#that see things like this and know it isn’t out of reach

[smileysuh]

fuck your ex

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol & Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Cuddles don’t hurt either,” Mingyu muses, pulling you to his chest. “If we get to your bedroom and you decide you just want someone to be with, I’m not going to pressure you. I know I said the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but, skin to skin contact - even if it’s not sexual - can be an amazing way to get over an ex too.”

tw/cw. Protected sex, unprotected sex, pussy eating, fingering, hand job, dry humping, grinding, foreplay, threesome, bathroom sex, using a shower head as a vibrator, multiple sex scenes, multiple reader orgasms, slight cum kink, Cheol cum’s on reader’s chest, size kink, dirty talk, praise, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 7.3k 

🍭 aus. Non idol au, cop au, poly au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know cops are a touchy subject, but I've had this idea for months, and I figured it's fan fiction so hopefully it's just a fun au :)

Prologue

You’re so busy blasting nostalgic break-up music that you’re not paying attention to how fast you’re driving down the speedway. The loud Kelly Clarkson song drowns out your sorrows, but it doesn’t drown out the sound of the siren when a Police car lights up behind you.

“Fuck!” you scream, immediately turning down your stereo and pulling over onto the shoulder of the road.

Your heart is racing in your chest- being pulled over isn’t something you’re used to, and you fumble to roll your window down while two cops exit their vehicle and approach.

You wipe at your eyes, which are tearing up again, and you reach for your purse to pull out your license.

The man standing next to your window leans down to look at you, and you try to flash him a smile. His expression is cold, blank even. “Do you know how fast you were going?” he asks.

Now, your heart sinks. It’s such a direct question, and for some reason it makes you snap. You can feel tears begin to roll down your cheeks, your skin heating in embarrassment at having been caught doing something wrong.

“Officer- I’m so sorry, I don’t know how fast I was going- I just broke up with my stupid ex-boyfriend, and I was listening to some breakup music to distract myself from how I’m feeling, and I wasn’t paying attention-”

The second cop pulls up to your window, and the two of them exchange a glance while you cry and blab your reasoning behind doing something wrong.

“Are you headed home?” the second officer, whose nametag reads ‘KIM’, asks. 

“Yeah, I just went to get a bottle of wine, and now I’m going home to drink and watch movies and cry myself to sleep,” you admit, voice shaky.

“Have you had anything to drink tonight?”

“No, sir.” 

The first officer, ‘CHOI’, sighs, and you see him scan the surrounding freeway. “We’re going to let you off with a warning,” he says finally. “It’s late, there’s hardly anyone driving right now- you were doing the wrong thing by speeding, but it sounds like your day is already pretty shit as it is.”

“Really?” You blink up at him, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “No ticket?”

“No ticket,” Choi confirms. “But don’t get caught doing this sort of thing again.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good luck with your wine and your movies,” Kim nods, and with that, the two officers go back to their vehicle.

You wait patiently, watching them in your rear-view mirror as they pull out and drive past you. Only then do you release a deep breath.

One

“Oops!” You let out a squeak as you turn from the bartop and nearly run straight into someone. Your drink sloshes over the edge of your glass, coating your fingers in fruity liquid.

“My bad,” the tall man immediately apologizes, steadying you with a hand on your hip.

Your eyes meet, and your heart leaps into your throat. It’s not common to see men who are this attractive out and at bars-

“Wait, have we met before?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“I’d remember if we had,” you retort quickly.

The man cocks his head to the side, and after a moment of studying you, his face lights up. “Wait, I remember! You’re that chick we caught speeding two or three months back! The one who’d just had a breakup!” 

Your eyes widen as the memory washes over you. As you look up at this tall man, you realize he’s right. You hadn’t recognized him at first, without his officer hat and uniform he looks much more boyish.

“I’m Mingyu,” the large man says, holding out a hand. Without a second thought, you shake it,  which is when you remember your skin is still sticky from your spilled drink. 

“Shit, sorry-” you apologize. 

Mingyu only laughs. “You’re still a bit of a hot mess, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately,” you agree with a sigh.

“Are you here with people?” he asks next, looking around. 

“Waiting on some friends.”

“Want to come join me and Cheol for a bit while you wait?”

“I really couldn’t-” you try to side step the question, but Mingyu insists, and soon, you find yourself seated at a table with the two sexy cops who had let you off with a warning three months ago. 

“This is the chick who was speeding, the Kelly Clarkson break-up one,” Mingyu introduces you to his buddy, and you watch recognition blossom over his face. 

“Y/N,” you correct, swallowing thickly. “My name is Y/N.”

“Seungcheol,” the stoic cop says, introducing himself. “How’ve you been?”

“Better than that night,” you admit, feeling a little off that they’re so interested in you.

“You’d be surprised how often we pull over girls for speeding after rough breakups,” Mingyu tells you, easing your anxiety a bit. “It must have been a pretty shitty split to have been driving the way you were.”

“It was bad,” you admit with a frown. “In fact… I still don’t think I’m fully over it.”

You’re not sure what’s come over you, what’s bewitched you to the point where you’re divulging your personal secrets to two strangers, and cops no less-

“Fuck your ex,” Seungcheol grunts, taking a sip of his beer.

Mingyu nods. “Fuck your ex.”

You swallow thickly, lifting your drink. “Fuck my ex.” 

You wish your voice sounded more confident, but Mingyu flashes you a smile regardless, clinking his beer to your cocktail. 

Your shoulders relax a little as you sip on your drink, and Mingyu begins asking you very surface-level questions. It’s clear he’s doing his best to make you feel welcome while you wait for your friends, who arrive after about fifteen minutes of chat.

“Well, my girls are here,” you announce.

“Shame, we were enjoying your company,” Seungcheol muses, and his words make your skin heat. He’s quiet, or at least, not as much of a talker as Mingyu is- 

“Hey listen,” Mingyu distracts you, pulling out a pen and paper, where he begins to scribble a few numbers, “you know what they say, the best cure to get over someone is to get under someone else. If you ever need one of us, or both, shoot us a text or something.”

You’re in complete shock as he hands you the slip of paper, wherein two phone numbers and names are written. 

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, looking between the men, “is this kind of behavior allowed from cops?”

Mingyu flashes you a wink. “We’re off duty.” 

Two

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admit, opening the door to your apartment, allowing Mingyu inside.

He only chuckles, pulling you into a hug. You let out a breath, relaxing against his chest. Once you feel a little more settled he releases you, pinching your cheek gently, in a shockingly affectionate way. “You’re getting over your ex,” Mingyu says softly. “Everyone needs to take that step sometime, I’m just glad you reached out to me instead of some tinder dick head.”

“Yeah, cuz a cop is so much better than some online random,” you roll your eyes.

“I’m definitely better than some online random,” he agrees. 

“This isn’t very cop like of you,” you point out, watching Mingyu remove his jacket.

“I’m not just my profession,” Mingyu says smoothly. “I’m a hot blooded male, and you’re a cute girl who needs some rescuing.”

You cock a brow, amused. “Rescuing?” 

“Uh huh.”

“And you’re going to rescue me with what? Your cock?” You’re giggling already, and Mingyu joins in.

“Cuddles don’t hurt either,” Mingyu muses, pulling you to his chest. “If we get to your bedroom and you decide you just want someone to be with, I’m not going to pressure you. I know I said the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but, skin to skin contact - even if it’s not sexual - can be an amazing way to get over an ex too.”

You can’t help yourself, you lean forward, going on your tiptoes to press your lips to Mingyu’s. He kisses you back immediately, cupping your cheek with one large hand. It’s a gentle kiss, the kind of kiss that tells you you’re safe, and you realize how right Mingyu is- maybe you just needed a companion, someone to distract you from how lonely single nights can be.

Even so, the two of you make your way to your bedroom, and you find yourself shockingly shy as you invite Mingyu into your bed.

You’re in comfy clothes, but Mingyu isn’t, and he toys with the hem of his shirt as you get under your covers. “Should I take this off?” he asks.

“Whatever you want,” you agree, watching him carefully.

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he explains.

“It won’t,” you tell him, in fact, you’re curious as to what he looks like under his shirt.

A minute later, you’re rewarded by getting a full view of Mingyu’s beautiful body. He’s all muscle, but it’s not the kind of muscle you gain just in a gym. No, Mingyu has a work hardened physique, what some might identify as practical muscle, and it’s clear he doesn’t skimp on food either. He’s perfectly built, you decide, as he gets into bed next to you, immediately pulling you to his broad chest.

You release a deep breath, one you didn’t know you’d been holding.

A large hand strokes along your back, and Mingyu gives you space to just be quiet and enjoy his presence. 

Finally, though, you get to the point where you can’t contain yourself any longer. You look up at him, and Mingyu mirrors the motion. It’s like he can already read you, and you wonder if that’s due to him having a lot of experience with girls, or psychological cue reading as a cop. Either way, he leans down to kiss you, and you melt into it, letting out a pleased groan.

Mingyu returns the sound with one of his own, his tongue gliding across your lip. You open up for him, shifting so you’re half on his chest while the kiss deepens. Mingyu’s hands find your waist, and he pulls you fully on top of him, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips.

It’s been so long since you kissed someone, but your body easily picks up the natural instinct again. Mingyu is just so sexy- in no time at all, you’re wriggling on top of him, eager for stimulus against your already aching core. 

You find yourself completely relaxed, but completely on edge at the same time. It’s an odd contrast. Mingyu makes you feel comfortable, without fear, and yet- he also sets you on fire in the best of ways. Each touch is like electric shivers across your body, and you can’t help the way you’re moaning from just a bit of kissing and dry humping.

“Wait,” Mingyu’s voice makes you stop, and you pull away, looking down at him with confusion. “I think- before we fuck or anything, I think you should let me eat you out. I bet you’re tired of toys and fingers, and I want tonight to be about making you feel good.”

He’s literally prince charming. Like- how did you ever find this sexy giver. 

You swallow thickly. “We can do that.”

Mingyu kisses you again, and then he rolls on top of you, pinning you to the bed. You love the way his hands skim across your body, teasing across your waist and ribcage. 

“Can I take your clothes off?” he asks.

“Maybe… uh… maybe just my pants for now?” You’re not sure why you want to leave your shirt on, but that’s the boundary you’re comfortable with right now, and Mingyu doesn’t question it. He presses another kiss to your lips before sliding down you form, hooking his fingers in your sweatpants to drag them down your body.

The large man adjusts between your legs, peppering your newly exposed skin in soft kisses.

Your core is throbbing in your panties, and you bite your lip when his breath fans across your pussy.

“These off next?” he asks, looking up at you.

“Yeah.” The word comes out a whisper, your body tight with suspense.

Mingyu pulls your panties down slowly, and the cool air of the room on your exposed core  makes you twitch.

