melted into instantly. You could have stayed like that for the rest of the day but Steve pulled back first, amused at your flushed expression as he stroked a finger down your cheek.

“We’ll be careful, I promise”, Steve reassured, standing to his full height, passing the car keys to Bucky over your shoulder.

Bucky had a different reaction to your threats however as he whispered, “such a mother hen” into your ear, briskly kissing your cheek and opening the front door causing a shock of icy wind to brush over your skin. Turning, you leaned against the door, watching both men walking towards the car but Steve had one more reminder for you.

“You know that your little threat goes both ways. No leaving the house - or at least if you do, ask one of the guards out front to come with you just so you have someone to hold onto”.

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean? My feet are very sturdy thank you” you glanced down at your sock-covered feet.

Both Steve and Bucky seemed to disagree with the deadpan expressions they both held as they looked at you, still not getting into the car. Bucky was the first to remind you, “you do remember a couple of months back-”

“Yes ok, one time I tripped over and scrapped my knee but that doesn’t make me a liability”.

“Did you also forget about the time in Montana-?”

“Fine there’s been more than a couple of times, but your lack of faith in me is really shocking boys”, you teased, not being able to hide the smile spreading across your face.

“We have all the faith in you baby” Steve agreed with his own smile, finally getting into the car.

“Yes, all the faith to fall over so please don’t leave the house!” Bucky shouted cheekily as he too climbed into the car, only to receive a playful shove from Steve as he started the car. Giving them one last wave before shutting the door and shivering, trying to feel any warmth.

Having the Rogers mafia leader and the second-in-command as your boyfriends did mean you led a very protected life which sometimes could be frustrating by rarely being alone. However, for the topic of today, you were fine with playing along with their requests, not wanting to be out in the cold at all.

For the next half an hour, you watched the car's location on your phone closely which was one of the perks of being with overprotective boyfriends. They wanted your location which means you could have theirs so could watch as they had arrived safely at the warehouse and then were swiftly followed up by a text from Bucky reiterating that they had arrived safely.

This meant you could relax for the day, put your feet up and not have a worry in the world. However, this was not how it proceeded as it was spent finishing the menial chores such as responding to emails, washing clothes and cleaning the house. It was also a nice distraction to keep busy, even though there were no potentially dangerous meetings, anything involving the gang could go wrong so instead of sitting and worrying, you liked to stay busy.

As the sun began to set and the evening rolled around, you decided to cook some chilli, something that could easily be left to simmer or reheated for when the boys returned. As you left the pot on the stovetop, you casually began emptying the trash bag, tying it up and walking towards the back door.

The frozen backyard was enough to have you standing and contemplating your next steps. The bin was only a few steps outside, and you’d only be outside for 30 seconds, it wasn’t like going for an actual walk and there was no way you’d call a guard to walk you to the trash bin.

This was the deciding factor for you, moving to find your trainers, not needing a coat as you were only going to be in and out quickly. Of course, however, the boys seemed to have a sixth sense as your phone began to ring and a picture of Bucky graced your screen.

“Hey Buckaroo,” you answered, smiling as you held the phone to your ear.

“Hello beautiful”, he answered, and you could almost hear his smile.

“Did everything go ok?” as you spoke, you multitasked by pulling your trainer onto your foot, and balancing the phone against your shoulder.

“Yeah, everything went peachy surprisingly. I was just calling to say we’re heading home soon”.

“Good! Please be careful driving, I think it’s snowed a little more since you left earlier - oh and I have some food ready for you both”.

“God I love you” he praised making you grin giddily.

“If I knew it was this easy to please you, I would cook more often” you responded, easing your other foot into the trainer.

“Oh trust me, mama, you please me in lots of different ways, especially when you flick your tongue right over-”

“Bucky! I know for a fact you’re surrounded by other people, can you not!” your whole body warmed at Bucky’s words.

Your boyfriend chuckled deeply down the phone, “trust me, it’s nothing they haven’t heard or seen before”. He had a very good point, but this wasn’t the point you were trying to make.

“Just- I-, I’ll see you later Bucky, drive safe please,” you tried to move on from the smutty talk and hang up.

But Bucky quickly asked, “what are you doing?” From his tone of voice, he had his suspicions, almost like he could see that your hand was on the back door’s lock.

“Cooking”.

“So you’ve not been outside?”

“No, I’ve been good and stayed in” you responded far too quickly, glancing around the kitchen area for any cameras that you definitely knew weren’t there.

“I’m shocked I thought you would have been outside just to prove a point”.

You tried to laugh convincingly, “your lack of faith in me is really starting to become offensive, Barnes”.

“Yeah well, I’m sure I’ll make it up to you with my own little tongue trick-”

“Alright I’m hanging up now! Have a safe drive both of you, love you”. Quickly you hung up to the sounds of Bucky laughing loudly. Damn that man and his wicked words because now not only were your cheeks warm but in between your legs were dampening.

Shaking your body, you tried to continue with your task of taking out the trash, the back door opened wide and the cold wind almost took your breath away. Luckily it wasn’t snowing anymore but there was a thick, icy layer on the floor that crunched underneath your trainers as you took a step outside, holding the trash tightly.

Just as predicted, it didn’t take you long to reach the trash bin, discarding of the bag into the container and then start the short journey back, the kitchen lights being the only luminosity that you had.

Only a couple of steps away from the door did your luck run out as the fresh covering of snow coated a puddle that had frozen over. It all happened so quickly that you hadn’t any time to put your arms out to soften the blow, instead as your feet slipped back, you managed to fall onto your side, your right arm tucked into your ribs which also meant it was the first thing to collide with the floor.

Not only this but as your elbow then took the impact of your ribs causing the wind to be knocked out of you, taking a minute before you were able to take in a breath of air and the pain was excruciating. It started in your wrist, travelling the length of your arm and down the right side of your rib cage.

As the initial shock wore off, it wasn’t long and you were crying from the pain, attempting to stand as adrenaline and the cold were causing you to shake which only made the pain worse. Somehow, you’d managed to walk your way back into the house, closing and locking the back door with your uninjured arm as silent tears rolled down your cheeks.

Trying not to lose composure completely and have a complete meltdown, you even managed to take off your trainers before walking into the bathroom and staring into the large mirror above the sink.

The entire right side of your body was drenched from lying in the snow, the whites of your eyes were red from crying and the wet streaks left behind by the tears were obvious to anyone that you were in pain. You’d been too scared to look at your wrist in case it was broken but from what you could see in the mirror, there wasn’t any obvious bone sticking out of the skin, thank god.

Beginning with your fingers, you moved each one slowly and then all together. Next was your hand which ached a little bit but again this wasn’t broken, but as you attempted to straighten your arm, you audibly shouted in pain as the burning hot sensation spiked through from your elbow to your shoulder.

Having dealt with Steve and Bucky and their multitude of injuries, you were sure there was nothing broken, possibly just a strain, needing to keep it wrapped up with some ice and painkillers. You attempted to sigh in relief but as you sucked in a deep breath, more aching pain shot through your ribs. Again you were sure there were no broken bones as the pain wasn’t as significant as how the elbow felt but it was enough that you’d be in discomfort for a while.

With your left hand, you began to clean your face, attempting to brighten yourself up and then returning back to the kitchen to take some Advil and check the food wasn’t burning which thankfully it wasn’t.

Then it dawned on you. Steve and Bucky.

Luckily your clothes were beginning to dry from the heat on the stovetop but how were you expected to hide this injury from them? And should you even keep this a secret, maybe they wouldn’t freak out if they heard you sprained your elbow?

Ok that was a lie, of course, they were going to overreact, as well as being injured from something they explicitly asked you not to do and it was embarrassing, if they could go without knowing you had slipped over, that would be wonderful. All you needed were a few days as you contemplated the excuses, making yourself feel sick with the nerves that were building.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed loudly, knowing there was no use. Whenever you were around either man they were always touching you, no excuse would stop them. If it was your period they would be massaging your abdomen to help the cramps. If you said you were feeling unwell, they would lie in bed with you, stroking your hair and being at your side until you felt better. There was nothing Steve and Bucky wouldn’t do for you so you’d have to just face the consequences for your actions.

Switching off the stove and leaving the food to sort out later, your hands began to tremble slightly as you decided to call them and tell them, at least you wouldn't have to say it to their faces. Steve would most likely be driving so you clicked on Bucky’s name, lifting the phone to your ear as a heavy sensation filled your stomach, biting your lip to try and distract yourself.

The first ring hadn’t even finished before his gruff voice was answering, “we really have to stop meeting like this Doll, people are going to think you like me” Bucky teased.

You attempted a half-laugh under your breath, he always found a way of making you feel at ease. “Wouldn’t want them thinking that” you responded quietly, staring at a spot on the floor.

“What’s up anyway, sweet mama?” he asked casually.

“How far away are you?” you asked, feeling the full weight of your anxiety throughout your body, feeling almost nauseous.

“Only a couple of minutes, just a block or two away now. I told you we weren’t going to be long”, he politely reminded you. “Why? Did you need anything from the shops or something?”

You found yourself shaking your head rather than answering, not entirely sure what to say. Apparently, you had not answered for a suspicious amount of time because Bucky spoke up again, sounding worried. “Sweetheart? Is everything ok?”

In the background, you could hear Steve as he asked, “put her on speaker. Honey? What’s wrong?” he sounded more serious than Bucky had.

You could feel your eyes filling with tears again as your nerves got the better of you, “don’t be mad at me”.

“Mama you’re scaring us, what’s wrong?” Bucky was using his “work voice now”, with no hint of sarcasm or joy as you could hear the car’s engine revving louder in the background to show that Steve had begun driving faster.

“Don’t rush, please be careful still, I’m ok! Well I’m not but I um- fuck!” you exclaimed, your anxiety causing you to stutter and panic more. “I did something stupid and I don’t want to tell you because you’re going to be mad at me but I also can’t hide it either” you rushed out, still pacing across the kitchen.

“Baby girl, I’m going to need you to take a deep breath for me and try and explain what's going on, do I need to get some of the guards to come in?” Steve asked. You tried to take some deep breaths but this only caused the ache to return to your ribs.

“No, it’s ok, I don’t need them. I just wanted to tell you on the phone because I don’t think I could say it in person because it’s embarrassing and you told me not to and-”

“You went outside didn’t you”, it was Bucky who made the point and you hated how quick it was for him to guess that you’d done something you’d been told not to.

“Yes”, you whispered into the phone, tears still slipping down your cheeks.

You’d expected them to groan in exasperation or even laugh at your stupidity but they didn’t, both asking questions along the lines of, “are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance? Have you hit your head? Are you ok?”

