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notjustjavierpena · 1 year ago

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Reunion - Part II: Clamp

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A/N: This started out as a collection of a few requests. Then it became feely instead. Then a second chapter to Reunion. Read the first part here.

Summary: Homemade nipple clamps, toast for breakfast and a sudden confession.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, innocence kink to some extent, homemade nipple clamps, nipple play, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, possessive sex, reader has post-sex feelings, joel does too.

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49869355/chapters/125892349

Clamp

Joel’s stomach growls loudly underneath you as you are cuddling in bed. He tries to deny it when you start fussing, but the way the noise repeats itself, traveling all the way up to your ear as you rest your head on his chest, makes him capitulate quickly. You get out from underneath the covers.

“Come on, I’m hungry but…” he says with a tinge of the stubbornness of a teenager as if eating is only an inconvenience and not a way of staying alive as well as healthy. He’d go hungry to touch you, and it’s almost sweet but you’d rather feed and hydrate him so he can go again sooner.

You can feel it as he watches your ass when you move to the dresser in his room. There are a few pieces of clothing sticking out, and you yank at what you correctly assume is a t-shirt. Pulling it over your head, you are encapsulated in the smell of Joel’s fabric softener, a hint of his cologne too that doesn’t seem to want to come out completely.

“I’m going to make some toast,” you say just as stubbornly, bending over to tie your hair up in a messy bun despite knowing you are not wearing any underwear. Joel groans behind you.

“Ain’t playin’ fair,” he mutters bitterly, “Look at you. No panties and my shirt? Diabolical.”

You hear shuffling behind you but you actively ignore the footsteps coming up behind you. Instead, you secure a few stray hairs with the hairpins that you took out last night, trying to look busy when hands settle on your hips.

“Turn around,” he tells you. You smile to yourself.

With a few seconds delay, he adds a threatening ‘young lady’. You put on a pout and then face him, “Just wanna feed you, Daddy. Look at you. You’re already skin and bone.”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” he argues.

You shake your head, allow him to kiss you longingly for a little bit, “No, I like your tummy. You’re soft. Like you soft.”

“Soft,” he repeats with a scoff, “I ain’t soft.”

And then, “And I always get what I want.”

Suddenly, his hands reach up to find the hairpins at the back of your head. He pulls one out, makes you furrow your brows as it tugs a little at the sensitive baby hairs there.

“Ow, what are you doing?” You ask as he removes the second one. He holds them in his large palm, big enough to hide them completely from view.

“Do you trust me?” He questions. He looks into your eyes expectantly, waiting for confirmation before he continues. You nod. He doesn’t go on.

“I mean yes,” you quickly add.

“Good girl,” he smiles at how well you are learning. Then he reaches for the bottom of his shirt that you are wearing, pinching the hem with his thumb and forefinger now that he has the pins in his palm. He yanks the shirt up until it rests above your breasts, “Hold this up f’me.”

You do as he says. The fabric skimming over your chest and the anticipation that is hanging in the air has made your nipples hard, standing in peaks and waiting for what is about to happen. You know exactly where this is going yet it still hits you when one of the pins clamp down on your sensitive nipple.

You half-moan in beautiful pain, half-chuckle in surprise. It stings and pinches, but despite never having done this before, your body reacts a whole lot more by pulsing between your legs than by triggering your fight-or-flight response.

Joel studies your face but you don’t give him any indication that you want to stop. He tugs a little on the pin to make sure it is secure and elicits a little sound from you. You’ve noticed his boxers are already starting to tent.

“Next one,” he informs as if performing a mediocre task, his voice having dropped an octave. He sounds breathier, aroused. You don’t jump half as much when your other nipple is painfully pinched too, but the feeling of them burning together is so intense that slick has started to smear your inner thighs.

“Now,” he yanks your shirt down, makes your arms fall to your sides and your toes curl as a pin nearly catches in the fabric, “Go make me some toast. See if you still think I’m soft then.”

“But…” you try.

“Go on,” he says and crawls back into bed before you can play dirty and touch him on the front of his underwear.

Making breakfast has never been harder.

You are in a world of hellish lust as you enter the bedroom again, holding a plate with buttered toast in your hands. There is a slice for you too, but it’ll take a whole lot longer for you to eat your way through it than it will take Joel to wolf down his own two pieces.

He sits on the bed in silence, chewing quietly and occasionally brushing a few crumbs off the top of his chest. You hope that he doesn’t see the way you try to rock down on the foot you have tucked underneath yourself because he’d laugh straight into your face.

“Don’t start without me.”

You sit up straight at being called out and the shirt tugs at your tits. You hiss loudly, “Please.”

“In a moment, just gotta get clean first. Sit against the headboard, ‘n take off your shirt,” he leaves the bed to go wash his hands. He is painfully hard at this point. You nearly break the plate when you move to place it on the nightstand.

“What’re ya doin’?” He calls over the tap running from the master bathroom.

“Not getting fucked,” you quip.

“Watch it,” he replies back as if unaffected. God, he is so much better at this than you.

You are completely naked as he reenters the bedroom. You’ve stuffed a pillow behind your back, halfway to lying down with your ass scooted downwards on the bed a little. Your pussy is flushed pink and glistening, presented, and your nipples are a good amount of shades darker from the blood flow having settled there. The burn is exquisite, but it’s the sight of Joel’s eyes going dark that makes you whine.

“Jesus,” he laughs quietly as he crawls between your legs. Even the weight of him on the bed makes a sound slip from your mouth, “Ain’t ya just an obedient little thing?”

You blink up at him almost teary-eyed. He takes pity on you.

“Let’s get these off,” he promises, kneeling to free his hands from having to support himself. He removes one homemade clamp, making you whimper in relief at the ceiling. The blood flow makes your heart pound, slamming painfully against your ribs whilst you anticipate the second clamp being removed.

Joel flicks your abused nipple instead. Your head snaps down to his grin, betrayal visible on your face. Your cunt reacts immediately, feeling too empty and fluttering as it tries sucking in something that isn’t there.

Joel looks down between your legs. He smiles affectionately, creating an obscene contrast to what he is doing to you. He coos softly at your facial expression, it having turned pained and horny, “Shh… I’ll kiss it better, baby.”

He finally removes the second hairpin. There’s a second where he lets you cry weakly at the new sensation, but then he tugs at both of your nipples to the point where you don’t even have the brain power to say a sound. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Good,” he praises, relenting but only to rub the sensitive nubs with his thumbs in clockwise motions, “Don’t think about anything. Just think about this, princess. Feel good?”

It does. You nod. The gentleness behind the touches is soothing you more than you thought it could, the pads of Joel’s fingers bringing your heartbeat down a notch. He traces your areola, breathing a little more erratically at seeing your pussy jump without being touched.

He tugs again, soothes again until your nipples are red and swollen underneath his fingertips. The clamps have done a number on you because you start to think you might be able to come like this, a growing pressure starting between your legs.

But Joel isn’t going to let you. He straightens until he is upright again, swallowing thickly as he focuses his attention on your neglected cunt. He runs a warm hand down over your mound, your hips twitching in response to finally being touched. Joel’s breath hitches in his throat as he stares down at his shiny palm, “Why didn’t you say anything? Look at her. She’s weepin’.”

“Just needs you,” your doe-eyes are on full blast.

“Mhm,” he agrees, lazily running two fingers through your slick folds until you sigh, “You took a lot last night. Think you can handle it?”

“Want you to keep me sore, Daddy,” you push into his touch again. He swears under his breath, teasingly dipping his digits into your cunt but making no suggestion that he will follow through on what they’re doing. You bat your eyelashes, “Please.”

It does not take much more convincing. He calls you princess again but this time it is with a frustrated sigh. He yanks his boxers down over his hips to let his cock spring free, kicks his underwear all the way off, and lets them fall to the floor of the bedroom in record time.

He is fully erect. Hard and beautiful. The head of his dick has turned a dark red from having been seeking your attentive touch since he watched you put up your hair. The tip impatiently weeps precome for you. You consider a blowjob for half a second because your mouth waters at the idea of tasting his salt and musk.

Later, you think, some other time.

He strokes himself a few times until the bead at the head spills down over the length of him. Your eyes never leave his cock, especially not when he slides it through your glistening folds to coat himself in your arousal.

“Could come just like this,” you tell him and finally dare to look up into his eyes. He smiles back at you and it tugs at your heartstrings. You reach out to hold his elbows and lift your legs to wrap them around his waist.

In one smooth motion, he positions himself and rocks into you without stopping until he has bottomed out. The girth of him never ceases to amaze you. It’s the same each time; he stretches your walls painfully until you whimper and tells you that big girls can take it. Ain’t you a big girl? You nod with your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on it to suppress the pathetic little noise that’s bubbling up in your chest.

It works for a moment but only until Joel tells you to breathe. The noise finally comes out and it becomes wanton when he starts fucking into you. He pounds you like yesterday and you can barely contain yourself anymore, whining and groaning as he gives it to you with the intention of making you sore all over. Your walls are already sensitive, and you hate to think that you haven’t actually been out of your state of arousal since you knocked on his door. It’s embarrassing. It’s infatuation.

You let out a high-pitched squeak as he bucks up his hips, nudging at the front of your walls and searching for that little spot inside you that belongs to him by now. He finds it expertly, fits inside of you like you were made for each other.

“There!” You plea whilst arching your back, “Daddy, it’s right—“

“I know where it fuckin’ is,” he leans down to kiss you, breaths coming out through his nose as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. You dig your nails into the back of his arms, making an attempt to move with him and oh God, you kiss him so deeply.

“Say I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he growls when he pulls back for a breath that he can barely catch, sweat threatening to drip down from his brow. He has one hand on the headboard, making the bed rattle underneath the both of you, and the other lays over your heart. He applies just the slightest pressure to your chest.

“You’re— baby, please,” you can barely find the words, gasping out into the room. The only thing you can think of is how important it feels to hold onto him as he drives into your cunt, scared that if you let go you’ll melt into the mattress and never see him again. You never want that to happen. You want to drown in everything he is.

“Say it,” he gives you a particularly hard thrust, managing to put the hand on the headboard behind your head before you bang it into the wood. You don’t even think you would have noticed it if it had happened since you are so delirious already from being so fucked out.

“Best— best I’ve ever had,” you stutter out between loud moans, the pleasurable tightening in your belly soon reaching a crescendo, “I’m close, oh f— I’m so close.”

“Careful, princess,” he notes as you almost swear at him, “Don’t make— shit, don’t give me a reason to stop.”

He wouldn’t, you think, he is as lost in you as you are in him.

“Never,” you pant, noises climbing in pitch, “I’m gonna be so good for you, Daddy. Gonna come— oh God, please, gonna come on your cock!”

“Yeah,” his thighs flex, your legs squeeze harder around him, “Oh fuuuck, I can feel you— come on my dick, sweetheart. You can do it.”

The tightening releases into sweet clenches. Your vision blanks for just a moment, your brain unable to focus on any other of your five senses except touch, and Joel touches you deep inside as his hips stutter and your walls milk everything he has to give.

He fucks you through it, bucks his hips upwards to prod at your g-spot whilst you shiver and moan from the heat of your climax. It may be even more intense than yesterday despite how many highs he pulled from you.

Everything stills. Time passes while you pant. The windows must be foggy by now. Joel slips out with a soft groan and kisses away the pained moan you let out when emptiness hits.

You are sure you are experiencing heat stroke as you try catching your breath. There are small beads of sweat scattered all over your chest and stomach, some collecting in the dip of your belly button. You feel like you are floating in the Sunday afternoon silence. A bird chirps outside of the window, and you catch yourself wondering why you haven’t heard it until now. He is too important, you think, so important that you filter out anything that isn’t him until he leaves you in this state of clarity. You love him.

Joel is staring down at you and you can see yourself in the reflection of his brown eyes. He glows just like you, filled to the brim with dopamine. His skin burns as you rub his arms where you have been digging your nails into them moments before. You wonder if he feels the same as you; like someone who is seconds from evaporating, bursting, something, unable to move, in love.

You pull him down into yourself. He sticks to you in a way that would normally have you scrunching up your nose, but you don’t care about it right now because his cheek is pressed to yours. You giggle softly with post-orgasmic excitement.

But then a thought reluctantly worms its way into your head. Why isn’t he saying something? You know why you aren’t, but why isn’t he?

“Joel,” you say in confusion as he suddenly starts to break free from your embrace. He moves to sit up next to you, eyes the plate on the nightstand, and practically launches himself up from the bed so he can take it to the kitchen.

You crawl across the bed without thinking as if you have the speed to catch his wrist before he is out the door, “Joel. Fuck, Joel!”

That catches his attention. Joel turns in the doorway. He sets the plate down on his dresser instead, “You know I fuckin’ hate that.”

“Well shit,” you continue and he visibly flinches.

“Don’t say anything,” you don’t think you have ever warned him as he repeatedly does with you, “Don’t say anything, just come here.”

You hold out your hands, still on your knees at the edge of the bed. You grab at the air, and after a brief pause, Joel gives in. He steps forward until you can hold onto his wrists, “Remember that time you wiped away my tears? The first time we… doesn’t matter. Point is I was sad and you were there.”

Joel avoids replying. He swallows thickly, jaw muscles tensing.

“I just mean that you can talk to me,” you finish your speech which is barely a speech with a beating heart. There are so many butterflies in your stomach that they are making you slightly nauseous. You look at him expectantly, watching his eyes skim over your face, scanning for what you assume is genuineness. You won’t ask why he needs reassurance that you are telling him the truth.

“I’m falling for you,” he breathes out.

Of all things, you do not expect this.

“Ditto,” you say back, eyes widening when you realize that it’s the word you have managed to blurt out.

“Ditto?” Joel furrows his brow.

You slap his arm, “Shut it. You know what ditto means.”

But then he bursts out laughing and your heart swells. He leans down over you, naked and vulnerable right there in front of you, and kisses you gently.

He inhales deeply afterward, then asks the question that you want an answer to as well: “What in the world are we going to do?”

It comes out of nowhere a few weeks later when you’re home again.

“You know Joel?” Your dad asks as if you have never noticed him in the many years he’s been your father’s best friend. You try not to freeze.

“Yes, I obviously know Mr. Miller, Dad. What about him?” You sip your coffee, eyeing the crossword on the back of the newspaper that your father is holding up in front of himself.

“Think he’s seein’ some new lady,” he replies but there’s no tone to his voice.

You tense in your seat, setting down your mug to avoid dropping it if the news is about to break, “Why do you think that?”

“Don’t matter why, but she’s good for him, I can tell,” your father is still oblivious, “Just smiles more.”

“Ah, well good for him,” you pause briefly, “Can I get the crossword puzzle?”

“Sure, honey.”

As he rustles the paper to pull out the page, you stand with the excuse of getting a pen, but when you have your back to your father, you grin to yourself and don’t mind the butterflies that seem to have moved into your body.

Joel is right.

What in the world are you going to do?

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tennessoui · 1 year ago

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kit's list of obikin fic recs in no particular order

y'all asked and i finally answered.....here's a list of fics i've read and adored this year! note that i've tagged things that i think could squick people (a/b/o dynamics, weird biology, dub con, heavy kink, etc), and i've noted the ratings (explicit, mature, teen), but i have not noted top/bottom (this list contains a pretty even split of both) and i haven’t indicated which are WIPs - take a chance! i've left little paragraphs as to why i liked the fic but i tried to keep spoilers out of them so the story can be a surprise :D

remember to leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed the fic :D

Igneous - zimriya Notes: Explicit, A/B/O dynamics, canon compliant, series!

Trying to find this fic so I could reread it was the thing that prompted me to make this list. That’s how amazing this fic is. It tears out your heart strings. It hurts. I love it. It’s soft. It makes me cry. I am never going to recover from this perfect retelling of canon. This hurts just as much as the kenobi show. I owe this author a medical bill and a thank you card. I don’t care if a/b/o isn’t your thing or omega obi-wan isn’t your thing i need you to try reading this fic i really do because it’s just honestly superb and beautiful prose and i think about some of these lines near daily. Ok, fine. Daily.

I’d Never Be Me (Without The Support of Your Loving Arms) by euryrice Notes: Explicit

i don’t think i’ll ever stop talking or thinking about this fic, it’s up there for me….such a good take on a bond/spy au that I don’t think I’ll ever seriously try at one myself because it’d never be ‘i’d never be me without the support of your loving arms’; it’s just so well thought through. Canon lovingly applied. Kit beautifully moved and hungry for a second part of the series, even though it doesn’t even need a second part and is perfect as a stand alone. Witty banter rating: 10/10

Hooked On You by @whohatessand Notes: Explicit, infidelity, side anidala (padmé is being cheated on)

Dirty bad wrong never felt so good though; Anakin is cheating on his wife with her campaign manager. Anakin is very not satisfied with being a trophy husband, and honestly it’s so valid of him. This is so well-written that Anakin’s frustration with his life, his wife, his duties all feels very real and understandable. Does that excuse the cheating and the spit-as-lube fucking at a donor ball? Nah, but they know it doesn’t. And it ends on a very hopeful obikin note, which is my favorite

The Final Frontier of Pleasure by @jedibongrip Notes: Explicit, bp!Anakin, virginity kink (ish?)

“Just the tip” made into a very hot 2k fic wherein anakin’s definitely not a virgin anymore, but obi-wan’s gonna go along with it if it makes him happy (and means that he gets to keep touching him, god bless); note to say that all of this author’s stuff is very good!

Stars To Fill My Dreams by hidden_humours Notes: Explicit, reverse master/padawan, dark Anakin

Anakin is teetering on going off the walls insane in this fic and I am so here for it. This is just amazing. I love a padawan obi-wan and I especially love this time-travel with a twist (which I won’t spoil!); the summary even says “yeah this anakin isn’t all there” and the author is right!!! 100%!! I love it. I want to poke this Anakin with a stick. I want to push him off his metaphorical cliff of sanity. I want to push Obi-Wan off a cliff just to see what this Anakin would do. What a fic. What a goddamn fic.

Obi-Two by @virahaus Notes: Explicit, Obi-Wan/Anakin/Obi-Wan

Guys, holy shit I am so excited for this WIP you have no idea. Everything about it is delicious so far. The Obi-Wan that gets zapped back in time just before ROTS/Order 66 is living to see twunk Anakin again and he is so soft yet so commanding about it. Ben!Obi-Wan literally kills me in this fic. If there’s never another chapter, I’m begging you to read this anyway, it’s that good.

Vast as the sea, constant as the tide by @moonlightatnoon Notes: Explicit, pirate!anakin, captain!Obi-Wan

So maybe Kit’s attention was captured and held by the sea-themed title…she’s a simple lady. But this fic is absolutely beautiful. I love the intrigue, the history, the pining of it all. My attention, much like Obi-Wan, was gently captured and held hostage by pirate Anakin and the way he’s like ‘my obi-wan <3 mine <3’ while also being a whole ass pathetic lil mew mew of a pirate. He is so possessive and fearsome and clingy and needy I love this Anakin and how much he needs his Obi-Wan. I love the ending especially! Beautifully done.

Buns of Steel by @ragnarlothcat Notes: Explicit, humor, himbos the both of them

Put this under Fics That Make Kit Want To Join A Gym. I love the humor here (Rag has such a legendary way with a great turn of phrase and pacing of jokes that just makes the fic fly by) and the ridiculousness of it all. Obi-Wan here is extremely lovably bitchy and I adore it. His dialogue is quite polite, but this is a fic where the narration really makes the characterization pop. Also the amount of lusting after his beautiful aerobics instructor that Obi-Wan does…and how UNFAIR he finds Anakin’s beauty. Just amazing. Cheering for Obi-Wan living his best life and getting the hot aerobics instructor in the end.

My Thoughts I Confess (Verge On Dirty) by @artemisthehuntress Notes: Explicit, horny, horny, horny Obi-Wan

This is, of course, the other fic filed under Fics That Make Kit Want To Join A Gym. I love Anakin in booty shorts. I love Obi-Wan, head empty and no thoughts because his dick is too goddamn hard to see straight. One should not be exercising under such conditions. The humor here is impeccable. Love all of Obi-Wan’s fantasies with the hot guy working out next to him. If you’re a fan of horny-grip Obi-Wan, this is the fic for you! If you’re not as into horny-grip Obi-Wan, I’d say this fic is still worth the read because it’s just written so well.

just like the days we’d burn by @travellingcircus Notes: Explicit, PTSD mentions, heavy

I was always going to rec one of travellingcircus’ fics of course. They are a fantastic writer and I love their fics - especially the long oneshots that consume my entire night when I see that one’s been posted and I get to delve into a new side of obikin I could never imagine. This fic is one of my favorites by them – and maybe one of my favorite modern aus all together. Anakin has a racing career until he has an accident. Then he goes back to his small town and decides to have Obi-Wan instead because first love (I love first love fics especially in modern aus)!! Also Obi-Wan has a motorbike. This is excellent news. He also has helmet hair. I love Anakin in this fic so much. He’s crazy. He’s wounded. He’s obsessed. He’s in love. He’s desperate. And Anakin makes Obi-Wan all these things too. Such a good modern au for these characters. They feel so close to their canon characters, it’s marvelous.

Where Every Mask Cracks by skyl_tales Notes: Explicit, a spin-off of one of their other fics, but can be standalone

Skyl_tales’ fics for me are the very definition of fandom classic. They were the first fics I read and I continue to reread them roughly maybe once every year at least. They’re just all very readable. The writing style is something I have always loved and envied – their fics are approachable and entertaining, no matter how much you know or don’t know about Star War at the time of your reading. Tbh I think this is the fic author who has influenced my writing the most! I love this fic in particular because I do have a soft spot for vaderwan. Old Ben being delightfully torn up over Vader and Vader being delightfully unhinged about his former master…..with a magical fix-it device that restores both of them to their younger, strongest selves (if only to make the fucking easier and the horny insatiable)

Gay Chicken by zimriya Notes: Explicit, enemies to lovers, light daddy kink

Where to begin with this fic!!! I guess I cannot stress enough how much I love humor in fics when done right and this is done so well. Like it is literally so funny and so normal. There is something so beautiful about putting these space monk superheroes into like. Just situations. This fic is about laundry. But also upstairs neighbors. But also lost loves??? I’m always a bit hesitant for fics with a lot of notes/messages, because I can find that hard to read, but this was very, very easy to read, both format-wise and flow of the story wise. I love them both being assholes to each other. Love them slowly becoming friends through notes under the monikers “501” and “212”. LOVE the twist.

wildest dreams by kidhuzural Notes: Explicit, 5+1 fic

Basically: Baby Anakin wants to get married to Obi-Wan. Teenager padawan Anakin wants to marry Obi-Wan. Clone Wars Anakin wants to marry Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan wants to marry Clone Wars Anakin. I love love love fics that start out with baby padawan Anakin and have him grow up. It places so much emphasis on their master&padawan relationship and how important they were to each other before AOTC or TCW, which I think is the strongest basis for obikin. Also this Anakin is just so cute and Obi-Wan cares for his baby padawan so much!! All in all, this fic is just so sweet. Obsessed.