Large hands smooth up your calves and thighs, and Mingyu’s eyes meet yours as he closes the distance to your pussy. You hold your breath, waiting-

The first lick of your clit makes your toes curl, and you moan deeply, earning a smile from the man who’s clearly intent on devouring you.

“I kind of like being told what to do,” Mingyu explains, kissing your inner thigh. “So if you have anything you want me to do, just say something.”

“I will,” you promise, shifting your hips to get your core closer to his face again.

Mingyu takes the motion as a direction in and of itself, and he immediately puts his mouth back on you, but this time, it’s not a kitten lick. There’s no hesitation now, it’s clear you want this, and Mingyu dives in, pressing his tongue into your core.

You groan, thighs already shaking at how good it feels.

Your hands reach down, tangling in his soft hair, and Mingyu releases a moan of his own. The vibration from it goes straight to your clit, and you whimper. 

“You’re good at this,” you tell him, doing your best to be verbal, as it’s pretty clear Mingyu’s a verbal sex kind of guy.

He rewards your words by sucking his lips around your clit, flicking at it with his tongue.

“Can you…” you shift slightly, “your fingers-”

Mingyu adjusts, focusing on your clit with his mouth while a finger strokes between your pussy lips. He eases it into your wet core slowly, being gentle with you while ravaging your sensitive bud.

Your eyes close at the feeling, your head thrown back against your pillows. “That’s good-” you tell him, groaning when he slips a second digit into your pussy.

You can feel him smile against your clit, working his fingers up toward your gspot with each calculated thrust.

You’re supposed to be using Mingyu to get over your ex, but you can’t help the way you compare them- how had you ever thought sex with your ex was good? He’d never eaten you out like this- never prioritized your pleasure- fuck, you haven’t even had sex with Mingyu yet, and you’re already convinced it’s going to be mind blowing.

Releasing a breath, you focus on Mingyu, focus on the feeling building deep in your core. 

One thrust has Mingyu’s fingers hitting the exact right spot, and you let out a squeal of delight. “Right there- fuck- right there!”

Mingyu does as he’s told, repeatedly hitting the spot that draws you closer to your orgasm with record speed. His mouth on your clit is also pure pleasure, and before you even know it, you’re releasing a groan. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- don’t stop, please-”

Your words break off as your high slams into you, moans of ecstasy escaping as your body surges with pleasure. Your pussy is pulsing deliciously around Mingyu’s fingers and he works you through your orgasm like an absolute champ. He’s unrelenting, fully focused on drawing out your pleasure until you’re practically shaking.

Mingyu pulls away, and you let out a shaky gasp, opening your eyes to look down at the gorgeous man. His expression is one of pure lust, and you watch him wipe his mouth with the back of his palm. 

“You taste like peaches, baby,” he tells you, straightening onto his knees at the foot of your bed.

You don’t say anything, you only motion for Mingyu to come closer, and you grab the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

He moans into the kiss, and you writhe beneath him, hooking your leg over his hip.

Mingyu begins to grind down against you, and you can feel how hard he is in his jeans. You love that eating you out had that kind of effect on him, and you find yourself reaching down to cup his cock.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, breaking the kiss to breathe heavily, pressing his forehead against yours. “Are we going to do this? You can still back out-”

“We’re doing this,” you confirm.

“Okay, give me a sec.” Mingyu pulls away from you and you whimper at the loss. “Wanna take your shirt off now, while I take off my pants?”

“Yeah,” you agree, immediately working on the remainder of your clothing.

You’re naked in seconds, and you watch Mingyu step out of his jeans next to the bed. He’s produced a condom from his pants, and you watch with bated breath while he rolls it onto one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen in person- in fact, it might be the biggest cock, and your core throbs at the mere thought of it. 

“I’m on birth control, and I’m clean,” you find yourself saying softly, toying with the fact of unprotected sex.

“Me too,” Mingyu breathes. “But, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

Leave it to the cop to be safe, you guess that’s a good thing, but part of you sinks at the idea of not being filled with his cum.

Mingyu gets on top of you again, kissing you deeply. 

Your legs wrap tight around his body, and with pressure, you prompt him to grind down against your core again.

The feeling of his cock gliding between your soaked pussy lips is amazing- and you do your best to ignore the sensation of the condom. 

He kisses you for a long time, until you’re aching for him from the grinding, and finally, you can’t take it anymore. “Please,” you whimper, looking up at him. “I need you.”

“Anything you want, baby,” he says, pressing his lips to yours again while he adjusts ever so slightly, pushing his hand between your bodies so he can grab the base of his cock and line it up with your core.

He starts by rubbing it between your pussy lips, lubricating himself before pushing just the tip inside of you.

You moan against his mouth, shocked at the stretch. It’s clear from Mingyu’s gentle, controlled motions, that he’s used to giving grace for his size, and he slowly works you open more and more, sinking inch after inch of himself into your core.

His kisses are a wonderful distraction, and you focus on relaxing, allowing your body to open up for the large cock. 

When his front is flush to your own, his cock completely buried inside of you, you both release groans of pleasure.

The kiss breaks, and you pant against each others lips, opening your eyes to look at each other.

“You good?” he asks.

“Good,” you nod. “You can move.”

Mingyu lets out a shaky breath, and after a moment, he begins to fuck you. 

Each thrust is euphoria, his cock dragging against your inner walls deliciously. Mingyu begins to kiss you again, and you grab at his strong shoulders, clutching him desperately while he fucks you into your mattress. 

“You’re so tight,” Mingyu groans, lips moving to your neck. He licks at your sweet spot, and you shiver, wrapping your legs around him even tighter.

“You’re just so big-” you counter.

“Maybe a bit of both,” he admits with a chuckle.

You don’t mind that you’re in missionary, don’t mind that he fucks you stupid this way- it’s a very intimate position, and once again, the thought of your ex pops back into your mind. 

You realize, as the two of you get closer and closer to your highs, that maybe you weren’t ready for this- you don’t regret it, but you’re clearly not over your ex in the way you’d wished you would be at this point.

Maybe Mingyu’s just too soft, too gentle, too domestic- 

It’s not his fault, he’s being sweet to you, but maybe sweet isn’t what you needed, not really. It just makes you miss being in a relationship.

The two of you cum together, and you hate that you’re still distracted. You wish you could give all your focus to Mingyu, after all, it’s clear he’s completely zoned in on you, but it is what it is.

If nothing else, he’d distracted you for a little, given you perhaps the best dick and pussy eating of your life- and as the two of you cuddle up to fall asleep, it’s a small blessing at least that you’re not sleeping alone.

Three

You’re at a bar waiting for your takeout when you run into the most unlikely person.

Seungcheol is dressed in work out clothes, a loose shirt, sweatpants, and a baseball cap, but he still looks downright lickable. His strong shoulders- the handsome face only partially hidden by his cap- he’s so recougnizable, and it’s clear he knows who you are too, because he walks over.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you retort, playing with the straw of your cocktail. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you either,” he admits with a laugh, and you’re delighted at how his smile lights up his face. “You waiting on food?”

“Yeah, just a dinner order, figured I’d get one drink while waiting.”

He nods. “I’m waiting for food too. Just came from the gym, didn’t feel like cooking.”

“I get that,” you agree, looking down at your drink.

“You eating alone tonight?” he asks. “We could always just ask the kitchen to switch our orders, you know, get a table, eat here.”

“Are you asking me to have dinner with you?” you grin.

“If you’re up for that sort of thing,” he shrugs.

“You know what?” You let out a sigh. “Let’s do it.”

Seungcheol grins, and after talking with the bartender, you find him leading you over to a booth, having sorted everything out.

He’s got a beer now, and you’re enthralled with the way he looks while taking a sip.

He’s just so masculine- you’re extremely attracted to Seungcheol. He’d been kind of scary while dressed in work attire, but this gym outfit is much more your style. 

“So,” he starts, releasing a breath. “Heard you saw Mingyu last week.”

Your skin heats with embarrassment. “Oh, yeah.”

“Don’t be shy,” Seungcheol grins, reaching across the table to nudge your hand. “I don’t judge. He’s my best friend, and we talk, so of course he mentioned it.”

“And now… you’re having dinner with me,” you point out. 

Seungcheol shrugs. “Mingyu’s not the jealous type.”

“Are you?”

Seungcheol leans back against the booth, cocking his head to the side. He grins, and it’s one of the sexiest expressions you’ve ever seen. “I can be,” he admits. “It depends on the situation.”

You swallow thickly, reaching for your drink, in need of some sort of reprieve for the way your throat has gotten dry. “Do you and Mingyu do this a lot?” you find yourself asking.

“Do what a lot?”

“Go after the same girl?” you clarify.

Seungcheol takes a moment, and you can tell he’s deep in thought about how to approach this line of questioning. “It’s happened once before,” he admits. “Definitely not a regular thing.”

“Tell me about last time,” you suggest, interested in the story now.

“Not much to say,” Seungcheol shrugs. “He and I have been friends forever. In university there was this one girl, she wanted us both so we figured it would be interesting.”

“Was it? Interesting?”

Seungcheol flashes you a dark look, the kind of look that says ‘are you serious?’

“It was fun,” he says finally. “But, the conditions have to be perfect for sharing to work.”

You’re about to ask for more details, but your waitress comes over with your food, so you put your questions on the back burner.

Seungcheol had ordered a salad with four extra chicken breasts, and you stare at him in shock for a while.

“What?” he asks, taking a bite.

“I’ve just never seen someone order greens and four orders of chicken,” you admit.

“It’s good for you,” Seungcheol insists. “Protein.”

You look down at your rice bowl, letting out a sigh. 

“Bet you’re wishing you’d got what I got,” Seungcheol teases. 

“Never,” you laugh.

“Anyways, I bet you’re wondering about the conditions that make threesomes work,” Seungcheol sighs, returning to the topic at hand.

“I’ll admit, I’m curious. When you and Mingyu gave me your numbers, you did say I could have both of you if I wanted.”

“You still can, but I wouldn’t be shocked if you wanted to stick it with Mingyu. It wouldn’t offend me. He’s better with girls than I am.” You love how direct Seungcheol is about this, and it shows a good sense of self for him to be able to admit he’s not as much of a lady killer as his friend.

“Why do you think he’s better with girls?” you inquire.

“Most girls like that whole puppy dog thing. He’s a giver, and I respect that.”

“And you’re not a giver?” you toy, cocking a brow.

“More of a taker really,” Seungcheol admits, flashing you a grin. “If you’re interested in that sort of thing.”

“Honestly?” You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the booth. “That might be just what I need right now.”

Four

Seungcheol’s mouth is hot on yours before you’re even inside your apartment. He’s all teeth and tongue and grabby, greedy hands. But there’s something so exciting about him as he pushes your front door closed with his foot, wrapping you up in his strong arms and lifting you off the floor, prompting your legs around his hips.