“I didn’t hit my head and I don’t need an ambulance, I think I’ve just sprained my elbow and bruised my ribs that’s all,” you explained to them.

“We’re just pulling into the drive now mama, can you still move your fingers?” he continued the conversation, even as you heard them exiting the car outside.

“Yes, and I can move my hand still”, you began walking towards the front door sheepishly as it opened, Steve rushing through first followed by Bucky who hung up the phone. You weren’t sure what to have expected, maybe a frown of displeasure or anger but instead, it was only worry as their eyes frantically searched you up and down.

“I’m sorry” was your automatic response, wishing you could run and hug them both but not wanting to move your arm and risk the pain. Steve reached you first, cupping both of your cheeks, his thumb wiping away any of the tears that were still there.

“Shh, it’s ok, just show us where it hurts,” he said in a much softer tone than anticipated. Glancing down at your arm that was still kept close to your side to reduce the pain, you wiggled the fingers of the injured hand.

“It’s this one but as I said, I don’t think it’s broken, I can still move it but it just really hurts”.

Bucky delicately placed your hand in his, inspecting every inch of skin with his eyes first then his own fingers, checking for any lumps or tender spots. Once satisfied, he too agreed that it was most likely a sprain, even noticing that the area had begun to swell slightly. “Think it’ll be best to wrap it up and place your arm in a sling to stop it moving as much, maybe some ice as well to help with the swelling”.

So this was exactly what the two of them did. Over the next half an hour, they helped you out of your shirt which became too painful to manoeuvre off so Steve ripped it off instead, promising to buy a new one. Then Bucky delicately wrapped the area and placed your arm into a sling, before helping one of their larger plain t-shirts over your head the wrapped arm remaining inside of the t-shirt.

Then after returning downstairs, Bucky dished up the chilli you’d cooked earlier, as Steve placed some ice into a towel and helped to hold it against your arm. This he did for the entirety of the meal, even after you’d said it would be fine and could do it after, he insisted on holding it to the injured area.

Sometime later, you were in a warm sandwich on the couch, Bucky to your left and Steve to your right, careful as to not touch your arm or rib, the TV showing some random show that Bucky had been recommended by Sam.

“Thank you, for not freaking out about my arm and not being angry with me”, you said glancing between your two boyfriends with a thankful and relieved smile.

“I don’t know why you always assume the worst of us, we’d never be angry with you mama”, Bucky’s voice was gentle, his own smile glistening in the shallow light.

“It’s not assuming the worst, it’s just the whole ‘I told you so’ scenario spiralled in my head. I mean, I’d be angry if you didn’t drive carefully and got into an accident”.

Steve’s finger delicately traced over your jawbone as he leaned down to kiss your temple, mumbling against your forehead, “I’d love to see you try and be angry with us”. You raised an eyebrow at his teasing, looking towards him as his lips dipped to gently caress yours before he continued on. “Anyway, we don’t need to say I told you so for you to feel the repercussions for your actions and ignoring our warnings”.

Your smile dropped, pulling away from his kiss to try and get a better understanding of what this meant. “What repercussions?”

Steve leaned back fully, watching the TV as he spoke. “Well of course you need to heal, and that’s going to take quite a few days by the looks of things which means no touching.”

No touching… what was he talking about? You found yourself frowning now, looking at the mafia boss. “What do you mean no touching?”

It was Bucky who spoke next though, his metal hand moving a few strands of hair away from your face as he addressed you. “Exactly what he said, no. touching.”

“But you’re touching me now, I don’t understand-”.

Oh.

Oh no.

“But….but that part of me isn’t injured?” It felt like you were watching tennis with how fast you were turning your head between Steve and Bucky who were both smirking as they watched the TV.

“Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart,” Steve asked in a light tone, clearly finding the situation funny.

“But I can’t, my ribs hurt”.

“Exactly, do you really think you could handle one of us, let alone both of us fucking you? Now, we could use our mouths, a couple of fingers or even a toy but that’s only going to hurt you more when you’re taking deep breaths to scream our names”.

Even just talking about it was causing you to feel turned on, thighs rubbing together just thinking about all of those scenarios, all of which apparently you would not be experiencing until you felt better.

“But…but that’s not fair, I think I could handle it!” you sounded unbelievably needy but you didn’t care.

“Shall we test out that theory? If we take you upstairs and you flinch or gasp in pain, even once, neither of us will be making you cum until you are better” Bucky threatened but you were past the point of no return, needing to feel him, watching his hands on your body so you were instantly agreeing, letting them help you to stand.

It was definitely not the most attractive you’d ever looked getting ready for bed, deciding to keep the t-shirt on as it meant your arm could stay close to your chest but Steve had to help pull your joggers, panties and socks off as it was difficult with only the one arm.

Finally, however, you were lying in the middle of the bed, and a leg was thrown over Bucky’s shoulder as he ran his tongue up your dripping cunt. Your ribs were already aching from breathing at a faster rate but the flicks that the tip of his warm tongue, something he had promised to do earlier on the phone, were distracting you enough from the pain.

He was taking it nice and slow, making sure to touch every area between your legs with his mouth, building your arousal up but it already felt like you were going to orgasm. Bucky could also tell from where he was between your legs, his eyes watching your every moan and movement, the same with Steve whose lap your head was laid in.

You were trying to relax your face as you desperately wanted to flinch but you were so so close, just a few more minutes. This was when Bucky decided to seal his lips around your clit and suck, causing you to both suck in a deep breath and arch your back.

Not only did you scrunch your face up but also hissed from the pain, reaching with your good arm to hold your ribs.

Bucky was instantly moving away, making sure you were ok but now you were shouting in frustration for another reason. “No, please! Don’t stop I was so close!”

Steve tutted above you, stroking your cheek, “we did warn you, baby girl, we just need to make sure you’re feeling better first”.

It felt like you were being punished for something, and in a way, you were but to be edged so closely to have it all taken away and for this to go on for a few days! You were half tempted to lock yourself away in the bathroom and finish it yourself but they also would be kicking down the door to stop you.

Admitting defeat, you sulked further up the bed, wanting to just go to sleep and forget about the whole ordeal. Even worse was having to lie on your back to protect your arm and ribs which meant that you couldn’t be properly spooned by either boyfriend, only having room for Steve to place one arm across your thighs.

Just as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, Steve’s fingers began to wander up and down the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Steve stop that” you whispered tiredly, clenching your thighs together and trapping his fingers.

“Hmm?”

He stopped for only a few minutes before continuing his actions which were causing small bursts of pleasure to spark in your abdomen. This time you batted away his hand causing him to chuckle.

“Stop that, you know I’m sensitive there, I thought you said no touching”.

“Maybe we should have been more specific. Remember when we said there would be repercussions, maybe we wouldn’t be saying ‘I told you so’ but you did do something stupid even after we told you not to for exactly this reason, and you get hurt. So I stand by no orgasms but these touches? These are your punishments for not listening”.

24 hours later and you were wishing they’d come home angry instead, wished that they had shouted at you or said I told you so because this punishment was near torture for your pussy.

Neither went to work the next day, instead, they continued to look after you, checking over your arm which was still slightly swollen and still very painful and once it was rebandaged, the torment continued.

It started in little ways, a hand high on the thigh whilst sitting at the table for breakfast, lingering kisses up the column of your neck or eyes wondering too low along the neckline in a suggestive manner that all had your cheeks burning and panties dampening. However, as the day progressed it only increased which only made it more difficult as they were being so caring in other ways such as helping hands to stand, being cooked for, helping to get changed or getting painkillers whenever you asked.

By the time it was bedtime, their teasing had reached a new level of torment however after finishing brushing your teeth, you found both of your boyfriends lying on the covers, completely naked, mouths gaped open in loud moans as they wanked themselves off.

Your eyes were wide and unblinking as you moved from watching Steve, taking in every detail of his naked body, over to Bucky who you now realised was moaning your name.

Your knees felt unsteady and they pumped both of their cocks, a light sheen of sweat coating their bodies, something you wish you could lick up, as well as the small drips of precum on the tips of their cocks.

“Like what you see?” Steve asked, snapping you out of the horny trance you seemed to be stuck in.

“This- this isn’t fair!” you shouted, watching as Steve thrust his hips up to meet his fist, wish it was your mouth he was thrusting into, wanting nothing more than to taste him.

Not being able to watch anymore, you quickly returned to the bathroom and shut the door, hoping to drown out the noises they were both creating but they were still very audible so you also turned on the tap.

Even then you could still hear their deep moans and you desperately tried to pull down your joggers but the movements only caused pain to flare up in your still-healing ribs and arm. You sighed aggressively, unbelievably horny and frustrated and not able to do a single thing about it so you sat on the toilet lid and hoped the next few days would fly by.

Of course, it didn’t though and with their teasing it seemed to make the days drag by and at one point, you’d even begun to feel slightly floaty from being so horny. The overwhelming sensations in your abdomen and in between your legs were driving you insane and as the fourth day was coming to an end and the word “daddy” began to slip from your lips, Steve and Bucky decided maybe they would tease as much as they had been.

By the sixth day, your ribs were feeling a lot better, even being able to stretch as you woke up. Your arm was still tender when moving but it didn’t need to be in a sling anymore, the sprain having been quite mild in comparison.

Still, however, you continued with the day, trying to distract from the uncomfortable feeling in your cunt and having a restless night's sleep once more.

On the seventh day, your ribs were nearly back to normal and you could move your arm as you had before, maybe you couldn’t rest your weight on it but this was as best as it was going to be.

Steve and Bucky were still sleeping on either side of you, and as you turned on your side to look at Steve on his side facing towards the centre of the bed, you could feel how drenched in between your legs were. Your juices had spread over the top of your thighs and ruined your pyjama shorts.

Hating the sensation, you tried to shuffle out of them in the centre of the bed, thankful that you were finally able to use your other arm to do so. Your movements were not subtle either, hoping to wake either of your boyfriends.

Thankfully this master plan worked as Steve grunted, “what are you doing baby?”

You didn’t answer, instead reaching for his hand and bringing it up to your thighs, letting him feel your arousal. He peaked one eye open at the wet sensation, a cunning smirk creeping across his lips, “did someone have a good dream?” he teased.

Once again you didn’t say anything, your thoughts on one thing only as you moved down his naked body which was also another punishment that she had to sleep in clothes and they slept naked, feeling their warm soft bodies against her side but not being able to touch. Until now that is as your mouth was finally level with one of the objects you desired most and his flaccid cock was being sucked into your mouth

Steve sucked in air quickly, cursing under his breath and then he was pulling back your head as you could already see his cock hardening. This didn’t stop you however as you pushed back on his hips so he was now lying on his back, batting away his hands, crawling to sit between his legs and continues to suck his cock.