In Pursuit of Cold Water by @jswander Notes: Mature, Merman!Anakin

Can I have a fic rec list that doesn’t include this fic?? I love this fic. I think I reread it like twenty times while waiting for the last chapter, and it was worth it and gripping and incredible each time. I am fascinated by writers who can worldbuild, and Jo worldbuilds so well in this mermaid AU. I love the descriptions of their fins; the possessiveness, the hurt, the anger, the jadeness, and the naivete of Anakin somehow all existing in the same character and all being so justified. There’s some really heavy moments and also really silly moments (they dress Anakin up as an old lady to avoid detection at one point). I love the development of their relationship and especially the growth of their mental bond. Such a good translation of their Force bond in canon (and such a clever work-around for a mermaid not speaking English!) Just an amazing fic. So good.

The Devil’s In The Details by @ragnarlothcat Notes: Explicit, demon Anakin, darker!Anakin (because of the demon bit)

Back at it again with my Rag-writing obsession! I’m loving this WIP and how evil and innocent Anakin is. Yeah, he’s a demon haunting Obi-Wan’s new house; yeah, he’s killed like. A ton of people. But he’s so pathetic. So very eager to please. So very attractive. As a reader, you’re like Obi-Wan’s friend, Quinlan, who discovers Obi-Wan sleeping with a literal demon, and you’re like ‘bestie, do you not know? That’s a literal demon?’ and obi-wan is like ‘he is quite polite and does so good on our walks around town’ and you’re like ‘you’re taking him on walks???’ but also you can’t help but root for demon Anakin and poor decision-maker Obi-Wan. Also, once again, I love Rag’s humor and timing of it. The narration Obi-Wan has is so colorful and so fucking funny, I snort all the time. He’s such a bitch. He’s amazing.

By Omission by @posthumousvigor Notes: Explicit, reverse master/padawan au, drunk sex

This writer is very quickly becoming one of my favorites. I love their prose and the way they write Obi-Wan—especially padawan!Obi-Wan with Master Anakin. One of my favorite dynamics for obikin aus, and this writer gives me so much good food. TBH one of my all-time favorite cliches/tropes is one of them getting dressed up out of their Jedi robes to be put in Situations, and I especially love this for Obi-Wan cause Anakin got a whole movie of dressing up for funsies, and this fic delivers. Master Skywalker comes back early from a mission to find his padawan slutting it up in the Lower Levels, and what is a man to do other than snap?? And he snaps so beautifully in this fic. I love it when they’re horny beyond reason for each other.

how to stay by answersinahauntedclub Notes: Explicit, professor/student relationship

I know logically that this fic probably will not update again, but it is so beautiful and I think about it all the time. It is like. The peak of college/university aus in this fandom. Bold statement, I know, but I love this fic and characterization so much that I am stating it. They’re both disasters. They can’t resist each other even if they really, really should. It’s an incredible read and I am fascinated by both this Obi-Wan and this Anakin. Cannot stress enough the lovable disasters that they are. In writing this, I took an hour break and reread it again.

we’re swimming with the sharks (until we drown) by @obiwaned Notes: Teen, fake/pretend relationship

Getting this update notification felt like such a sweet sweet win for me. I loved the premise as soon as I read it and it just keeps getting better. Fake marriage for any reason is always amazing. I also LOVE non-linear timelines and this writer does it so well because you as the reader don’t get lost and confused trying to keep the timeline straight. It’s delectable, it’s straightforward, it’s so easy to devour, and I am obsessed with this fic and even the possibility of more.

Self-Insert by ZenyZootSuit Notes: Teen, crack

God this is so funny in a very crack way. Short and funny and perfect. Darth Vader writes self-insert fanfiction about being with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Darth Sidious finds out. Imperial secrets are leaked, but I’m sure those were important details he needed to include!! For context! Realism! Absolutely perfect; no notes.

Open Circle by Calyss Note: Explicit, Dark Obi-Wan, dom/sub (under)tones, seduction to the Dark side

This is also one of my annual rereads, and one of my absolute favorite Sith Obi-Wans in the fandom. I love how out of control this sith Obi-Wan is, how very obsessed with just Anakin he is. Sith Obi-Wan really said “he’s mine” and he’s gonna destroy Anakin’s marriage and the whole galaxy to prove it. And also Anakin is not going to say no or resist much at all because that’s his master and he loves him and has weird feelings for him he has not really examined. This is also such an id fic of mine. But no regrets putting it on the list. When I saw it updated in October 2022, I literally cleaned my room and improved my life before I sat down to read it.

How to Save a Galactic Republic Without Really Trying by @sharpest-tongue Notes: Mature, Post Kenobi show

So many amazing fics came out of the Kenobi show but this absolutely has to be one of my favorites. There’s humor, there’s touching moments, there’s Star Wars lingo I didn’t know but that made the whole thing feel very much in-universe (and that I have now incorporated into my Star Wars Wikipedia slash Dictionary for later use, even if it’s all made up). I love a time travel fic, has to be said, and this one delivers perfectly. The Jedi as family in this fic really made me emotional. Extra special shout out to Obi-Wan, raising his padawan again in a do-over, and thinking, ‘i was not this bad as a teenager wtf?? Yeah ok whatever i MAY have fought in TWO WARS at that age but still!!!’ love him. Love his obvious blind spots for anakin and also for himself. Such a good fic!!!

broken bones, thunder drums by @maragny Notes: Teen, hurt/comfort

There is so much to love about this fic and I love it all. Clone War fics are like my bread and butter in this fandom. I love obikin fics that take place in the middle of battle where the reader is confronted with the reality of either Anakin or Obi-Wan fighting – and this fic really starts by throwing you into the action in such a visceral, effective way that I was stressed! I was gripped! It makes Anakin hiding his injury feel not only understandable but also like the only option. Good think Obi-Wan is there to save the day and help Anakin through his pain because he is overprotective and in love with him. Also the first chapter is told from Rex’s point of view, which just. One of my favorite outsider POVs for obikin is Rex.

no news is good news by @rhymenoceros Notes: Mature, crack, relationship reveal, breaking news/news cycle format

This fic is so funny! The tone is perfect for what the writer sets out to do — that is, make the reader feel like they’re caught up in a social media news cycle! There’s talk shows, there’s paparazzi, there’s space reddit, there’s leaked Jedi text conversations….the Jedi screen names are hilarious and easy to tell who is who while still staying true to the joke. Cannot recommend this fic enough. Cute, funny, horny, and with that sweet sweet Palpatine downfall that the best cracky fics always have.

Falling Deep Into You by @dark--whisperings Notes: Explicit, dom/sub tones, so much pining

Any fic that has the tag “Obi-Wan Kenobi is a freak in bed” has my attention and my interest. This writer describes Anakin subbing and Obi-Wan domming so very beautifully that it’s almost a manifesto in 8k. Lots of good sex here, but I really love the opening scene and the push and pull the writer’s given the characters. They want each other so much—Obi-Wan wants so much, but alas! Religious guilt on par with catholicism! Of course the nasty freaky sex fiend in Obi-Wan wins out over the Jedi Master, but I really enjoyed the guilt and the way he gives in and goes to find Anakin because of course he does. And then the ending! A resetting of the chess board so that the game can start over tomorrow. A great fic all in all!

you took my love so tenderly by @billboguspreston & @acrylicsalts-inspo Notes: Explicit, prince/guard dynamic, exhibitionism

I started reading this fic when it was first posted, and I followed it attentively and with baited breath. I love the reverse age dynamic (I know, it’s not for everyone, but I lovelovelove it), and I love that this Obi-Wan is such a spitfire. He knows what he wants and that’s for his silent, restrained, older, handsome bodyguard to snap and fuck him and he WILL brat his way into getting what he wants as is his right. Anakin being both incredibly horny (Anakin horny-gripping the pommel of his sword because Obi-Wan has decided to get off right in front of him to see if he can tempt him into fucking him) is amazing. Obi-Wan being both the aggressor and also the inexperienced one is chef’s fucking kiss and a dynamic I do not see often enough. So worth the read. And there may be more sequels??? Be still my beating heart!

I Wanna Be Owned by @kyberkenobi Notes: Explicit, 5+1 things, light BDSM

Speaking of horny grip lol, I had to think for a bit about which fic from this writer to choose because all of them are very good and very very smutty with all sorts of kinks and dynamics. The writer you go to for mean dom Obi-Wan and if you’re feeling up for discovering a kink you weren’t sure you were into before. There’s plenty of amazing fics on her ao3 (I was also immediately obsessed with the recent alpha/alpha one), but this fic is one of my favorites. I love the style of a 5+1 for a fic, and I am obsessed with casual slut (affectionate) Obi-Wan and Anakin’s blinders of his master slowly being pulled away until he HAS to confront the reason Obi-Wan can untie and hogtie a criminal they caught so damn quickly. It’s indecent. It’s amazing.

Our Man From Tatooine by kazmir Notes: Explicit, a/b/o dynamics, intersex omegas

This story is such a good, quick, enthralling read. I really can’t say much without spoiling it, but it’s worth the read. Dark Obikin, twists and turns, roleplaying, horny mates being unable to resist the other’s draw….so good….One of those fics I paused to reread while reccing it lol

Acts of Contrition by @marycontraire Notes: A series, ranging from Gen - Explicit

Cheating a little bit to rec you all a series instead because I just reread this fic series and fell in love with it all over again. Literally a fandom classic for me. The world building is amazing, the realism and research really pays off because it creates such a rich world for people to dive into. The Tatooine culture is so rich and interesting, and I love this Anakin especially. It’s a very realistic take on if Anakin had been expelled from the Order for the Tusken massacre. This Anakin is darker and clingier and Obi-Wan is trying to keep himself level and sane and something Anakin can cling to while still being a Jedi in all but name. Every installment of this series is gold and worth reading as quickly as possible just to have this in your mind faster. Also worth a slow read to savor it because unfortunately, you can only read a fic series like this for the first time once.

You can call me baby (you can call me love) by @lilredghost Notes: Explicit, 5 + 1

This fic is so sweet that I honestly forgot it was explicit - even though, yes, it opens with a sex scene lmao! But I love this writer’s explicit fics so much (their ao3 is worth a browse) that I am not disappointed in it being explicit, no sir. Obi-Wan gets upset when Anakin calls him an old man repeatedly and I’ve read this fic so much that when I see repeated use of “old man” in other fics I’m like “! no! His feelings!!!” this fic ALSO has anakin calling obi-wan baby <3 so good so sweet so perfect.

take my hand through the flames by @atornpage Notes: Explicit, vaderwan, seduction to the Dark Side

Oh this may just be the WIP I am most excited to see updated! It’s such a clever and unique concept that I’m on the edge of my seat to see where the writer takes the story next. There are not enough stories where a character falls into a coma and time passes around them, and this is so perfect. I adore fics where baby Anakin is clingy and obsessed with Obi-Wan and everyone around them is like ‘this is not REALLY the Jedi way, guys’, and this fic has SO much of that. I can’t wait to see all the promises of the tags come to fruition and am massively enjoying the ride to get there!

Heal Me, My Darling by @wasureneba Notes: Explicit, sick fic, idiots in love

Who doesn’t love a sick fic?? The tender healing…the care…the rotten work…not to me, not if it’s you, etc etc…this fic is such a good sick fic too, I was here for the entire thing! Anakin is in top whiny form and Obi-Wan is cuddling him left and right! I also love Anakin having a praise kink in this fic – it made me soft and so receptive to the idea again when I was getting tired of seeing it as a default in a ton of fics. But this fic said “Obi-Wan tells Anakin he’s doing good while touching his ass to administer a very important for plot reasons shot and Anakin bursts into flames” and I said “absolutely and understandable, please tell me what happens next.” This is like a perfect sick fic for me. The right balance of sweet and horny. Caring Obi-Wan and whiny because he’s bored! Anakin. God-tier combination.

Νόστος by NFx Notes: Explicit, stockholm syndrome typical of hades & persephone aus

I am always here for a good Hades&Persephone AU and I feel like this is a great one! I especially love AUs that carefully place Star Wars GFFA characters into an established world (like Greek mythology in this case), and take care to match up the side characters of the GFFA with the AU characters they’re being transposed on. I like the pace and narration of this one too, the way the tone feels both readable and still old — the dialogue and narration don’t read like a BBC documentary set in Ancient Greece where everyone just sort of speaks like they��re in a Shakespeare play for some reason, but it’s still sorta oldish/stiffer dialogue that really keeps you in the fic universe without alienating readers. Also, horny. But dark horny. Love a darker Anakin.

Hunting the Homeward Light by GreenQueenofClubs Notes: Teen

One of my all-time favorites, I think, and if you haven't read it or haven't reread it recently, you need to! There's so much tension build up and detail put in with such an amazing pay off that I could literally read this fic every month and probably find something new to enjoy all over again. I don't even have strong opinions about mace training anakin, but this fic convinced me it could work and work really well. also poor poor obi-wan </3 his emotional support padawan goes missing </3 but then is found :) as a twunk :)

#asks #obikin #obikin fic recs #me: im gonna focus and write my fic #also me: jk here is 4k of fic recs #i hope you enjoy!! i actually spent like 2 nights on this lol #combing through my history #tried to also spotlight some writers i like a lot but dont really see recc'ed #also psa if you have a tumblr pls link it to it on your ao3 #for kit #my notes are so silly i am sorry #i don't have kit's opinion corner often #so i shoved all my opinions into 4k of nonsense fic review #me: i hope peoplee like my fic list :)#also me: posts at the weirdest times where most people are not online :)

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jeankluv · 7 months ago

Text

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 08

Words: 4,3k

Summary: You didn’t like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you use to describe him.

ac: _3aem

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

Notes: I’m beginning my studying time this upcoming weeks so expect chapters only on weekends. Remember you can send me requests for small stories with any jjk, op or aot characters, smut or fluff, except smut for minors like Megumi, Yuji, Nobara, etc.. Anyways thank you and have a great week 🤍

Ao3 link | wattpad link

Materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Fic playlist

You had arrived from work 20 minutes ago to be exact, in that time you had taken a shower and now you were making a coffee to go straight to studying. Tomorrow you had the exam and you had barely had any free time to study during the week. They had given you more work and the teamwork with Satoru had grown. Satoru. It was strange for you to call him by his name, it was even stranger to call him in class, so most of the time you tried not to do it, but Satoru, as clever as he was, had noticed it and had taken it as a new way to mess with you, in a good way of course.

You walked in silence to your room — Kyoko was studying for another of her subjects and her parents had gone to sleep a while ago. Making as little noise as possible you sat down at your desk and opened the book to the exercise page. Putting aside the hot cup of coffee, you sat up straight, ready to spend practically the entire night, making problems over and over again.

You knew you were going to pass the exam, thanks to Satoru's explanations you knew you would get it but you still wanted to pass it. It wasn't because you didn't want to go on that date with him, to tell the truth, right now you wouldn't mind doing it.

While you were thinking that, a smile appeared on your face, which you immediately shook off. If you liked Satoru better and if Kyoko had been right, your “hatred” towards him had always been stupid.

Taking your headphones and your mobile phone, you put on your study playlist on Spotify and began working through each of the problems, with the music filling your ears.

Close to 2 a.m., you decided to get up from the seat where you had been sitting for over two hours and walk around your room to stretch and clear your mind. Your hands ached from gripping the pen so tightly, and your bed was calling out to you to go to sleep.

Your phone, which was on the table, lit up, indicating that a new notification had arrived. Weird. It was 2 a.m.—who could it be?

You picked it up and looked at the notification.

Pain in the ass

Birdie!!

Don't stay up too late and rest.

You'll do great tomorrow 💪

Feeling a mix of surprise and warmth flood through you, you read Satoru's message again, your heart fluttering at his unexpected gesture. Despite the late hour, his words brought a sense of comfort and encouragement that you hadn't realized you needed.

With a soft smile playing on your lips, you typed out a quick reply to him.

You to Pain in the ass

Thanks, Satoru.

Your message means a lot.

I'll make sure to get some rest, don’t worry.

Goodnight 💫

Sending the message, you set your phone back down on the table, you returned to your studies. But without being able to shake the feeling of warmth that lingered within you.

You heard your name being called in the distance, over and over again. It was Kyoko's voice. With your eyelashes still stuck together, you opened your eyes. In the end, you had fallen asleep while studying. At what point? You didn't know exactly.

“What are you doing here?” Kyoko asked, her eyes wide open.

“What…?”

“Your exam is in 45 minutes!”

You had fallen asleep. Damn, damn, damn. How was that possible? You got up from the chair and grabbed your phone. It hadn't rung.

“Kyoko…” You whispered, turning to look at her, feeling your chest tightening. “In 45 minutes, it's impossible for me to make it to class.” You had to take several transfers to get to the university, and usually, it took you more than an hour. “Shit... if I don't show up, I'll fail, and if I fail, they'll take away my scholarship, if they take away my scholarship, then I'll have to give up everything.” You were about to have a panic attack.

“Hey!” she grabbed your face to make you look at her. “If someone can drive you, then you'll make it on time.”

You nodded, it was true. If someone drove you, you would be there in 15 minutes. But who? Who could drive you?

And then your eyes widened as you realized there was someone. You grabbed the phone again and searched for his name among your contacts, dialing and praying that he would pick up.

“Hello!” The familiar voice came from the other end of the line. “It's rare for you to call me at…”

“Satoru!” You cried. “I fell asleep and I won't make it. Could you come pick me up by car?”

“I'll be there in less than 10 minutes, birdie.” And with that, the call ended.

You looked at Kyoko and sighed. “He said he'll be here in 10 minutes.” She looked at you in relief.

“Good, now start getting ready. You are still on your pajamas, I will prepare something for you to eat.” She started to walk away.

“Kyoko.” You called her, Kyoko looked at you from the door frame. “There is no need, you know I get extremely anxious with exams. I will eat something after the exam. Don’t worry.” She nodded and closed the door behind her.

You walked to your closet and looked for something to wear, needing to get ready quickly. You couldn't be late, nor could you keep Satoru waiting. While looking in the mirror, your phone started ringing. Turning on your heel, you approached it and picked up the phone.

“I'm outside.” Satoru's voice came through on the other end of the line.

“Alright, I'm coming out right now.” You said and hung up.

You grabbed your backpack and the notes from the table and hurried through the house. You waved goodbye to Kyoko and stepped outside, finding Satoru's car parked in front. With light steps, you approached the car and naturally got inside.

“I can't thank you enough.” You said as you settled into the seat.

“Birdie, you don't have to thank me for anything.” He said, shrugging and smiling at you. "Ready to go now?” You nodded and finished buckling your seatbelt.

Satoru made sure you had your seatbelt on and started the car. Leaving behind the neighborhood where you lived, Satoru entered the main road towards the university. You had never driven to university so the road was totally new for you.

You focused your eyes on the new view, seeing the high skyline of Tokyo and the different places ahead of you. You let a small sigh out of your lips.

While the car was still moving across the road, you subtly directed your gaze towards Satoru. You hadn't realized until now, but his blue eyes were covered by round sunglasses. As you looked at his profile you couldn't shake the growing feeling that he was in your stomach.

God Satoru Gojo is fucking handsome. You thought to yourself.

Shaking those thoughts away, you looked for your notes and opened them to review a little before the exam. Your leg began to move unconsciously, it was something that happened to you since you were little, when you were nervous.

A hand, that wasn’t yours, stopped the movement of your leg. This simple gesture caused a sensation that went straight through your whole body.

“Birdie.” Satoru’s voice echoed in the once silent car. “You will do it great…” His hand was still on your knee. And for some reason, it didn’t feel wrong or uncomfortable.

“I just…” You swallowed, trying to formulate a sentence. “I just want to make sure.”

Satoru nodded, still looking at the road before him and still having his hand on your leg. You wanted to tell him to move it. It was a gesture that felt way too intimate, way too comforting. You liked way too much.

You coughed and moved your leg, trying to make him move away his hand. He must have caught the gesture because he moved his hand away from your leg and grabbed the steering wheel again.

A feeling of emptiness and remorse settled in your chest. What an idiot you were.

The landscape began to become more familiar, as you were approaching the university. Luckily you were going to arrive in time for the exam, there were still 10 minutes left before it started. You heard Satoru murmur under his breath and felt the car slow down.

You turned to look at him to see what was happening. “What happened?”

“There is always a traffic jam at the entrance.” He explained to you. You paled for a moment to which Satoru noticing, tried to calm you down. “Birdie, there's time, we'll get there. I’ll make sure you get there.” That calmed your heart fluttering with nervousness.

The car moved slowly and the minutes started to pass, you were starting to enter the campus when the clock indicated that there were 5 minutes left for the start of the exam. You felt the car stopping right in front of your faculty.

“Go.” Satoru pointed at you with the head, you looked at him confused. “C’mon birdie, just go to the exam.”

“What about you?”

“I will find a place to park and go.” You were about to speak when Satoru spoke once again. “It’s okay, I will arrive on time and if I don’t then I will cry a little and the professor will let me in. I mean, look at this face.”

You huffed and unbuckled the car seat belt. “You better get there, because I don't want to beat you if you don't take the exam.” Satoru smiled and leaned on the steering wheel, lowering his glasses a little.

“Don't worry princess, that won't happen.”

Your cheeks turned crimson red upon hearing the new name he had given you. “Don't even think about calling me that again Gojo!” You threatened him, knowing that calling him by his last name would upset him.

“Sorry birdie, now go!” You nodded and turned around to start rushing toward the class.

Your legs moved quickly through the hallways, each step echoing through the halls of the university building. With every step, you felt the weight of your anxiety pressing down on you, urging you to move faster. Had your classroom always been this far away? It seemed like an eternity.

Finally, you reached the door to your classroom and skidded to a stop, leaning against the wall to catch the breath that had escaped your lungs. Your heart was pounding in your chest, the adrenaline from the sprint was still running through your veins, it had been a long time since you last practiced any type of exercise, so your body was no longer used to it. You took a moment to compose yourself, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly as you tried to calm your racing pulse.

Now recovered, you entered the classroom and scanned the faces of your classmates. Most were already seated, their faces a mix of nervous anticipation and focused determination. Some, were deep in last-minute discussions, whispering fervently as they exchanged notes and assurances.

Taking your usual seat, you sank into the chair and let out a long sigh, the tension in your body slowly dissipating. But as you looked around the room, a knot of worry formed in your stomach. Satoru was nowhere to be seen. Was he still looking for a place to park?

Professor Tanaka's voice cut through the murmurs of the room, signaling the start of the exam. You looked nervously at the empty seat next to you, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. If Satoru didn't arrive on time, it would be your fault. It had been you who had fallen asleep, who had made him come look for you. And now, he could lose the exam because of you. Panic gnawed at the edges of your mind as you waited, hoping against hope that he would arrive before it was too late.

You bowed your head, silently pleading for Satoru Gojo to appear at that exact moment. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, each second feeling like an eternity as you anxiously awaited his arrival.

Then, just as your hope was beginning to wane, the door swung open and there he was, Satoru Gojo, striding into the classroom with his trademark confidence.

“Gojo, you're late.” Teacher Tanaka's voice rang out, drawing your attention back to it.

Relief flooded through you as you looked up to see him standing there.

He is here.

“Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled, flashing a cocky smile as he made his excuse. “I couldn't find a place to park, but here I am.”

“Okay, now go and sit.” Professor Tanaka instructed, pointing towards his seat.

“Thank you.” Satoru replied with a grateful nod, walking confidently towards his desk, located right next to yours.

Calmly, Satoru settled down next to you and turned his head to look at you. At that moment, your eyes met and a sudden blush invaded you. Satoru gave you a warm, mischievous smile, accompanied by a playful wink that made you blush again, it was the second time in the day.

With determination, you decided to put any distractions related to Satoru Gojo out of your mind and focused on the exam that Professor Tanaka had just handed out. With a sigh, you gripped the pen firmly and began to read the questions carefully. To your surprise, from the first moment you felt comfortable and confident, understanding each statement clearly.

A satisfied smile spread across your face as you realized that this time was different; Your hours of studying with Satoru had paid off and now you felt ready to face the challenge. With each answer you wrote, your self-confidence grew, and that feeling of accomplishment propelled you to keep going.

Concentrated and focused on your skills, you solved each problem with precision and efficiency.

After 45 minutes, you felt Satoru get up from his seat, drawing curious looks from most of your classmates. Satoru, with his characteristic playful smile, approached the teacher and handed him the exam. He didn't surprise you since he was always the first to finish the exams.

As Satoru walked towards the professor, some murmurs of surprise and admiration were heard around him. He watched as he confidently handed in his exam, exchanging a few brief words with the professor before returning to his seat.

Despite his quickness, you noticed that Satoru didn't seem worried about the outcome. He always had that carefree self-assurance that made him stand out. Meanwhile, you continued working on the exam calmly and focused, solving each question at your own pace.

Satoru's attitude was simply part of his energetic and self-confident personality. No matter the situation, he always seemed to be one step ahead. But this time I would get over it, yes you would.

You looked at your completed exam and with a smile you stood up from your seat. You walked past Satoru and gave him a subtle glance while wrinkling your nose and flashing your proud smile. You walked up to Professor Tanaka's table and handed her your test.

Turning on your heel you returned to your seat, watching as Satoru kept his gaze fixed on you while he smiled at you with a hand on his chin. You sat down in your seat and directed your gaze towards Satoru, he raised his thumb at him, wondering if he had done well for you, to which you nodded happily.

You turned your head and started looking out the window, while you waited for the exam to end. The minutes passed slowly, as you watched the students go from one side to the other across the campus. You felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and thanks in part to the help of the person you would have least imagined. Satoru Gojo.

It had been over a month since you were paired up for the project, and in that time, you had become closer, as much as it was hard for you to admit. Over the past two weeks, you found that your attitude towards him, as well as your feelings, changed.

With each passing day, your interactions with him became more meaningful and you couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in your emotions. What started as a group project duo you hated and loathed was turning into something deeper, something that stirred your heart in unexpected ways. And something that scared you greatly with every movement you made.

The class was filled with noise and agitated movements of your classmates — the exam was over. You sighed letting out the air of tension and stood up from your seat. Only to run into Satoru looking at you carefully with those blue eyes again. Did he ever look away from you?

“How was birdie?” He smiled at you.

You smiled widely, showing your teeth. “Perfect. I’m going to win our bet.” You challenged him.

“Oh.” He formed an 'o' with his lips. “I can't wait to see that.” A smile appeared on his lips.

“Satoruuuuu.” A voice approached both of you, it was one of your classmates, you saw them a couple of time but never interacted with them.

“Hey.” Satoru smiled with a flirtatious smile drawn on his face, you rolled your eyes at the gesture.

“Satoru, I was wondering.” They looked around and also looked at you. And you swore the gaze wasn’t a nice one. “I’m really bad at this subject and well you’re the best.” To which Satoru nodded with a smile. “I was wondering if you could help me study, we could meet up after classes and you could teach me.” They started touching Satoru’s arm which made an unpleasant sensation run through your body.

Satoru took their hand and placed it far away from him. “Sorry but I don't give private classes.” You looked at him confused, that was clearly a lie. “Now, we will be leaving. Birdie, let’s go?” You looked at him still confused with the lie he just told.

As both of you began to walk away, you overheard the friends of your classmate approaching them.

“I thought she couldn't stand him.” One of them remarked.

“Yeah, and apparently he's been giving her private classes.” Another added.

“Yeah, you know what type of private classes, right?” One of them chuckled. “Her knees must be all red.” The group erupted into laughter.

You rolled your eyes at the disgusting rumors, but over the years, you had learned to ignore such talk behind your back.

Suddenly, Satoru's voice cut through the air. He was no longer beside you. When did he move? “Repeat that if you dare.” He said. “Did you really think I wouldn't hear you with a voice so piercing it echoes throughout the classroom?” A shiver ran down your spine. You had never seen Satoru angry or heard him speak in such a tone. And judging by the stares directed at him, neither had anyone else.

“I…” The person who made the comment stuttered, trembling with fear at the sight of Satoru Gojo's imposing figure and fierce glare.

“What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Satoru taunted.

“Satoru.” The one who had approached him earlier to ask for a private class stepped forward. “My friend didn't mean it that way.”

“Is that so?” Satoru said snorting. “Then what did they mean?”

“Satoru.” Your classmate insisted, looking somewhat uncomfortable under Satoru's piercing gaze. “They were just joking around, you know how it is.”

Satoru's expression remained stern, his eyes fixed on the group. “Joking around about what, exactly?” He demanded, his voice laced with a simmering anger.

The group exchanged nervous glances, realizing they were caught in an uncomfortable situation. “We... we didn't mean anything by it.” One of them mumbled.

“And what exactly did you mean, then?” He pressed, his voice low and threatening.

One of the friends stammered, struggling to find words under Satoru's intense scrutiny. “We... we were just messing around, you know?” They muttered weakly.

Satoru's eyes narrowed, his patience becoming thinner with each word that was coming out of their mouths. “Messing around at whose expense?” He snapped, his voice rising with anger.

The group flinched. “We... we didn't mean to offend anyone.” Another one muttered.

You almost laughed out loud hearing them.

Satoru took a step forward, his presence dominating the space between them. “Words have consequences.” He growled. “Think before you speak, or face the consequences.”

With that, Satoru turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the group stunned into silence. As he approached you, you could see his face relaxing and his anger slowly dissipating.

“Sorry about that.” He said, his tone softer now. “You are okay?”

You nodded, not giving much importance to the words of people you didn’t know.

Together, you continued on your way, leaving behind the echoes of the confrontation. As you walked, you couldn't help but give small gazes at Satoru, you wouldn’t have thought Satoru would have stepped out just for you but he did.

Arriving at the cafeteria, you sat one in front of the other and with a cup on each hand.

“Thank you.” You whispered. “For you know, stepping in. There was no need…”

“What do you mean there was no need?” He left his cup on the table. “They were bad mouthing you, trying to create rumors that were no true.”

“People like to talk.” You shrugged casually. “At the end of the day the important thing is what the people who matter to you think about you. Not those with whom you have never exchanged a word and surely never will. They talk because their lives are so extremely boring that to satisfy that void they have, they have to fill it with lies and bad words about others.” You picked up your cup and calmly sipped it again.

You didn't care if people talked behind your back, yes sometimes those words like knives could stab you hard. But at the end of the day those people were insignificant to you, the people you cared about weren't those people so if they wanted to think that you had been sucking Satoru Gojo's cock, then they should. With that story created in their heads, you knew that envy was eating away at them.

“No.” You observed as Satoru's fists tightened on the table, his expression a blend of frustration and indignation. “It doesn't matter if you'll never interact with those people, or if they mean nothing to you. No one deserves to be spoken about in the way they did there.” He declared, his voice carrying a hint of intensity. “You don't deserve that, birdie. You don't deserve anyone speaking ill of you. Because you are truly wonderful and only deserve good and praising words.”

His words resonated deeply, igniting a warmth in your chest as if a comforting flame had been kindled. It was remarkable how Satoru possessed the ability to evoke such a profound sense of reassurance with just a few simple words.

As you met his earnest gaze, you felt your cheeks warmer.

“You’re an idiot.” You said hiding your face in the coffee cup.

Satoru looked at you offended. "What have I done?" He cried.

You were about to reply when your phone started to sound on your bag. “Hi.” You said.

The happy voice of Haibara sounded on the other side of the phone singing your name. “I was calling you to tell you that tomorrow we will be closing the store. So you don’t have to come, you are free!”

“Oh!” You gasped in surprise. “That’s great! But nothing happened right?”

“Nop.” He popped out the ‘p’. “Just enjoy your weekend. Now I need to leave! Bye!” And with that he hanged out.

You looked at you phone for an instant. “What happened?” Satoru spoke.

“Nothing.” You put your phone aside. “Haibara called me, he wanted to tell me that tomorrow I would be free.”

“Great.” He smiled. “The basketball team is having a party at the disco. Wanna come?” He cockily looked at you.

“Are you inviting me out, Satoru Gojo?” You raised an eyebrow. “The results for the exam aren’t out yet.” You challenged him.

“Oh princess if I win the bet I won’t be taking you out to an ugly club.” There it was again that new nickname that turned yourself on.

“Gojo.” You replied with a mocking tone. “Don't even think about calling me that.”

“Kyoko is coming.” He said ignoring your words.

“How do you know that?”

“Suguru is my best friend and Kyoko is his girlfriend, duh.” He said sticking his tongue out.

“I will think about it.”

“Pretty please.” He said pouting.

“I didn’t know the great Satoru Gojo could pout like a puppy.” You mocked.

“Oh for you I would that and much more.”

The conversation was taking an unexpected turn, entering a territory that felt strangely flirtatious. Were you inadvertently sending signals, or was Satoru intentionally leading the interaction in that direction?

You shook your head, dismissing the thought as absurd. No, that couldn't be it. Surely, it was just a result of the comfortable rapport you shared as friends, nothing more. And Satoru, well, he was just being his usual charismatic self, right?

But despite your attempts to rationalize it, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind. Could there be something more to these exchanges? Or were you simply overthinking things?

You couldn't deny it, you felt attracted to his presence and appreciated the moments you spent together. And as your connection had deepened, so had your feelings that blossomed within you.

You still didn't want to admit that something had changed in you regarding Satoru Gojo. But you knew it was there, your feelings for him were undeniable and showed no signs of fading.

You brushed off those thoughts, chalking it up to imagination. After all, you and Satoru were just friends, nothing more, nothing less. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

Note: a more transitory chapter than other thing, but the real shit is about to start in the next chapter.

—if you want to be tagged comment below

🏷️: @lavender-hvze, @crybabytoru, @sanriosatoru, @norvacaine, @sadmonke, @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic, @gojoful , @kitzusune, @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @lolsasuke , @milk3evee

#gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader #fanfic jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #birdie | gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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starryevermore · 6 months ago

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the house of snow (20) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: the ton learns of how its king adores the queen.

word count: 1,992

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: implied smut, fluff, pet name (petal), not proofread

When you first learned of Coryo’s intent to marry you, you had expected a life as Queen would be spent focusing on building a robust social life—planning and attending balls, organizing dinners, entertaining the rest of the ton, overseeing the social season. In your downtime, you would read in the library or stroll the gardens. Forever stuck in a loveless, unsatisfying marriage. Coryo, however, defied your expectations at every turn. Not only was his love true, but he wanted you to rule by his side. He didn’t wish for you to be a mere figurehead—he wanted you to be Queen in every sense of the word.

You quite liked it, if you were honest. You liked sitting at the desk with him, flitting through papers, sorting out the important needs of Panem. You liked being able to tell him your thoughts and know that they were being heard. You had heard too many horrible stories of men belittling their wives, thinking themselves better when they received the very same education. There men in this Capitol that got off on treating their wives as second-class citizens. You were forever grateful that your Coryo was not one such man.

And, of course, you and Coryo got up to plenty of revelry in that very office.

Coryo pressed a kiss to your shoulder as he helped you back into your dress. Though it would be easier to merely push up your skirts and settle between your legs, Coryo insisted on seeing all of you. You were his beautiful wife, he’d say, and he would never deprive himself of admiring such grand beauty.

“We need to add social engagements to our calendar,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair. He nipped at your neck.

“I prefer monopolizing your time. Those people do not deserve you in all your brilliance.”

“We rule those people, and we should try to remain in their good graces,” you countered. Coryo conceded by placing a kiss against the same spot he bit. “Just a few balls, perhaps a luncheon or two with the Electors and their families.”

“Very well. Let me know which ones you have a preference toward, and I shall make the arrangements.”

It was ordinarily the woman’s work to deal with social engagements. A smile tugged at your lips. For Coryo to so easily take on the task, without you even indicating for him to do so, warmed your heart. How did you ever get so lucky? How did you ever think poorly of him? “My mother is throwing a ball this week. I suppose we should attend, at least to keep up appearances with my family,” you said with a roll of the eyes. “The ton would not take kindly to a woman who forsakes her family for the Crown. They would spread rumors that I am a power-hungry wench, intent on making you my little puppet.”

Coryo barked out a laugh. “If only they knew how much power you hold.”

“Oh yes, I do quite well at tugging at your strings.”

“You may tug on them for however long you like.”

Though your dress had just been pulled back on, it soon found itself pooled on the floor moments later.

Thought it had been your suggestion, you dreaded the idea of returning to your family’s home—if you could call it that anymore. After having been away from them for the last month, you came to realize you were scarcely more than a pawn to them. If your father wanted you to be well-cared for, he could have allowed Coryo to court you when he came into money again. The Snow family was not a family known to squander their wealth. Had it not been for the war, they still would have been living off of their fortune for generations to come. And your mother…The way she pushed you to act like someone you were not in hopes that it further along Coryo’s proposal…It just made you sick. You once thought that they cared for you, in their own strange ways, but now you weren’t for certain.

Coryo watched as your lady’s maid pinned back your hair in preparation for your mother’s ball. You were tempted to tell her to stop, that you would no longer be attending, but you also wished to show them, show the entire ton, that you had their King wrapped around your finger. For every thing that they chastised you for, Coryo loved. Nay, he adored. You were certain there was very little you could do that would be wrong in his eyes.

“You are exquisite,” he said, coming to your side as your lady’s maid stepped away from her elaborate creation. He leaned down, pressed a kiss at the junction where your shoulder met your neck. “The ton will have never seen a more beautiful Queen.”

“You shouldn’t let me stray far from your side then,” you teased as you rose from your seat. You turned so you faced your husband and looped your arms around his shoulders. “The ton can so easily devolve into animals when they see something shiny and new.”

“Oh, trust, my petal, I do not intend for you to ever leave my side.” Coryo kissed your forehead. “I already nearly lost you once when I was least expecting it. I won’t allow it to happen again.”

Your heart clenched. It had been so long since Sejanus was mentioned. You nearly forgot about him entirely. For him to have been so close to both you and Coryo, it didn’t feel so strange for him to not be around anymore. What would have happened if he didn’t come to convince you to run away with him? Would you all still be close? Or would he have still tried?

You hoped Sejanus fared well with the Peacekeepers. Despite what he attempted, the friend he was willing to hurt, Sejanus was a kind and gentle man. Coryo had told you little about his time in service with the Peacekeepers, but you knew enough to be certain that Sejanus would emerge a changed man. You only wished that he was still kind.

“And you should not worry about such a thing,” you said. “I am yours just as you are mine.”

Coryo hummed, and pulled you in for another kiss. You let him, letting your worries melt away.

The worries did not stay away for long, unfortunately. As your carriage rolled up to your parent’s home, your heart thump’d, thump’d, thump’d in your chest. You hated having to let go of Coryo when the carriage came to a stop. At least it didn’t last long, for Coryo soon was helping you out and your hands were reconnected.

Like when you arrived at the palace, Coryo let you take the lead. But, unlike at the palace, those who bore witness to this soon began to whisper. You expected as much. The tradition of the no one walking ahead of the King was one long upheld. No one ever dreamed of stepping into his path. You swallowed, lifted your head high and squared your shoulders. This was going to be a long, arduous night, but you were not going to let the gossip of the ton ruin your evening.

Your mother’s eyes were on you the second you stepped foot in the ballroom. You took a breath and turned away from her gaze. Coryo stepped beside you and took your hand. “Come,” he said, “let’s take a turn about the room.”

You nodded.

Her eyes never left you, though. You moved your hand to hold onto Coryo’s arm, hoping for him to steady you. He looked at you curiously, but said nothing. At least you were distracted by the ton as they flitted around you and your husband. They were so eager for the approval of the King and Queen. It was almost laughable.

Finally, though, you couldn’t take it anymore as your father joined your mother’s side.

“We should go say something,” you whispered to Coryo as another young lady sunk into a low curtsy in front of you. “Appearances and all that.”

“Are you certain? I believe we will be quite fine if we continue to ignore them.”

You stifled a laugh. “Perhaps. Think of it this way, though—if we speak to them now, we can ignore them the rest of the ball.”

“Very well. Lead the way, petal.”

Your heart thump’d harder as you crossed the room to your parents. You didn’t have the first clue what you were going to say to them. What they would say to you. They had enough tact, you were sure, to not incite an outright fight with the King and Queen. But they had enough audacity to insult their daughter. They did it as easily as breathing.

“Mama, Papa,” you greeted when you reached them. Neither dropped into a bow or curtsy. Your lip curled at the disrespect. It did not matter that you were their daughter—there was still social etiquette to be followed. “The ball has been lovely so far.”

If they were going to stoop so low, you would not meet them at their level.

“It could be lovelier if there wasn’t so much…whispering among the ton,” your mother said.

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Coryo’s hands clenched and unclenched. You gave his arm a squeeze, but that did not stop him from saying, “The ton is full of idle gossip. It always has been.”

The warning in his tone did not stop your mother from continuing it, “Still, it is improper for a wife to lead the King.”

You ground your teeth together. Is that all you were to her now? A wife to the King? Oh, if only she knew the true influence you had. If only she knew how highly your Coryo regarded you. She may be trapped in a loveless marriage—and you would forever pity her for that—but that did not mean she could dismiss your marriage so easily.

“Queen,” Coryo corrected. “Lesser kings have killed for lesser slights against their queens. I would tread carefully if I were you.”

Your father looked between your mother and Coryo. In an attempt to diffuse the situation, he tried, “What my wife means to say is, we would hate for the Crown to be ruined by such silly gossip.”

“The Crown could not be ruined by such things,” Coryo dismissed with a wave of his hand. “What would damage the sanctity of the Crown is to allow such disrespect to go by unchecked.”

“Of course,” your father said. “We did not mean to—”

“I am tired of this conversation,” you announced. You turned into Coryo and smiled up at him. “Would you like to dance?”

Your mother guffawed. “Women do not ask—”

“Whatever you wish, my Queen,” Coryo said. He kissed you softly, snorting a laugh as your mother continued to blubber in the background. “I would dance with you forever if you should ask for it.”

Coryo led you out to the middle of the dance floor, ignoring your mother’s antics and prying eyes of the ton. He took one hand in his, letting the other settle on your waist. Your free hand came to rest on his shoulder and the band began to play. As he twirled you around the room, everyone seemed to melt away.

Good. The ton could spread rumors and stories all they like. Your parents could look down on you if they so pleased. But none of that would change the fact that your Coryo looked at you like you were the most brilliant diamond ever mined. None of that would change the fact that, in a society where loveless marriages were commonplace, you found the very thing you dreamed of since you were a girl.

“I love you, my King,” you said.

“And I you, my Queen.”

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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gyjo-enthusiast · 6 months ago

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special case. ch.3

retired!nanami x younger!sorcerer!reader

summary: during field training, each student is assigned one semi-grade 1 or higher ranked sorcerer. after the last student is left without a mentor, her professor pairs her up with his old, retired grumpy friend.

reader is in their 20s (attending college), afab!reader, fem pronouns

tags: fluff, eventual smut, colleagues with benefits (is that a thing?), age gap (reader in early 20s, nanami in mid 30s), virgin reader

previous chapter: special case. ch.2 | next chapter: special case. ch.4

jujutsu kaisen masterlist | masterlist

chapter summary: after taking up the offer to spend a whole week at your mentor's place, you pack your things and talk through dinner together.

proofread: yes

word count: 2883 (9m)

song rec:

"are you sure it's not going to bother you?" you look at your shoes, sheating both weapons. after nanami's proposal to spend a week at his place, you tensed up, naturally.

"goodness gracious," his hand flew up to his temples, indicating irritation, "i gave you the option, of course it's not going to be a problem." turning his back to you, the blonde started walking away.

"of course if you do not want to, you don't have to," he said, mindful of how this could seem to others. "but i doubt that your classmates are all going back to dorms every single day."

"you think so?" you pondered for a while, coming to a conclusion of staying with your mentor. "okay, but i'll still have to get some spare clothes."

"go ahead and get them. i will text you my address, if anything happens, just let me know," you exchanged numbers before parting ways.

a few minutes later, your phone dinged with a notification of nanami's text consisting of his address and a question: "do you have any allergies? i'm going to make dinner." your face was redder than the sweetest strawberry reading that. wanting to keep cool, you texted back a simple "no allergies, but i don't like raw tomatoes. thank you so much:)"

thankfully you were left on read, you don't think you'd be able to handle a friendly conversation with your mentor. your very handsome mentor at that. your very handsome mentor who was preparing dinner for you two.

you couldn't hide the little smile that took shape on your lips, speeding up slightly. you wanted to be done with those obnoxious stairs to school and unwind after a long day.

as if nanami knew exactly what was going on, almost nobody was staying at the school dorms. quickly, you shuffled your feet towards the second to last door on the floor, unlocking and shutting the piece of old wood behind you.

you picked up your favourite backpack and started filling it up with clothes. checking the things off of your mental checklist: pjs, underwear, comfy clothes, spare uniform, your favourite plushie and more boring stuff like toothpaste and toothbrush.

you were practically sprinting out of your room, when your phone dinged again. this time, it was a notification from your class group chat. as if it was a sign from god himself, you realised you need your charger. you silently thanked yuuji for sending so many unnecessary selfies and finally closed the door. locking it twice, you briskly left the vicinity of your school and tried to find nanami's address on a map.

before you knew it, you descended the school stairs and went into the town without ever finding where his house is located, so you decided to focus on your surroundings for a bit to find out where you even are.

"to my left is a.." looking left, you saw an old bus station, which you tried to locate on the map. "a bus station.."

where the hell is it?!

"okay to my right is a theater, that should be easier to find," you hopelessly scrolled on your phone to find out where you are and where nanami's house is. "it should be easier to find, right?" you started to panic when you couldn't find anything around you on the map.

you were as lost as on your first day in tokyo, maybe even more. you knew you should text your mentor to let him know, but how could you? this is more embarrassing than not being able to exorcise a low-level grade curse.

realising that this is pointless, you gave in and started to look for nanami's number in your contacts.

but of course, as if he was telepathic, he called you before you could even dial his number.

"y/n? are you okay?" he said overly harsh, as if he was afraid something might have happened.

you sighed and eventually answered, "yes, sir. i'm.. i'm lost." you expected a scolding but it never came.

"lost? as in you already got your things but can't find the address? or you never went back to dorms?" nanami softened his tone, relieved that it's nothing serious.