There’s no talking, no assuring you that you don’t have to fuck-

You know you’re both here to fuck each other’s brains out, and it makes things simple as he carries you to your room.

To your surprise, however, he doesn’t take you to your bed. “Where’s your shower?” he asks, breaking the kiss to look around.

“Through there,” you point to the door to your ensuite, and Seungcheol follows your directions. Once in the bathroom, he sets you on the sink, and you flash him a questioning look.

“I showered at the gym, but still,” Seungcheol says, tearing his shirt off from the back of the neck. “I feel like shower sex is a good way to go about this.”

“I don’t usually like shower sex,” you point out.

“Well, you will with me, baby, trust me on that.” Seungcheol slips out of his sweatpants and briefs, his cock rising to attention. “Come here,” he instructs, pulling you off the sink.

His lips are feverish on your own, and he undresses you as quickly as he’d undressed himself. His hands grope your breasts, and he leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth while you thread your fingers through his hair.

“Now turn the shower on,” he commands.

You step toward the shower, following through- and you feel Seungcheol’s hulking, built body behind your own. His chest presses to your back, and his hands begin to explore your form while the water heats.

You tilt your head to give him access to your throat while one hand massages your breast, and the other slips down to your core, teasing through your pussy lips.

“Wet already,” he muses with a grin. “Mingyu said you’re a sensitive one.”

A tingle of sinful delight rushes through you.

You wonder how many details Mingyu shared- you wonder if Seungcheol’s been eager to get a taste of you for himself.

The water begins to steam, and with a nudge, Seungcheol prompts you inside. He joins you quickly, pinning you to the wall while his lips devour your own.

He breaks the kiss a short time later, looking up at your detachable shower head, then a grin spreads across his face. “Guess I can be a giver today, but don’t tell anyone,” he teases, taking the shower head off.

You’re not even shocked when he brings it between your thighs, wet pressure surging up against your clit while you squeal in shock.

Seungcheol bends down, capturing your nipple between his lips again.

“Fuck, this feels good-” you groan, gasping and grinding down against the shower head.

“I’ll let you cum first, because when it’s my turn, it’s my turn,” he warns. 

“Whatever you want,” you tell him, enjoying the way his mouth returns to your breasts.

He’s so rough, but it feels so good as the pressure from the shower continues on your clit. The dual feeling of his lips around your nipple, and the pressure on your sensitive bud has you getting close to the edge shockingly fast.

Seungcheol - like Mingyu - seems able to read you, and he adjusts, bringing a hand between your thighs. Two fingers slip into your wet core, and he focuses on applying the water to your clit while he begins to finger fuck you.

“Fuck,” you groan, clawing at the wall, trying to stay standing while he works you closer and closer-

“Want to see you cum,” he says. “Want to see you come undone on this fucking shower head and my fingers before I take what’s mine.”

Your stomach flip flops at the possessive tone, your breath coming out in a shocked gasp.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, baby?” Seungcheol asks. “Tonight, you’re mine. Don’t want you thinking about Mingyu, or that stupid fucking ex of yours. It’s just you and me, and if I see you drifting, I’ll bring you right back here, with me, got it?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly.

“Such a good girl for me, grinding against my hand-” he groans. “I can see how close you are.” He leans forward, his lips ghosting past your ear. “I’ll admit though, I’m not a very patient man.”

Your skin tingles at his words, and you find yourself reaching for his cock, using the water as lubrication as you begin to stroke him off.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol says, voice low. “I be good to you, you be good to me, that’s the way this should be, don’t you think?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, closing your eyes as your abdominal muscles tense, warning you of your oncoming orgasm.

“Squeezing me so good, come on, baby, cum on my fingers.”

Seungcheol’s hand works even harder, digits stroking your sweet spot- and that’s all you need to be thrown over the edge.

You let out a strangled gasp, your orgasm slamming into you.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol groans, pressing his forehead against yours while he works you through your high. “Keep cumming for me, baby.”

You couldn’t stop even if you wanted to- your entire body is Seungcheol’s to control, and he prolongs your orgasm until you’re a shaking mess. 

You can hardly stand, but that doesn’t matter, Seungcheol puts the shower head back and simply picks you up. “I don’t have a condom on me,” he explains, sinking you onto his cock and releasing a hissing sound of pleasure, “so I’m just going to have to pull out and paint your chest.”

“Whatever you want,” you tell him, drawing his lips to your own as he begins to fuck you against the wall of your shower.

His fingers dig into your thighs, and he uses you to his own pleasure, fucking you like a mad man. He’s so strong- and you feel like some weightless doll in his grip. His lips are hot against your own, and his moans are some of the sexiest sounds you’ve ever heard.

There aren’t any thoughts in your head as he uses you in an animalistic, almost primal way, and you love every second of it, your sensitive pussy clenching tight around his aching cock.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans. “You’re pussy’s too good, gonna cum.” He pulls out of you abruptly, and you sink to your knees on your shower floor, looking up at him. “That’s a good girl,” he tells you, wrapping his hand around his cock and beginning to roughly stroke it. “Push those pretty tits up for me.”

You do as you’re told, watching Seungcheol- the way his bicep and abdominal muscles flex with each strained stroke of his rock hard cock.

He’s a fucking vision, and you don’t mind him using the sight of you to his own end- in fact, when he releases a strangled groan, throwing his head back as his hot seed shoots out across your tits, you kind of realize you love this. 

His large thighs flex, his entire muscular body alive as his orgasm washes over him.

He works himself through it, and finally stops, hand falling to his side while the other reaches out to press to the wall. He looks down at you, offering you that sexy smile. “Good girl.”

Five

You’d given it a week of thought, and now here you are, looking at both Mingyu and Seungcheol as they stand in your kitchen.

“Are you sure you want this?” Mingyu asks, ever the softie of the two.

“She wants this,” Seungcheol confirms, looking you up and down. “She’s probably wanted this since the moment you said she could have us both.”

“It’s a big step,” Mingyu points out.

“It’s the ultimate distraction,” Seungcheol counters.

You let out a sigh, opening your robe to reveal the lingerie underneath. “Let’s do this.”

Seungcheol moves first, stepping forward and grabbing you by the back of the neck, drawing your lips to his. You kiss him desperately, cognizant of Mingyu watching. It feels amazing to have the attention of two gorgeous men, and you feel downright elated as Seungcheol lifts you off the ground and begins to carry you to your room.

You watch Mingyu over Seungcheol’s shoulder, and he follows closely.

“How do you want to do this?” the taller one asks as you make it to your bed, where Seungcheol tosses you down.

“No condoms,” you respond.

Both men laugh, exchanging glances. “Baby wants to be full, huh?” Seungcheol asks.

“So full,” you agree.

“I think we can deal with that,” Mingyu grins. “Any other requests?”

You swallow thickly. “Whatever you want.”

Mingyu and Seungcheol look at each other again, and the taller one shrugs. “I’ll go first,” Seungcheol decides. 

“Sounds good to me,” Mingyu agrees.

The two nod at each other, and then they both begin to strip. They get down to their boxers quickly, and Seungcheol joins you on the bed first, making you face him on your knees as he captures your lips with his own. His hands are everywhere, massaging and groping-

A second set of hands joins the first as the bed dips, signaling Mingyu’s arrival behind you. His soft lips find your throat, and you moan at the sensation of two sets of mouths on you.

Their touch is everywhere now, but it’s clearly Seungcheol who pulls your panties down, rubbing your wet pussy while Mingyu works on your bra. 

“So wet for us,” Seungcheol groans. “She’s been wanting this for ages, Gyu- haven’t you, baby?”

“For too long,” you agree with a whimper, looking up at him.

Now it’s Mingyu’s turn to moan a sound of appreciation, and he pushes your bra off your body, hands immediately cupping your breasts. His fingers pinch at your nipples and you moan desperately, pushing your ass back against him-

Fuck, Mingyu’s already hard, his cock straining against your butt-

Seungcheol captures your attention again, kissing you as his fingers push into your core, crooking up to hit your sweet spot. 

You’re so wet- with each stroke, you can hear your juices on Seungcheol’s fingers, and it sets your entire body on fire.

It feels like nothing else you’ve ever experienced to be captured between these two gorgeous men- there are absolutely zero thoughts in your head, you’re so overtaken by this wordless need-

“Fuck this,” Seungcheol says. “I’m not huge on foreplay, need to fuck you.”

Mingyu snickers behind you, it’s clear which of the two men is better at patience, and you suppose that’s why the taller of the two men gets to go second. You can’t imagine making Seungcheol wait his turn, but that’s part of what’s so endearing about him.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Seungcheol sighs. “I’ll fuck you doggy, Mingyu can be under you, and as soon as I’m done, he can get his turn, sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” you admit.

Seungcheol leans close, his lips ghosting over your own when he says, “Then be a good girl and get into position for me.”

All three of you stip the last bit of clothing from your bodies, and you’re quick to get on top of Mingyu. He immediately kisses you, cupping your cheek as you grind down against his cock- you’re trying to be patient for Seungcheol, but patience, it would seem, is a strong suit that neither of you have. 

“If you put his cock inside of you, I’m going to prep your ass,” Seungcheol warns, and you pause your writhing on top of Mingyu. “That’s what I thought.”

Two hands roughly grip your hips, and Seungcheol pulls you up, off of Mingyu. A cock glides between your pussy lips, and Seungcheol smooths his palm along your back. “Be good for us,” he warns before slipping into your wet core.

You let out a moan, resting your head against Mingyu’s chest while he strokes you, holding you close. He nuzzles at the crown of your head, a gentle contrast to the man who begins fucking into you.

You’re kind of obsessed with the duality- the dichotomy of the two men is enough to keep you satisfied and on edge, enraptured with the act of making love in this way. 

It’s clear already that you’re kind of in love with threesomes- there’s just something about this, or maybe- there’s just something about Mingyu and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol’s hands are rough on your hips, pulling you back to every thrust, and you finally relax enough to be able to kiss Mingyu again. His lips are desperate against your own, and his cock presses up between your bodies- you can’t help but grab at it, stroking him off in time with Seungcheol’s thrusts.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, rutting up to meet you.

“You’re being too nice on him,” Seungcheol muses, and you can hear his smile.

Neither you nor Mingyu respond, too busy kissing to care.

It’s clear, after a few seconds, that Seungcheol doesn’t enjoy being ignored, because one of his hands snakes around your body, fingers finding your clit.

“Shit-” you whimper, breaking your kiss as pleasure surges through you.

“Knew that would get your attention,” Seungcheol says smugly, rubbing you even harder.

“You gonna cum for us?” Mingyu asks, lips attaching to your neck, one hand groping your breast while you continue to stroke him off.