With your once pained arm, you held down one of his wrists that was starting to make its way to pulling you off him again and then it clicked for him

“I see someone is feeling better” he muttered before groaning and closing his eyes as your tongue lapped up the underside of his now fully erect cock. “Fuck you’re good at that”, his praises were like music to your ears as his hand settled lightly on your head as you began to take his length into your throat, trying to take every inch of him, needing to taste everything he had to offer.

“Well good morning to you two” Bucky’s deep morning voice had your attention snapping towards him as he watched you closely, his attention on your arm that was still holding down one of Steve’s wrists. Releasing Steve’s cock with an audible pop, your eyes drifted lower on Bucky, seeing the visible tent under the sheet, smiling slightly at the awaiting treat.

“What do you want mama?” Bucky asked, sitting up, causing the sheet to pool around his hips.

“I want you both”, you admitted desperately, eyes flicking between the blonde and brunette.

“Come and sit on Daddy's lap, that way you can taste Bucky and still have me, baby” Steve demanded, sitting up as well, helping as you were instantly moving to sit in his lip, not wasting another second as your hand wrapped around his cock and aimed it for your awaiting entrance.

Your dripping arousal was all the lube you needed as you sat on his cock, the girth stretching you out completely, eyes rolling to the back of your head in overwhelming desire.

Again, you weren’t waiting around, needing them both now so as your cunt adjusted to Steve’s cock, you reached out for Bucky who was standing on the bed so his hard member which was throbbing in the air, was now eye level with you.

Hungrily you reached for it, pulling him straight towards your mouth, starting with a long lick up the underside before flicking the tip of your tongue over the head of his cock causing him to grit his teeth in pleasure, “fuck I have missed that tongue of yours”.

You grinned before taking a couple of inches into his mouth and sucking whilst simultaneously beginning to move your hips up and down Steve’s cock.

This had to be the closet you’d been to being in charge, normally at the complete submission to them both but the days of teasing had caused any sort of sanity to leave your body, your arousal doing the only thinking for you now.

The boys were just as eager to help you out as Bucky held back any hair that was getting in the way, and Steve began to move your hips up and down, your juices causing obscene noises to come from between your legs but it only matched perfectly to the ones coming from your throat.

You tried to take as much of Bucky’s cock into your throat as you could before gagging and the moans he was producing as he stared down at you were pure perfection. But before long you were pulling away, having to suck in air quickly, not having time to ask permission before shouting, “I'm cuming!”

You had to hold onto Steve’s shoulders tightly as your body was rocked with your first orgasm in a week, your cunt contracting around his cock in waves that last longer than usual.

You were thankful for Steve as he basically held you up, waiting patiently for you to catch your breath, kissing along your shoulder causing shivers to erupt through your body. “Do you want to have a break?” Steve asked gently.

Shaking your head against his shoulder, you responded, “I want you both to cum inside of me, please sir”.

He chuckled, kissing you just below the ear where you were most sensitive, feeling your cunt tighten around him. “I’m sure we can both do that for our best girl” he praised, wrapping both arms around your back, and switching positions, lying you in the centre of the bed and this was where you stayed.

It started with Steve, you thought he was going to continue fucking you but instead he dropped his face between your legs, lapping up all the extra juices you’d produced, not stopping until you were cuming again before he finally began to fuck you again.

Starting slow and then building up the pace until your hips were slapping together, his large thumb brushing back and forth against your clit until your third orgasm was trembling through your body. Enough so that you’d not even noticed that Steve had came with you, his hot seed dripping out of you and onto the sheets below as smiled happily up at him.

Steve leaned down, kissing your lips once before rolling off and watching his best friend, move to take over his position.

Bucky took a minute to appreciate your body, his metal hand gliding over the skin causing goosebumps to appear. “I’ve been waiting all week for this” he grunted as he too dropped his face between your legs and instantly was sucking your already oversensitive clit into his mouth, much like he had seven days before.

Your guttural scream echoed around your bedroom, hands gripping his hair tightly, keeping him them. Bucky licked up every drop of Steve’s cum from your cunt before inching two of his fingers in and as he curled them, his mouth and tongue played with your clit.

With all the previous stimulation it wasn’t long before you screamed out his name in pleasure experiencing yet another orgasm. It took a while for you to catch your breath after this one but you still wanted Bucky to also cum inside of you, “please sir, I still want you!”

He was more than happy to complete your request as he knelt between your legs, lifting one of them up until your foot rested on his shoulder and then he was easing his cock into your sensitive hole.

Your bodies moved frantically, and you desperately tried to reach him with your hands so he repositioned himself so you could wrap both legs around his waist, using his forearm strength to rest on either side of your head. His hips continue to move at a quick pace as he plunged his tongue into your mouth, mixing the taste of him and Steve’s cum with your taste and you were moaning in a constant stream, fingers gripping into his hips.

Bucky gasped loudly, pulling away from the kiss to rest his forehead on yours as your cunt desperately fluttered around his cock, nearly yet another orgasm. He knew it was most likely your last before you needed a rest so he frantically demanded, “don’t cum, not yet hot mama, I’m so close, just a little bit longer”.

You grunted in exasperation, needing that release and tried to will your body to do as you wanted but it was no use. “I- I can’t, I’m going to cum Bucky”.

“Ah, that’s ok baby, I’m cuming, cum with me, that's a good girl, fuck!” You had to push yourself away from Bucky your cunt contracted that hard and was so sensitive, causing his streams of cum to cover your abdomen but you didn’t care. Your entire body felt like it was floating in euphoria, everything felt perfect and truly satisfied, the sensation you’d been wanting all week.

In your exhaustion, you hadn’t heard anything Steve and Bucky had said between one another. Only noticing when a warm flannel was being brushed between your legs to try and clean you, a feeling that you tried to get away from but Steve was quick to calm you, “shh it’s ok, I’m just cleaning you, just relax”.

You did as instructed, allowing him to clean the rest of you off including the drying streaks of Bucky’s cum.

Bucky on the other hand had returned with a glass of water, encouraging you to drink it all and then climbing back into bed, pulling you into his side. Steve also did the same, his fingers grazing over your naked spine in a comforting manner.

“That’s the last time I ever don’t listen to you both,” you mumbled against Bucky’s chest, half asleep.

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #mafia bucky #mafia steve rogers #mafia stucky #mine*#marvel smut #marvel fanfic

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tinydefector · 3 days ago

Note

Can i request a Sunstreaker×Reader(gender nuetral)nsfw one shot?

Attachments- Human Effects

Sunstreaker x human

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: nsfw, touching, naked bodies, interspecies relations.

Fic masterlist

______________

Ambassador hums to themself as they watch Sunstreaker, Bluestreak and Traxies mess around and mingling. It was nice to see the blue mech so care free after the recent events. In truth they believe everyone is excited to be heading back to Cybertron.

"You boys better not damage each other God forbid Optimus or Ironhide and Prowl see you three damaged." They call out with a playful smile. Sunstreaker turns his helm toward the human Ambassador with scoff. "Don't worry, we know better than to damage the merchandise," he replies cockily. While he enjoys sparring with his convoy mates.

Still, he can't help snickering a little as Bluestreak leaps at Traxies, sending them both tumbling across the floor in a tangled pile of limbs. The two mechs wrestling playfully, but Sunstreaker knows from experience just how wily Bluestreak can be in a scrap.

Sunstreaker observes the ruckus with amusement, crossing his arms over his broad chest, Bob chitters and squeals as he watches the two mechs play, looking to his master as if to ask if he can join. “Go play Bug” he hums, Bob runs full speed before clambering onto Bluestreak's back, a shrill cry coming from the Insecticon as he attempts to wrestle Bluestreak off Traxies.

They shake their heads in amusement before turning to watch Sunstreaker as he saunters up to them. "Hello Sunstreaker, what can you do for you?" They tilt their head slightly, eyes flicking up to his optics. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were missing out on all the fun." He gestures casually toward Bluestreak, Traxies and Bob who are still play-wrestling amid peals of laughter, and chirps.

He redirects his focus to the Ambassador, azure optics sweeping over their form in a slow, appreciative once-over. One hand comes up to buff a spot on his broad chest, as if to draw attention to the gleaming sheen of his plating.

"What do you say we find somewhere a little more private, got something I want to talk to you about" he suggests. But his subtle hint isn't lost on them after how forward Ratchet had been.

"Christ Sunstreaker, are you hitting on me now too?" they groan out softly, but no true anger or discomfort is in their voice. Sunstreaker lets out a sly chuckle at the Ambassador's reaction. "That wasn't what I was intending but if you take it that way I'm sure I could make an exception for you," he replies with a wink. "Besides, a mech like me would be a fool not to take advantage of such charming company, while it lasts."

He begins walking with them, making his strides slower so that they could keep up with him. " unless you're already catered for? I have heard rumours of certain other members of our crew. Not that I blame you."

"No I'm not spoken for, just..... it's complicated" they state softly, not really wanting to have more mechs listening in on their conversation. "Let me guess you saw the pin up photos?" They ask, eyes flicking to Sunstreaker again.

He chuckles lightly. "Ah, I see. 'Complicated' seems to be the way of things around here more often than not." He gives the Ambassador a knowing look, he himself had complicated flings with Rodimus, Skids and Mirage.

"Let's just say Ratchet has fine taste, and leave it at that." He hums waiting to see how they would react to those words, he was hoping Ratchet hadn't seen the pin-ups and made a move, he didn't think the Medic would, he was in a relationship with the Ex-con, but he never knew with the CMO.

"Ah so you know..” they mumble softly. It makes Sunstreaker realise that Ratchet had indeed made a move on them.

“ I felt like if I do anything more than I already have I'll have the whole crew at my door. And I'm already trying not to have issues with command on Cybertron and not to mention the Galactica union." They mutter.

"Affairs of the spark can certainly make logistics...complicated," he acknowledges with a wry quirk of his lip plates. "Especially where command protocols and off-world politics are involved. Primus forbade any diplomat to find themselves on the wrong side of bureaucracy!" It's a chuckle, a true one from the rather snarky mech.

“Please don't spread it around, I don't need Magnus up my ass over me having a fling With the crew let alone the CMO” they pleade hoping that he understood enough how bad the situation was for them if it got out of hand,

"Easy, your secret is safe." He shoots them a conspiratorial wink. They laugh loudly. "Sunny no offence but you are one of the least subtle or Discrete mech I have ever met" they giggle while looking away. He grumbles as he looks away feeling ashamed to have been called out. "Guilty as charged" he admits under his breath.