"i can't find the address. i'm sorry," you apologised, guilty for being so troublesome.

"it's okay, just describe where you are, yeah?" he sounded entirely different now, like a concerned friend more than a mentor.

"um, well i can see an old bus station, it looks like it's not being used anymore, there's not a name of the station anywhere. there's also a theater on the opposite side," you paused for a second before finishing your thought, "it's like a crossroad if that makes sense? also i can't see anybody."

"y/n," nanami called out to you flatly, "don't go anywhere, alright?" you heard shuffling on the other side of the phone. "i think i know where you are so just wait there."

"can you not just tell me in which direction to go, sir?" you asked timidly, not wanting to be a burden.

"it's okay, the streets there are complicated to navigate through so this is easier. i'll be there in a minute." and with that, he ended the call and you were left in the empty streets, waiting.

a few minutes went by and you saw the first person to pass through here. as he made his way towards you and you could see him more clearly, you knew that without mistake, it was nanami.

you didn't know whether to be relieved or even more stressed, because he had to come for you like for a kindergartener. you slowly approached him and sheepishly smiled.

"i'm sorry sir, i'm still not used to tokyo," you excused yourself, as if it was good enough to make him come all the way here.

"don't worry about it, for now, let's go eat dinner. i'll tell you about this place later," he put a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that it was not a big deal.

as you made your way through the streets, you suddenly understood nanami about the complicated layout of the town. if he was to just navigate you, it would do more harm than good.

it was really just a few minutes until you were at nanami's place. he unlocked the door to his apartment and led you to his bedroom.

"since i don't have a spare room, you can sleep here if you don't mind," he gestured towards his king-sized bed. your worried gaze fell upon him as he explained, "i will sleep on the couch, don't worry."

"no, i can't do that," you instantly protested, not wanting to compromise his comfort. "i'll sleep on the couch and you can sleep in your bed," you beamed at him, leaving for the living room.

"it's okay y/n, there's plenty of room on the couch for me to sleep on, if that's what you're worried about," he ignored your statement and stood infront of you. "i've fallen asleep there many times."

"but this is just rude of me, first i can't find your address and then i take your bed?" you sadden a bit, backing away from nanami.

"don't forget that i was the one who suggested this," he crosses his arms and looks down at your small form. "sleeping on the couch is my responsibility as well. at least for this week."

he was taking this very seriously, you wanted to argue once more. you looked up at him, ready to take the couch for yourself, but you stopped yourself. it's not as if his stern gaze alone put you in your place. no, he looked completely different when he wasn't working.

hair slightly falling into his face, forearms exposed (courtesy of his rolled up sleeves), the first two buttons of his shirt undone and glasses discarded. his eyes watched you as you observed him, waiting to see if you'll still protest or not.

after a while, you surrenderred and went to his bedroom. "whatever, but don't complain if your back hurts tomorrow. don't forget that i wanted you on the bed!"

"what?" nanami looks at you, confused.

"w-what?" you repeat after him, confused as well. with a sigh, he softly closes your door and leans against the wall.

"change into something more comfortable and come eat. i hope you're not going to run around in your uniform all day," the blonde then walks away to give you some sort of privacy.

you have to admit, you weren't the best with wording, at least he understood that. you hope. it's amazing how he can brush past that situation and go eat. at the same table with you nonetheless.

you were blushing like crazy just remembering the situation, but what makes matters worse was your choice of clothing. it was particularly hot during this time, so you decided to pack just some shorts that were laying around and a shirt that may be too small for you. that shirt was practically a crop-top now.

looking at your new outfit, you seriously thought that maybe being in your school uniform was better after all. you tried to shove all the inappropriate thoughts away as you awkwardly waddled towards the dining area, careful not to show any more skin than necessary.

nanami was still turned towards the counter, and you hoped he could stay like that while you ate and also went back to his bedroom.

"have you ever been to korea? or had korean food?" he suddenly asked, making you jump in your seat.

"no.." you simply answered before elaborating, "but i'd like to try it one day, why?"

"then i'm sorry you have to try it with me first. i made bibimbap for dinner," he explains, head half-tilted towards your direction. "it's not as authentic, but i like it," turning to you, he brings out a bunch of small bowls with vegetables, mushrooms and some sort of sauce, "and it doesn't contain any tomatoes."

"no it's okay! i'm sorry to be of any trouble regarding food," you apologise, smiling as he remembers you don't like tomatoes. "you didn't have to make something so big though."

"don't worry, if you weren't here, i would simply eat the rest tomorrow," he plainly stated, bringing two more huge bowls filled with food.

"wow, it smells great," you noted quietly.

"thank you," he smiled softly, explaining the dish, "it's basically a rice bowl with vegetables and meat on top. i didn't want to bother with the eggs so there aren't any, but usually you do them sunny side up. in the small bowls you serve kimchi and gochujang sauce, as well as more vegetables."

"that's amazing, it looks easy to make as well," you look at all the food on the table, "except cutting the vegetables." you laugh quietly, still mesmerised.

"it looks easy, but you have to manage a few things at once. i can give you the recipe if you want to try it out sometime," nanami suggests, making your eyes light up.

"really? i'd like that very much!" you smile at him, a gesture which he returns.

"of course. now let's eat before the rice gets cold," the man in front of you picks up his chopsticks and you mirror his action.

you both eat in silence, enjoying the foreign dish, before a thought pops into your mind. it's that crossroad, where there wasn't a soul to be seen. it seemed like nanami knew about it and you couldn't help but be curious about it.

swallowing your bite, you anxiously asked, "sir?" getting his attention, you continued. "can you tell me about the place where i got lost?"

nanami thickly swallowed before answering. "it's an abandoned part of town, mainly because people who go there disappear and don't come back," he raised an eyebrow at you, "i think you can imagine why that is."

"cursed spirits?" you meekly ask.

"an unseen amount, yes. the jujutsu sorcerers can't regulate them properly. it seems to be a huge area that attracts them," he explains, looking irritated.

"that's horrible, even more so that they can't find out why it's happening," you ponder about it for a while, but let it go eventually. still, it's going to be stuck in your head.

finishing your food, you stood up to help with the dishes before you were stopped.

"it's alright, y/n. i'll do the dishes, you should rest," nanami sounds out from behind you, collecting the small bowls.

"you should be the one resting, sir. i should do it, you're the one who made such an amazing meal after all," you try to protest again, however this time, nanami just doesn't have the strenght to put up with it.

"then you wash them and i will dry them and put them away, is that fine?" he sighed.

"okay then, but only because i don't know where to put them once i'm done!"

as you start to wash the dirty dishes, nanami stands right beside you. that's when it dawns upon you that you still only have your short tee and shorts on. embarrassed, you fixate your eyes onto the sink and try to forget about your poor choice of clothing.

your mentor of course noticed your outfit but tried to be professional about it. whenever you would finish up washing a dish and hand it over, nanami's fingers would brush over yours in the slightest. it was driving you crazy and you soon started to shiver, even though your hands were under the warm water and your ears were red hot.

"y/n?" the aforementioned man spoke up to you, "are you cold?"

oh, this was a nightmare. "no i'm okay!" you straightened up, trying to keep as still as possible but your body was not taking orders from you anymore.

"you're shivering, is the water cold?" he looked over to you as you nervously smiled. "why are you wearing shorts if you're cold? and such a short shirt," it felt almost as if he was scolding you.

"it's okay, sir, i'm not cold, it's just a shirt that was lying around, i was packing up so quickly i didn't realise," you tried to laugh it off but before you opened your eyes, the man disappeared. shortly after he came back with one of his own shirts and set it down on the other side of the counter.

"it's okay, you can have this one for the time being," he patted your back, took a small bowl and started drying it. not wanting this to be more embarrassing than it already was, you let out a small "thank you" before finishing up the dishes.

heading towards the bathroom to shower and change the godforsaken shirt, he called for you one more time.

"do you want to watch the tv before you go to sleep? i don't have one in my bedroom."

"if you wouldn't mind, then yes," you quickly showered and went back to the living room.

"just put on anything you'd like, i'm going to take a shower," you heard nanami's voice from around the corner before hearing the door close.

"thank you, sir!" you shouted back at him and went to find the remote, stealing nanami's blanket before he comes back.

turning on the tv and finding netflix, you had no idea what to watch. you felt like nothing was interesting and whatever was, you already saw six times. seeing a new crime tv show, you put it on only to be fast asleep after half an episode.

nanami took his time, letting you watch whatever you were watching, but before long he couldn't endure the scorching heat of the shower and came out. finally changing into his casual clothes, he heard gunshots and arguments on the tv. sighing, he made his way to the living room, only to find you sleeping on the couch, remote still in hand.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, not believing the situation. nevertheless, he slowly approached the couch and tried waking you up. to no avail.

"y/n, hey wake up," he shook with you slightly, whispering so you wouldn't be in too much of a shock once you wake up. "y/n!" he whisper-shouted at you a few times, which was obviously also not doing anything.

"i can't believe this kid," he whispered to himself, wrapping you in his blanket more. he then picked you up bridal style and slowly made his way to his bedroom, trying not to stumble.

finally setting you down on his bed, he was prepared to take the other blanket from the bed and leave, when a small hand tugged at his sleeve.

"y/n?" he whispered, not sure whether you were awake by now or not.

when you didn't respond, he decided you were sleeping, so he should go too. that's when your hand tugged at his sleeve again, and he noticed small tears rolling down your cheeks.

his heart skipped a beat at that, but he decided that this wasn't right, and ultimately swiped your tears with his thumb and left. without a blanket at that.

he couldn't believe you slept through all of that. maybe a new student was just what he needed in life.

got a bit of a writer's block but we're so back. i think i might just rewatch jjk for this man(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

#nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #x reader #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami kento #Spotify

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vixstarria · 7 months ago

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Bloodbang Chronicles - Masterlist

Series summary:

Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Genre: Humor / adventure / smut, with all the usual Astarion-related elements along the way, without getting too heavy

Rating: Explicit

This is a post-game continuation of my bardlock series, which was mostly written in 2nd person POV, with the OC referred to as “Tav” where they had to be named. Rest assured it’s been about Asmodea all along. You can consider the oneshots a prequel.

Read on AO3

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Chapter 1 - Madam Asmodea

Chapter 2 - Oddie

Chapter 3 - Fuckface

Chapter 4 - The Dancing Siren

Chapter 5 [*] - Warnings and weddings

Chapter 6 [**] - Improper use of spiderclimb

Chapter 7 - Are you not entertained?!

Chapter 8 - A little bit of murder

Chapter 9 - Final preparations

Chapter 10 [***] - Halsin

Chapter 11 - On the road again

Chapter 12 - Mercy

[*] asterisks to indicate smut - the more, the smuttier. (and 3 stars for threesomes, lol)

Leave a comment if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

Thank you @brabblesblog for the header! ♥

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion x asmodea #astarion x oc #astarion x f!oc #astarion x female tav #bloodbang chronicles #asmodea

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scoonsalicious · 7 months ago

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Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of violence, death, talking about feelings, finally being honest and getting shit out there.

Word Count: 2.1k

Previously On...: Tony filled you in on what's happened since your showdown with Carthage.

A/N: Send in the Barnes!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

“Doll.” Your eyes shot open at the sound of Bucky’s husky whisper. He stood in the doorway, staring at you like he was seeing a ghost. He was still wearing the same clothes he wore when he’d rescued you– covered in dried blood, both yours and the Hydra agents he’d taken down. His right eye was a riot of black and blue bruises, nearly swollen shut, his lip cut.

“Hey, soldier,” you said softly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m surprised you wanted to see me at all, doll,” he said forlornly. “After everything I put you through, I’d be done with me if I were you.”

You offered him a soft half-smile. “Come here,” you said, using your good arm to pat the space on the bed next to you.

Bucky looked between you and the spot you indicated with confusion, as if he weren’t sure he’d heard your offer correctly. But he walked over to you like a man condemned, and you wondered briefly if he expected you to tell him you were well and truly done with him now. As if you could ever be. You were pretty positive by now that, in spite of everything, you truly couldn’t live without him.

Gently, so as not to jostle you, Bucky sat down on the bed, though making sure not to touch you. You weren’t going to have any of that, though, so you reached across with your good arm and tugged him toward you until he was snug against your left shoulder. It hurt a little bit, but it was worth it to have him close.

Bucky looked down at where your left arm should have been, tucked underneath your hospital gown and hidden from view, as it was, in its sling. “I see you’ve come unarmed, doll.” He offered a weak smile.

You threw your head back and laughed, and it felt so good to feel good in his presence again. “You got jokes, Barnes,” you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Speaking of jokes, what the fuck happened to your face?”

Bucky raised a hand to his face, gently poking at the swollen tissue. “Little gift from Stark,” he said. “For everything I put you through. Can’t say I didn’t earn it.”

You frowned, moving your hand up to gently caress his cheek. “He shouldn’t have done that,” you told him softly. Bucky looked down at you. “I deserved it, doll. I deserved that and so much worse, for everything I did to you. You almost died– fuck, you did die, and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let Carthage think there could be something between us, if I hadn’t led her on, none of this would have happened. You never would have gotten hurt, never had your heart broken. We’d be getting ready for our baby, and I wouldn’t have betrayed you over and over again–”

“Baby,” you said, putting your hand gently to his lips so as not to disturb the cut, “Stop. I’m not saying you’re blameless, but it’s not all entirely your fault, either. Carthage… Carthage had a mission, same as Soldat had missions. Maybe she wasn’t wiped the way you were, still had some control over her own mind, but she was programmed to want to get you just as surely as Soldat was programmed to kill. She would have come for me, no matter what, because I was an obstacle to that mission. It wouldn’t have mattered, I don’t think, if you had never spoken to her. I was always going to be in her way.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you, though. In so many horrible ways.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each lost in your own thoughts.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked eventually, gently petting your hair. “And I mean mentally, not physically.”

You sighed. “Everything happened so quickly, you know?” Bucky hummed in agreement. “It was like: Boom! Chloe died! Boom! Lost a baby, almost died! Boom! Kidnapped, beaten up! Boom! Shot, almost died! It all still feels like it happened to someone else, and I haven’t really had a chance to let myself feel it, you know?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I get it. But when it does hit, it’s going to hit hard, I think.”

“Probably,” you agreed. “I think I need to find a new therapist that’s not an A.I.” you told him. “Not that Tony’s program isn’t great– I just… Did you know Carthage hacked into my session feeds?”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Fuck. Doll, that’s an awful violation of your privacy. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s… she… she took what she learned about me from my sessions, and she used them to manipulate you, to hurt us,” you told him.

Bucky tensed beside you. “What do you mean?”

“Her ‘advice’ to you?” you said. “About what she liked in bed, to spice up our relationship?” Bucky nodded slowly, and you could tell he was ashamed with himself at the memory. “Well, she tailored it specifically with what she knew would be most upsetting to me, what would hurt me the most, so I would be angry at you, be the most hurt by you.”

Bucky swallowed, and you noticed his fists clenching next to you. “And I played right into it,” he said, shaking his head. He was furious; at both Carthage and himself, you could see that. “I was so fucking stupid; I didn’t see what she truly was until it was too late, and I let her play me like a fiddle.”

“You wanted a friend who understood you,” you said. Yes, you were still hurt by everything that he’d done, and you probably would be for a long, long time, but the truth of it was, now that you’d seen what Carthage truly was, had witnessed the depths of her manipulation of him, your anger toward him had significantly abated. Maybe you were being foolish. Stupid, naive. Maybe you were making all the wrong decisions, but your heart was always going to pull you back to Bucky Barnes. He was a gravitational force you just couldn’t escape.

“I had friends,” Bucky argued softly. “I have you, and Steve, and fucking Big Bird. I didn’t need her. Why did I think I needed her, Pocket?”

You shrugged, taking his hand in yours. “Hydra had you for 70 years,” you told him, “and during that entire time, you were alone. Surrounded by people, but you were all alone. It makes sense that you would seek out someone who, based on what we all thought we knew about her, had been through something similar. I mean, how could any of us understand, really, what sort of horrors you’d gone through, when you don’t even understand all of them, yourself?

“She came packaged as this perfect counterpoint to you. And we know she was trained– educated, basically, in how to get to you. She basically had a Master’s degree in Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s still not an excuse for my actions, doll,” he said.

“No,” you began carefully, “it’s not. But it’s a mitigating factor that will be used in determining your sentence,” you said with a small smile.

“Have to say, sweets, I’d been fully expecting a life sentence of you never speaking to me again.”

“Yeah, that was what the jury was initially thinking, but upon further review of the evidence, they may be willing to bring it down to time served and supervised probation going forward.”

He looked at you, eyes blazing with hope, but almost instantly, his face fell. “Doll, how can you say that? I fucking slept with her! How can you still want to be with me after that?”

You sat up a little straighter, slowly this time, so as not to disturb your injuries. “Did you know Jade recorded the two of you?” you asked him carefully. “In the Russian safehouse?”

Bucky went pale and moved away from you. “No,” he whispered. “No, I didn’t know that. Oh God, Pocket– did she… did she make you watch it?”

You nodded, and Bucky put his head in his hands. “Oh, fuck. Doll. I am so sorry. I never wanted you to see that. It was bad enough that it happened, but for you to have had to witness it–”

“Buck,” you pulled his hands away from his face. “Buck, it’s okay. I’m glad I saw it, actually.”

Bucky looked at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “What?!” he asked. “How… how can you be glad?! I cheated on you, I broke your trust– again! How can that make you anything but disgusted with me?”

“Okay, let’s take this one step at a time,” you said, repositioning your hands so you could interlock your fingers with his. “First of all, it wasn’t cheating. We technically weren’t together, so you could have slept with whomever you wanted to. I don’t love that it was her, but we weren’t committed.”

“It felt like cheating,” Bucky bemoaned. “I hated myself the entire time.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. “But you need to know that, while I did hate that you slept with her, I would have gotten over that, eventually. That wasn’t what I was upset about, after.”

“It was the lying and not telling you what happened after I got back,” Bucky offered, and you nodded. “I didn’t get your messages about the articles until after I’d done it,” he said. “And I felt like the biggest fucking idiot. Of course you never would have done that to me. You’ve always been too good for me. I think I was projecting my own guilt onto you, and that was so fucked up of me. I was so scared of losing you when you were willing to give me another chance, I just ended up pushing you further away.”

“It doesn’t help that you had a snake whispering in your ear,” you said. When he looked at you, confused, you continued: “I’m not absolving you of all guilt, because you still had autonomy; you still made your own decisions, but I saw how she fed into your insecurities, in the video. How she played up your fears, and used them to manipulate you. How she took your anger and disappointment and used it to her advantage. I also saw how you had to think about me in order to get it up for her,” you added with a smirk.

Bucky blushed. “Caught that, did you? I don’t think Carthage did; though I wasn’t trying to be subtle about it, to be honest.”

“No,” you said with a smile. “She didn’t catch it, and she most certainly wasn’t happy when I pointed it out to her. Was quite pissed when I laughed about it to her face.”

“Oh God,” said Bucky. “That must have infuriated her.”

“How’d you think I got the broken arm?” you asked cheekily.

“That fucking bitch,” Bucky hissed between clenched teeth.

“It was worth it,” you assured him. “She took your pain at what you thought I’d done, and she twisted it, made you a victim. I’d break all my bones if it meant she paid for what she did to you.”

“I don’t understand how you can be so forgiving about all of this,” he said.

You snorted. “Would you rather I just cut you out of my life forever?”

“No!” Bucky looked up at you, alarmed. “Never– I just… I just don’t understand how you can be so… okay about it, after everything.”

You shrugged. “Well, I did die; certain things seem trivial, now. Maybe I’ve got, like, ancient death wisdom or something.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Not funny,” he said, tugging you gently to him. “I’ve never been more scared in my life than I was when I thought I lost you.”

“I know,” you hummed. “You snapped Carthage’s neck.”

Bucky flinched. “I wish I could say I’m sorry I did that, but I’m not. I know I swore off killing a long time ago… but when it was you in danger? I don’t have any regrets. I’d do it again, even if it makes me the fucking monster everyone says I am.”

“Thank you,” you said to him.

“For what?” he asked. “Killing her?”

“For choosing me over her. When it really mattered.”

“Figured it was about time I started showin’ you I meant it, doll,” he said with a sad smile.

“And for what it’s worth,” you added, “I don’t think you’re a monster. I think you slayed one, and as far as I’m concerned, that makes you my hero.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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floral-force · 4 months ago

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Saddle Tramp Masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader - western au

summary: Anything is possible in the American West--unless your destiny is predetermined. When your fate as the heiress of a railroad magnate becomes entangled with that of a drifting bounty hunter, you ride into a world of opportunity. Despite your differences, something blooms between you and the masked man that is truly once in a lifetime. Saddle up for a journey west full of rugged terrain, kisses under the stars, smoky saloons, and finding love when you least expect it. (Loosely based on spaghetti westerns and the myth of Hades and Persephone.)

rating: 18+ (MDNI), mature

words: 2.7k+

this is an ongoing fic (1/10 chapters posted). to be updated about this and other fics, ask to be added to my tag list!

asterisks (*) indicate 18+ content!

read on ao3 | fic masterlist | character masterlist

chapter 1: once upon a time in the west

chapter 2: you know my name

chapter 3: the shadow riders

chapter 4: the big country

chapter 5: the good, the bad, and the ugly

chapter 6: death rides a horse

chapter 7: a sky full of stars for a roof

chapter 8: day of anger

chapter 9: the quick and the dead

chapter 10: a reason to live, a reason to die

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

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Rev. 22:20 - Chapter Two: Martyr

Warnings: Talk of religion, unhappy family circumstances, male masturbation. Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: Aemond keeps a promise to Helaena and makes a confession.

Author's note: I do not have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications to be updated when I post a fic. Community labels are for cops.

For the next seven days, the young woman he’d seen in the Sept is all Aemond can think of. He has never heard her voice and has no idea of what her name is, yet the image of her beauty is burned into his mind like a brand.

When he trains in the yard and the sunlight reflects upon his blade, he thinks of how her hair had shone in the dappled light of the windows as she’d moved about the Chancel. When he retires to the library to read, and the pages of his book slip between his fingers, he thinks about how delicately hers had wrapped around the wick she’d used to light the candles.

Perhaps they’d appear just as dainty when wrapped around his manhood.

He thinks of her when they bow their heads in prayer before supper, of how his eye had met hers as he’d left the Sept. He wonders if she thinks of him.

Do her thoughts wander to him, as her hand drifts between her legs?

She dominates his thoughts as he strokes himself to completion - a much more frequent occurrence since laying his eye upon her - he imagines spreading her out upon the altar, her wanton cries echoing off of the domed ceiling of the Sept as he spears her open with his cock. He drives himself to release after frenzied release, spilling over his knuckles and wishing it was deep inside of her instead.

Even in sleep, she gives him no respite. He dreams of her beckoning him to touch her, yet every time he reaches for her she slips away, always a hair’s breadth too far for him to grab. He wakes up each time sweating and painfully hard.

By the time Alicent’s weekly visit to the Grand Sept is upon him once more he almost doesn’t want to go. He fears that the reality of her will never live up to all of the ways in which he’s fantasised about her, that she will not be as ethereal as he remembers and he will leave disappointed, his illusion shattered.