“Yeah, I’m close-” you gasp, pussy tensing, clenching tight around Seungcheol, who groans deeply at the feeling.

You feel so perfectly taken care of, two men working your body closer and closer to the edge until your orgasm takes over. You release a strangled whimper, body surging with white hot energy that pulses through you like an electric shock.

Seungcheol lets out his own sound of pleasure, and his thrusts falter ever so slightly- then he goes as hard as he’s ever gone before. Each rut is skin on skin as his hips hit your ass, and you can tell from his rough panting that he’s just about to tip over the edge too-

He cums with a deep groan, and the sound makes your pussy flutter even harder as ropes of cum coat your insides, filling you perfectly.

You’re fucked practically stupid, reduced to animal instinct as you stay captured between two large bodies. All you can do is stay on shaking thighs, crouched over Mingyu, as Seungcheol finishes up and pulls out of you with a “Fuck.”

 “My turn?” Mingyu asks, stroking your cheek to get your attention.

“Yeah, fuck- fill me up even more,” you whimper.

“You got it, baby,” Mingyu grins, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he reaches between your bodies, grabbing his cock to line it up with your pussy. He helps you down onto him, and you moan.

You’re still tight from your orgasm, but it’s substantially easier to take Mingyu after having just enjoyed Seungcheol’s girth- and the cum inside of you helps with the lubrication. You’re fully seated on Mingyu’s cock not a moment later, and you both moan from the sensation.

His lips attack your own, and you thread your fingers through his hair as he begins to thrust up into you.

You’re too weak to ride him, but from the way Mingyu bucks with the energy of a stallion, you doubt he cares.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans against your mouth. “You feel so good, baby.”

“You feel good too,” you tell him, words shaky as they escape you.

“She’s cock drunk already,” Seungcheol muses, and you hear him heading to the bathroom to clean up while Mingyu has his way with you.

“Are you cock drunk, baby?” Mingyu asks, pausing to look up at you with lust filled eyes.

“So good,” you whimper.

Mingyu grins. “Definitely cock drunk.” He cups your cheek, drawing your lips back to his own. He rolls you over so you’re now on your back, and then he sits up onto his knees. “Can you get onto your side for me, gonna push your leg up to your chest and fuck you like that.”

You do as you’re told, shifting into the position. Mingyu grabs your thigh, anchoring himself as he begins to rail into you. He has more maneuverability in this position than when you’d been on top, and he hits as deep as anyone has ever hit before, making you whimper and claw at the sheets. 

“You look so good like this,” Mingyu tells you. “Being so good for us.”

“Mingyu-” you whimper.

“I know, I’m close too,” he promises.

Each thrust is hitting a spot that has your toes curling, and you’re quickly working your way to another high, pussy still sensitive from Seungcheol.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, digging his fingers into your thigh as he holds you open for himself. “Can’t cum till you do- fuck, wanna feel you squeezing my cock-”

“Gonna fill me up,” you whimper.

“Gonna fill you to the fucking brim, baby,” Mingyu agrees.

You close your eyes, so overwhelmed by pleasure-

“Let me fill you, come on, cum with me baby,” Mingyu urges, and that’s all it takes for you to explode on his cock.

He releases a grunt, fingers gripping you tight as he falls over the edge with you, fucking you roughly through your dual highs. You love how you can just relax as pleasure like you’ve never felt before surges through you- both men take care of you in their own ways, and this is what heaven must feel like.

But all good things must come to an end, and slowly, Mingyu’s motions begin to falter. He collapses half on top of you, breathing heavily as his lips eagerly seek yours out.

“Well aren’t you two cute,” Seungcheol’s voice makes you both laugh, pulling away from each other.

“Is that jealousy in your tone, Seungcheol?” you tease.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t work if you’re planning to do threesomes with the same three people more than once.”

“Oh, are we doing this again?” you ask.

Seungcheol grins. “Baby, what do you think?”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Gyucheol is low key one of my most favourite pairings

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🔮 preview. “Bet you’re happy with yourself,” Seungcheol muses, bringing his hot mouth to your throat. “Making him cum untouched like that.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, threesome, fingering, pussy eating, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, slight cum kink, slight exhibitionistic foreplay, inklings of roleplay, groping, size kink, cumming early and in his pants, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 150

🌙 starring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!reader

bonus

You’re standing at the bartop waiting for your drink when hands grab at your hips. You’re pulled back to a broad chest, and lips press to your throat, prompting you to tilt your head and grin. “Cheol,” you breathe, “what are you doing?”

“Keeping track of my prisoner,” he muses, grabbing at the orange jumper you’re wearing. “Can’t let my dirty little prison escapee out of my sight.”

It had been his idea to dress as cops and a prisoner for Halloween- and you think there must be some sort of rule against Seungcheol and Mingyu wearing their actual uniforms as costumes on a night like this- but fuck, they look so good in their navy blue.

You know you look good too, the orange jumper isn’t revealing per se, but it’s tight in the right places, and Seungcheol is feral for you regardless of what you’re wearing… or not wearing. 

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[luveline]

jade!! I come on hands and knees begging for more rockstar!remus with shy!reader. I LOVE THEM. how are they doing?!

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You fit the part, tonight. Marlene has dressed you in her clothes —you wear a dark jacket covered in gothic, skeletal linework, a skirt barely long enough to show beneath it, with black tights and tall shoes. 

Remus isn’t sure what it is about the slightly too big jacket that he likes so much. Maybe it’s your thighs on show, shadowed flanks of softness he knows too well. It could be your eyes, their ringing of dark kohl, your lengthened lashes. Perhaps it’s none of those things. After all, Remus has always loved to watch you laugh. 

James thrusts his pint against yours, a splash of his cherry cider lapping the end of the cup to seep into your lemonade. Remus is unsure if there’s anything in it of substance, but you sip it through a breathless laugh and confirm that it hasn’t changed. No harm, no foul. 

Remus taps his cigarette carton against the table out of habit. Sirius reaches for him before Remus has even split the seal, fingers pinching, pale hand expectant. Remus knocks into them with the carton and turns so Sirius can’t see him opening the box. “Thought you were off them?” Remus asks, quiet with the slower atmosphere at the table, so far from the bar. 

“Can anyone ever really be off them?” Sirius asks. 

He pressed himself into Remus’ arm, all the overfamiliarity of a best, best friend. Searching for comfort and selfish vices. 

Remus hugs him suddenly, a rough arm around the back of his head in a hold that tugs curls as he uses the other hand to slide a cigarette between his lips. “Here, you baby.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius says around it. 

Remus takes his own cigarette and shoves the box back in his pocket. Sirius lights his own, lights Remus’, and together they tip their heads back, getting a glance at the oranging ceiling and the upstairs drinking pit. 

“She’s sweet, letting Marl dress her up a bit.” 

“Makes Marlene feel better,” Remus says. 

“Yeah, it does. Reckon she and Mary will mend it?” 

Remus shrugs. The love triangle between Mary, Marlene and Dorcas is confusing. He loves them, though, so it’s a confusing he understands. “It won't be long before we find out.” 

You, James and Emmeline begin to make your way back to the table. You have two drinks each, too many for the amount of people, though none of you seem to have noticed. You’re just giggling and meandering around low chairs until you get there. 

James slams his drinks down and grabs you from the side. “My sweethearts, I return the sweethearts.” 

“Can I have one?” Emmeline asks. 

Remus passes her the cigarette carton dutifully. 

“Can I–”

“No,” Remus says. 

You squint at him. “Don’t be weird,” you say, embarrassed, taking the box when Emme passes it, sliding it between painted lips, “I’m not a baby.” 

You talk around the cigarette with the ease of practice. If there’s one thing life on the road gives, it’s addiction. Remus is thankful that you and all of your friends chose nicotine. 

“You’re trying to quit.” Remus feels the funny burn of smoke as he inhales again. “And I’m trying to help you.” 

“Same help you gave Sirius, clearly,” James says. 

“C’mere,” Remus says, opening his arm for you. “Come on.” 

You grin and weave around Emme to his side of the table, propping a drink in front of him. “For you.” 

“Thank you.” He blows smoke as far from your face as he can manage and tucks you under his arm. 

The makeup on your lips is rubbing off, a darker outlining with light insides, but it’s enough to express Marl’s taste. Remus will be happy to kiss the rest of it away later on, when James and Sirius are drunk enough to become openly obsessed with one another and leave him alone, carving out some rare alone time. 

You smoke as Remus taught you to. He remembers the day, your shaking, his chest pain, not wanting to corrupt you and yet enlivened by the way you looked trying to foster the flame at the end of it. Nicotine helps calm your nerves, which you’re often in need of, but Remus never meant for it to become a crux. He snuffs his cigarette in the ashtray and catches yours to do the same, barely two puffs in. 

“Wha–”

“Let me have a look at you,” he says. 

Your friends scoff and jeer but quickly move on. Remus catches your chin between his fingers. 

He’s not like Sirius. He couldn’t do this to any girl, can’t seduce like that, but it’s not any girl he touches. Your eyes go to swimming pleasure as he pulls you forward, edging downward to kiss you. You both taste of smoke, of drink, and it would put him off if there wasn’t something sweeter to be chased in your mouth. He kisses you like there’s no one at the table but you.

He’s had more to drink than he thinks. 

“You taste like jaeger,” you say, pulling away with cheeks he’d find hot if he were to cradle and a shy smile. 

“Do I?” 

“That’s a thousand times worse for you than those, you know.” You point at his quickly dwindling pack of cigarettes. 

Remus curls an arm behind your neck and kisses you again. James cheers, says, “Fuck, I wish Moony kissed me like that,” and Remus tries his best to ignore him, but you’re laughing. The kiss breaks.

“Just ask him nicely like I do,” you advise. 

“You know that doesn’t work!” James says, tipping his head back with a hand to the forehead. “I always ask him nicely, he just doesn’t want to kiss me. Must be something about you…” He gives a huge smile as he lifts his cider.  “Something I don’t have?” 

“Impossible,” Sirius says blithely, “you’ve everything, gorgeous boy.” 

“Something about you,” Remus echoes. 

You shake your head minutely, a silent warning. Don’t flirt with me, it says. Don’t torture me. 

“How do you want the answer?” Remus asks, sliding his arm back behind your shoulders, pulling your burning face against his neck. “I can give it to you in an essay or a list, but it’s an extensive explanation.” 

“Write it down for me.”

[rqnarok]

old man!logan fucking you with his glasses still on.

cw/tags: smut, mdni! old man!logan. pet names (sweetheart, sugar, etc). slight dumbification. logan calls himself ‘old man’. unprotected p in v. what else? not proofread…

Logan says it’s not his fault.

It’s not him who walks in wearing a new skimpy short sundress while he’s reading today’s newspaper. He isn’t the one who did the teasing by bending over the counter to show him the plump of your ass while you are trying to reach for some ‘ingredients.’