His reigns in the snarky comment he wanted to shoot their way. "I wanted to.. frag how do i say it.” He grumbles again before trying to figure out how to broach the subject, he had never been the one trying to get someone in berth, it was always others trying to get him into their berth.

“I would like to invite you to um… Frag im slag at this. Would you be interested in interfacing with me?" He manages to ask, feeling the heat under his plates making his frame uncomfortable due to the situation.

The Ambassador freezes up, head snapping towards the yellow gold mech with surprise on his face. “ I…” they start only from Sunstreaker to hiss at himself for being stupid. “no I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked”

"I don't have anywhere to be for the next cycle, I was just checking up on Traxies" they blurted out to him. In truth Sunstreaker was a very pretty mech, they just never took him as one to be interested in humans.

Sunstreaker's optics flash brightly as he catches the Ambassador's words. "Well now, a whole cycle to yourself?" he asked, almost speechless, excited and intrigued.

"As it happens, I find myself also unexpectedly free for the foreseeable cycle," he adds casually, leaning down to scoop them up into his servos and arms. "Only conditions are, I can't have others finding out about this, do not talk about it with others" they state.

" I'm not looking for a relationship, f you have issues with that or me being with others, I'm occasionally sleeping with others, please reconsider" they explain. Sunstreaker nods slowly as he considers the Ambassador's terms, mouthparts pressing into a thin line.

"Very well, i won't tell anyone," he promises, voice low and serious. "As for your other arrangements...that is your affair, not mine." Truth be told, he wasn't looking for a relationship either, but he was rather intrigued to see what a human was like in berth.

The trip to Sunsteaker's website is a decent one but now that they are in there they look around admiring the different decorations, paints and detail supplies he had around.

A smug smile crosses his faceplate. "Like what you see?" he purrs, leaning down until his face is mere inches from theirs. "I take great pride in my collection. Only the finest."

They look over the many different paints and rims. The only way they could really describe it was like walking into a hat and shoe collectors house. "Woah fancy paints you have, never seen you in anything but the gold yellow" they hum while walking around. Sunstreaker chuckles slowly as the Ambassador examines his collection of paints and detailing supplies. "They are my pride and joy," he says, optics glittering with undisguised delight. "You'd be surprised how much work goes into maintaining my finish."

He watches them with rapt attention as they wander, taking in the array of exotic pigments and high-grade polishes. A pleased rumble escapes his vocalizer when they compliment his prized finishes. But then, with a playful flick of his wrist, he sends a plush detailing cloth sailing toward the Ambassador. They yelp in surprise, and Sunstreaker can't help but burst into raucous laughter at their reaction.

"What, did you think I'd let you admire my collection without getting your hands dirty?" he teases, stalking closer. "This frame doesn't clean and polish itself, you know." he looms over them, one digit tracing the curve of their jaw.

"I do so enjoy a little...hands-on assistance," he murmurs, voice dropping to a low purr. They just stare at him for a moment. "You... you brought be back here to be your personal polisher didn't you, I can't believe I got swindled like this, and here I thought you were looking for something else" it's a playful huff and teasing.

But the glint in his optics and the sly quirk of his lip plates give away his true amusement. He leans down until their faces are mere inches apart, " no, my dear Ambassador, I had quite a different sort of hands-on activity in mind." His voice drops to a sultry purr.

Bringing them up to his chestplate, he rumbles, "There, that's much better." His field practically crackles with smug satisfaction as he gazes down at them, azure optics burning with unveiled desire. "Now then, let's see what those nimble little fingers of yours can do," he murmurs. One thumb gently strokes along their side in a teasing caress.

"I have a few...sensitive spots that could use your attention."

"Oh do you now?" They chuckle while sitting down on his plating. Discarding their uniform top as they grab the polish and cloth. One hand pressed to his chassis as they give him a playful yet seductive look. Fingers trailing down the ridges and edges before they throw the polish cloth at his face with a laugh.

Sunstreaker lets out an indignant squawk as the polish cloth hits him square in the faceplate. His optics widened in shock, field flaring with offence. "Why, you cheeky little--!" he sputters, swiping the cloth away. But despite his outrage, a frown tugs at the corners of his lip plates.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that one," he growls playfully, optics glinting with mischief. Careful not to jostle the Ambassador, he shifts his weight, feinting as if to make a grab for them. "I'll have you know I don't take kindly to such flagrant disrespect of my finish," he huffs, trying and failing to keep a stern expression.

Sunstreaker may be vain, but he's not above a bit of playful back-and-forth. He settles back, They settle back down on his plating, relaxing into his servos. The cold metal trails up their sides, a slight shiver running down their spine as he drags his digits over their body admiring how different human physiology is to his. He could see why the rest of the crew were so taken by the ambassador.

"Fascinating," he murmurs, digits ghosting reverently over their skin. He can't help but marvel at the sheer softness and pliability of their form, so different from his own rigid, metallic plating. "You know," he purrs, voice dropping to a low, sultry rumble, "the rest of the crew really has excellent taste." One thumb brushes teasingly across their jaw. "I can certainly see the appeal..."

His free servo comes up, fingers lightly caressing their chest in gentle, exploring sweeps. Sunstreaker is utterly captivated, his focus zeroed in solely on them. "Christ Sunny, you just interested in teasing me, with how thirsty you bots are online I was expecting you to be a bit more handsy" they tease.

Sunstreaker chuckles lowly. "Thirsty, you say?" he rumbles, optics glittering with mischief. "In fact," he purrs, leaning in until his breath ghosts across their skin, "I'd say I'm positively famished." His grip tightened.

They let him remove the shirt, digits caressing their skin as he trails further down their body. Sunstreaker savours the soft moans that escape the Ambassador's lips, his own vocalizer rumbling in response. He trails feather-light kisses along their skin, his glossa darting out to taste the subtle nuances of their unique scent and texture.

They hear the hissing and clicking of his plating moving, shooting a look over their shoulder. Their eyes go wide when they see his spike. "Holy shit, Sunstreaker, there is no way that will fit in me at all!" They stutter out.

Sunstreaker sulks, a frown falling across his faceplate. "My mods aren't that bad. don't you worry your pretty little head about that, Ambassador," he sits up ,moving the, to the berth as he stands up and moves over to storage cubes.

"You're welcome to look through the options, if you'd like," watching as he pulls out different mods for them to look at. "Umm do you have anything smaller?" Sunstreaker huffs. "Smaller?" he rumbles, "I'll have you know, Ambassador, that nothing about me is 'small'."

He rummages through the storage cube, plucking out a few choice attachments with a flourish. "But fortunately for you, I do believe I have a few. more modest options in here somewhere."

"Let's see now..." he muses, "where did I put that petite little number?" A groan escapes his vocalizer. "Ah, here we are!" Sunstreaker presents the selected attachment. "I think you'll find this one much more manageable," he quips.

They watch as he brings out the smaller spike, this one looked like it wouldn't impale them, it's a ‘small’ silver attachment with little details etched into the metal along with little balls along the length of it. "That one looks better in size, but umm. How exactly do you.." they trail off. Eyes flicking from the small spike in his servo and the large one between his thighs.

"How do I...?" he prompts, one optic ridge arching upward in a blatant display of smugness. He tsks, shaking his head in mock-pity. "Allow me to demonstrate."

With an exaggerated flourish, he swaps out the sizable spike for the more modest attachment, the change accompanied by a series of slick, metallic clicks and whirs.

"There, you see?" he purrs, flexing his hips to show off the new addition. "Perfectly...proportional."

______________________

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#transformers #transformers idw #mtmte #transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers lost light #valveplug #sunstreaker tf #sunstreaker x reader #sunstreaker #transformers: more than meets the eye

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the-kr8tor · 5 months ago

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Hie hie I love love your Hobie stories I was wondering if you could please could write something cute . So it’s about the twins asking their parents for a pet and they like seven but age is up to you and Hobie’s being all cheeky asking them if they would be good pet owners typical parent behaviour so they give them babydoll eyes to reader who can’t resist them and I guess the rest is up to you if that’s ok don’t wanna offend you in any way I love your work but if you can’t it’s no the end of the world thanks 😊

You didn't offend me dw dw! Thank you for requesting! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, Mom! Reader, Dad! Hobie, Twin AU, Dad AU, Billie and Ramona AU, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The girls gasp simultaneously, a cute reaction that would have you smiling sweetly and cooing at them but when you followed their line of sight, you almost audibly groaned.

In each hand you have their tiny palms in yours, Ramona jumps excitedly, eyes sparkling at the luminescent fishes on display in the window of the pet shop. While Billie screeches unabashedly, the sound gets the attention of the nearby people who are coming out of the grocery store. Her hands tugs you towards the store. You swear that they've gotten stronger even though they're only five years old.

“Mummy!” Billie yells at the top of her lungs, pink trainers scrapping on the rough pavement. “They have a puppy!”

“Okay, okay, don't drag mommy around like your doll.”

Hobie chuckles behind you, hands full of groceries. You stare at him with a pout, wordlessly calling for help. He raises both hands, plastic bags crinkling, shrugging.

With a quick glare, he changes course from the teasing. “Listen to mum, Bee. Mon, your shoes are untied, you're gonna trip.”

“‘m okay!” Mona says, ribbons falling off her pigtails from all the jumping. “Can we see the fishes?” You crouch down to tie her shoes, an impossible feat while Billie tries to coax you into going inside the store.

Billie's voice triumphs over Mona's. “The dogs, mum!”

You inhale, wrangling the twins in your arms. “We'll go inside, only if you promise me to behave. And what did dad tell you last time?”

“Don't put your fingers inside the cages.” They both speak at the same time with the same flat cadence.

“And?” Hobie continues for you.

“Don't tap at the aquariums.” They simultaneously say, “can we go now?” Now their twin telepathy has you giggling and almost creeped if not for their cute faces staring at you, waiting for a response.

You decide to tease, hands holding onto their overalls. “Hmm, what do you think, dad?”

Hobie fakes a huff. “Dunno, love, these bags are heavy.”

“Dad!” Billie exclaims, stomping her little foot.

“Please, daddy?” Mona has a different plan, she pouts at Hobie, eyes all big, staring up and pleading with him.

The second Hobie nodded, you're sure that you won't be able to say no to a pet this time. You're already running out of excuses as to why they can't have one. The girls run off, leaving you in the dust.

“I'll just bring these to the car—” Hobie starts.

“Nuh uh” you grab him by his sleeve. “I need backup, I know they're gonna ask again. ‘sides, you can handle the bags, right?” Hobie scrunches his face, a resemblance of both girls when you ask them to eat their veggies. “You're my big strong spider—”

“Fine!” He says before you could finish your teasing. “I am strong.” He murmurs, pecking your cheek before following the girls inside.