Yet at the same time, the need to see her again is all consuming. He feels he may go mad if he doesn’t have the opportunity to look upon her face, to reassure himself that she is real and not something he has imagined. He longs for the opportunity to hear her speak, to know if her voice is as beautiful coming from her mouth as it is in his head.

The decision is made for him when Helaena asks that he visit the Dragonpit when accompanying their mother to the Sept. She has not seen Dreamfyre since giving birth to the twins, and misses her dearly. Though she knows the Keepers will be taking good care of her, she would like the reassurance of Aemond having seen her to put her mind at ease.

He agrees, wondering if the big, blue she-dragon will be filled with as much fury to see him as she was when he’d pestered her as a child, eager to see if she might have laid an egg for him to claim. He has Vhagar now, so he hopes not; his intentions are not quite so intrusive, and his mind is otherwise occupied.

As the carriage rolls through King’s Landing, Aemond is filled with restless energy, overwhelmed by the urge to burst into laughter with how rapidly his pulse races and the way his thoughts blur together, too quickly for them to be coherent. He purses his lips, remaining outwardly stoic, the drumming of his fingers upon his leg the only indication that he feels ill at ease.

“Did you hear me, Aemond?” Alicent leans over, brows knitted together in concern and mild irritation.

He startles out of his thoughts, her face swimming into focus as he finally looks at her. “Hm?”

She sighs, leaning back and smoothing her hands over her skirts. “I said, I need to speak with the Septas today. We must appoint one to aid Helaena with the care of the twins.”

Aemond simply nods, thinking it was barely worth the effort to listen to. He has no interest in talking to any of the withered old crones his mother will likely end up conversing with.

Casting his eye around the Sept as they enter, the crushing disappointment he experiences upon not seeing her is enough to drive him to violent rage.

How dare she not be here when he has spent the entire week thinking of nothing else?

The urge to topple the idols, tear down the tapestries and break apart the candlesticks has Aemond’s fingers flexing at his sides. Instead, he exhales sharply through his nose, clenching his jaw and stalking away as his mother takes up her position of prayer. He is in no mood to pretend to pray today.

He paces the sept, his eye fixed upon the tapestries, though he does not comprehend the images they depict, too engrossed in his own thoughts as he tries to calm his temper and pounding heartbeat.

Perhaps it is for the best that she is not here. He has likely misremembered her beauty, built her up in his mind to a standard which is simply unattainable. Even if she were here, what could he say to her? He is a Prince and she is a woman of faith, the two are destined for very different life paths.

Still, it does not stop the ache inside of him that yearns for her. He ponders on what her name could be, if her hair feels as silky as it looks, if the smooth skin of her cheek would be as soft as he imagines it to be. He imagines how the plushness of her lips would take shape as they round out the syllables of his name, coated in his spend.

He loses all track of time, as he wanders, fingertips grazing the stone pillars, until he is broken out of his reverie by the voice of his mother. His own curiosity gets the better of him and he steps closer, wanting to listen in.

She stands talking with one of the Septas, leathery skinned and sour faced, but it is not that that captures his attention, beside them is her. Her shiny hair and bright eyes are just as perfect as he’d remembered - no - better. His imagination is not capable of conjuring such a vision.

From the way she looks between Alicent and the Septa it is clear they are talking about her, and he does his best to hear what they’re saying.

“...as part of her training, she hears confession each day during the hour of the crow–”

His eye widens. She takes confession. He would have the opportunity to speak to her, if only he can delay his return to the Keep by an hour. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears as he struggles to regulate his breathing, and then he remembers his promise to Helaena before he had left earlier that day. He has the perfect excuse, and his mother’s hatred of the Dragonpit means she is unlikely to hang around.

When he feels Alicent’s gentle touch upon his elbow, the softness of her voice enquiring as to whether he is ready to leave, he turns to face her, taking her hands into his, doing his best to sound apologetic.

“Forgive me, Mother. I made a promise to Helaena to check on Dreamfyre for her, and I had quite forgotten. Return home without me, I am unsure of how long I will be.”

Alicent’s mouth tightens in displeasure and she sighs. “Very well. I’ll have the carriage sent back for you once I return.”

He nods, thanking her and watching her go, before making his way to the Dragonpit.

He has not been here since he was a boy, he has had no need to since claiming Vhagar. She is much too large to be confined here and he himself is struck by how less vast it seems now that he is a grown man and no longer a child.

The dustiness and dank smell takes him back to the day that Aegon and his nephews had presented him with ‘The Pink Dread’ and he scowls at the memory, remembering how they’d laughed as his cheeks had burned hot with humiliation.

He shakes the thought away, making his way towards the tunnel in which he remembers his sister’s dragon prefers to nest. He wonders if Aegon has checked in on her for Helaena since she made him a father. He knows Aegon must come here for Sunfyre, but if that were the case then why would Helaena ask Aemond to look in on her? Another of Aegon’s failings. Too selfish to accompany their mother to the Sept, too thoughtless to check upon the wellbeing of his wife’s dragon.

The last time Aemond had intruded upon Dreamfyre’s rest, she had roared at him, shooting fire towards him and causing him to stagger backwards. This time she is subdued, remaining curled upon the earthen floor, one cat-like eye regarding him reproachfully.

“What is wrong with her?” Aemond asks the Keeper.

“She is missing her rider, Your Grace,” he responds, leaning heavily on his staff, “It has been many months since Princess Helaena has ridden her.”

Aemond cannot help the pity he feels for the poor creature. “She will return soon,” he says, “The birth was a difficult one and she is still recovering, but my mother is enlisting help for the care of the babes, so Dreamfyre will have her rider back soon enough.”

He departs with a nod towards the Keeper, unsure of what to tell Helaena. It would crush his sister to know that her dragon is suffering in her absence, though he senses she is probably already aware of that, otherwise she would not have asked him to check. Perhaps she will feel better if he simply tells her that her dragon is eager to have her back.

The idea is pushed from his mind as he reenters the Sept and sees her making her way towards the confessional box. Commonfolk have yet to gather, so if he hurries he will get to be her first of the day.

His stones ache and his throat runs dry at the thought that he will finally hear her voice, finally speak to her. It strikes him as he walks towards the box that he has no idea of what he will confess, so fixated on the notion of speaking with her he has not even begun to think about what he might say.

It is too late to ponder on it as he finds himself seated on a wooden stool, the latticed opening in the centre of the box obscures her from his view and he despises it, wanting nothing more than to look upon her face as he speaks to her, to watch her pretty mouth as she talks to him.

“Blessings be upon thee,” comes her soft voice through the partition, “Are you here to confess?”

His chest tightens at the dulcet tones, it is as though he has forgotten how to breathe. He knew her voice would be every bit as lovely as she appears, but he never imagined it so sweet. His eye flutters closed, as he imagines how it would sound moaning his name, the slight upward lilt of how she would sound out the first syllable.

Aemond draws in an unsteady breath. “Y-yes, I am here to confess.”

“Then unburden yourself to me, and be cleansed of your sins.” She invites gently.

I’d martyr my own mother to ride through all seven Hells between your thighs.

He swallows thickly, thinking of something innocuous he can tell her that won’t identify him to her. “I-I covet what my brother has, and I am resentful that as first born he is given everything and squanders it.”

There is a slight pause before she replies. “You must pray to The Smith for the strength to overcome your jealous nature.”

Aemond bites back the urge to chuckle.

Utter nonsense.

But he is enjoying talking to her, and he is eager to continue. He realises that he wants her to know who he is, to be aware that there is a Targaryen Prince seated beside her, so he presses on.

“I harbour ill intent towards my nephew. I have never forgiven him for taking my eye. I wish for his in exchange.”

He hears her breathe in suddenly. She knows. How could she not?

Her tone is slightly unsure as she advises him, clearly rattled by what he has said. “Pray…pray to the Father for the wisdom to accept the justice you will never receive, and to the Warrior to have the valour to forgive such a slight.”

Aemond smirks at this.

Never.

He is beginning to enjoy himself, however, so he continues.

“I have been having lustful thoughts…about a woman, a novice from this very Sept.”

He hears her breaths begin to become more rapid and feels pride swell within his chest.

“I imagine taking her virtue on the very altar to which the people of King’s Landing offer up their prayers, I think about how she’d feel writhing beneath me as I rut into her, I–”

“P-please…” Her voice is trembling, her breathing ragged.

The reality of the situation hits Aemond like an icy jolt and he knows he has gone too far, he has frightened the poor girl.

Not giving her a moment to say anything else, he hurries from the confessional box. His leather boots echo off of the flagstones as he makes his way back out onto the street with long strides, grateful to see the carriage ready and waiting for him.

Despite the shame that blooms heavy within his chest, he strains against his breeches, the thrill of his confession heating his blood in a steady thrum.

The moment his chamber doors close, his cock is in his fist bringing himself to the edge with thoughts of everything he’d described to her, the sound of her voice, the image of her lips wrapped around him. As his breaths become less controlled he pauses, struck by recognition at the similarity in pace and depth, and that is finally what pushes him into oblivion, spilling over his knuckles with a strangled groan. He recognised those laboured breaths, breaths of pleasure, breaths of a salacious nature.

Had she been touching herself to what he’d been telling her?

Part one || Part three || Series masterlist

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 1 year ago

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The Babysitter (16)

A Way To De-Stress

MILF Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 16- W/c 4.8k- This chapter contains 18+ Content

Tag list- @Natssluttt @cerberus-spectre @dorabledewdroop @bibliophilicbi @hopelesslyfallenninlove @simpform1lfs @get-the-fuck-outta-here @natashaswife4125(Comment if you want to be added)

A Way To De-Stress

The clicking of the bathroom door drew your attention away from the book you were reading, a smile gracing your face at the sight of Wanda emerging from the door frame. The older woman mirrored the content look on your face, biting her lip to try and contain her smile before walking back over to the bed where your form was sat, back against the headboard.

"Hey Dekta," she whispered while moving to straddle your lap, coherent thoughts swiftly escaping your mind as her soft body rested in yours. Nimble fingers drifted across your shoulders, briefly ghosting over the base of your neck causing your breath to hitch. The subtle reaction was enough to make the older woman smirk, the desire and lust that swirled around in her eyes last night resurfacing. "Enjoying your book?" she hums out, your mind still focussed on the feeling of her thighs wrapped around yours.

"Hm?" you respond sheepishly when you realise she's asking you something, her gaze flickering down to your lips indicating maybe she wasn't really wanting a proper answer in response, she was just being polite.

Wanda simply smiles at your flustered state, continuing to torture you by letting her hands move to your hair, threading her fingers through just like she did last night.

"Where's your mind at Detka?" she teases softly, continuing to torment you a little longer as your confidence slowly builds up. When she feels your hands slowly rising up the back of her legs, slowing down as they ghost over the back of her thighs and eventually her ass before moving to rest on her lower back, her smirk returns.

"Just thinking," you murmur out, losing yourself in her eyes as they flicker from your lips to eyes.

"About?" she asks, pushing you for an answer as she scratches at your scalp gently.

"You," is all you sigh out, causing her lips to stretch into a smile before you continue after a moment of silence. "About last night and how much I enjoyed it," you say quietly, watching her reaction to your words.

Wanda's eyes darken in response, no sort of regret present in her actions as her hips move down against yours subtly, her hands drifting back to your shoulders while her mouth lowers.

"Well it's a good thing I enjoyed it too," she rasps out, sighing lowly as her hips continue to softly grind against your lap.

"Yeah?" your words shaky as heat rushes through your body at the small moan she lets out and the way her eyes are staring at you with that lustful look. She hums before moving her mouth to the shell of your ear, groaning quietly.

"I haven't come that hard in years Detka," you groan at her sultry tone and words, her pulling back to face you properly.

You waste no time in crashing your lips to hers, a moan escaping you both at the amount of passion poured into the kiss. Boldly, you let your hands drift back down to her ass, guiding her movements in your laps earning a lewd noise to slip past her lips. Her hands grasp desperately at your shirt as her hips move faster, the fabric of her sleep shorts rubbing perfectly against her clit earning a string of moans to leave her mouth when you both part from the kiss. Teeth scrape down the column of her throat, lips peppering kisses all along her neck as her nails dig gently into your shoulders while you continue to guide her hips.

"Fuck Detka," she sighs out when you suck lightly on her neck, not enough to leave a mark though before pulling away, staring into her significantly darker green eyes. You let your gaze roam across her face, her mouth parted as she tries to regain her breath, kiss swollen lips and lust-filled eyes making your mind cloud with arousal.

Carefully, you flip the two of you over, the action causing a sound of surprise to leave the older woman but that swiftly turns into a broken moan as your knee slots in between her thighs and presses against her core. Her fingers scratch down your back as you claim her lips again and again, her tongue sliding in to take over the kiss while her hips continue to rut against your knee. The intoxicating sounds that leave her lips, the feeling of her warm and soft body under you has your mind reeling with dirty thoughts, the heat between your thighs becoming unbearable as she sighs out your name.

Glancing up into her eyes, you watch for any sign of discomfort when your fingers toy with the hem of her shirt, knuckles touching the skin of her stomach. When you see her nod her head, you let them venture up further. The cold feeling of your fingers causes her breath to hitch as you gradually let them trail upwards until they rest just under her breasts. Your lips softly press against hers again, your hands just about to cup her breasts when the chiming sound of a phone ringing breaks you two apart.

Pulling away with a flushed face, you move so Wanda can reach over to her beside table to check who's calling, a picture of her mother and father popping up on the screen as the name 'Mama' flashes while it rings. She quickly sends you an apologetic look, quickly sitting up and brushing her hair back to try and fix her appearance.

You flop back on the bed next to her, the Sokovian taking your earlier position against the headboard while she answers the face time. From your angle, you can just about see the screen, an image of Natalya appearing.

"Hello Dorogaya," her mother greets on the phone, her brows furrowing briefly at the sight of her daughter, "I told you we'd be calling you at ten Dorogaya," her tone becoming motherly as she reminds her daughter. You try not to laugh at the way her mother shoots her a look through the screen, remembering you have to stay quiet.

"I'm sorry Mama," her accent thicker as she talks to her mother, "I just... lost track of time." Her words cause Natalya to pause for a moment, hesitating with her words for a second.

"You're not with him are you?" her tone hopeful that she'll say no.

"No mama, I'm never going near that man again," she quickly clarifies, a disgusted look taking over her face at the mere implication of her unfaithful husband. Before her mother can get another word in, the sound of Billy and Tommy can be heard, wanting to see their mother and quickly stealing the phone of Natalya. When the boys start to talk to Wanda, a content and peaceful look takes over her face, making you decide to let her have some time with them. As quietly as you could, you roll off the bed and motion to her that you're going to make some breakfast for the two of you, her nodding to you when the boys look away from the screen.

***

Around twenty minutes later you can hear her coming down the stairs, a chuckle escaping you as you see her wrapped up in the hoodie you left in her room. She just flashes you a charming smile before walking closer to you to wrap her arms around your middle, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of your head.

"Hmm what has the chef made today?" she jokes playfully while peering over your shoulder at the pans on the stove. You roll your eyes at the joke, knowing full well she was the better cook before answering her.

"We're having pancakes because that's all this chef could come up with quickly," you say, motioning to the batter you made. "Take a seat Ma'am your food will be with you shortly," your voice mimicking a waitress as you smile at Wanda. She complies and takes a seat at the kitchen island, resting her head on her hand as she watches you.

Heating the pan with a little bit of oil, you add the batter and let it cook, trying your hardest not to crumble under the pressure of her watching you. You wait patiently until the batter seems all turns a darker shade, using a spatula to flip it and cursing quietly under your breath when the pancake folds in on itself. You try your best to fix it but it still looks unappetising, deciding that the failed pancake would be yours and quickly leaving it on another plate for you.

"The first one is always the worst Detka, don't worry," you hear Wanda say, moving to stand and lean against the countertop next to you.

"Guests aren't allowed in the kitchen Ma'am," you say with a teasing smile, starting a new pancake that you pray looks better than the other one.

"They are when it's their kitchen," you can't help but chuckle at her response, turning your face to look at her while the pancake slowly cooks. "Let me help Detka," she takes out another pan, moving to take the batter but you move it out of her reach.

"I want to make breakfast for us both for once," you say, arm stretched behind you with the pancake mix she was after. She had made you breakfast every time you had stayed over and you just wanted to repay the favour.

"And I want to help," she says, tilting her head in that way she knows gets you to surrender quickly.

"Not falling for that this time," your tone is adamant as you try to resist her stare, her raising her eyebrow at you and oh god you're going to die.

"I'd rethink that Detka," she chuckles out, looking at your conflicted face as you can't decide what to do.

"Can I still make you your breakfast if I give you it?" you ask, arm getting a little tired from the awkward position of it.

"Yes Detka," she says with a soft smile, "How about this, I make yours and you make mine?"

Slowly, you offer her the mix and she just laughs softly at your cuteness before motioning to the pancake that was on the stove.

"I do want edible pancakes though if you're going to make them," she taunts, making you swiftly flip the pancake over, releasing a sigh of relief when you see it isn't burnt.

A few minutes later, you have a plate of pancakes made for Wanda, her making the same for you and well... It's obvious whose are better. Despite the clear difference in standard level, Wanda still smiles brightly at you for making them for her, kissing your cheek and thanking you before taking a seat to eat them with whatever she likes on them.

The two of you have a casual conversation as you eat, both of you just relishing in the peaceful breakfast you can have with each other without the excitable twins. She tells you about the call she's going to have with Jennifer later, discussing how the divorce is going.

"How have the twins taken it?" you ask cautiously, not wanting to stick your nose in. She lets out a sigh and you think you shouldn't have said anything.

"Billy has taken it a lot better than Tommy. Billy... he seems like he's not minded the fact that Vision hasn't been here for a while Tommy keeps asking me when he's coming over next." You rest your hand over hers in a comforting manner, offering a small smile before hesitantly asking your next question.

"Do they know?"

"I've told them that Vision has been on a very long work trip and has been extremely busy at the moment but not that we are divorcing," she says, staring absentmindedly at the table. "I'm waiting for this last confirmation from Jen to tell them because her and Matt are trying to get it done as quickly and cleanly as possible."

"I'm sure they'll understand, they're extremely smart boys and love you more than anything. They only want what's best for you," she looks up at you due to your words, letting them sink in before leaning forwards to press her lips to yours briefly.

"Thank you Detka," she murmurs, pulling back and resting her head in her hand again as she looks at you. "What's your plan for today?" she asks while letting her fingers play with the end of your hoodie she's wearing.

"Yelena wants to go out for lunch today but other than that, nothing," you say, mimicking her position and looking into her eyes.

"That'll be nice for you both," she murmurs, her lips tugging into a smile as you just look so enamoured by her, "I'll probably still be in the office by then so just let yourself in and come in if you want," she mumbles, not too keen with the excessive workload. That's one of the cons of running a business.

***

"Hey Belova," your tone cheerful as you greet the blonde, her eyes rolling as you stand right next to her on purpose, knowing it annoys her a little.

"Hey Cyka," she says innocently, her tone pure contrasting her words for you. You just chuckle at her typical antics, loving her different sense of humour.

"Table is booked for twelve thirty so we have half an hour. What do you want to do?" looking up from your watch, you see a glint of sadness in her eyes causing your brows to furrow for a brief moment before she answers your question.

"Well, seen as you haven't seen Fanny in a while, I think we, as in you, should maybe buy her a new toy," she says nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders and already walking in the direction of the pet store across the road.

Jogging to catch up to her, you breathe out a laugh and start to walk by her side, "Oh do I now?" She hums in response, side eyeing you as you just laugh again. "Well, you haven't seen me in a while so I think you should buy me a toy," you tease as you enter the shop, the smell of dog and cat treats invading your nostrils causing your face to scrunch up at the overpowering smell.

"You want a toy?" she mocks, accent thick and voice slightly raspy while her lip stretches in a smirk upon seeing something, "Are you sure you don't want a collar? I'm sure Wanda would enjoy it," she teases, your jaw dropping as she just laughs at your red and flustered form struggling to come up with any sort of answer.

"That's not- We don't- We haven't-" Various words just stumble out of your mouth as you follow after her, her fingers checking the quality of all the stuffed toys for dogs.

"Do you think Fanny would tear through this easily?" she asks, switching the conversation for your health's sake making you smile in appreciation.

"No, I think that would be fine," you say, body turning back to your normal complexion as opposed to the flustered red. She hands you the item with a smile, you rolling your eyes as she just wanted to buy Fanny a new toy and you were the poor victim in her trap. "You know you're technically richer than me, why am I paying for this?" you say while walking up to the till, not actually bothered at the fact you have to pay as you did want to treat your favourite fluff ball.

"Who do you think is paying for lunch?" she answers as if it were obvious, raising her eyebrow at you while you bag the toy. Your mouth opens and the younger woman can already predict your protests, shushing you and telling you that she was paying. End of story.

***

Once you had finished the meal, unwillingly letting Yelena pay for the whole meal, you sat back in your seat and looked at the blonde, smiling at her. Your mind remembers back to the young little girl who always wanted to play with you and Natasha, desperate to join you in whatever activities you were doing.

"What?" her voice snapped you out of the little memory, her tone a little confused and annoyed as you ended up just smiling and staring at her.

"Nothing," you say shrugging your shoulders, "I was just thinking about the little, annoying girl who always wanted to play with Nat and I." Her eyes roll at your words, that disheartened look from earlier resurfacing.

"You make it sound like you're eighty and reliving your life," she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting back in the booth seat. Letting out a small chuckle, you let the conversation die out briefly, thinking about how to ask her what was wrong.

Yelena was just as stubborn as her sister when it came to talking about feelings and what was bothering her, never wanting to seem 'weak' as they'd both put it. However, after the many years you spent with them both, you learnt that being direct was often the best way to handle it, and if it didn't work, well... you didn't want to think about the other outcomes.

"What's wrong Yelena?" your voice was softer this time, eyes watching her reaction.

"Nothing's wrong," she dismisses and you just raise your eyebrow at her, not believing her in the slightest.

"Yelena, don't lie to me," your voice remains gentle as you try to get her to talk, "I know there's something bothering you. I'm not going to force you to tell me but I just want you to know that I'm here for you, ok? You don't have to bottle it up."

She remains quiet for a few minutes, your gaze turning to outside where you can watch people passing by. You watch a little girl walking with her parents, holding both their hands and looking up for them, giving them her best puppy eyes to get what she wants. When she laughs and giggles, you assume she gets her way and watch with a small smile as her parents swing her arms as they walk, lifting her up a little which causes a beaming smile to stretch across her face.

"Do...," when you hear Yelena start to speak, your head turns to look at her, "Do you miss spending time with us?" she asks, gaze on her fingers that are drumming against the table.

"Of course I do Yelena," your voice drips with sincerity, her gaze meeting yours as she continues.

"It's just, you're always with Wanda and Natasha is always with Maria," she mutters, looking away from you once more, "I just feel left out, I guess."

"I'm sorry we made you feel like that," her shoulders shrug, already trying to dismiss it.