It’s you who pretends to be innocent by humming tunes of your favorite song as you stroll around him with no fucking bra or panties. Casually asking him, “What d’ya want for dinner, Lo?” as if he couldn’t see your peaking nipples through the thin material of the cloth. 

Hell, he did not even understand why you were wearing a sundress at this late hour. No particular reason other than to taunt him—you know that he knows this. 

Only takes him a few minutes before he’s latching to you, still wearing his glasses while bending your upper body onto the kitchen counter, “Little fuckin’ tease. All this shit just f’me, huh?” 

You huff, rolling your eyes to the back of your skull in pleasure when you let yourself be manhandled to the position he wants—spread open; his cock filling your insides so heavenly. 

He hums a throaty sound in your ear, eyes locking to your face to catch your desperate and fucked out expression, “C’mon, princess. Y’were just so confident a minute ago when ya’ teased me.” 

The reminder makes you let out a hiccup, and suddenly feel shy at the intensity of his gaze. Your floral-themed sundress is still on, only hiked up—he wouldn’t let you take it off. After all, its existence is the reason why his large chest is pressed on your back.

“Such a shy doll, arentcha’?” He straightened himself after you tilted your head to the other side—curses when he felt you squeezing your walls tighter around his girth.

Every drag of his cock back into your pussy pushes more and more high-pitched whines from you. Logan rumbles in a pleased groan as he lurks forward again—leaving open-mouthed kisses on your jaw—scratching his scruffy beard on your skin, “Such a good girl. Nothin’ else could make me cum, baby. Nothin’ else but this fuck- tight pussy. What did I do to get so lucky, huh?”

“Ah- Logan!” Your nails scratch the cold marble tile as you feel the world around you change into a warm, fuzzy state. All you could feel was him surrounding you, fastening his already cruel pace.

Your mewls mingle with the thwap-thwap-thwap sounds of skin slappings, its noise radiates obscenity along with the scene it shows.

“Makes me feel guilty as an old man,” Logan shivers, hissing at the warm heat he’s got himself all in, “Fuckin’ a sweet, beautiful thing like ya’.”

Logan slides one of his large palms on the globes of your ass before grabbing them and delivering a soft spank to your skin. Like a wake-up call, you twist your head back slightly to look at the sight of him.

His blue shirt is unbuttoned to down, his eyes closing and brows furrowed as he chases yours and his own ecstasy. You wonder how his glasses still rest on the tip of his nose after everything. 

Maybe because you’re the one moving, not him. His hands grip your waist as he moves you back and forth on his cock. Shifting you around like a flashlight, never pulling out his flaccid member as his cockhead breaches deep into your velvet walls you never knew was even possible, “Jus’ wan’ me to use you around, ‘s that it?” 

You ramble a string of yesyesyes’s as a reply to Logan’s taunts, your head empty and unable to form any thought except of him. “Y-yeah, sugar. I know. I know.” 

As you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, your hands skulk backward to reach him, to feel him and bring him closer, “Ah- Gimme kiss, pleas—” You squeak after the lingering ah-ah-ahs. 

Good Lord. Logan lets out a dry chuckle to mock at your utter eagerness for him–but in the end, he gives in too. He always gives in. 

His mouth is on yours in a wet kiss, all filthy as he eats up all your whimpers and moans, “Dirty girl. Makin’ me feel s’good.”  

Your legs barely touch the floor as he continues to elevate you up and down in hard thrusts, hitting your sensitive spots, “Shit. Want me to come in you, petal?” His voice a cadence deeper, “Let ya’ feel me for days?” 

You can only reply in erratic nods before shutting your eyes to embrace your own pleasure building, peaking, and—

“F-fuck, sweetheart.” Thick ropes of Logan’s cum are pumped into you as you squirt around him shamelessly—his cock thrusting and thrusting, letting you feel his warmth. 

He begins to slow down his movements as you milk him dry. You whine at the feel of yours and his cum all mixed up, gushing out of your dripping hole. A filthy image. 

“L-Logan...” You can only call out his name after your feet touch the floor, out of breath and still needy. 

As if he understands, Logan rests his head on your neck and leans half of his body weight onto yours out of tiredness, “Mhm. Yeah, gonna fuck you again, sweet girl.” 

His lips locked into yours in urgency, then breaking it just to smile at you while readjusting his glasses, “Let your old man catch his breath first, alright?”

You bob up in down in excitement. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. He knows what he’s getting himself into ever since he knew you—that he has to keep up with your endless immature teasing and your remarkably high stamina.

Even with his muscles weakening and body aching the next day, he thinks it’s all worth it.

[corroded-hellfire]

This is a little angsty but do the AYW kids ever go through scrutiny about reader and Eddie's marriage from school and their friend's families?

With Ryan and Luke did they ever hear negative comments from their classmates other parent about reader and Eddie? Or a classmate saying "[reader] isn't your real mom!"

Can we agree that these boys need to be protected at all costs?

Words: 2.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The smell of crayons and Play-Doh hovers in the first grade classroom. The teacher, Ms. Fabray, counts her blessings that there aren’t any more foul odors filling the space. The kids are just back inside from recess, still rowdy with those last bursts of energy they get whenever they hear, “Five more minutes!”

As usual, Brandon Simpson is the last student to stroll in the back classroom door. He’s the most consistent troublemaker in the class and one of the reasons Ms. Fabray wishes this school year would hurry up and be over.

“Go sit there, Brandon,” Ms. Fabray instructs the six-year-old, gesturing to the only table that has an available chair. 

He plops down next to Luke Munson, who only glances at him out of the corner of his eye before he goes back to drawing.

Luke’s tongue pokes out between his lips as he concentrates on getting the shape of the dog’s nose just right. The moment he sets the black crayon down, his arm gets shoved. Luke’s brow furrows as he looks over at the culprit. Brandon beats Luke to the punch to speak, though.

“That girl who picks you up from school isn’t your sister?”

Well, that was one of the last things Luke expected to come out of the other boy’s mouth. Once his surprise vanishes, his head fills with a vision of you and how you smile every single time you see him and Ryan walking out of the school building.

“No, she’s my daddy’s girlfriend,” Luke says with a shake of his head. 

“But she’s so young!” Truthfully, Brandon wouldn’t have been able to gauge your age even if he was given one of the numbers, but he heard his mom complaining about the Munson’s dad being with a girl young enough to be his daughter.

While completely untrue since Eddie is only twelve years older than you, Brandon didn’t know nor care, and was just happy he had something he could use to tease Luke.

“So what?” Luke asks, reaching for the brown crayon.

“My mom says your dad should know how ridiculous he looks,” Brandon says. “That he’s probably having a midwife crisis and is trying to feel young again.”

The little girl sitting across from Brandon tilts her head up slightly to look at him beneath her sandy blunt bangs.

“It’s midlife,” she says. 

“Whatever.” Brandon waves her off. “He only wants her cause she’s pretty and young.”

The bully is clearly just parroting what he heard his mother saying, but it gets the intended effect. Luke drops the crayon and his small hands curl into fists.

“She loves my Daddy.”

“But not you,” Brandon says with a shrug, turning to grab a few crayons of his own. “I bet she just puts up with you cause she likes your dad.”

“That’s not true!” Luke shouts.

“Quieter voices, please,” Ms. Fabray says from across the room.

“She’s not your mom,” Brandon goads while starting his own drawing. 

Luke hates that he can’t deny that. You’ve treated him better than his own mother has from the day you met him. It didn’t take long before Luke wished that you were his mom instead of Brittany. When he realized that wasn’t possible, he switched to wanting you to be with his dad. Now that his dream had come true, Luke never thought someone would be so mean about it. 

“But she loves me,” Luke says.

The words are true, he knows it with every fiber of his being. The four words don’t even seem enough to the little boy to encapsulate how much you care for him and do for him. To him, you’re better than a mom, since his frame of reference is so terrible.

“I love my hamster, but I’m not his dad!” Brandon shoots back. 

Luke’s hands bang down on the table and his brow furrows even further.

“I’m not a hamster! And she loves me!”

“What’s going on over there?” Ms. Fabray asks, craning her neck in the direction of the boys.

“She’s a fake mommy,” Brandon continues, ignoring the teacher. “Not a real mommy.”

The fury has come to its boiling point in Luke’s small body. He sees red as he lunges for Brandon, knocking the other boy out of his seat. Both of them land on the rough carpet, a mess of tangled limbs and shouts.

“Boys!” Ms. Fabray yells, hurrying over to them. “Luke! Brandon! Stop it!”

Luke wraps an arm around Brandon’s neck, his Hot Wheels sneakers digging into the ground. Brandon’s legs kick, his heels pounding against Luke’s shins. It causes Luke to let go, and Brandon takes the opportunity to roll over and start hitting Luke in the ribs. 

Ms. Fabray pulls Brandon off by gripping him beneath his armpits and sets him down behind her. Luke hops up and the teacher immediately holds her hands out to keep the boys separate. 

“That is enough!”

“He started it!” Brandon shouts. 

“Nuh uh!” Luke shoots back. “He started making fun of my mo—my dad’s girlfriend!”

“Brandon, you go sit in the corner seat. Luke, you go sit at my desk. Now.”

The gray-skinned demon creature in the novel you’re reading creeps behind the main character and is on the verge of pouncing on her when the door to Eddie’s apartment swings open. You jump and let out a small yelp. 

Eddie ushers a red-faced Luke inside and closes the door behind them. 

“Hey, what’re you guys doing here?” you ask, glancing down at your watch. It’s still hours from when you usually leave to go pick the kids up from school. 

Neither of them answers, but Luke takes off running down the hall to his room. Eddie tosses his keys onto the counter and lets out a heavy sigh. He stumbles over and plops down on the couch next to you. 

“Luke got in a fight.”

“Again? Is he okay” Your eyes widen in shock as you lean in towards your boyfriend. The fight Luke had gotten into when kids made fun of Ryan’s glasses last year doesn’t feel that long ago.

Eddie nods, sighing again. He turns his head to look at you, a small melancholy smile on his face.

“Physically, yeah,” he says. “He’s upset though. He started it over something another kid said. About you.”

If the rug was pulled out from under you with the fight news, this crumbles the entire foundation of the house beneath you.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. He reaches over and rubs his hand over your thigh. “That you’re not his real mom.”

Your heart drops. Sadness and anger simultaneously begin to fill the now-empty space in your chest. 

“Can I talk to him?” you ask, a tentative tone to your voice. You’d completely understand if Eddie, as his dad, wanted to be the one to handle this. 

“I think you’re the only one who can make him feel better, honestly,” your boyfriend tells you. 

Something about that touches you. The fact that you have a special enough place carved out in Luke’s life that there’s a pain only you can soothe. 