“You are so strong!” Ragging him on, you race after him, quickly reciprocating the kiss by smooching his cheek with a resounding smack.

Hobie's lips curl into a sly smile, eyes roaming around the shop for his gremlins. You loop your arm around his own, carefully not adding to the weight. Hand kneading softly at his skin. He grins wider from how you lovingly hold him close.

“Ooh!” Billie's voice acts as a beacon for you and Hobie to follow. You see them both crouched down, eyes big and curious at the lonesome angel fish swimming in the tank.

“She's so pretty!” Mona adds, you're wishing that you brought your camera with you to capture the moment.

Sure enough, when you peek at the aquarium, the cobalt scales of the angelfish has you mesmerized too. “She is gorgeous.”

Both girls turn towards you simultaneously, smile all toothy with a few missing teeth in between their milk teeth. You already know what they're about to ask.

“Please?” Mona starts.

“We'll take good care of her!” Billie finishes with the perfect puppy dog eyes that you know the girls got from Hobie.

“Angelfish is a bit hard to take care of for a first pet. Maybe we should start off with a goldfish?” Hobie joins in unexpectedly, smile identical to the twins. You sometimes think it's unfair that you carried them for nine grueling months only for the girls to end up looking almost exactly like their father. This day is one of those days, because you know you cannot say no to that face. You've even joked about it to Hobie, to which he always replies with a ‘maybe the next one will look like you more.’ When you're too flabbergasted to reply, Hobie brings the other bag of groceries to his other hand to hold yours and then to bring your knuckles to his lips. You've lost, again. “Ain't that right, love?”

You sigh, surrendering to the whims of your adorable yet menace of a family. “Only if they promise to take good care of the fish.” The girls gasp, Billie even embraces Mona like they've won the war. “And it has to be a goldfish, okay?”

The girls can't hold their excitement any longer, they shriek happily, bounding over towards the goldfish section. Hobie kisses your hand again, this time longer, you can feel his smug grin through it. You shake your head with a groan, but you still peck his hand back.

“Wait, girls!” Hobie suddenly calls for them back. They both come hopping over to you. Billie and Mona getting what they want has turned them more obedient. Or they're just biased because their dad finally convinced you to agree. They look up at you sweetly, they know the effect of their cuteness, probably because of uncle Ned who gives them whatever they want if they just look at him all adorable like. “What do you say? Especially to mum?”

“Thank you, mummy!” Mona hugs your leg, while Billie joins in a second later.

Billie looks up, “kiss?” She asks, pouting her lips. No DNA test needed, definitely Hobie's kid, like there was any doubt.

“Of course, baby.” With a quick smooch, she smiles gratefully.

“Thank you, mummy, love you.” She murmurs into the denim of your pants, she's bringing out her big guns for this fish.

“I love you too!” Ramona joins in, puckering her lips too. You give her the same amount of smooch. “Thank you, love you.”

“And I love you both.”

“Okay, stop hounding mum, go pick out your fish.” Hobie pats them both on their curly heads, then both girls give him a not so sly thumbs up.

Mona gestures for her dad to lean down, Hobie obliges. She whispers in his ear but she still doesn't understand the concept of whispering so her tone is as loud as her usual one. “A doggy next time, daddy.”

Billie pipes up, of course hearing the entire thing. “Or a kitten!” You can see from Hobie's face that he wants the monitor lizard in the corner to eat him up.

Your family has played you like a fiddle.

They walk away giggling, talking about what name they should give their fish. Hobie looks back at a glaring you. “I love you so much—”

“You’re cleaning the tank.”

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wobblesthecowgirl · 6 months ago

Text

I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter Two: Six Point Cabin

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, age difference, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Hello again! Chapter two is a lot longer and we are kinda getting into it. I know Arthur and reader hate each other but you can't rush enemies to lovers!

Chapter One

Chapter Three

Days had gone by and Y/n hadn’t eaten a proper meal. In fact, she wouldn’t have had anything if it wasn’t for Mary-Beth feeding both her and Kieran scraps of food when the other gang members weren’t looking. Y/n always made sure to thank her, repaying her kindness with respect. She doesn’t have to do that, but she’s got a good heart.

Arthur and Dutch had tried asking about Colm a few more times but without being fed, the two O’Driscoll’s were too tired to respond (that and Y/n was too suborn. She hated this gang as much as the other one). Today however, seemed much different.

It was sunny, a light breeze and the birds were chirping, it would’ve been a calming day if it wasn’t for the predicament. Arthur strode towards the two of them and stood in between the two trees. When she was tied up, the gang made sure Kieran and Y/n couldn’t reach one another, their feet being only a foot apart from each other.

“When is this going to end…” Kieran whined as Arthur got to them, not ready for another day of questioning and torture.

“You both got some speaking to do of your own, about that old gang of yours.” He folded his arms like he always did, which Y/n rolled her eyes at. Here we go again.

Kieran was standing again, whereas she couldn’t, her thigh slightly better but due to her condition, it was healing slower than it should. Kieran groaned, “I said I told you. I don’t know nothing.”

Arthur shook his head, the tiny rope on his hat swung with it, “That’s what I thought.”

Dutch came striding over, his voice cheerful and booming, causing the woman to jump.

“Hold your horses there! It seems the cat has got our friend’s tongue’s.” He stood with Arthur, with a bigger guy before continuing, “I was thinking Mr Williamson could have a word.”

Y/n eyed him carefully; she had been trying to get as much information on everyone, being sat doing nothing makes you people watch. She was sure this guy was called Bill. He had a creepy grin on his face and pointed at Kieran.

“We can start with you. You ready to talk, boy?”

“I told you mister, I told all of you. I don’t know nothing, ok?” He sighed, “Th-They ain’t no friends of mine. I just been ridin’ with them for a while.”

Bill interrupted him, his spit flying out his mouth, “Bullshit! You’re close with this O’Driscoll, and you told us you weren’t close with any of them! So how about you tell us the truth.” He turned to the gang’s leader, “Dutch, what do you want me to do?”

Y/n’s heart dropped. This interrogation session was different than the others, it was much more sinister.

“Hurt him. So the next time he opens his mouth, it is to tell us what is going on.” Dutch’s mouth was twisted into a sly smile, his voice dripping with ill intent.

“Who am I kidding? One of the O’Driscoll’s boys couldn’t open his mouth, but he’d tell a lie.” He got in Kieran’s face before turning to Bill, “Screw it. Let’s just have some fun,” He made a cutting motion with his fingers, “geld him.”

Bill cheered as Y/n pulled at her restraints, “No! You get away from him!” She screamed as Dutch laughed down at her.

“Maybe you’ll talk for him!”

“What’s he doing? Where’s he going?” Her friend panicked, watching Bill bring a pair of long tongs from the fire.

Arthur hadn’t said anything, only stood watching the scene unfold before him, waiting to see who would crack first.

“Oh, don’t worry. They’re only balls boy! Just gonna cause you trouble.” Dutch began to ramble about Rome but the two hostages weren’t listening, instead watching Bill cheerfully make his way over. Kieran’s trousers and pants were then pulled down, and Y/n made sure to look up, in attempts to save the poor boy’s dignity.

“No, no, no, no! You’re kidding right?” Kieran cried, trying to back away but the tree blocked him.

“You disgusting pigs!” Y/n snapped, still wriggling and kicking, her thigh screaming at her to stop.

“You sick bastards! What do you want from me!” Even Kieran was swearing now, fear causing him to sweat profusely.

“Well, you are going to talk. The only question is now, or after we get these little fellas off?” The three men were surrounding Kieran. The pair of tongs getting closer, yet he still wasn’t cracking.

“Ok! I’ll tell you!” Y/n shouted; she couldn’t sacrifice her friend getting hurt over a gang who didn’t even realise they were missing. All the men turned to her, the weapon getting a bit further away from him.

“Six point cabin.” She stated, and when they looked at her she sighed, “That’s where the O’Driscoll’s are. That’s where Colm is lying low.”

The men seemed satisfied, as Bill shouted at Kieran, “Why didn’t you tell us that first, boy?”

“I didn’t know the location!” He whimpered, still keeping an eye of Bill’s hand, and trying to cross his legs.

“But I know where that is! I can take you there. I don’t like him. I mean, I like him even less than I like you. No offence.”

“Oh, none taken.” Dutch cackled. Arthur finally joined in on the conversation. He leant down to Kieran and said, “Ok then, partner. Why don’t you and your friend take a few of us up there. Right now.” He untied Kieran who quickly pulled his trousers up, and Arthur approached Y/n.

“I ain’t helping you!” She spat, her not shot leg kicking out in protest. She could hear him grumbling as he untied her, and when she refused to stand, he grabbed her bicep and forced her up. His grip was purposefully strong, but she couldn’t focus on that, instead, she focused on the fact that she couldn’t stand or walk properly. Being sat for days on top of her wound made her useless.

“I got this, Dutch. Should be fun.” He reassured his leader before turning his attention back to her, “Alright you, come on. Can you walk?”

“What does it look like?” She gritted her teeth, limping slowly to what she assumed was his horse after watching him ride to camp on it. She could feel him chuckling behind her, “Well at least I ain’t gotta worry about you running away.”

Another snide remark from this man and I’ll kill him on pure adrenaline and a pocketknife.

Kieran jogged over to the best of his ability to help her, but she held her hand up to stop him. She didn’t want to appear weaker than what she already did, and if the two kept acting close, the gang would use that against them like how they already did.

“Let’s hope you both ain’t trying to trick us, O’Driscolls.” Arthur warned.

“We ain’t no O’driscoll.” Kieran corrected which only caused the older man to snap back, “But you sure as shit was.” After that, he called for John and Bill to tag along, and Kieran gave them the directions.

“John, you take this little rattlesnake with you. Any nonsense, kill him.”

John nodded, pointing to his horse so Kieran could hop on.

“Don’t do anything rash.” Y/n called out to him as John sat on the front of his horse. Kieran nodded at her as if to say ‘same to you’.

“You’re with me, woman.” Arthur got on his horse, and looked down at her. She looked up and from this angle, she could see how his stubble was neatly kept and his moustache was slightly longer. His eyes were light and the were small scars dotted across his cheek.

I can’t wait to put a bullet through his head.

She grabbed the saddle but winced when she shifted her weight to her bad leg. With a grunt, Arthur extended his hand which only caused her to raise her chin at him.

“You can put your filthy hand away, I don’t need your help.”

“Well, it sure looks like you do. Stop being so stubborn, girl.”