"I don't want you to think you have to spend time with me though," you just shake your head at her words.

"Yelena, you and Natasha are two of the most important people in the world to me," her gaze softens while you speak, "You are both practically my sisters and believe me, I don't think I have to spend time with you, I want to." The corners of her lips tug up into a small smile, offering you a grateful look and a little thank you before telling you it was time she got back home, Melina wanting her to help with dinner that you were invited to.

"See you later Belova," you say while parting ways, her smile from earlier not fading as she flips you off as her usual way of saying goodbye.

***

Opening the door to the Maximoff residence with the spare key under the flower pot, you quickly take your shoes and jacket off before making a beeline through the house until you eventually reach Wanda's office. Knocking quietly, you slowly nudge the door open to see if Wanda was on the phone, not wanting to disrupt her work. When you see her slowly spinning around in her chair to look at the door, you discover she's not and walk over to her desk, leaning on it next to her.

"How was lunch Detka?" she asks while leaning back in her chair, head tilted towards you to show she is focussed on you not her work.

"It was really nice," she smiles in response to that, glad you enjoyed yourself, "But I think I might try and go out with Yelena and Nat a little more, I think Yelena is missing how much time we used to spend together."

"They're both welcome here if you want them to come over," she offers while moving to stand, slotting herself in between your legs and letting her hands rest on your waist. "We both know the twins adore them."

"That is true," your tone light as you think about the many times they've asked if they can play with the two sisters and 'Fluffy' again. "How's your day been?" A long, tired sigh is her answer, her face moving to rest at the crook of your neck as her body relaxes against you.

"Stressful," she mutters, her hot breath tickling your skin as she speaks. "Vision doesn't seem to want to cooperate with the terms we've set but seeing as they are the nicest they can be for him, we assume his lawyers will try and talk some sense into him."

"What a dick," you mumble out in response, earning a laugh from the older woman who moves away from your neck, mouth pressing against yours gently. Your gaze flickers from her eyes to her lips when she pulls back from the kiss, an idea entering your mind which causes your lips to tug into a smirk. Her brows furrowed in confusion but also curiosity as you smile teasingly at her, your hands moving to her hips to keep her close. "You know, I can think of a way for you to de-stress."

"Is that so?" she chuckles out, ghosting her lips over yours and moving closer to your body, "What are you thinking of, Detka?" She practically purrs the term of endearment making you press your lips to her passionately, her moaning softly into your mouth.

"Just let me take care of you," you rasp out against her lips, flipping the two of you around so that her back is against the desk, your mouths moving in sync with one another. Fingers thread through your hair as you slide your tongue into her mouth, your hands lowering until they could slide under her blouse, the small noise that slipped past from her lips telling you she was ok with this.

Your hands trailed the soft skin of her abdomen, mouth moving to pepper kisses along her jaw until you reached her ear, murmuring softly, "You're so beautiful," earning a low groan in response. "You're perfect my love," you whisper before her fingers gently tug your head back so her significantly darker eyes can meet your own, lust and desire swirling around the green of them.

"Bedroom," she whispers, slipping past your body and pulling your hand along with her.

Your mouths refuse to part once you enter the room, hands desperately clutching at each other as you eventually make it to the bed, your body falling back on the mattress. Effortlessly, her thighs wrap around your own, her body straddling yours while you look up at her, the word goddess floating around in your mind at the ethereal view of her.

"Come on Dekta," she teases as you're just admiring her at this point, "I need you." At her words, you sit up, crashing your lips back to hers as your fingers travel down her body, reaching the bare skin of her thighs where her skirt had hitched up. The soft skin entices you, letting your fingers slowly slide further up while you pull away to watch her reaction. Somehow, her eyes darken even more, head nodding to show you it was ok before a soft moan spills from her lips as your fingers brush over her core through her soaking panties. "Please," she sighs out sultrily while her hips slowly move against your hand.

"Patience," you mutter against her lips with a smile, the sharp intake of breath when you slide your finger up and down the fabric of her panties causing your mind to cloud with arousal. "You have to have patience my love," you tease, earning a harsher grind of her hips against your hand.

"I have patience Detka, but right now, I need you to fuck me," her voice is laced with dominance and fuck that was hot. Listening to her, you move her panties to the side and let your finger slide through her dripping core, a low moan muffled by your lips.

"Fuck, you're so wet," you groan out, your mind reeling with the fact that you made her this wet, this desperate. Your finger moves to circle her clit, her mouth parting into an 'o' shape as moans your name, the action making you move your kisses to her neck.

"Shit Detka," she moans as the feeling of your lips littering kisses along her neck and fingers moving to her entrance has her pleasure flooding through her body. A louder moan is ripped from the back of her throat when you slide a finger into her, her warm and wet cunt wrapping around your finger as you thrust it in and out of her as best you could in this position. "That's it, just like that," she sighs out, tugging your head back so she can passionately claim your lips over and over again until you are both panting for breath. "Good girl," she husks out, making you moan against her lips at the praise, her lip tugging into a smile at your reaction.

"Fuck," you mutter against her lips, her fingers tightening their hold in your hair as you slide in another finger, curling them against her g-spot while her hips rock in your lap against your hand.

"You're making me feel so good Detka," she continues to praise you, revelling in the reaction she's getting before cursing lowly in Sokovian and moving to hide her face at your neck. The feeling of her hot and ragged breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, the way her walls tighten around your fingers adding to the heat burning through your body.

Your thumb moves to circle her clit, earning a broken moan in response as her mouth presses hot open mouthed kisses along your neck. You can feel her legs start to tremble around yours, showing that she's close and continue to pump your fingers in and out of her until she's unabashedly moaning against your neck.

"Fuck Detka, I'm so close," she manages out between sinful noises, your free hand moving to guide her hips as they start to stutter. Her legs tighten around your body as she crashes head first into her orgasm, biting down on your neck to muffle the scream that leaves her lips as pleasure floods through her body. Her moans soon turn to small whimpers while you let her move against your fingers to ride out the aftershocks of her orgasm.

The two of you remain like that for a moment, letting Wanda recover before she pulls away from your neck, eyes widening at the mark she's left there. Her fingers softly trace the mark, a small wince forming on her face making her apologise before softly connecting your lips, letting her fingers move to your shoulders while you softly squeeze her waist with your clean hand.

She climbs off you and lays on the bed, you leaning over to kiss her before quickly going to the bathroom to wash your hands and get her a glass of water, returning with the item causing a soft smile to adorn her features.

"Thank you Detka," she whispers while you move to lay next to her, letting her rest her head on your shoulder after taking a sip. A comfortable silence takes over the room, her arm wrapped around your body to which your fingers trail up and down, the simple action causing the older woman to relax into your body. "The boys will be dropped off soon," she says with her eyes closed, relishing in the moment a little longer. "Do you want to stay for dinner? Mama and Papa will be there," she asks while opening her eyes to look at you.

"I'll let you all enjoy a family dinner," you reply, not wanting to seem rude for refusing the offer but she smiles in understanding, "I need to have a word with Nat anyway and Yelena invited me over for dinner."

"That's fine Detka," she whispers softly before kissing you once more and moving her body closer to yours, savouring the comforting and peaceful moment with you.

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tinycozycomfort · 1 year ago

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rest in the cup of my palms (part three)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter three: compromise

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: joel helps you work through your doubts.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn / (for this chapter) -> sad thoughts about fatherhood, idolization!!, oral sex (f receiving), edging

word count: 5k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: thank you for your patience and thank you as always for reading! and special thank you to @pascalisbaby for bearing with me as i cried my way through this i love u

read on ao3 / main masterlist

“For the first time, I could clearly perceive the nature of feelings and emotions—I physically felt their consistency… the surge of a wave, the crumbling of a cliff… I understood the necessity of comparisons and metaphors using water and fire.”

Annie Ernaux, Simple Passion

───────

Minutes go by, but sluggishly, painfully—a dull crawl that mimics the cinematic use of slow-motion. The fracturing feels pre-climactic and almost momentous, too-long strides of seconds that pave the way for something grand.

In reality, you’re just waiting; in this barely-lit, one shot hallway, aptly partnered by a life-sized amount of discomfort. You feel like a piece of something sprouted up from cement, forced into a mold not made with you in mind—love and like and candy-sweet, feverish feelings—unable to be removed now that you’ve grown in over the lip. Reaching for the sun. And he’s beautiful above you, radiant enough to burn behind closed eyelids—the image that shines there a carefully chosen snapshot that only adds height to where he hangs in the sky.

You’ve become so tired already, from the work-up and the frustration and the effort to stop it—like being outside all day with no reprieve until sunset; he’s that strong. It’s been restraint, followed by actions that negate it, followed by reinstating restraint, and still it doesn’t stop daylight from happening. Morning and high noon and six-o-clock oranges will never stop happening, so why not free yourself of the excessive rumination and the fighting? You’d much rather try to brave him—sunscreen and shade and a flat hand above your brow. Trying is good, easy, uncomplicated. Tonight, you can try. This is a good idea.

He’ll be here soon to prove it, too—on his way to come collect you, confirmed by the oblong rectangle of text on the brick clutched in your fist.

You move enough that it wakes up again, ’Fifteen minutes.’ flashing across its face, burning under the pad of your thumb. The thing is overheating now, somehow having absorbed some of the furious twisting of your excitement, and you shove it deep into your bag to let it cool—too honest of a mirror.

You will your body to restart, moving back out onto the yard in search of Ian, to warn him of your exit—the only courtesy you have enough patience to give—frantic to get to the good part.

You find him out by the flame, one foot resting on the brick-lined ledge of the pit, a still-full beer bottle tight in his grip. It’s tepid, too, if the lack of condensation is any indication. You curl your nose and he tips the top towards you, a waft of sour citrus pouring out.

“What happened? My friend came back very upset that you were gone,” he teases, cocking a smile and rolling his neck over in question, languid and unserious.

“I’m leaving, actually. Didn’t want to go without saying.” You knock the bottle with the back of your hand until it threatens to spill over in the other direction. It’s unoffending, really, a nervous reaction, but it has him visibly questioning what ten minutes out of view had done to make you so taut.

He straightens up minutely at your unrest, only enough to reel back his exaggerated demeanor without drawing looks, “Are you good to drive? I haven’t had any of this yet—I can take you home.”

“I’m not driving. I’ve got a ride.”

“With?”

“Joel’s going to come get me.”

His eyes widen, mouth spreading with what you’re sure are five too many questions, so you stop him before he can continue—afraid to mar his night with what you imagine would be too much to navigate right now, “I’ll explain tomorrow. Text me when you get home. I love you. I’m fine.”

Part of you—a part that has no say right now—feels guilty for doing this to him a second time, for putting your friend through another half-witnessed, poorly justified fit of emotional anguish. He was the one who brought you here, to get away from this very thing, but somewhere in your bag there’s a faint stir, hard vibration jostling the contents, and you fail to think Ian through, again.

He’s barely even started to nod before you turn, slipping through the side gate and out onto the lawn.

It only takes another handful of stretched-out moments—time lost completely on you now—before opaque beams cast across the curve of the street from the top of the cul-de-sac. They drop off into low-lights once the driver registers your presence and you push forward on shaky legs, knees locking—blood having gathered in your chest from anticipation, sloshing around your heart and cutting off circulation to your limbs.

The vehicle—a truck—passes you, hitting the end of the block and returning up the drive, passenger door addressing you when it stops, your reflection warped in its convex surface. The window rolls down with a whir, and Joel’s face appears in the slit, eyes tired and hair flattened unintentionally—you absolutely woke him up.

You let yourself in, hiking up a static-logged leg to settle in the seat before he pulls off back onto the street. It’s silent for too long, and you’re returning to a familiar feeling of acceptance, just like all the nights in your past where you’d admitted to yourself that you were going home with someone, driven by fuzzy feelings of instant connection and promise. It makes him easier to grasp—more human-like.

“You were asleep,” you mumble sheepishly, acknowledging his unpreparedness in an attempt to forgive your own.

“‘Wasn’t supposed to be. I was waiting up for Ellie. I—uh, I thought you were her when you called.”

He sounds just as level as he had on the phone, fingers rapping rhythmically on the steering wheel, “She texted a few hours ago to let me know she was out for the night. I fell asleep before I could see it.”

Joel tucks the corner of his elbow in the window, laying his cheek on curled knuckles, and you chance a real glance at him for the first time.

His dark blue t-shirt is wrinkled where it had been bunched at the torso, hanging limply now over a pair of rumpled jeans. Creases of sofa or pillow-case run up like tendrils on the skin of his arm, pressed in at various degrees of depth—restless enough to continue to pivot, even in repose.

He looks homey, spun out of flesh-colored wool thread and plush, unlike the fatigue you’d seen on him in the classroom, or the buzz of anxious tension on the side of the school a few days ago. Here he’s just Joel, free of the idea of him or his actions; just-awake Joel with nothing to say except the truth. Pressure sits weighted on your shoulders, lingering guilt from choosing to savor, even if within the safety of emotional distance. It’s okay to look, isn’t it? Although looking isn’t all you had in mind.

“Can we go to your house?”

“Did you drink?”

Joel peers over his shoulder at you, and he looks meek but not small, like the question itself isn’t embarrassing but the act of asking it is. Oh. You remember your last encounter, how you’d blamed your exit on the wine, and your heart constricts at the idea that he’s asking because he’s afraid you’ll leave again. In all honesty, you wish you could leave, be strong-willed enough to have him let you out a block from your front door, never to be seen again. But you’re weak, at the mercy of your need to test your limits, your brain dipping into its reserve while your body fights to feign presence, hands rolling into fists in your lap.

“No. I haven't gone out much since the break started. Decided against getting fucked up.”

He hums, satisfied, eyes falling ahead. The tires grind under you, lulling you into another tense quiet until he’s pulling up to the front of a well-kept, stone-faced home at the end of a short street. You lean forward to see more of it beyond the curve of the windshield, lined in copper trim with fender-shaped dents bruising the cover of the garage. It’s a call-back to grade school—what limited experience you had traversing the suburbs as a child—visiting friends in large, traditional houses with pretty concrete fountains and security-alarm signs forced into panels of fresh grass.

Joel steps out and comes around the car to open your door before you have the chance to do it yourself, popping open the handle and stilling for a second before just stepping out of your way, perhaps in the sake of not being overly cliche. You try to appear unaffected by the notion, climbing down with a smile and sealing the door behind you, but you inwardly relish in his considered movements—he’s taming himself for you.

He leads you into the house—as quaint as it seemed to be—smelling warm and peppery like heat-soaked wood. It’s very much lived in, riddled with evidence of use—scuff marks at the threshold and smudged fingerprints in the dark paint on the walls where boots were taken off with the assistance of a grip. A side table brackets one side of the entrance, littered with bobbles and keys and a few other store-bought treasures. At its closest foot are several pairs of little sneakers, piled tall and wide on a wedge of rug, too narrow to be Joel’s.

Ellie.

There are signs of her everywhere, this faceless extension of him, her name scribbled on a few papers on the table and in the corners of framed drawings in the hallway; gorgeous hand, she has—all of the figures looking as true to life as they could, even when confined to paper cages. She lines the edges of their domicile, a path of lovingly curated representations of her, right down to a monogrammed leather sketchbook that sits on the dining table.

And everywhere she is, he follows. Parts of him loom over her place-holders—guitar picks marked J in a dish with a box of charcoal nubs, a rolled up wad of button-up laid over a dark green backpack, a men’s watch sharing space on the counter with two tiny drops of backed silver. He watches over her within the borders of every container, open and solidly present behind her like a tough-knit net—ready to catch.

You step out of your shoes and he walks further in the house with haste, knocking around in what you assume is the kitchen when he returns with a glass of water.

“For you,” as he passes it, “Just in case.”

“Thank you.”

He curls a thumb into a belt loop at his waist, body teetering awkwardly as he watches you drink. You note the more-than-safe distance he’s put between you, the same kind he had implemented last week between his heart-wrenching confession and the point where this entanglement had escalated.

“Okay, so. I’m going to change. Do you want something too?”

You can’t help but smile, a nervous laugh held tight in your throat, “Yes, we can go to your room.”

Even in the dark, you don’t miss the flush of red along his jaw, the same shade he’d worn in the gallery, wine-soaked and unpracticed.

You flinch inwardly. How is it that you are remembering so much about him when he’s existed in your world for less time than should be notable? Only two interactions, now three, but they’ve earned their slot in your fondest of memories; nothing substantial provided still, and he casts your sunrises and warms your earth. You fear what touching him again will do to you.

Joel smiles something shy back, walking past you and motioning for you to do the same. He leads you back through the display, minding the little shoes as he climbs up the steps.

There are photos lining the staircase, less symbolic than the downstairs decorations, but just as revealing. A few of Joel and another man, similar in stature with a full smile and thick, slicked back hair, clasping shoulders or standing pin-straight side by side at different ages in mall-kiosk, christmas card style. Another of a young girl, all teeth and sparse freckles and pale cheeks. She’s wearing a cap and gown, shiny polyester catching in the flash, edges hazy with blur.

That’s her. His daughter. You’ve seen her, you realize, from a few modeling sessions you’d done when you offered to cover for the younger students. You already knew her, too, floating around more than a few hellos on the days you’d sat for her like a silent idol. It feels odd to be in her home now, the two of you connected in a way she hasn’t come to partake in quite yet. She’s been at the head of your conversations with Joel until now—in this moment when she’s here but not here—and you wonder how much he’s considered her place in all this. You should at least thank her, you suppose; nod at her picture in prayer or cross your fingers that you might actually get to meet her—see her again, rather—and get to say it to her face.

Joel walks ahead of you as you linger, unbothered by your interest. You’re glad he does when you reach the last row.

A larger frame bookends the slideshow, standing alone in its unique appearance. It’s hand-made, a thin string of painted ferns on the edges, the wings of something like a butterfly or moth wrapping over the right-hand corner, precise and niche enough to be nothing other than a gift. The picture inside is of the two of them together, happy and puffy-cheeked with their arms wrapped around each other, back-lit in front of some kind of museum display.

Pure joy. His comfort.

A swell of pain lodges in your ribs, eyes drawing wet. He’s losing her, you think, in a way he hasn’t even begun to realize. He's missed so much of her life—at no fault of their own—and will pursue her future as a bystander. You long to give him some kind of relief in that, maybe out of pity or maybe out of need. You wanted to be on your own, you wanted to be separated from everyone else out of spite for letting your family and your ex tower over you, heavy-handing their influence in false gestures of kindness. Not loving. Never loving—only present in best interests and helpful advice. Things that gave you purpose and points. Who was tallying? What have you to show for it now?

You only ever wanted acceptance from them, to be recognized as a person instead of as a student or a daughter or a girlfriend—to be able to transcend role and become an active participant.

It’s too perfect, this thing you each individually lack; what comes of someone who cares and someone who needs caring?

“Hey.” Joel calls from the end of the room, pulling you out of your dissection of his life, voice soft like he’s seeing an apparition he’s unsure is there.

“Hi.” You whisper, walking towards him, ignoring his tentative boundary, “You know, I did everything in my power to not call you.” There’s no point in keeping secrets now, from him or yourself.

He crowds you in the doorway, body slumping on the line of his spine so he can entrap you more securely, u-shaped shoulders and outward facing palms, “Why did you call?”

“I couldn’t help it,” and before he can interrupt, “Joel, I need you to know that this isn’t going to end well.”

“End? Have we started?”

“We were doing this before we both knew it, I think. That’s what you were talking about, right—like we’ve met before?”

“That’s right.” He’s breathing shallowly, unable to hide his desire for proximity now that you’ve allowed him more than he started with, chest moving back and forth like the breeze of the heater is enough to push his tide, “And I meant it.”

“So did I.”

“Then what are you so scared of? If it’s familiar?” His knee knocks into the slice of thigh above yours. He’s getting closer.

“Just because I want you now doesn’t mean I should have you.”

“What if I want you to have me?”

“Even worse.” The heat of his face leaks out onto yours and you open yourself to it—the hot sun in July, the boiling rain of mid-summer, all encompassing and working hard to bring you up to temperature so you can burn along with it. Setting you ablaze.

You lean up, the tip of your nose catching on the stubble lining his jaw, careful to not break eye contact for longer than the briefest moment, nudging him in short taps.

“I do, though, honey. I think you know I do.” His knee pushes between yours, digging into the joint of your leg to unfold you, the rough denim over his zipper dragging across the knob of your hip.

You curl a hand around the fabric covering his stomach, wrinkling it past the point of correction as it folds under the damp of your fist. He’s far from at length now, both nothing of what you intended and exactly what you wanted. He’s thrilled about it too, seemingly—the muscle under his torso fluttering when your nails drag against him.

He’s everything again, everywhere, soft tanned skin and jeans he came up here to ‘change out of’, the invisible halo around him swallowing you, coaxing you into his orbit. You want all of it, piece by piece and for all he’s worth.

“I don’t want to waste you,” you murmur, and there’s that unashamed boldness again, honesty rushing out like an unsupervised beast. Joel wraps his thick fingers around the side of your neck, thumb pushing into soft cheek, between rows of teeth and over skin, pushing them apart.

His eyes are glossy, like he’s just gotten up from a long sleep, gauzy and sloppy and sticky. His mouth hangs open to mimic yours as he speaks, “You couldn’t. I have an endless amount to give,” and then he’s licking the outline of your open lips, slipping his tongue in to press along the roof of your mouth and up up up to the back of your teeth. He’s puffing hard out of his nose, dipping in and out of your split, licking even the pad of his thumb where it pokes through the hollow, touching himself inside you.

His free hand grips the top of your ribs, leading you backwards towards the bed until you’re seated at the edge of it, his back curved harshly to continue to taste you.

You’re kissing him back, you know that, but your thoughts float up to cloud your pleasure and you’re getting ahead of yourself all over again. What does he want? Why does he want it? Would he be upset to learn you’re trying to give him less? You flip the hem of his shirt between your forefinger and thumb, toes curling against the carpet—walking that line of self-doubt.

He breaks away, so careful again even with no clear need to be, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just nervous.”

“About now? Or about me?”

“Both.”

“Just talk to me, then. Tell me why we shouldn’t—we can work through it together. Let me take some of that worry off of you.”

Joel braces a knee on the corner of the mattress to hold himself steady, gripping you under the joints of your shoulders and pulling you towards the center of the bed. He deposits your body like nothing, kneeling at the apex of your thighs.

Your voice shakes, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He works at the buttons on your shirt with long fingers, drawing it over the hills of your shoulders until your collar rolls in on itself from the force, falling away. Joel wraps the layer over the panel of your jacket and pulls, undressing you like he has to memorize how to be able to put you back together. He does the same with your bra, achingly slow, but you can feel tiny tremors in his wrist as it runs against your back.

You just watch for a minute, unable to link what he’s doing to reality, arms feeling weak like the dull ache of a full-body cold, akin to sickness.

“Go on, honey. Only gonna keep going as long as you do.”

“I— I feel connected to you. I don’t want to.”

He closes his eyes and bobs his head, I understand, and your body starts to feel numb at your core, pulsing so violently it prompts you to roll your ankle to make sure you haven’t left it behind.