Unsure of how to respond to that, you nod and push yourself up from the couch.

It’s quiet as you approach Luke’s room, but when you peek your head in, you see him sitting on his bed sniffling and rubbing his eyes.

“Hey, you.”

He doesn’t look up at the sound of your voice. Instead, he curls further in on himself and scoots closer to the bottom corner of his bed. Your heart aches more and more with every step you take towards him. 

His Hot Wheels blanket shifts beneath you as you take a seat next to him. 

“Do you want to talk?” you ask him quietly. 

There are a few moments where his sniffling is the only noise in the apartment. Suddenly, Luke turns around and buries his head in your chest, his arms gripping you tightly around the waist. 

A gasp escapes you, shocked at the overt show of emotion. The usually happy and bubbly little boy sobbing into your t-shirt tears your heart in half. You instinctively wrap your arms around him, hugging him close to your body. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” you coo before pressing a kiss into his curls. “I’ve got you. Everything is okay.”

Luke’s heart wrenching cries bring tears to your own eyes and you do your best to blink them away. 

“I love you,” you mumble against his hair. “I love you so much, you wouldn’t believe.”

He pulls back and looks up at you with wide watery eyes. His face is tear-stained and rosy red. The pain you find there is unbearable. You’d give anything to make him feel better, to make him happy.

“I…I love you, t-too,” he warbles out. 

You press a kiss to his forehead, and he pulls away a little more so he can wipe his eyes. 

“Are you okay, sweetie?” you ask, reaching up and wiping away a tear he missed. 

“I-I got in a fight,” he admits. 

“About what?”

His bottom lip wobbles but he swallows down the fresh tears that threaten to pour. 

“Brandon Sim-Simpson kept saying you don’t love me because you’re n-not a r-real mommy.”

“Oh, Luke.” One of the tears that had collected spills down your cheek and you’re quick to wipe it away. “You don’t think that, do you?”

The little boy shakes his head, his curls bouncing with the motion. You breathe a sigh of relief. It would absolutely break you if Luke believed this punk kid and doubted your affection for him.

“Good.” Gently, you cup Luke’s face in your hands and look him straight in the eye. “Luke, I love you, Ryan, and Daddy more than anything or anyone else in the world. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone as much as I love you.”

“H-He wouldn’t believe me,” Luke sniffles. 

“Well…then he’s stupid.”

Luke’s eyes widen at your words. He never expected to hear you talk like that about a kid. But this particular kid hurt your boy, so you think calling him “stupid” is on the tame end of the spectrum. 

“Honey, you know that I love you. Me, Ryan, and Daddy all know it and we all love each other. That’s all that matters.” You smooth some curls away from his face. “I know what he said hurt you. He was wrong in what he said. But it’s true I’m also not your mommy.”

The six-year-old glumly nods his head, his eyes downcast.

“But…” You tip his chin back up, so he’ll look at you. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you in the same way a mommy does. Because I do. I would do anything for you.” I would die for you, you think to yourself. I would kill for you. “I will love you for the rest of my life, and even after.”

“Even after?” Luke asks.

“Yeah,” you say with a soft smile. “I’ll be a ghost and still try to squeeze you.” You wrap him up in your arms and pull him into your lap. He’s getting a little big for this, but you don’t give a shit.

Luke tucks his head under your chin and his hands grip your upper arms, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. “You’re everything to me, Luke. The fact that I’m not the one who brought you into this world doesn’t change that. Nothing can ever change it. You’re my little boy.”

“You’re better than a mommy,” Luke says against your neck, letting his eyes slip closed.

His words warm your heart, and you give him a soft squeeze. 

“Thank you.” Softly, you rub your hand up and down his back. “Do you feel better?”

You can feel his curls brush against you as he nods his head. He sniffles once more before tilting his head back to look up at you.

“Yes. I’m sorry I got in a fight.”

“I understand the feelings getting too big, sweetheart. But we have to find better ways to express them, okay?”

He nods again and dives back in for another hug. 

You cling to him just as tightly as he does to you. The love the two of you have for one another surrounds you in a warm bubble, solidifying this moment in both of your memories. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for Luke, and you’ll spend the rest of your life showing him in a million different ways. 

[takamimami]

The Supernova Captains | NSFW Headcanons

Pairing: Kidd, Law, and Luffy x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

my smutty headcanons about the supernova captains :3 pure smut, what's new?

CW: SMUT, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, fingering, mention of bondage (law), mentions of spanking (law), mentions of minor sadism (kidd)

🔞NSFW; MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS KEEP IT MOVING🔞

👒

Luffy is a munch, unironically. Foreplay is always him eating you out, has to at least get a taste of you before he fucks you

Very blunt about being in the mood or wanting you. Doesn’t care who is around to hear when he tells you he’s horny.

Not necessarily an overly sexual person but loves being inside you, so he’ll match your energy. All you have to do is tell him you’re horny and he’s immediately hard at the idea of being inside you again.

Very much a giver, doesn't care about reciprocation but is never opposed. 

This boy is HANDSY. He just loves the feeling of your skin under his fingers and can’t get enough of it, usually sneaking a hand under your shirt as he hugs you from behind or reaching his hand clear across the ship with his devil fruit powers just to swat your ass. 

I imagine he’s fairly vanilla in the bedroom for the most part - but willing to try most things for you. Toys aren’t his preference because he thinks (knows) he can make you feel better than they can. 

Can be silly or goofy leading up to the act, but his sole focus when he’s inside you is to make you feel good. He’s very much there to please and makes sure you get at least an orgasm or two in before he’s even thinking about coming.

Likes switching positions/locations - it keeps things interesting and adds a new element of excitement to his trysts with you. Semi-public isn’t out of the question but he also doesn’t want anyone getting to see you the way he gets to so he’d rather keep it behind closed doors.

Boy is a certified yapper, and sometimes you have to shut him up with a kiss or an intentionally tight squeeze of your cunt to refocus him if he gets distracted or has a random thought pop into his head.

Once he’s locked in though, it will surely be a long night for the both of you. He’ll overstimulate the fuck out of you until you’re practically fighting to get away from him. And even then, he’ll still manage to pull another orgasm or two from your trembling body simply because he CAN’T stop.

“Just one more, baby, please. You feel too good to stop now.”

Prefers to cum on you instead of in you, for more reasons than just the potential of a little Luffy running around. Usually holds it until he can’t anymore and cums on your stomach or thigh. You two have had your fair share of close calls.

Aftercare almost always comes in the form of a nap; if not immediately after then shortly after the two of you grab a snack. 

🐯

Law is the biggest tease to ever exist. Loves to get you worked up so he can fuck the attitude out of you. Will also intentionally ignore you all day when he knows you're neediest and pretend to be oblivious, then make you “earn it”.

Loves when you suck him off under his desk in his study. Also loves fucking you on his desk, in his office chair, up against the study door, all the above.

He also loves stripping you naked out in the open, knowing he can activate his devil fruit powers to carry the two of you away if someone were to stumble upon you.

It’s no secret the man is good with his hands. He knows all the right places to touch and tease you and knows just how to make you come undone without even taking his pants off. 

Just like he likes to tease you, he loves when you tease him, though he’ll never admit it. He loves when you play hard to get, or when you insist on walking around the Polar Tang in short skirts or going braless when he “has work to do”. 

This dude is a literal control freak, so you best believe he is the KING of orgasm denial/delay. Loves the frustrated whines you make when he pushes you to the edge of release and pulls his fingers out of you, or the way you beg him pitifully not to stop when the head of his cock is kissing your cervix after being denied again.

“Not yet, princess. Be patient.”

Not a fan of toys, but this man is a sucker for bondage. Loves tying you up and also loves when you tie him up. His personal favorite is still that time you tied him to his office chair when he fell asleep and rode him to oblivion after edging him for what felt like hours.

Also loves to spank you - ass, tits, pussy, he’ll slap it all if it gets a rile out of you.

Could give you multiple good orgasms if he feels like it, but he prefers to build it up until you shatter for him by the time he’s ready to come.

Always uses a condom so he can come while inside you, preferably at the same time as you so you milk him dry while you’re still coming.

Usually opts for a shower or bath with you after you two have finished, knows your favorite scents and oils, and has plenty on hand to enhance the moment. Loves massaging your body after, especially over any marks the ropes may have left. 

🌷

Kidd is needy as fuck, sexually. This man cannot go a day without cumming or else he’ll be cranky as hell.

Also, this man is a MEANIE. A literal bully if you let him be. Very quick to remind you how much of a sadist he can be. He knows how to read your queues really well when it comes to your mood and whether you feel like being bratty or just want him to be gentle (as gentle as he can be that is).

LOVES his toys, and gets super excited to try new ones out with you whenever he makes a new one or you two find something after pillaging an island. Loves anything you’ll let him do to you, nipple clamps, butt plugs, your own personalized fuck machine - he’s not off limits either but you might have to booze him up a little to get him to agree.

Loves to bite and mark you - he’s territorial and the lipstick smudges wash off in the shower, so he likes to leave a longer-lasting impression so people know you’re his.

Similarly, he loves when you mark him - he has to fight not to come on the spot whenever you break skin as you rake your ringers down his back or his bicep. 

Loves getting you on your knees and fucking your face, though he’s gentle for the most part given his size. That doesn’t stop him from teasing you while you choke on him.

“Awh, cock too big for ya’, brat? Shoulda thought of that before you ran your mouth all fuckin’ day.”

Prefers to be in control in the bedroom (shocker). Heavy on the power play dynamics. He likes when you moan his name but if you call him ‘Captain’ in bed he’ll almost always fuck you harder.

Has absolutely no shame about fucking you all throughout the ship. It’s his ship, he can do what he wants, right? Even if that means getting in a quickie in the cockpit or fucking you on the counter in the kitchen after everyone’s gone to bed.

Insists on not wearing a condom, and literally comes wherever he wants - depends on the day for him. He loves coming on your face or tits, but if he’s in a really possessive mood he’ll come inside you. You’re shocked there aren’t at least two or three little redheads running around the Victoria Punk at this point. 

Most of the time you have to fight to keep Kid in bed with you after sex, after he gets his nut off he’ll usually feel the need to tinker with something or go get some food after the deed. If you’re acting particularly clingy afterward he’ll just wrap you in his coat and bring you with him, bringing you to the kitchen with him to get a snack before returning to bed or cradling you in his lap as he messes with whatever project he left on his workbench.

I once again could have written about kidd for 4873 years so he may in fact get his own post. sorry not sorry I'm obsessed with that man :3 lemme know what you think, and if you liked it, I would love it if you liked and reblogged to spread the love <3 ✨come say hai :3✨

Do not copy, repost or translate.