“I hope you drop dead on this mission.” She spat, pulling herself up in an awkward manner, seating behind him with as much distance as she could get. Why does he have to have the biggest horse known to mankind?

“Are they taking us to Colm?” John asked as the three horses galloped out the camp and through the trees that gave comforting shade to the summer’s sun.

“Look, I-I-I’ll give you more directions when we’re close, but if I know where we are, it’s up past Valentine.” Kieran strutted as John moved further up for the rest of them to follow. Y/n tuned out the men the entire ride there, all she heard was talk about throwing knives, O’Driscolls, and horse shit. Instead, she watched the dust kick up from the hooves of the horses, the leaves blowing in the wind, and the occasional people passing by.

Arthur asked Bill if he still had the tongs, to which he replied with the fact he had a knife.

“Keep that in mind, young fella.” He yelled at Kieran, “Right in the forefront of it.”

“What about the woman?” Bill asked; Y/n saw him shrug.

“I’ll just shoot her other leg. I doubt she’ll get far.” His voice found humour in this, and she could only grit her teeth at how helpless she was. She was stronger than this, much stronger, and these idiots didn’t even know it.

“It’s passed these hills. Better get there before I get your gun.” She threatened and couldn’t help her smirk as she saw him instinctively reach for his holster. They stopped their horses at the clearing and planned to reach the cabin from foot. Arthur got off first and looked at her, wondering if she was going to ask for help. Of course she didn’t. Instead, she swung her leg over and jumped down, falling to her knees from the sudden impact. She kept her pained cries inside, only earning a small grunt. Kieran made his way over and helped her back on her feet, which this time she didn’t push him away. When she was steady, Kieran began to walk towards the cabin’s location.

“There’ll be a bunch of fellers hiding out there too.” Kieran stated as the group were crouched behind a log, peering into the woods. A couple of men were further than the rest, taking a toilet break against a tree.

“Are these fellas armed?” Arthur asked.

“Armed. Drunk. Wary of strangers.” Kieran nodded.

“And Colm O’Driscoll?”

“Most likely.” Y/n intervened, “Probably passed out sleeping soundly. After a day of bossing people to their deaths.”

The three O’Driscoll’s continued to talk to one another as Dutch's group tried to conduct a plan. The O’Driscoll’s got close, so John grabbed Kieran and covered his mouth with a gun to his head. Arthur did the same. His giant, calloused hands roughly gripped Y/n face to silence her, the other hand on her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her ear, but she didn’t move a muscle. Not because she was scared, but because doing so would be pointless. If she screamed, either John would shoot her, or her former gang mates would.

“I’m gonna let go of you now, if you so much as move an inch, I’m shooting you in the head this time.” He whispered in her ear, as she stifled a grunt, her eyebrows knitted together. He slowly let go, making sure she didn’t move, and began making his way over to the enemy with his throwing knife, stabbing all three with Bill. John turned to Kieran and Y/n, his eyes narrowed.

“I need to help them. You two stay here, if you try to escape we will hunt you down. Understood?” Kieran nodded while she only rolled her eyes; she was getting tired of all the empty threats. They watched as John descended down the hill.

“We can’t keep doing this, man.” She spoke up after a quick breather, her leg aching. He only hummed in response, too busy trying to get a better look of what was going on. As she scoped the scene, a familiar shine in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

“Is that..” It was. It was a sniper rifle. It was the first time she had a genuine smile. Oh, what a beautiful sight, a beautiful sight that is now mine.

She hopped down the hill, carefully as to not alert either gang, and picked up the gun. Its cold metal only warmed her heart, as she looked through the scope and nodded her head; it wasn’t the best, but it’d do. She heard her friend scramble after her, not wanting to be left alone.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” He scolded, the both of them a bit startled at the sudden loud bangs of guns at the cabin.

“What do you think? I’m going to scope that big grunt and get us the hell out of here. We can wait till they kill all the O’Driscolls, then I aim from a distance an-“

“No! Being alone is too risky! We would get hunted down! Our best bet is to warm up to the Van Der Linde gang and-“

It was her turn to interrupt him, she looked like she had been shot a second time, “What? Are you insane! Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m trying not to lose my head!” He snapped back, much to her surprise. He rubbed his eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. Just… hear me out ok?”

“They will kill us after today you know? We gave them what they needed, Bang. Bye bye us.”

A twig snapped, the two of them now on high alert. An old O’Driscoll had a gun pointed at Kieran, but Y/n quickly head shot him within milliseconds. He thanked her, a hand to his chest.

“Come on, we are sitting ducks here.” She began to limp to the cabin, the gunshots had died down significantly. When they got there, the place was littered with dead bodies.

She made her way to the wooden shed and saw the rest of them there. Arthur had his back turned; it would be so easy. She aimed her rifle at him, just as he got knocked down by a frenzied O’Driscoll with a gun pointing down at him. Saves me a job, she first thought, but Kieran’s previous words nagged her. Nagged and nagged, before she huffed in annoyance. Damn you, horse boy.

She shot the man on top of Arthur between his brows, he went limp, and Arthur pushed the now dead body off of him; blood had splattered on his coat and face. He laid there for a moment, not even acknowledging her, before getting up and peering his head inside the cabin and was suddenly filled with rage. He stormed towards her, his face red.

“You set us up! Come here!” He was towering over her now, their anger mutual.

“No she didn’t!” Kieran tried to defuse the situation which only made Arthur angrier.

“You both did, Colm O’Driscoll ain’t here!”

“If I wanted to set you up, I would’ve used this very rifle in my hand to shoot you dead!” She seethed, raising the rifle as proof she did just in fact save his life.

“She has a good point, Arthur.” Bill butted in, sort of on her side. Arthur paused for a moment, seemingly taking in the situation before shooing her away and saying, “Alright then, go on, get out of here.”

“Eh?” Kieran puzzled, stepping closer to Y/n who only furrowed her brows at him. A trap? Get our back turned to shoot us?

“I’m letting you run away, now go on. Get out of here.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice, come on Kieran.” She was about to walk off, or hobble away, when he grabbed her wrist.

“That’s as good as killing us. Out there, without you, Colm O’Driscoll’s gonna lose his mind about this.”

She groaned, sick of this argument, and Arthur didn’t seem too pleased either, only asking, “So?”

“So, we’re one of you now.” He stated, earning a scoff from Y/n.

“Oh please.”

He shot her a warning glance and for once she obeyed. Arthur rubbed his eyes before murmuring, “Give me a break.” He looked at them both, thinking hard about his next decision.

“Alright then. But I’m warning you both…”

“We get it!” Y/n groaned, throwing the rifle on the ground to his feet so he didn’t keep going on.

“You fellas get to camp, quick. Hey Bill, you tell Dutch, old Kieran and little Y/n ain’t worth killing. Just yet.” He stated, already making his way inside the cabin to find the money stashed in the chimney.

Y/n got on John’s horse this time with said man, deciding the man with the giant scar on his face was still better than Bill, who only this morning was excited to burn a man’s balls off.

“Don’t think for second you’re one of us.” John barked as they began their journey back to camp.

“Trust me. I’ll never have the desire to be accepted by any of you.” She scoffed, all of them going silent as the sun began to set, and the cold air giving her goosebumps.

#rdr2 fandom #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader

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honeybeefae · 1 year ago

Note

pls do the sexting prompt (nsfw obv) but i cant pick which bat boy bc i wanna read it for them all so u pick :)

Also this is such a fun idea i cant wait to read them all!!

Passing Notes (Bat Boys x Reader)

BINGO: Sexting

(Okay so obviously we don’t have a phone but we can do it the old-fashioned way ;). I figured I’d do each bat boy since I couldn’t choose either so take your pick or take the lot! Also, Azriel’s took a different turn for sexting but I hope you guys like it? I didn’t want to repeat the same prompt that I did for Cass! Enjoy!)

WARNINGS: Smut

RHYSAND

You were in the library with at least three different books scattered across the table. It was late and you knew your mate was waiting for you in bed but you needed to get this done. You were so close to finding the answers you were looking for in regard to some myth, it was within your grasp so you were going to stay up until it was solved.

A small note appeared in front of you, right as you went to mark something with your pen and you smiled and shook your head.

How cruel to leave your mate alone and cold.

He was such an Illyrian baby. You almost didn’t reply, not wanting to entertain his theatrics, but you couldn’t resist teasing him.

If you are that desperate for company I’m sure Cassian wouldn’t mind joining you.

It vanished into thin air and you went back to your book, your eyes narrowing as you began scribbling until the note appeared once more. What had you started?

Cassian wouldn’t be keen on the company I wish from you, darling.

You bit down on your bottom lip and crossed your legs. He was in one of those moods and you knew you soon would be as well. The two of you had a very hard time keeping your hands to yourself and when you were working like this, your mate made it his personal mission to distract you in the best way possible.

Your pen hesitated over the paper as you wondered if you wanted to get into this with him but when you saw the image he sent down the bond of his cock in his hands, you folded quickly.

It looks like you’ve got things taken care of on your end, my Lord. What exactly would my purpose be?

A rush of heat went down to your sex as you shifted in your seat, unable to focus on what was in front of you. He took longer than normal to respond and you couldn’t help but imagine why. At this rate, you would be running to your bedroom before he could even finish his sentence.

I want to make sure you’re taken care of, Y/N. I know that ache inside you is growing, I can feel it. Let me ease it for you.

The sound of your chair scrapping backward was loud as you allowed your hands to wander underneath your pants, finding the wetness of your cunt as you slowly rubbed yourself. Two could play at this game.

It was tricky to write with one hand occupied but you managed, proud of your work as you sent the paper back as well as a sly picture of where your fingers currently were to him.

How would you ease it? I can picture many, many different ways but my favorite is with your head buried between my legs and your cock in my mouth.

Rhysand gave a harsh tug on the bond and you giggled breathlessly, knowing it was a warning to behave. You responded by sending him another image but this time it was of you riding him from earlier, your entire body on fire from how desperately you needed him.

A soft breeze swept over you as you opened your hazy eyes to find your mate looming over you, his cock standing proudly while his jaw was tight. You smirked, crooking your finger to beckon him forward. He immediately fell to his knees and lifted your legs over his shoulders, kissing the inside of your thigh as you ran a hand through his dark locks.

“Wicked woman.” He purred, giving you a smoldering look before diving head-first into your cunt. You gasped and arched into him, your tasks long forgotten as you welcomed the distraction.

===========================================

CASSIAN

“Does everyone understand what we are going to be doing?” Feyre asked while standing at the head of the table, making eye contact with the entire group. They all nodded and you were doing your best to keep up but your mate was making it increasingly hard to do.