“More,” he pants, running fully-spread hands over every piece of bare skin, your nipples pulling tight as the motions move from gentle to greedy, passing to tugging.

“I can’t do this again. I have a hard time letting go. What if you want me for the wrong reason and I can’t hate you for it?”

He pops the button of your pants, lifting you up off the bed to take the garment down and off, dipping his fingers into the rim of each of your socks on the way to remove them at the same time.

You push your forefingers into the band of your underwear, but Joel meets your hand as you start, winding a finger around the lace and pulling opposite so they catch—leave these on.

You comply, but you know you’re already wet through them, know that he can see it, and you can’t decide if you want him to know his effect on you, legs buckling in no clear direction; but he feels so good, and he’s almost where you want him, and he’s waiting for you to keep talking, so you lean into the heat. You spread.

“It’s easy to tell myself you’re different once I’m in it. But it never works out right. I get too attached.”

Joel settles in, shouldering the left side of his body under your thigh to bring you open further, wrapping his arm around it and letting a hand situate against your belly. He turns his right palm away from himself, flattening it like a warning sign before he pushes it against the crease of your cunt, rubbing in slow circles with the curve of his fingers, right under the points. You thrash, trying to force him just an inch up to where you’re throbbing, but he doesn’t budge—he’s making you earn it.

“What if you just want me because you think you need someone to take care of? What if you find out you feel better alone?”

He dips two fingers into your cunt through the film of your underwear, shallow but firm—more than just curious. You feel like you might just come from this, from just the suggestion of him.

He uses his forearm to butt against the underside of your thigh, prompting you to lift it towards your chest, and he leans down to cup your clit into his mouth, fabric and all. His mouth is searing with the aid of the material, a tight suction that insulates the heat he’s expelling.

You’re heaving now, light-headed and loose as broad strokes of his tongue soak the already tainted cloth, the extra stimulation from its drag enough to make your head spin. You’re sure that if you breathe any harder your chest will cave in.

“Hm?” He asks against you, demanding, the vibration of it setting your skin alight, and you force your nails into the dip of your hand to keep your mind in the room. You’re stuttering, but it’s not enough of a response, so he leans back—cruel and merciless.

“What did I say?” he coos, left hand pinching into the swell of flesh at your side.

It stings but you gasp, eager to take, even if the attention so so far away from where it should be, and you have to count your breaths out in groups of five to come back into focus.

“What if I’m willing to take what you give me? Does that ruin the safety I’ve built for myself?” you whisper, and finally he peels back the curtain of fabric, only enough to present your entrance, rough fingers greeting your opening with no resistance, twisting and hooking them so just the tips are fixed inside. He positions himself above his hand, spitting onto your still-covered clit, watching it slide down and gather where you join. It’s unnecessary, with how much slick you know is pooled there, trailing down onto the sheets under you, but you chalk it up to just having another piece of him inside of you—you’ll gladly accept it.

You’re so very close, and he can tell, maybe from the shake in your hoisted leg or the lack of time in between airy cries, and he just slides in, right to the first knuckle. No room to be ready.

The sound of blood rushing in your ears is so loud you don’t hear yourself when you start begging. You writhe under the hold he has on you, relieved and overwhelmed and a few inches from your soul pouring right out of your body.

And then he’s not moving again, lessening the recovery time he’s willing to allow you, and you try to dig through the fog of arousal to find real words, but your mind can only conjure up a single-syllable sentence as you beg him to relent.

He frees himself from the clutch of your leg, shimmying out so he can use his unsodden hand to cradle your head, the weight of your skull limp in his palm, “You can do it. Get it all off your chest.”

Joel presses his thumb up under your cheek, pulling at the crease of your lips like he can will you to speak with force alone.

“I can’t. Please. Just finish.”

“You have something else you want to say. I don’t take kindly to giving up. C’mon.”

He gives you a half-step, reminding you part of him is still within you, fingers curling up against the soft muscle and you skip over a hard inhale.

“How am I supposed to know what I’m up against if you won’t tell me?” He says it like it’s obvious, like this is some very common step in relationship-building—finger-fucking you as a reward for confessing your skepticism.

You’re tense, holding the whole of your body in one, tiny scrap of you and it feels like you’ve entered some kind of limbo, suspended in the place between tension and relief, so close to falling that you’re not sure you want either of them.

He angles himself again, pushing his entire heft into your hip with a wide hand so he can fit himself flat against the bed, mouth hovering over your cunt again. He exhales hard over you, the fingers still tucked in your cunt moving as he adjusts.

“Please?” He begs sweetly, high enough on the end that you know he’s mocking you, “You can do better than please.”

You huff hard, swallowing thickly—trying again, “What if you—What if—,” you manage, and the lead-up must be convincing enough because he bows again, body fully flat so he can latch on to your clit with his mouth, lips closing tight around the bud through cotton and sucking hard, the hand inside you stirring to life, his twisted positive reinforcement serving you well.

“Fuck, Joel. Fuck—What if you make me love you, just to leave me?”

Your ankle drifts down to find purchase against his waist, and you can feel him moving, working himself into the mattress. In the chaos, you’d forgotten about his want, and being reminded of his ability to take makes your sweat run cold. He could fuck you now, and instead he’s fucking the bed thinking about you—even bringing you to completion is enough to make him chase release. You lean your head back behind your shoulders, your orgasm overtaking you one harsh wave at a time, stomach filling with thick, hot syrup. You push your teeth so deep into your lip there has to be blood but you can’t taste it, all of your senses honed onto where he’s unraveling you, shrinking in on itself in preparation to violently burst.

He weighs in, now that you’re already cresting, “I won’t leave you, sweetheart. Not now that I know what you need.”

His admission, his promise, is enough to make you see white, pushing your peak into overstimulation far too soon, and you have to be crying or begging or something because he immediately slows, winding you down in an organic way—taking his time leading you past bliss.

He pulls his hand free of you, sliding his grip over the damp, half-mounted fabric and peeling it away, hand circling your calf to maneuver you gently.

You’re fully naked now, and when he rolls over to stand at the foot of the bed, you remember he’s still clothed. There he is, above you again like he brings the dawn, bent shirt and uneven waistband and shiny slip over his lips.

It looks different from your memory though, here he looks inexplicably pained, face wrinkled, and then settles another reminder—he hadn’t come.

“Wait, Joel.”

He doesn’t answer, just recedes to another part of the room you can’t see over your heap of arms and legs.

You’re still swallowing ragged mouthfuls of air, not quite normal, when he reappears, the feeling of hot cloth against your still fragile cunt makes you writhe.

“Joel.”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t get to… finish,” you mutter, and how you’re too embarrassed to address his arousal even after what just transpired is beyond you.

“No need to rush anything. I can take care of myself for now, plenty of time to get to that point.”

“What now, then?”

“Sleep with me. I can take you home if you want, or to your car, but I would much rather if you stayed.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

#joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fic #joel miller/reader

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marvelouslizzie · 2 years ago

Text

unconventional methods - chapter 2

Summary: Bucky Barnes struggles with his feelings towards Bunny, leading him to make a big mistake. Now he must make it right. It means doing something he is uncomfortable with.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader (SHIELD Agent Bucky Barnes x Adult Content Creator Reader)

Word Count: 6.7K

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, texting, overthinking, self-doubt, misunderstandings, pet names, video call, mutual masturbation, slight dirty talk if you squint, metal arm use, use of a dildo, teasing, small dose of sub/dom dynamic, no mention of y/n.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who showed interest in the first chapter. I really didn't expect this story to get the attention it did. Means a lot to me. If you didn't read the first chapter, you definitely should before reading this one.

unconventional methods - chapter 1

marvelous lizzie's masterlist

This story will end with chapter three, which will most likely come out the following Sunday (12th March)

Once again >> indicates incoming messages and <<; indicates outgoing messages.

Once again a big thank you to @notafunkiller and @es1dit for everything. Extra thanks to @notafunkiller for the beta-read and for helping me to improve the story. You two are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Every like, comment and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message me or send me a question or comment regarding the stories I write. I would love to talk about it and no, it would never bother me as long as it’s not a hate comment. They are never welcome.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

Gifs belong to @fysebastianstan I wanted to add them through Tumblr gifs but couldn't find them that way. I hope it's alright to use them and if not, I can remove them if requested.

<<< Previous Chapter

After that magical night, Bucky found himself overthinking again. He was definitely struggling with the feelings he had for her. They were sexual, but that was not all. He had been in only sexual relationships before the war. It was like an agreement: purely sexual and for fun. Some girls wanted a bit more experience before finding the love of their lives, and it was totally fine, but this… this definitely wasn’t the same. He was feeling possessive over her and the feeling was so strange, especially considering they did not even meet face to face.

Of course, he knew he wasn’t the only person she was sharing this side of herself with. Posting adult content was literally her job. There was no doubt other men would like to get closer to her and she would probably talk to them a little, see how she feels and if things fall into place, they would get to see this side of her and she would get aroused just for them. A rare sight. Anybody would be lucky to witness that.

He still couldn’t believe she was into him. It was probably more of the idea of him, not the real him since she didn’t know who he actually is, right? He knew his dick wasn’t a disappointment, his body was fine, but definitely could be better. There was always space for improvement. She did not see the metal arm or his face. She only heard his voice, saw some parts of his body, and created a different version of Bucky. Not even Bucky, James. Some 33-year-old dude named James who was partially good-looking. In her mind, he must be someone else, completely different from reality.

That was what she should be for him too, right? Some random super attractive girl on the internet who was willing to talk to him? Nothing more. Yet he couldn’t force himself to feel nothing but sexual attraction toward her. He tried to focus on work, but he couldn’t. Mission reports were always boring anyway. How were they supposed to distract him?

>> Hey handsome, I hope you’re having a good day.

Her texting him doesn’t help, either. It’s just making it harder for him to stay away. He needed to distance himself, get a new perspective and maybe, maybe have a chance to realize he was being ridiculous. But she was so hard to resist her, especially when she was just wishing him a good day like this, with no expectation or pressure.

<< Hey, Bunny. It’s boring, but I’ll survive. I hope you are having a good day.

>> Oh, I’m having a great day. Especially after last night…

Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath when he read the message. He just wished she wouldn’t bring it up. It was great, he can’t deny it, but he knew… he fucking knew it was nothing special for her, and remembering that just broke his heart a little more. She shouldn’t have to act like it meant something to her. The idea of her faking something was just unbearable.

<< You know you don’t have to…

>> I don’t have to what?

<< I’m grateful that you made me feel special. It felt great, but I know I’m not special or anything and you don’t have to act like I am. It’s fine.

Her responses came in so quickly, he had a bit of a hard time following them.

>> What the fuck, James?

>> What the actual fuck?

>> Do you think I am doing this with everyone?

>> Is that how low you think of me?

>> You think I open my messages, talk to the ones that seem okay, and send them special photos in my spare time?

>> Why would I fucking do that? What am I gaining? Loyal followers? More paying customers? People don’t wanna pay shit for things they can get for free. I know that better than anyone. It’s my job!

>> You think I pick the ones that are good-looking, and just have fun? If that were the case you wouldn’t even have a chance! Do you know why? You don’t even have a profile picture! I didn’t even know your name for days! I don’t even know if you are single or married or divorced!

>> If you think I’m treating loyal customers like this or something you are wrong. God, I feel so stupid because I thought you were different. Why would you be any different than the others? Just because you respected my boundaries, just because you didn’t ask for private photos, and just because you reminded me of those gentlemen from 40s movies, it doesn’t mean you are not after the same thing they are.

>> You have no idea what I am risking just by talking with you. God, I’m so stupid.

>> You got what you want and now you are done with the small talk. I get it. I’m backing off. Sorry for disturbing you.

<< Bunny, bunny, bunny!

<< No, please, stop! That’s not what I meant.

<< Please, give me a chance to explain myself.

<< Please.

<< That’s not what this was, believe me.

>> Explain what? How this is nothing special for you? It was just a bit of fun time with the girl you were following online? I don’t want to hear it.

>> You don’t have to explain anything to me. You don’t owe me an explanation, I’m just a random girl who shares adult content. Obviously, I have no soul or feelings.

<< I’m the one who has feelings for you, okay?! I didn’t think you would find me interesting or special because I don’t feel like I am.

<< I am sorry. I think I was just projecting. That’s what my therapist would say.

<< I just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable with my feelings. I thought they would be totally unrequited.

>> You have feelings for me?

>> You better not be lying to get out of trouble, James!

<< I’m not, I swear. Just give me a chance, okay?

>> Fine. You get one chance. Tonight. You explain yourself on a video call or I’m not talking to you anymore.

<< Whatever you want, doll. Whatever you want. Just don’t step out of my life.

***

The day did not seem to pass fast enough. It felt like time was standing still just to torture Bucky more. The work was much more boring than usual: a lot of paperwork, signatures, and chasing the right people. Not that he was chasing anyone. He was sitting and pitying himself while waiting for Natasha to show up. He just wanted to get up and leave, but apparently, it wasn’t possible. When Natasha finally stepped inside, Bucky groaned out of frustration.

“Oh, fucking finally, Romanoff.”

Natasha didn’t even look at him.

“I was busy. What do you need?”

“A couple of signatures.” She leaned in and started to sign the papers as quickly as possible. She was never reading what she was signing because who had time to read a 25-page-long mission report? Apparently, Bucky Barnes because he had to write it from the scratch. Like his day wasn’t horrible enough... “I wish we could just go on missions, and that would be it.”

“Oh, that’s the dream, Barnes. That’s the dream.” She finally put her pen down. “I’ve been writing the mission reports for months. It’s your turn now, stop complaining.”

“I know, I know.” He accepted the defeat much easier than he normally would.

“Are you alright?”

Bucky looked up at her from his seat. Was he alright? Definitely not. He could feel a heavy knot inside his chest, burning his lungs and stomach while he was waiting for tonight. Of course, he wasn’t going to say that to Romanoff.

“I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like you are. Whatever it is, stop overthinking.”

“Easier said than done,” he murmured.

“Look, I know it’s not an on-off switch, but you gotta try a little bit harder. Shift your focus on something else or just face whatever makes you this… uneasy.”

“I’m gonna face it. Shifting my focus is not helping.”

Natasha gave him a suspicious look. She had no idea what this was about, but she had a feeling it might be because of the pretty girl she suggested to him. Or was it just wishful thinking? No, wishful thinking wasn’t something she did often. She was always a big realist and something was definitely up with Barnes.

“Good.” She simply answered. She knew him well enough to guess pressuring him to talk wouldn’t work on him. “We have a meeting tomorrow.”

Bucky groaned in frustration because he was just done with the mission report and now SHIELD was ready to send them in another mission again.

“We need a break.”

“This one is pretty urgent. Apparently, it’s been an undercover operation for a while now and they finally got the info they need. We’ll need to leave right after the meeting.”

“An undercover operation, huh? Interesting.”

“Be here at 9. Fury wants us all present, it’s really important.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be there.”

***

Bucky had no idea when the video call was gonna happen, but he was already feeling too self-conscious. His face was known to most people all over the world since he was accused of killing the king of Wakanda. Then working for SHIELD became a big deal. He wasn’t sure how Bunny would react when she realized he was the Winter Soldier. He wasn’t ready for that.

>> Are you there? I’m available for that video chat.

<< I am.

>> OK. I’m calling you.

He quickly turned his laptop on, hoping he would keep the camera off for the conversation. Maybe just hearing his voice would be enough for her.

“James?” Her voice was so soft and silky. Hearing her saying his name like that made him shiver a little.

“Yes, doll?”

“Why is your camera off?” Of course, she wasn’t gonna let it go. What was he even thinking?

“I am not…” He actually didn’t know what to say. “I don’t feel comfortable…”

“You don’t feel comfortable with me? Is that what you’re saying?” She definitely sounded offended.

“No, it’s not like that. I don't feel comfortable... and you might not feel comfortable either."

“Why?”

“It’s hard to explain.” He was hoping she would just let it go.

“Try me.” She didn’t.

“Please, doll… Let’s just talk.” He was practically begging at this point.

“Jamie, if you don’t turn the camera on, I’m leaving. We can’t continue like this.” She sounded so determined, it was scary. And her calling him Jamie? A part of him melted. He had noticed how her calling him Jamie influenced him in this way. Maybe because his mom called him Jamie when he was little. Bucky came later when he was a teenager. Before that, he was Jamie at home.

“Don’t. Please, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Call you Jamie?” The defensive tone of her voice was breaking his heart.

“Don’t leave.” He quickly turned the camera on, afraid she might just leave. Then he heard her gasp. Fuck, she’s scared, he thought. “I told you it might be uncomfortable.”

She quickly pulled herself together.

“Yeah, it’s so uncomfortable looking at that pretty face.” She managed to say, trying to hide her surprise. “Or those blue eyes. Do you ever look in the mirror Bu-bunny?”

“Bunny?” He repeated confused. “You are the bunny, not me, doll.”

“If you say so.” She shrugged, licking her lips nervously. “I can’t believe you have been hiding this face all this time.” she tried to focus on him. “Why did you even think I would be uncomfortable?”

“Don’t you know… who I am?” he sounded nervous again, thinking he might have to explain his past. It’s always tedious. How can you say you were a brainwashed assassin in a less threatening way? You can’t. That was the problem.

“I know you were the Winter Soldier if that’s what you are asking.”

Oh.

“That explains the reaction.”

“No, it was because of your pretty face. Not because of your past. I’m in no position to judge you for your past. Whatever you did, you had no control over it. That’s pretty obvious.”

“How can you be so sure?” His question came instantly.

“Maybe I can tell you how and why one day, but not today.” She sounded a bit uncomfortable, so Bucky didn’t want to push her.

“Whenever you want, Bunny. I will always be here to listen.”

“Can I see your arm?” The change of topic came too suddenly. Her question caught Bucky off guard.

“Huh?”

“Your metal arm. It’s vibranium, right?” She was talking about the arm he has been trying to hide so hard. Does she really want to see that arm?

“Yes, it is.” He tried to sound as normal as possible.

“Can I see it?” She repeated eagerly.

Without saying anything, Bucky curled up his sleeve to reveal a part of his arm, still feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“Wow.” She looked stunned. “It looks… so pretty. The gold details. Wow.”

Her expression was something that can’t be faked. She was so genuinely surprised and interested. It gave Bucky the confidence he needed.

“Wanna see the rest?”

Bunny nodded excitedly, making Bucky smile. He took his henley off pretty quickly, and his metal arm, broad chest, and dog tags were on full display.

“Now I know why you only had one arm in every picture you sent me. Smart move, Sergeant Barnes.” Her eyes were still on his body, focusing on his arm. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he felt this desired. Oh, god she definitely knows who I am, he thought. Getting called by his rank did things to him. He could feel the blood rushing to the other places. It’s not the time, it’s not the time, he tried to remind himself, yet a low groan escaped his lips before he could control it.

“So am I gonna see the rest, Sergeant?”

He gave her a confused look. When he asked that question he meant the rest of his arm, but apparently Bunny had different ideas.

“You mean…”

“The rest of your body, yes.”

“I thought we were gonna talk.” He tried to hide how much he was actually enjoying this change.

“We were, but I changed my mind.” Bucky smiled once again. Maybe I still got it, he thought.

“Because of the arm?”

“Because of you and yes, the arm too since it’s a part of you.”

“I never thought…” He couldn’t get to finish that thought.

“Your arm would be a turn-on? Well, it is. You should get used to that.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” Bucky admitted, then he looked back at the screen. “You gotta share more to see more, Bunny.”

“You are a fast learner, Sergeant. I like that.”

“I told you, you can always count on that.”

Bunny took her shirt off, instead of answering him. Bucky’s expression changed pretty quickly when he noticed she had no bra on. God, he needed to touch her, feel her and make her feel good, but he has no idea if that was even possible. His eyes focused on her nipples. How could they look this delicious over a video call? He wanted to latch on them, suck until she was a crying mess under him.

“You okay, Sarge?”

“God, Bunny, if you call me Sarge or Sergeant one more time, I will come inside my pants.”

“Noted,” she said with a teasing voice. “We wouldn’t want that, would we? I wanna see you first. Then we can make that happen.”

“I wanna see you, too. Coming hard while I tell you dirty things that turn you on.”

“Wow, the old man has a dirty mouth. Who would’ve thought?”

“Are you teasing me?” He asked with a small smile on his lips.

“I am challenging you.” Bucky gave her a suspicious look.

“To do what?”

“To talk dirty for real, James. You are ‘all talk and no action’ sometimes.”

“Oh, is that what we are doing now?” He already sounded challenged by her words. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t like a gentleman.”

“I do like a gentleman, outside the bed. In the bed, they are boring.”

“Okay, okay.” He nodded, trying to decide what to do next. “Good to know. Now, take your clothes off. I wanna see that body.”

“Is that an order, Sarge?”

“Yes, it is, Bunny.”

“And what if I don’t follow it?” Her voice was so fucking cute, Bucky did not know how she managed to be like this.

“Then you will be punished accordingly.” He didn’t even think before answering.

“Over the phone?”

“No. I will punish you in person. I will find wherever you live and I will punish you for not following a clear order.” The words spilled out of his mouth without much thought. The second he was done, he realized what he said. God, if she had got scared, she would have had every right to do so.

“That sounds more like a promise.” Her answer was unexpected and didn’t seem wary. Was she not scared of him? At all?

“It can be, but you wouldn’t wanna get punished.”

“Hmm…” She thought for a second. “Tell me, what do you want? A good girl or a bad one?”

“I want you, Bunny. Whichever you are.” His answer must be unexpected because Bunny’s expression changed for a second. She looked emotional and vulnerable, but she quickly pulled herself together.

“I am a little bit of both.”

“Then both it is.”

Bunny quickly took her remaining clothes off instead of responding, giving him a look. “Your turn.”

Bucky did the same.

“Now what do you want me to do?” She asked eagerly.

“Touch yourself for me.” She could feel how aroused he was just by hearing his voice. The full view of his erection was helping, too.

“Touch yourself first.” She sounded so demanding and Bucky couldn’t find the strength to refuse. His flesh hand wrapped around his already painful erection. “With the metal one, Sarge.”

Bucky quickly looked back at her, with confusion written all over his face.

“I promise, I am not a groupie or anything. I just think it would look so hot.”

“A groupie?”

“Google it if you don’t know what it means. I am not gonna embarrass myself by explaining.” Bucky laughed a little.

“I know what it means, Bunny. I just wasn’t sure why I would think you're a groupie.”

“Oh…” She looked at the camera for a second. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” He was completely lost.

“That you have fans.”

The look he had was unforgettable: completely lost.

“I have fans?” He repeated mindlessly.

“Nobody told you that, huh?”

“Nope. I have fans?”

“You do.” Bunny giggled. He was really an adorable old man. “People who defend you online. I will explain more later, okay?”

“Okay.” He still sounded confused, but he let it go. The sight in front of him was more interesting than a group of people defending him.

“Metal hand, around your cock.” She reminded him.

“Right.” She watched him wrap his vibranium fingers around his erection. It was truly a sight.

“Now, your turn.”

“What do you want me to do?” She quickly asked.

“Do you have a dildo around?”

Bunny was silent for a second. “Yes?” Her tone was hesitant.