[robo-writing]

Logan happy trail. Logan happy trail. Logan happy trail—

You’d never stoop so low as to say you have a favorite part of Logan—he’s your boyfriend after all, you love him for all his faults and features. There isn’t a single thing you could ever definitively point out and say “that’s my favorite.”

However, if you had to choose—

“Christ doll, you’re lookin’ at me like a starving dog,” he says with a smug. “What’s got you so worked up?”

You’ve been waiting for him to come back from training all day, sitting on the couch practically counting the seconds. The training session he just came from must have been intense; shirt off, his entire torso glistening with sweat—his happy trail on full display.

You don’t even pretend to be ashamed, blatantly staring at the lovely trail of hair that starts from his belly and moves further down to where the rest is covered by a pair of low-hanging jeans. You’re forcefully pulled from your ogling, hand at your chin, removing your attention from his beautiful patch of hair to his face.

“Y’know, it’s rude to stare,” He whispers. His eyes hold only bad intentions, and you’re happy to oblige, leaning into his touch.

“Kinda wanna do more than just stare,” you whisper back.

His thumb reaches to stroke your cheek. You enjoy the soft touch, hands wandering closer to his torso to stroke the hair that’s been tempting you since he walked through the door, until he catches them in his own with a shake of his head.

“Baby, you know that’s bad manners,” He lets your face go and hooks his thumbs below his belt line, pulling his jeans down even further, exposing the veins that start to run from his v-line.

“If you want to touch, ask nicely.”

The words leave your lips embarrassingly fast. “Can I touch you? Please?”

Your thighs are rubbing together, hands at your side obediently. When he nods his head you reach forward, sliding your hands across his hot skin, nails scratching lightly with each pass, the softest groans escaping Logan with each touch.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Take what you want.”

Spurred on by his words you pull his pants down, boxers strained by the visible outline of his cock. Feeling mischievous, you place a kiss through the fabric, smile widening as you feel it twitch between your plump lips. He hisses in response, fingers curling around your hair.

“Don’t be a tease, or else I’ll leave you here all by yourself,” he says, tugging your head slightly. “We got a deal?”

You couldn’t say no if you tried, so pent up just the sound of his voice gets you riled up. “Promise, just lemme have a taste, I’ll behave.”

He mumbles something under his breath, tugging himself free. Pretty and pink, his cock in full view, still every bit as beautiful no matter how many times you see it. Your tongue peaks out from your lips, tracing every vein with excitement, a smile on your face as he strokes your hair.

“Just needed a taste, is that it?” He groans, rubbing his shiny tip against your lips. “Just needed your boyfriend’s fat cock in your mouth, didn’t you?”

You moan in response, opening your mouth as he feeds you what you’ve been waiting for. Slowly, gently, your tongue massaging the salty skin, inch by inch. Your hand reaches up to scratch at his happy trail and you can feel his cock twitch in response, a gruff laugh vibrating from his chest.

“Oh fuck me, you’re evil,” he sighs. You give him another scratch in response, enjoying the pre-cum that coats your tongue after.

The size of him never fails to make you work for it, heavy against your tongue as your spit runs down your chin. The sounds you make are lewd, sloppy—his fingers push your head further, forcing you to make more. One hand reaches to fondle his balls, the other still resting against his pubes. The feeling leaves Logan breathless, involuntarily thrusting against the wet heat of your mouth.

There’s only a single thread of self-control stopping him from grabbing your head with both hands and fucking your mouth, and you needed it cut yesterday. You force his hands into your hair, stare up at him with your best bedroom eyes, then lap at his balls.

His reaction is heavenly—eyes rolled back, hips stuttering, stomach sucked in as he calls your name.

“Darlin’ you’re gonna kill me,” he huffs, taking your head in his heads. Your lips return to the head of his cock, suckling at his sensitive tip when his fingers tighten in your hair.

You see his eyes darken, your only warning coming in the form of a command. “Keep your mouth open for me doll.”

Your pussy throbs, tongue unraveled as every inch of him slips past your lips and into your throat. Your eyes roll at the feeling, nose touching that oh-so-divine hair that got you here in the first place.

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” he grunts, “Ready for me?”

You moan your approval around his thick length, then gag as he makes good on his word. Every thrust has your hands bracing against his thick thighs, forced to do everything in your power not to choke. Your eyes water, nose full of his musky scent, drool pooling down your chest so much that it leaves a stain against your shirt.

Your brain is filled with nothing but Logan—his taste, his smell, the sound of his moans—it sends your body into overdrive, grinding against the fabric of the couch as he continues to use you for his own pleasure. You’re almost certain you’re leaving a stain against the pillows.

“Real desperate for it huh?” He hisses, using your mouth as a toy. “Gonna cum just like this ain’t you?”

Your lust-addled brain can’t even begin to form a response, but Logan smiles at your fucked-out expression anyway. He doesn’t need you to confirm what he already knows.

When he comes it’s with a shout, leaving you choking against his cock as you struggle to swallow it all. What you can’t runs from the sides of your mouth, his dick coated in a mix of saliva and seed. You greedily gulp down air, a cock-drunk smile plastered against your features as you kiss at his softening cock, then bury your face and nuzzle again his happy trail, tasting the sweat that lingers. The sticky feeling between your legs makes you think at some point you came, pussy still throbbing with that familiar aftershock.

You look like hell, but damn it if you aren’t satisfied—hair a mess, spit and cum staining your skin, tears running down your cheeks—Logan thinks you’re beautiful like this.

“I know vacuums that got less suction than you, fucking hell,” Logan says, still out of breath from what was most certainly a mind-blowing orgasm. He leans down to kiss at your cum-stained lips, messy and unoriented. “Hope you’re ready for me to return the favor princess, because we ain’t finished.”

[artyandink]

breaking profiler’s block

SUMMARY: You and Spencer have a sorta thing going. All for your genius, there are times where, y’know, you get stumped, and that was dubbed ‘profiler’s block’ by you and Spencer. Well, he knew exactly how to fix that, and this isn’t the first time he’s helped you break it.

TW: Post-prison Reid, so basically it’s an extremely hot Reid, talk of asphyxiation murder, criminal psychology, unspecified relationship, talk of masochism, BAU!reader, relatable-ass profiler’s block which is the BAU version of writer’s block, smut

STW: oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, Spencer being kind of a little shit, softdom!Spence, profiling during eating out, pussydrunk!Spencer cause yes, threat of exhibitionism, praise kink, hair pulling kink, thigh slapping, slight degradation, filthy stuff guys, you’re welcome

A/N: I don’t think this kinda trope’s been done before, so here we go

NOW PLAYING: Side to Side by Ariana Grande

Think, c’mon, think. Though that’s a pretty impossible task when Spencer Reid’s eating your pussy like he’s on death row.

“Shh, sweetheart, use that pretty head.” Spencer murmured as he sucked on your clit, two fingers pumping relentlessly in and out of you. Long-ass fingers, talented-ass tongue— you were done for.

Every lady out there was done for in the presence of this man. You too, all you out there.

You and the team were currently in Vegas — Spencer’s turf — to try and find a man who was out there strangling low-end members of society. But you couldn’t think straight — not just in the current circumstance — but in general. You’d hit something that you and Spencer called ‘profiler’s block’, and lucky you that Spencer knew how to snap you out of it.

Not his first rodeo with you where that’s concerned.

Spencer used his free hand to shove your legs further apart, spreading you open with his two fingers so he could lap up everything he could from your dripping cunt, moaning when ambrosia hit his tongue. “You know the drill.” He panted, eyes rolling back briefly as you pulled on his hair— fuck, that’s good. “Strangles his victims. S’ that tell us, hm?”

You thought you said a coherent sentence, but apparently it came out jumbled, because a quick slap to your thigh by Spencer had you moaning out an answer. “He wants p-power — oh — and control— fuck.”

“Don’t stop there.” He murmured, lapping at your clit. “Or are you just so fucking drunk on my tongue? Huh? Imagine the team seeing you like this, can’t even say a sentence properly.” Now, that shouldn’t have felt as hot as it did, but you did clench around his fingers, which were reaching spots you didn’t know you had.

After a few moments of how the fuck is he this good, you managed to regain a bit of footing, your blissfully blank mind allowing for new, sweet clarity, even if it was brief. “Incompetent. O-Overcompensating. He’s killing brunettes with blue eyes, he’s got an authority figure in his life that makes him feel small.”

“Good girl— shit, such a good girl.” Spencer cooed, which had your eyes rolling back. Soft voice, low tone, his hand pressing down on your stomach to make you clench on his fingers, to feel him taking you apart by the fucking seams.

You couldn’t deny the praise kink. It was definitely there.

“Gonna fuck you so hard when you get this right.” When was a comforting thought amid his fingers curling against your g-spot deliciously— his fingers were hitting your g-spot. “You want that? Wanna get drunk on my cock, darling? Make you walk funny and have the BAU see what I do to you?”

Oh, god, you wanted that. Spencer wanted that too, wanted to feel your pussy in every way possible. The man was whipped for pussy, and with the sloppy way he was devouring yours, you’d say he got drunk on you before you had the chance to go delirious on his cock.

“Spence—” You were so close, it was embarrassing, but you couldn’t help it. But you knew the drill: no coming until you’d given a substantial profile. No coming until the profiler’s block was smashed through by his fingers working that one spot in you that had you seeing stars. “S’ close, can’t — ah, shit — don’t stop. He’s a white m-male, thirties, married possibly with kids, works a job — yes — that he’s not seen in and is a low paying job,” His tongue flattened against your clit, “h-he kills low end m-members of — mm — society because he’s a masochist. T-The p-pain of not going outside of h-his comfort zone feels like a r-release when he kills because he’s inflicting it on himself—” A third finger stretched you open, “Spence, m’ gonna—”

“Come, sweetheart.” Spencer murmured, harshly sucking on your clit to tip the dominos and make you come — hard — and sink into the mattress, your mind wiped clean, eyes rolling back and hips bucking against his mouth, hands roughly gripping your hips and holding you to his mouth so he could lap and swallow everything that you had to offer, every drop of come as he moaned sinfully against you— as if that made matters better.

White vision, satisfied pussy, that’s what Spencer Reid did to you.

And even as your vision was starting to return back to 18/20, the tip of his cock nudged against your cunt, fingers reaching to spread you open.

“Ready, darling?”

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[inheritedbelly]

Heavy Lifting

I start the day excited about the new job. It's not what I dreamed of, of course, but it's a start, a way to gain experience and, maybe, distract myself from the mess my life has become. I work in the warehouse of a factory. I'm an apprentice to Mr. Fred, a big, sweaty 60-year-old man. When I arrived, he was leaning against a pile of boxes, breathing slowly, the weight of his enormous belly rising and falling. He has a deep, thick voice that seems to resonate in his chest, but what stands out the most is his size. I'm not talking about his height, but his width. The guy is huge, almost as if life had shaped him around a giant belly. When he laughs, it feels like his whole body shakes. I can't imagine being in his skin, it must be uncomfortable and gross, but aside from that, he's a nice guy.