Cassian sat beside you, his aura oozing with nonchalance as he slipped a small piece of paper to you. You frowned, trying not to roll your eyes as you opened it underneath the table like you were in school.

I know what I am going to be doing ;)

You coughed to cover up your snort, shooting him a playful glare before shaking your head. Feyre glanced at the two of you but Elain asked something that thankfully got her attention off of you.

The pen in your hand flew swiftly across the page as you wrote your response, sliding it back over to him and folding your hands in your lap.

I know where you’ll be sleeping if you do not pay attention to our High Lady, General.

He shifted in his seat, a small smirk on his lips as he wrote something down. You sighed, realizing your mistake in playing into his antics while he slid it back over to you again.

How can I pay attention when all I can think about is your hair in my hand, you gripping our headboard, and your cunt gripping my cock?

A small whine was building in the back of your throat as he turned the heat all the way to a ten. You crossed your legs and bit down on your bottom lip, the meeting losing some of its importance as you contemplated a response.

Your pussy was starting to develop a heartbeat as you reread his words over and over in your mind. He was watching you, one of his hands covering his mouth to hide his grin as he got you hook, line, and sinker. You were screwed.

Fuck you.

It wasn’t a clever comeback but he had pulled out an ace when you least expected it. He always had this effect on you, to make you speechless and melt like butter in his hands. The voices of your friends started to get fuzzy as you moved in your chair, biting back a moan at the friction.

No, princess, that’s your job.

His reply was instant and your cheeks grew hot from both frustration and lust. You didn’t want to reply to him, hoping that by ignoring the situation you could regain control, but Cassian was one step ahead of you.

One of his hands ‘innocently’ fell to your thigh, the tablecloth hiding his dark intentions as he immediately traveled up to your panties. There was already a wet spot forming and you took a huge gulp of your wine when he thrust a thick finger into you.

It was nice but not what you wanted, your sex aching to be filled with his cock. You raised your hips slightly, trying to get him to either go deeper or add more, but he kept that teasing pace. His finger curled and found your g-spot easily, rubbing it while biting his lip as your hand gripped his arm tightly.

“Y/N!” Feyre shouted, breaking you from your spell as you shot straight up and winced. All eyes were on the two of you, knowing looks and smirks from some while Azriel and Nesta looked annoyed. “Look, I know the mating bond is new-”

“I’m so sorry, Feyre, and everyone,” You blurted out, squealing when Cassian picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

“You are so right, Feyre. I think we might go fix that situation right now so we don’t cause any more distractions. We’ll catch up tomorrow.” He called, winking at Rhys who gave him a knowing look and eye roll.

“That’s not-” She tried to argue but the two of you were already outside and in the air, his arms tight around you as you giggled loudly. You were both going to be in trouble tomorrow but for tonight you were going to enjoy each other.

===========================================

AZRIEL

The dress Mor had lent you was a scarlet red with a plunging neckline and a slit so high you were nervous that you were going to end up flashing someone. It was something you wouldn’t normally wear but with your mission at the Court of Nightmares, you had to dress the part.

You were currently seducing one of the higher court members, his ego so easily inflated that you were a little bored with how easy it was. All he wanted to do was brag about himself, his wealth, and his ties. He wasn’t particularly interesting but he was harboring a book in his room that your friends were stealing as you speak.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you here before. I saw you were visiting with our High Lord. Are you a friend of his?” He asked you, his hand grazing the back of your waist.

A small shrug and some made-up story were enough for his prying to be sated, though the same couldn’t be said for his wandering hands. You masked your frown, trying to cover it with a yawn until you felt something slither around your ankle.

It was cool and firm, caressing your skin as it traveled upward while you looked down in confusion and alarm. You didn’t connect the dots until your eyes found your mate, Azriel, standing in the corner with an evil glint in his eyes.

Of course. He was jealous.

As if on cue you felt him reach out through the bond, tugging on it with frustration that had you placing a hand over your chest in surprise. The man in front of you raised an eyebrow, his lips curled over the rim of his glass.

“Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost.”

“I'm fine,” You replied, sending a warning look to your mate when the man took a sip of his drink. “Just a chest pain, nothing more.”

“Well, as I was saying, my father,” The man continued on as he had been all night, not noticing you bite down on your lip as those shadows slid further up your thigh until they were teasing the outside of your underwear.

Your body flinched from the contact as you tried to control your facial reactions. Azriel was risking the whole mission with this stunt but fuck it felt good.

“Are you even listening to me?” His voice was curt as you tuned back into whatever he was blabbering about. “You know there are plenty of other females-”

“No, no, I'm so sorry.” You rushed to soothe him, grasping his upper arm just as the shadows squeezed through the fabric of your panties to rub your clit. “I think the wine might be disagreeing with me is all, I feel flushed.”

He surveyed you, taking in your heated cheeks and glazed eyes before a dark look graced his face. His nostrils flared and you realized with great horror and embarrassment that he could smell you. And he thought he was the reason.

“If you were so desperate, young lady, all you had to do was ask. I can smell you.” He whispered into your ear, suddenly too close for comfort as Azriel continued playing with your body like a violin. “Shall we go back to my room?”

Before he could even lay a finger on you your mate appeared behind you, his stature menacing as he shot daggers at the man. You subconsciously moved closer to Azriel, your body practically vibrating as you swallowed a needy whimper as he picked up the speed on your clit.

“Is there a problem here?” Azriel asked lowly, dangerously, which actually had the man taking a step back. “I couldn’t help but notice how close the two of you were getting.”

“Is that a problem for you, Illyrian?” The man sneered, going to grab your arm to pull you into him. “Your owner needs to put his leash back on you.”

A thick silence followed his comments as Azriel stepped toe to toe with him, his wings flared in a show of dominance before Rhysand stepped in to cool down the situation. He looked at you for answers but your mate started pulling you through the crowd and out the doors the minute his High Lord took over.

“Azriel, Azriel!” You whisper-shout, having to basically run to keep up with his strides. “You just ruined the whole point of tonight! I had it under control and I don’t even know if they’ve had time to-”

You gasped when he suddenly turned down a dark hallway and shoved you against the wall, a large hand over your mouth as he rutted into you. His cock was straining against his pants and when you whined underneath him, it flexed in need.

“You didn’t have it under control. You let that man touch you, to think that he was the reason you’re soaking wet under that dress.” Azriel snarled, his lips inches from yours. “I’ll be damned if I let any other man think they have claim to you. And I’m going to show you what happens when you forget that.”

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 10 months ago

Text

A Devil's Secret Wingman: Vergil x G/N Reader

APPARENTLY, I NEVER POSTED THIS HERE; I WROTE THIS BACK IN MARCH OF 2023 LMFAO WHAT THE FUCK--

SUMMARY: As time has gone on, random appearances from a certain blue apparition happened more and more. A part of you wonders why but you had never dared to ask Vergil; however, the sly blue ghostly devil had a different plan in store.

BEGINNING NOTES: I don’t know why I really like the idea of Vergil in yoga pants right now; I just do. Also when Doppel shakes their upper half; I am imagining something similar to a bird fluffing its feathers. Yes, I know that Vergil + Dante’s DT/Sin DTs don’t have feathers but I feel like they’d still do it; plus it would make Vergil’s (Sin Trigger) shoulder pauldrons move according to how they work on the concept art page. 💝🩵💝 Vergil x G/N Reader Unestablished relationship Some good ol’ fluff

INSPIRED BY:

A Doppelganger's Projection--By: DevilSwordVergil

Devil's Advocate--By: LadyMuzzMuzz

These are both super cute and I love them ngl

Visitations from a certain bright blue apparition had become a regular occurrence when you visited the Devil May Cry. It didn't typically matter what was going on; night or day, before or after a job--as long as you were alone, the glowing blue devil would make time to see you. At first, you thought that Vergil had been doing this to keep an eye on you while he was up in his room; however, as time went by, you realized that Vergil didn’t even have to be awake for Doppel to appear--sometimes you'd even get a visit when Vergil was out and about. It had become a part of your routine, one which you reveled in greatly.

Today was no exception.

Vergil and you were on “shop duty”, being tasked with the monotonous secretary work of (the) Devil May Cry. Everyone else had various contracts to complete or were on vacation; leaving you and the blue twin alone for an undisclosed amount of time.

You sighed heavily, “I’m so fucking bored…” you leaned forward in the desk chair and set your head on the desk with a small thunk.

It had been nearly three hours and there wasn’t a single phone call or walk-in; it was as dead as dead can be. A part of you had hoped that Vergil might join you downstairs for a while, maybe even a long while; but, you hadn’t seen nor heard from the Dark Slayer all day. Which was fine, it’s not like the two of you don’t see each other all the time, but you couldn’t help but yearn to be near him--even if it just meant that you were occupying the same room.

A small joyful chirping caught your attention. You tilted your head up slightly and stared from the tops of your eyes. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was the blue ghostly doppelgänger that you expected to visit at some point.

You picked your head up. Placing your elbow on the desk and resting your chin in your palm, you flashed them a bright beaming smile, “Hey Doppel, come to join me?”

Although you knew that the devil couldn’t speak, you would talk to them as if they were able to respond; which to be fair they technically could. Your smile widened as they wiggled a bit, a sign that you'd learned meant they were happy or in agreement. The devil approached you and stood in front of the desk with a tilted head.

“Wanna sit with me?” you smiled as you sat up and watched Doppel wriggle faster, spreading their wings slightly in excitement, “Alright,” you stood from the chair.

With a loud scrapping sound, you moved the coffee table out from in front of the pleather couch--making sure to give the devil enough room. With a playful huff and bounce, you sat on the couch.

The sound of their claws daintily clicking on the hardwood floor made you giggle in amusement. They stood in front of the couch before tilting their head once more.

“What?” you watched their hands as they gestured along the couch, asking you to lay down, “Oh? Okay, sure..?”

It was a bit odd since they had never asked for that before but you did as you were asked. With a curious tilt to your brow, you watched as the devil sat above you, straddling your legs. If this had been the real Vergil, you surely would’ve been crushed to death by now; thankfully, Doppel (typically) weighed almost nothing. Another laugh left your lips as you watched the dangerous devil knead into your chest with both his hands, emitting a thunderous purr; reminding you of a cat. Meanwhile, you gently ran your hands along the devil's body.

After a minute or two, they carefully laid on top of you; encompassing you entirely. You smiled as you nestled your face into (where there typically would be) grey scales above their blue V. Carefully, they rubbed the underside of their chin against the top of your head. Between the heat and the vibrations of their purrs, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep; forgetting all about your shop work.

Nearly an hour later, you were still sleeping happily with the blue devil doing the same. However, a different blue devil had come downstairs to check on you; worried that you hadn’t answered the shop's phone several times. Now, he could only stare at the sight before him.