“Do you have a favorite?”

She tried not to smile. “Of course.”

“Take that one.” He sounded so confident. It was a huge turn-on.

“Wait a second.” She left the frame for a while, and Bucky could hear her walking around, looking through her stuff. Finally, she came back with it.

“You like it big,” Bucky stated after seeing the dildo. It was probably as big as his own dick. No wonder she was so into the pictures he sent.

“Is that a problem?” Her question was genuine. “I can get a smaller one.”

“Why would I want that?” He had no idea. “I want you to enjoy this. That’s why I asked for your favorite.”

Bunny’s concern vanished quickly.

“Now what, Sarge?”

“Now we both start to play with ourselves.”

“Sounds good.” Bucky watched her brushing her fingers against her clit while letting out delicious, low moans. It was nothing too pornographic, and he could feel more blood rushing to his lower side. He started to work on himself pretty slowly with his vibranium hand since it was new to him. He never used his metal fingers before so he was trying to be careful.

“Use lube.”

“Huh?” Bucky looked like a fish out of water.

“Use lube, it will make it better.” Her fingers were still working on her clit and lips as she spoke. “Or whatever you have. A cream works too, I guess.”

“I have lube, doll. How do you think my dick survived you for this long?”

She giggled again, and all Bucky wanted to do was kiss her hard. Her lips, her nipples, her wet pussy. Anything… he just needed to taste her.

“You don’t even need lube, do you?” he asked, trying to distract himself.

“Nope.” She moved her finger away from her pussy, just to show him how wet she is, and the response she got was a loud moan.

“Fuck.” He took a deep breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It was such a raw reaction, and Bunny loved every second of it. “All for me?”

“All for you, Sarge.”

His fingers started to work faster, and thanks to the lube, it was much better than he expected. He was surprised at how the metal felt against his cock. Definitely didn’t feel like flesh, but it was good. Really good since he could actually move his metal hand faster.

“Can I put this in me?” She asked Bucky for permission to finally use the dildo, and god, he had to stop for a second, not to come instantly.

“Yes. Yes, you can.” He breathed out, struggling to form sentences at this point, but he managed it.

She pushed the dildo inside her effortlessly and let out a loud moan as she moved it in further. Bucky took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. There is no way you are not gonna come before her. He was talking to himself. Just calm down.

"Ride that dildo, Bunny. Imagine it's me."

“You want this to be over soon, huh?” Her teasing tone helped him relax. He liked that he wasn’t alone in this.

“You gotta meet me in the middle, Bunny. Otherwise, it’s gonna be embarrassing.”

She didn’t tease or challenge him this time. She just listened to his order and started to ride the dildo as she would ride him. Her movements, the noises she made… She was making things even harder. He felt like he lost control of his fingers. He wanted to slow down, try to come with her, but his metal hand wasn’t listening to him.

“F-fuck.” He breathed out. “I’m- I’m gonna come.” He sounded so pained like he was disappointing her.

“I’m gonna come, too.” Her response was quick. “Sstop holding yourself back.” She was panting, involuntarily showing him how close she actually was.

“Shit. Pinch your nipple for me if you like that.” His metal hand was moving fast on his cock, it was oozing with precum already.

“I do.” She was out of breath already. “I do.” Pinching her nipple was enough to push her over the edge. “Oh, fuck…” When the first wave of her orgasm hit her, he could see how strong it was. “Fuck, Bucky…” The moment she said his name, he knew he was gone. There was no way he could hold back. “This feels so good. So fucking good.”

“God, Bunny.” He let out a loud moan as his come hit the laptop screen. He gasped as he continued to move his hand until he felt painfully overstimulated.

He had no idea how long the silence between them lasted.

“James?” He heard her silky voice before opening his eyes back up.

“I’m here, Bunny.” She smiled in response. She could see he was still there, but she wasn’t gonna say that.

“That was amazing.” Bunny looked so blissed out.

“Tell me about it.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe how strong that orgasm was.

He heard Bunny taking another deep breath while looking back at him.

“Look, I know this is not the time…” Bunny sounded more serious than before. The tone got his attention back to her.

“Tell me.” He suddenly sounded so demanding.

“The timing is horrible.”

“I don’t care.” He smiled, trying to assure her.

“I won’t be around for a while.” His face dropped when he heard her words. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you tonight. I won’t be online or posting new content.”

"Is something wrong?" He sounded so worried, so panicked. As crazy as it might have been, he didn't want to lose her, especially after this.

“No, no, no.” She quickly assured him. “It's something I have to do. I was working on something for a long time and now it might come to an end. Which is a good thing since that's what I was trying to achieve. I just need to deal with it, then I will be back and I'll explain everything, okay?” Bucky nodded. “Just know that I'll be busy, but I'll come back, okay? No need to worry about me.”

“I will always worry about you.” That was the truth. Even if he knew she was fine, not hearing from her would worry him. “Thank you for telling me.”

***

The next morning, Bucky woke up feeling much better than he ever felt since he was a free man. Last night, things exceeded his expectations. He noticed how much he was overthinking everything, how he never thought she'd be so okay with who he was. He never thought she would be still attracted to him after seeing him. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he had an ugly face. The problem was the things that face was associated with and, yes, he was still convinced she was way out of his league. But she didn’t seem to care, and that was all that mattered to him.

He quickly got ready. His morning routine was simple, so he could just leave in half an hour: a quick shower, a simple breakfast, and putting on appropriate clothes were enough. After he was done with the essentials, he found a bit of time to send Bunny a good morning message. She might not be able to respond, since she told him she was gonna be busy these days, but he still felt like doing it. And after last night, he had no intention to refrain from following his wishes. Not anymore.

But when he opened the app, he was simply shocked, horrified even… Because Bunny was gone. Completely gone. Her account was deactivated, and only their old messages were still there.

The panic scattered throughout his body like rapid fire, spreading from his chest and burning everything on its path. He had no idea what to do. He didn't have her number or any social media accounts if she had any. He didn’t even know where she lived. Yes, sure, Bunny told him she was going to be away for a while and wouldn't be able to share anything, but deleting her whole account? That was completely unexpected and alarming. He rubbed his face with both of his hands, trying to figure out a way to make sure she was fine.

Slowly, the overthinking returned and took complete control of him. What if she just played it cool yesterday but wanted to vanish after learning who he actually was? The Winter Soldier was a terrifying figure, he would have not blamed her if that had been the case, yet he would have felt betrayed and disappointed. He tried to think of a moment or a small detail that showed she was just trying to act her way out of a dangerous situation, but nothing came to his mind. She was surprised, of course, but after that initial shock, she was back to her normal self. She even wanted to see him more intimately. Was it because she didn’t feel safe anymore? Could she possibly act so flawlessly and show no fear while trying to get away? A part of him didn't believe that couldn’t be true. She was one of the most authentic people he met, even though they did not actually meet in person. That was why he was pulled towards her this much. Another part of him thought this is basically her job. She had to look convincing enough, but looking and acting were completely two different things, and Bucky wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He was so focused on trying to find a logical explanation for everything that he almost didn't hear his phone ring.

When Bucky grabbed back his phone, he saw the name Sam Wilson on the screen. He didn’t feel like answering, but Sam was stubborn as usual. He called him back again in a second, and Bucky had no choice but to answer at the end.

“Hey, Buck. You ready buddy? I’m on my way and I can give you a lift.”

Bucky made an unintelligible sound, not knowing how to answer. He already forgot about the meeting and the time.

“Please, tell me you are ready. The meeting is in half an hour.”

“I am.” He finally managed to say something back. His own voice sounded robotic and the words were forced, but he had to go through this day to find a way to reach Bunny. Maybe he could ask for Fury’s help to locate her. It would take a lot of convincing, but he would do it for her. To make sure she was safe and sound. To do that, he had to go to this briefing.

“Okay, I’ll be there in 5.”

***

As Bucky and Sam finally arrived at the SHIELD headquarters, Bucky muttered a simple thank you. They didn't talk much during the ride, which wasn’t unusual, yet Sam suspected something was wrong. Bucky was usually calm and collected. He wouldn't engage in small talk or chat about random topics, but this time he seemed nervous. Sam wanted to ask what was wrong, but after all the time they spent together, he knew it was better to just wait for a sign. That was always more effective. Bucky would recoil into his shell like a freaking turtle if you made a move too soon, and that was the last thing they needed.

As for Bucky, he couldn't stop wondering about all the possibilities in the world and what he should do next. He would have to talk to Fury privately, ask for help, and get out of this mission. After that, he would go on whatever mission they decided to throw his way. No problem. None at all. Just let me be sure she is fine.

While still thinking about the plan in his mind, Bucky found an empty spot in the meeting room and sank down. He was checking his phone regularly to see if there was anything from Bunny or if maybe her profile would be back up, but no. There was nothing at all, and his worry was growing every second. He had no idea how he was supposed to go through this meeting at all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to end one of the biggest undercover operations in the history of SHIELD.” Fury’s voice got the attention of everyone in the room. “We are going to hit HYDRA where it hurts the most. Innocents will be saved by cutting HYDRA’s biggest financial income. It doesn't get any better than this.” Fury talking about HYDRA got Bucky out of his own head for a second. “This operation has been going on for quite some time and there’s no one better than Agent Elvisa to explain the details before we get to action.” Fury turned his eyes to the side, moving his hand up to introduce the mysterious agent. What Bucky didn't expect was to see Bunny, in flesh and blood, right in front of him. She was wearing a generic SHIELD uniform, her hair neatly tied up in a ponytail, looking composed.

“Thank you, Director Fury.” Hearing her silky voice made Bucky realize he wasn’t dreaming. His eyes widened when he realized he was really standing there, looking perfect in that ugly outfit. He could feel a hole forming in his stomach while Agent Elvisa started to explain the details. She was actively trying to avoid meeting his eyes while talking, showing some statistics and the essential, but Bucky couldn’t hear anything. His ears were ringing.

Since Bunny kept avoiding the eye contact with him, Bucky’s glance turned over to Natasha. She was the one who suggested her, after all. Did she know about this? The woman who he thought was a complete stranger was actually a SHIELD agent. There was no way Natasha did not know this. Was this all an elaborate prank? Maybe orchestrated by Natasha. That would make perfect sense.

Bucky understood that HYDRA was making a lot of money from their human trafficking network, and SHIELD was about to destroy it. He would have loved to focus more on the details since this would have been a personal case for him in another context. He was one of their victims after all. Yet his palms were sweating as he thought about confronting her. Even when he tried hard to understand, his brain didn’t compute any of the information she was giving. It was too loud, too uncomfortable. He felt thirsty and nauseous at the same time.

After the meeting was over, Bucky jolted out of his seat to catch her. He needed a second to talk to her, privately, to understand what the fuck was going on. He thought he deserved that much explanation before going on another mission after everything that happened between them.

She was talking to someone, but Bucky didn’t pay attention to their conversation. He stopped right next to her, invading all of her personal space without considering how it might look from the outside.

“We need to talk.” His voice was so harsh, it made her flinch. She looked up and met his eyes for the first time, and he could clearly see she was uncomfortable.

“She was…” The man she was talking to tried to interject, but Bucky was having none of it.

“I’m talking to Agent Elvisa.” God, the way he said her name was stone-cold. It sounded like he wanted to spit her name out. He subtly grabbed her arm. “We need to talk. Right now.”

***

Bucky’s hand didn’t leave her arm until they were tucked inside the closest empty office. He was trying to control himself, but it was so hard when a million questions were running through his head. Yet, he managed to choose one to ask.

“Why?” His eyes were like two daggers.

“Why what?” She managed to say back, a little terrified.

“Why did you do this to me?” The way Bucky asked the question broke her heart. She could hear the disappointment, the pain and betrayal in his voice. “I just need to know why you did this to me.”

“What are you talking about? What did I do to you?” She looked completely clueless, and it hurt Bucky even more. “Look I know…” She tried to explain, but he didn’t let her.

“Was this a joke? Did Natasha put you up to this?” He talked so fast and harshly. “Or was this a bet between co-workers?” She was silent. Completely silent. Trying to understand what he was talking about.

“You think I played with you?” She asked the question like she couldn’t believe him.

“Didn’t you, Agent Elvisa?” Again, her code name sounded so harsh on his lips. She wasn’t Bunny anymore.

“Playing with you was never my intention.”

“But you did it anyway.” God, he sounded so broken, on the verge of a breakdown.

“I didn’t even know I was talking to you until last night, Bucky.” She was getting emotional, but Bucky wasn’t in the state to notice it. “I could never…”

“You could never what? Make a fool of me? Break my heart? What did you think would happen when you decided to show up and give a presentation in that freaking room?” He raised his hand to point toward the general direction of the meeting room.

“I didn’t know you would be here!” She finally snapped and started to yell back. “I didn’t know I was talking to you until last night! Did you even listen to me back there?”

Bucky looked all lost, trying to understand why that would matter right now.

“I was on an undercover mission all this time. It had nothing to do with you! You think I made a fake account and started creating content just to mess with you? Why would I do that?”

“I… I don’t know.” He didn’t know anything. All he came up with was a list of possibilities.

“I have been doing this for months! I’m trying to catch those bastards, trying to look convincing enough and make them pay for what they did!” She stopped for a second, trying to collect herself. She didn’t want to cry. Not right then. “You think you are so important that I would create a whole ass account instead of just coming and asking you out?”

Her question silenced him for a second, making him wonder what the last sentence meant.

“What did you just say?”

Right at that moment, someone knocked on the door and stuck their head inside.

“Sergeant Barnes, we have to leave in 10 minutes.”

He didn’t even look their way. “I’m in the middle of something!” It was so harsh yet attractive.

“I know, but Director Fury…”

“Just tell him I need 5 more minutes.” The determination in his tone shook the agent and he left without saying anything in return. As soon as Bucky heard the door close, he repeated his question.

“What did you just say?”

“I don’t know what kind of sick game is going on, but I’m assuming you know I have a crush on you. Maybe Nat told you. I.. don’t know, but I would never do something like this. Not to you, not to anyone. I’d just ask you out and get rejected with pride.”

“You had a crush on me?” He couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“You… didn’t know?”

“No.” They both looked so confused.

“I assumed that you did.” She awkwardly looked around.

“Nope.”

The door was opened without a knock this time and both of them turned their heads simultaneously.

“Buck-” Sam couldn’t even finish his sentence. The double death glare startled him.

“For god's sake! I just need 5 minutes of privacy before I go there and fight. Is that too much to ask?”

“Okay, man, calm down. I’ll tell Fury.” He quickly looked at Bunny and then at Bucky before closing the door behind him. Both Bucky and Bunny turned their eyes to each other.

“Okay, look… I didn’t play with you.” She started to explain. “No one put me up on a mission to mess with you. I don’t know if this is a twisted game of fate or something else, but I didn’t know you would be involved in this operation, okay?”

“It’s Romanoff’s doing.” He finally put two plus two together, and she nodded slowly. It made sense to her, too. Then they heard Fury talking outside, and they knew that the time was running out.

“We don’t have time for this.” She stated while running her hand through her hair. “Just know that I was going to explain everything after the operation. That’s why I said what I said yesterday.”

Before he could answer her, the door opened once again. No knocking, no hesitation. Bucky was about to yell at them not to interrupt once again, but Fury was standing on the door sill, looking uneasy.

“Barnes, we have no time for…” His eyes darted between both of them. “...whatever this is. We have to leave before it’s too late.”

“Fine.” He finally responded after a short while. “I’m coming, but this conversation is not over, Agent Elvisa.”

“I’ll be waiting, Sergeant Barnes.”

Next Chapter >>>

***

taglist (I tried to tag everyone who showed interest in chapter two. If you would rather not be included please let me know.)

@geminiflanagansblog @sadg1rlsei @lia-winther @nanikio @barnesboo1967 @chinaza444 @kaitlin013106 @ryanmxrie @steverogers-wife @weaselbeedisneygeek @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @happyxdayxbitch @marvelogic @wintasssoldier @buckybarnessimpp @marvelsbitchh @alright-i-guesss @almosttoopizza @rabbitrabbit12321 @cookielovesbook-akie @whalien52bbgrl @cjand10 @scifinerd1818 @dellalyra @capswife @netherqueen23 @beware-my-thorns @freegardenbanananeck @iamstevessmile @raven1234321 @divadinag @noisesinthedark @amanda-says @ozwriterchick @sleyeveryday @arsonfrogger @lfaewrites @alana4610 @amberpanda99 @splendidreads @acatwriteshere

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bg-brainrot · 10 months ago

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Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 2: After Fighting Grym

Chapter 2: After Fighting Grym

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 1, Canon-typical violence

WC: 1.3k words, 2/18 chapters

Summary: Their second hug takes place after a tough battle. A painful hug, but comforting nonetheless. Rogue!Tav has begun to catch feelings, Astarion is none the wiser.

Ao3 | [Hug1][Hug3] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

You don't think you've ever been this sticky– sweat is dripping from pores you didn't even know you possessed. The Grymforge needs to be this hot to operate, but any hotter and you may cease to function.

As if the oppressive heat isn't enough to protect this deathtrap, the forge's guardian is currently looming over you. Its giant back obscures your view of the rest of your team, but if all is going to plan, they should be in position. A wave of lava gushes out around you, surrounding the platform that you’re on and splashing onto the metal monster in front of you– Karlach has turned the valve.

Now you just need to complete your task: be bait.

"Come and get me, you piece of junk!" you yell, as if this mechanical construct could understand what you say.

"A bard you are not, darling," comes a verbal jab from Astarion. He's positioned opposite you as the two of you have been kiting this behemoth back and forth in a clunky, messy dance. It hasn't been your best work, but you can see sparks emitting from the creature's joints, starting to wear down.

"Yes, well," you start, quickly surveying your surroundings. "At least I'm good at stabbing." You jerk an arm forward, piercing the glowing superheated carapace of the guardian with one of your daggers. It emits a sharp keening before refocusing its entire attention on you, turning toward you in pre-programmed aggression. Job done, you move to leap onto the platform behind you.

The metal monster has other ideas, reaching a gargantuan hand out to swipe at you. “Argh,” you grunt, as a searing hot claw makes contact with your side. It feels as though you’ve been hit by a cart and you stumble back, barely catching yourself before you hit hot, molten lava. You may still be reeling from the blow, but you know that you’re in a world of pain if you don’t get off this platform now.

Taking advantage of the creature’s slow swing, you finish your leap from before, scrambling onto one of the platforms on the edge of the forge. “NOW!” you yell so that Shadowheart can hear you across the cavernous room.

She doesn’t respond, but the satisfying ‘click’ of a lever and the impressively loud ‘KA-CHUNK’ of the forge’s hammer are a clear indicator that she heard. You watch as the massive construct in front of you is flattened, steam hissing off of it as its body cools.

It lays there motionless for a moment, and the hammer shoots back up into the forge. You vaguely register an adamantine piece of armor shooting out of the contraption– the forge’s instructions finally completed.

You feel a sense of vast relief, the grueling battle finally won. Your team is safe now, carefully avoiding the remaining lava flows to make it to your platform. But underneath that feeling of relaxation, you feel a much more annoying, much more urgent, sense of pain.

It’s always a drag when the adrenaline dies off. Between the heat of the forge continuing to wear down on your tired body and the blistering wound at your side from the forge’s guardian, your legs begin to wobble against your will. “Ah hells,” you mutter, placing a sweaty palm to your forehead. “Is this what it feels like to get a hug from Karlach?”

The large woman laughs, almost having made it to your platform. “I think you’d be a puddle if you attempted that.” Then, with some concern to her voice, “Are you alright, soldier?”

“I’m…” your voice trails off and, as your vision begins to blur, your follow up comes out as more of a question, “Fine?”

Your team is quick to answer your question, all picking up their pace to reach you. Astarion, moving with the speed of a practiced predator, is the first to make it. Just in time too, because you’re teetering precariously off the edge of your platform, inches away from molten death.

“Easy there, darling,” he says, an arm wrapping around your torso. He pulls you toward him, away from the lava. However, as he pulls, he tugs along the side where you got swiped, eliciting a sharp, pained breath from you.

“Astarion,” you gasp, seeing spots of white in your vision from the pain. “It hurts.”

He looks momentarily flustered, “What hurts?”

“My side,” you manage, eyes dropping down to see a massive burn mark across your leather armor where the construct struck you.

“Oh,” Astarion says in surprise, releasing you immediately. Your body sways at the sudden loss of his arm and he’s back on you again in a panic. One arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you to him tightly, the other presses a surprisingly gentle hand on your forehead. “What do you say we get you some healing and a nice flask of water?”

You nod into his hand gratefully. It’s somehow several degrees cooler than everything else and you don’t think you’ll be able to leave its cooling touch until you’re out of this damned forge.

For his part, Astarion doesn’t seem to mind, holding you and his hand in place while Shadowheart arrives. He doesn't say anything while Shadowheart inspects the wound and calls upon her divine healing, just continues to hold you, steady. This is the closest you’ve been since that night after the tiefling party and, as the fog of pain lifts, you suddenly become incredibly self-aware.

I’m quite possibly the sweatiest person in Faerun right now, how badly must I smell, you think. The heat is most certainly getting to you, because you feel a sudden urge to jump into the lava to avoid finding out. You resist the temptation, thanking Shadowheart as the pain subsides, “Thank you, now let’s get out of this hells hole.”

“I happen to think it’s quite agreeable,” Karlach says from your side. “Though a bit toasty for you all, I’d imagine.”

Astarion, who has not let you go yet, chimes in, “If you so much as breathe on me, I may burst into flames, Karlach. Please stay far, far away.”

“Oh fine,” she says, taking a step back from you both. “But I am the one carrying the water.”

Astarion gives an annoyed click with his tongue, and removes his hand from your forehead to hold it out expectantly toward Karlach. You try not to let your disappointment show at the loss of its chill balm. “Very well, as long as you don’t throw it at us this time.”

The tielfing moves to hand him the flask, but you can see the mischief in her eyes before she makes her decision. One loud shattering of glass later and both you and Astarion are drenched from head to toe in water. “Shouldn’t have reminded me, Fangs.”

Honestly, you don’t mind it. It’s quite refreshing in the otherwise hellish heat. But from the way that Astarion’s arm around you tightens, you can tell he doesn’t quite share your mindset. “Karlach,” he says, slowly, his tone deadly. His eyes are narrowed, leveled at Karlach under a mop of wet curls. “Have you ever wondered if you could withstand lava?”

He releases you, and his absence brings you a sudden pang of sadness. Luckily, you don’t have much time to consider why that is because Astarion is quickly stalking after Karlach, murderous intent rolling off of him.

“Well, that was… fun,” Shadowheart says walking up to you, her face looking anything but.

“Yeah,” you respond, stretching out your side carefully. “I guess we should stop them from killing each other?”

The cleric shrugs, looking at your companions. “It’s up to you, really. I wasn’t the one melting in Astarion’s arms.”

You hold back a surprised cough. “I was not melting. It’s just hot in here.”

She gives you a knowing look. “Sure it is.”

You ignore her remark before setting off– you have enough problems. You don’t feel like adding ‘the comforting feeling of Astarion’s arms around you’ to the list.

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