The sight of you, his partner and secret romantic interest, being smothered by his own duplicate. Doppel noticed Vergil’s sudden appearance and curiously turned their head towards him.

With a large and envious scowl, Vergil snapped his fingers in an attempt to de-summon the blue apparition but was only met with a small wiggling motion in defiance. This movement was enough to stir you awake.

Only having your eyes half open, you mumbled to your ghostly cuddle-bug, “Somethin’ wrong Doppel?”

They looked down at you and back to Vergil. You turned your head to the side and became pale at the sight of Doppel’s owner. Vergil had moved further into the room and stood next to the desk with folded arms. A small blush spread across your face upon seeing his oddly casual apparel; a pair of semi-form-fitting black yoga pants and his typical turtlenecked dark blue vest. Upon seeing that you noticed Vergil, Doppel took their leave with a small chirp of happiness.

Vergil swallowed audibly and looked away from your eyes, a small amount of pink pricked at his features--embarrassed about this situation, “Forgive me, I was unaware of their summoning,” his voice was meek and caught you off guard.

You smiled as you sat up, “Don’t worry about it… If I’m honest,” you placed a hand on the back of your neck awkwardly, “I actually enjoy these little visits.”

“This- This has happened before?” Vergil’s gaze turned back to you filled with concern and confusion.

“Yeah..?” you cocked your head slightly, “Haven’t you been sending Doppel to stay with me?”

The twin looked at you with parted lips and wide-eyed expression; telling you that your assumption was far from correct.

Before you were able to question him more, Vergil went back up the stairs and holed himself back up in his room.

“Shit,” a loud sigh left your lips as you flung your head backwards, hitting the crown of your head on the back cushions; fearing that this would somehow bite you in the ass later.

You waited a while to see if Vergil would come back downstairs and were disappointed when he didn’t. Another heavy sigh left your lips as you stood up from the couch and tended to your assigned work.

After that was completed, you quickly became bored again and looked around for something to bide your time. That’s when you realized how dirty the DMC had become making you scrunch your face in disgust. So, you decided to take upon the hefty maid work and got to it.

Three hours of exhausting scrubbing and cleaning later, you flopped face down on the sofa, satisfied with your work. Slowly, you felt the warm gentle hold of sleep taking hold of you or was it something else? Before you could question it too much, you fell back asleep.

After a half hour or so, you tried to turn over and felt something stop you. Irritatedly, you opened your eyes and noticed luminescent wings and arms wrapped around you. It seemed that Doppel had not only returned to you but was sleeping on top of you.

“Doppel?” you whispered and got a small tail wag in response, “Can you let me up?”

They looked at you for a moment, presumably in thought, then slid off you. You sat up and let out a low groan as you stretched your arms upwards, cracking your back. The large devil sat facing you with crisscrossed legs, reminding you of how juvenile the ghost acted in comparison to its master.

With a small laugh, you turned to put one leg up on the couch, “So… What’s with you? I hear that you’ve been visiting me without permission?” you cocked your head curiously.

The blue devil chirped in affirmation.

"Why?"

Doppel’s tail gently moved to point at your chest before laying it on your lap. Carefully, you pet the sharp scales; giving extra care to go pet down the tail so you didn’t slice your hand.

“My chest, huh?” you shook your head with a faint smile, “I don’t understand.”

The light blue figure cocked its head slightly before shaking its upper body with a loud chirp. Then, they took their hands and fumbled with them for a moment, before they made a crude heart shape with their fingers.

With pursed lips and a furrowed brow, you huffed quietly in confusion, “A heart?” the blue devil shook with another loud chirp--indicating that you were correct, “What..? You just love spending time with me or something?” admittedly, you found that idea to be adorable.

Doppel looked over and stared at the staircase; which you copied.

“Wait,” you froze and looked at Doppel with wide eyes, “You mean that Vergil-?”

A third loud chirp came from them as they wriggled in place.

With parted lips, you tried to come up with a response. However, before you were able, Doppel sat on their knees, still on the couch, and poked your chest with their finger this time.

“Are you asking if I..?” your voice was hushed as Doppel wiggled a bit, “Oh, well- I,” you stumbled over your thoughts and words. Admittedly, you’d never said it out loud before or told anyone about how you felt for the older brother; despite the incessant pestering of Nico and Dante, “Yeah, I-” a small smile tugged at your lips as you sighed contently, “I do love Vergil.”

The blue apparition carefully cupped your face within its hands and made an odd purring chirp noise; one you’d never heard before. They continued to purr afterwards and just stared into your eyes. That’s when you realized what Doppel was asking you to do.

“No way,” you shook your head slightly, still confined by the devil’s hands, “I can’t tell him. Do you know how much he’d hate me over something--”

Another loud chirping purr cut you off; this time, however, Doppel wriggled harder and spread their wings out in clear disagreement.

“You sure about this?” you whispered as you felt them squish your face closer together, making you scrunch up, “Alright- Alright, I’ll go,” Doppel let go of your face as you laughed nervously.

A deep nervous feeling grew in your gut as you stood up and slowly ascended the stairs, with Doppel following suit. Once in front of Vergil’s door, you stopped and looked over at the apparition with pursed lips. Doppel decided to force things along further and knocked loudly on the door for you, making you cuss loudly at the ghostly devil.

The door opened and Vergil stood there with a raised brow; however, before he spoke, he noticed his Doppelgänger standing beside you.

“What- How?!” Vergil’s voice was angry as he glared at the blue ghost.

Doppel straightened their posture with a curious tilt of their head.

The eldest twin’s lip twitched in irritation at their counterpart.

Meekly, you broke Vergil’s death glare at the apparition, “Hey, could we,” you shrugged with one shoulder, “talk for a minute?”

Vergil eyed you up and down, “Fine, give me a moment,” with that, he turned back into his room and shut the door.

You turned to Doppel and became increasingly confused. They were ruffling their top half with their wings wide spread and their tail flicking around.

“What’s up with you?” you were unsure if they were excited or angry.

The ghost looked at you and patted the top of your head, still wriggling around.

With a small shake of your head, you smirked a wide smile at them, “You’re quite excited, huh?”

Before they could give a clear response, Vergil’s bedroom door opened again.

The twin sighed and moved to the side, “You may enter.”

“Are you sure you want me in your room? You never--”

“Yes.”

With a coy nod, you smiled, “Okay, thank you.”

Vergil gave you a flat smile and shut the door as he watched Doppel wave to him and then fade.

A heavy sigh came from the twin as he stood facing the door for a moment, attempting to hide his growing nervousness. Vergil turned to face you and took a few steps closer. The two of you awkwardly stood in the middle of the open space. Admittedly, the eldest son’s room was rather plain; only having essential items, a few bookshelves, and a small desk.

“It’s nice in here,” you smiled and avoided his piercing gaze, “it’s very well-kempt; a reflection of its inhabitant.”

Although Vergil was flattered by your compliment, he was uncomfortable by someone else’s presence in his space; making his tone rather snappy, “What do you want?”

You pursed your lips and shrank down into yourself, taking his tone as a bad sign, “Doppel told me something, and I--” you shot a glance at him and noticed his brow was furrowed, “I was made to come up here to talk with you.”

“Speak then.”

“Well,” you bit your tongue, “you know what, never mind; just forget this happened,” with your tail between your legs, you attempted to retreat and leave, when you felt him grab your forearm.

Without turning to you, Vergil spoke in a hushed tone, “No, I want to hear what you have to say.”

A sigh left your nose as you turned your head to the side, looking at the side profile of the stone-faced man, “Promise you won’t be mad?”

Vergil copied your action, turning his head to face you, “Fine.”

Your heart rate spiked as you locked eyes with his icy eyes and a small blush dusted your face. Vergil released his hold on your arm and turned fully to see you with folded arms.

You looked away from him again and tensed up as you whispered, “Doppel wanted me to tell you about how,” with a scrunched face, you braced for the worst, “I have feelings for you.”

His voice was sharp and he squinted his eyes, “What kind of feelings ?”

With a barely audible voice and a small nervous laugh, you answered, “Romantic ones…”

The room fell silent. A thick uncomfortable tension hung in the air as Vergil just stared at you. If he had stabbed you with the Yamato or scoffed in response; that would have been preferable then him just standing completely still and silent. A part of you wanted to bolt out the door and just run from this, but you were frozen in fear.

“Is that your version of a confession?”

Unable to look at him, you nodded.

Vergil’s stare softened and he let out a gentle sigh, “Let me guess,” slowly, he approached you and stopped only a few inches from you, “my doppelgänger told you about my own feelings then?”

With another small nod, you focused on his boots that had come into view.

“Then may I ask why you were hesitant to tell me..?”

You whispered, “I figure Doppel was just messing with me.”

Vergil gave a flat smile. Gently he set his thumb and forefinger on your chin, tilting you up for him to see. Neither of you spoke as he slowly ran his thumb over your parted lips, making your face turn a few shades darker. Eventually, you met his gaze and noticed his expression had softened greatly; the first time you’d seen him this mellow.

Vergil whispered as he stared down at your lips, “May I..?”

You gave a small grin, “Of course.”

With a very slow and careful lean, Vergil connected his mouth to yours. You sheepishly placed your hands on his sides, making him push a bit harder into the kiss. His lips were broiling hot as he slowly moved his lips against yours. After a few moments, Vergil broke the kiss off and leaned back enough to look you over; attempting to gauge your response. A small smile tugged at your lips and you noticed that Vergil had the same expression.

He moved his hand to rest on the side of your jaw, gently thumbing over your cheekbone, “I assume that was proof enough?”

Curious as to how he would respond, you inched toward him and cocked your head slightly, “Mnm, I dunno; think I might need another just to be sure.”

He shyly looked down and leaned back into you, intertwining once more. This time, however, Vergil made sure to pour everything he had into the kiss. Quickly, he moved both hands to your waist and pulled you tight to his body, making you squeak in surprise. Using this to his advantage, he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

After a few minutes of fervourous kissing, the two of you broke apart, breathing heavily. Vergil gently nuzzled against the side of your neck and placed sweet kisses along it; very quietly purring.

While the two of you were enjoying each other's embrace, a loud yell from downstairs caught your attention, it seems that Dante had returned. However, when you tried to separate from Vergil, he pulled you closer.

“Stay, my brother can wait,” his voice was laden with a thick husky seduction as he continued to kiss down your neck, “I’m not done showing you how much I love you.”

ENDING NOTES: Is it weird for me to hyperlink stories that inspired my chapters or not? This is a genuine question--I don't want to seem weird, but I want to give credit where credit is due.

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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