The work is exhausting. We carry and move boxes, organize shelves. Things are always missing, and we're the ones responsible for keeping everything in order. I just wish my life was like that—organized. At the end of the day, after lifting heavy things all day, Fred suggests we sit down and talk for a bit. Sitting across from him, I start to open up. I don’t know why, but the words come out before I can hold them back. I talk about my issues with my dad, how I don’t have a mom, and how the pressure to choose a college is suffocating me. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, I just wish I could skip this phase, wake up one day and have everything figured out. Fred listens attentively, his gaze heavy, almost as if he’s absorbing everything I’m saying. He nods slowly, and after a pause, he laughs, slapping his large belly. "Funny," he says. "I wish for the opposite. I wish I could be young again. Skinny. Do everything over, make different choices." His laughter fades, and he looks at the floor for a moment. Then, he looks at me with a strange gleam in his eyes. "You know what, kid? I think I know how to solve our problem." He snaps his fingers, and before I can respond, my vision goes black.

When I wake up, the first thing I feel is a strange coldness on my head. I reach up to the top of my head and… nothing. I'm bald. My heart races, and I look down, terrified. I see a huge belly, a round sphere dominating my field of vision, as if it’s an extension of me, but… it can’t be. The striped shirt covering this body isn’t mine. I try to get up from the armchair I’m sitting in, but everything feels different. Heavy. I grab the belly, this mass of flabby flesh that seems to be part of me now, and I look at my hands. They’re large, wrinkled, covered in saggy skin. It’s like I’m wearing gloves of flesh. I feel panic rising, and I let out a scream, but the sound that comes out of my throat isn’t mine. It’s hoarse, old. I bring my hand to my neck and feel a double chin. Horror overwhelms me, and I fall forward, my body too heavy to keep balance.

I lift my head, struggling, and I see my old body standing there, smiling at me with a malicious look. Everything clicks in an instant. I’ve switched bodies with Fred.

"What the hell did you do?" I shout, my voice now rougher than ever. Fred, in my body, lets out a short, mocking laugh. "Relax, kid. It was just a spell. A solution to our little problem."

I panic. "Undo it! I want my life back! My youth!" But he just shakes his head, still laughing. "You can’t. The spell can only be done once. Now it’s permanent."

My heart, or what was left of it in that old body, starts pounding out of control. I stumble backward, trying to process this new reality. I feel the belly wobbling with every step I take, like an anchor dragging me down. This can’t be true. This can’t be happening.

I run, or at least I try to, to the office bathroom. I lock the door behind me and look in the mirror. The reflection shows me an old, sweaty man with a desperate expression on his face. The face isn’t mine. The skin is full of wrinkles, the cheeks sagging. I run my hand over my face, unable to believe what I see. I can’t stop holding my belly. It’s always there, like a constant reminder that I’m now someone else. Fred knocks on the door, and I hear his voice—my voice from before. “Hey, it’s not going to be that bad, let’s be honest. Now you have what you wanted, and I have what I wanted.” I scream in response, but the truth is that I’m trapped. There’s no going back. Fred then enters and gives a light squeeze to my enormous stomach. I yell at him to leave, and then he steps back. He closes the bathroom door, and I, still in shock and confused about what happened, am left unsure of what to do. I lift my shirt and see: a big belly, covered in hair. I also notice that my chest, which was normal before, is now larger and sagging. With every step I take, I feel my body moving in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s uncomfortable and strange. I turn around and notice that my backside has also changed; it’s now much bigger. I look in the mirror, trying to understand what has happened. The person in the reflection doesn’t seem like me, but the way the body moves makes it clear that, unfortunately, it is mine now.

I leave the bathroom and find Fred, who is now in my body. He smiles and makes an ironic comment, asking if I’m ready. I quickly pull down my shirt and, unsure of what to do, ask, “So now what are we going to do?”

When I leave the bathroom, Fred tells me I can go to his place, which is now my home. I have no choice. Walking through the streets is hell. Every step is a huge effort. I feel sweat dripping down my body, especially between the folds of my belly and on my back. And it’s just a short walk. Upon arriving at the apartment, Fred shows me everything—where the things are, the bathroom, the pantry. During this little tour, I’m extremely out of breath from the walk. My belly bumps into everything around the house. He tells me about his routine. Now, it’s my routine. Because of the heat, I take off my clothes, and my now free belly is enormous. As I squeeze through the house, my stomach occasionally bumps into Fred, who is in my way. “Sorry,” I say, even though I’m not the one to blame for this situation; he is! He’s the one who stuck me in this huge body, but honestly, I’m too out of breath for another argument. As soon as he leaves me alone in my new room, he says, “See you tomorrow, boss,” winking before closing the door. I get ready to take a shower, which is at least strange since I’ve never had to bathe a fat old man before, let alone be the old man myself. I feel the loose skin and the weight of the fat on me. Lying down on the bed is even worse; as soon as I collapse onto the bed, my huge new belly settles against my body in an uncomfortable way, and I have to turn over, quickly causing it to fall to my side. I let out a heavy sigh. “What was I wishing for?”

Lying on the bed, with not many options for comfort, I close my eyes, trying to believe that everything was just a nightmare and that tomorrow everything will be back to normal. But it’s hard to believe that it was just a dream, considering how real everything felt. Even lying there, I had a lot of physical contact with every part of my body, since I was now bulkier. I couldn’t just run my hand over my body without my hairy arm brushing against my hairy stomach. So, I would turn to the side, still thinking my slim body would react. But instead, I felt the weight of my new body. My brain was still that of a slim man.

I would run my hand over my forehead and remember the baldness. I would touch my face and feel the old beard. I would glide my hands over my body and notice my new bulk. It was this repetitive cycle until I finally managed to fall asleep. The next morning, when I wake up, I feel an erection, but not like it always used to be, my dick was fighting against my stomach. in a fright I quickly wake up and my eyes meet see my big stomach and the white hairs on my chest. I quickly get a shock, and suddenly everything hits me: nothing was a dream, everything was real, and this is my new lif

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: When We Met

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn't end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

As you approach the sandwich shop, another pedestrian comes up from the other side. You open the door and hold it for them, waiting patiently for them to go first. The place isn’t very busy, you can wait an extra turn to get your food. 

The man barely acknowledges you as he enters. You’re used to that. In the city, manners run down the gutters with the rain and litter.  

You follow him inside. As he stomps to the counter, poking his ear in agitation, you stand back in a single-person queue. You check the chalkboard menu for the soups of the day. Oh, cabbage. They make the best cabbage soup you’ve ever had. 

You bounce on your heels as your gaze wanders over the monochrome wall art over the handcrafted wood tables. You open and close the flap of your crossbody purse. Your father always said you flutter like a hummingbird. Never quiet still and a little skittish. 

Behind the glaze of your distraction, the man’s deep snarl breaks through. You blink and lean to see around him. The cashier bats her lashes and puffs out her cheeks, “sorry sir, we discontinued the Mexican wrap, but the chipotle is similar--” 

“I don’t want the fucking chipotle,” he cups his ear and growls as he pushes his head into his hand.  

“They don’t send us the cilantro lime sauce anymore, sir,” the employee explains. “But I could add some peppers--” 

“Can’t you understand me?” He snips. 

“Erm, if you... if you put a bit of cilantro on, it would be close, wouldn’t it?” You ask, cringing as your thoughts spill out without intention. 

The man glares over his shoulder as his cheek pits derisively. He squints and shakes his head. He throws his arms out and faces the cashier again. “Whatever. Give me the damn chipotle with cilantro. I’m starving.” He reaches back for his wallet, “some fucking week...” he mutters. 

He slides the leather wallet above his pocket but it catches and falls from his grasp. He growls and bends to retrieve it. “Another fucking thing...” 

You watch him pick up his wallet and finger his ear again. It seems to cause him pain. The cashier watches helplessly. You feel bad for both of them. It just seems like a miscommunication. 

“Um, excuse me,” you wave two fingers at the cashier. “Can you add a cabbage soup and I’ll for both?” 

The employee blinks and the man snaps up with a scowl. They both stand in silent surprise. He finally shakes his head. “Why would you do that?” His tone makes it sound like an accusation. 

“I don’t know. Seems like you’re having a bad day and I can?” You shrug and cautiously step forward, “can I also get an iced raspberry tea?” 

“Uhhhh, sure,” the employee keys in the items. 

“Sir, did you want a drink?” You twist back to the man as he stands aside with a leery squint. He just shakes his head. 

“Alright, that’s everything. No cookie today,” you dig in your purse. “Debit, please.” 

She hits total and you pay. The receipt juts out of the machine and you step to the side to wait with one last thanks to the cashier. You tuck your card away and slip your phone out as your hands long to fidget. You know the man is staring, you can feel it, but you don’t want to piss him off even more than he already is. 

The lull that follow is torturous. The man’s wrap is up first and you wait for him to take it. He hesitates and you hand it to him. 

“I hope it’s still good,” you say with a smile at his throat. You’re too scared to look him in the eye. 

“You know I have money,” he grits. 

“Oh, no, that’s not... it isn’t... just a nice thing. Like, maybe one day you can pay it forward. I don’t know,” you rock sheepishly and look behind the counter. 

He nods and backs up. The cashier puts your soup up and your iced tea. You thank her and take your food.  

“Have a good one, sir.” 

You shuffle away to the table in the corner. You sit, self-conscious as the man lingers. Is he mad? You don’t think you were rude. 

The man sighs and goes up to the counter, “hey, look, I’m... sorry,” his words are stiff as if he could choke on them. “Thanks for the wrap.” 

“Oh, uh, okay, sir,” the cashier sounds shocked. “Um, enjoy.” 

You stir the soup and blow away the steam. As you scoop up a spoonful, the man approaches. You look at the velvet toes of his loafers then follow them up. He sits without invitation. 

You stare at him and lower your spoon. 

“Thanks for the wrap,” he says. “I was being a—jerk.” The last word is stunted as if he meant to say something else. “Mind if I eat with you?” 

You look around. The place is empty. You shrug. 

“Sure,” you grab the iced tea and swirl the ice. “Be nice to have company, I guess.” 

He hums and shifts in the chair. He peels away the wrapper and you sip from the straw. You put the cup down and stare into your soup. Your eyes flick up again and you find him staring. 

“Lloyd,” he offers his hand across the table, “but you can just call me that jackass who yells at people.” 

You give your name in return, his change in tone soothing your nerves. 

“You been here before?” He asks. 

“Once in a while,” you say. “When I can afford it. It’s a special treat. They have good soup.” 

He nods and looks down at the wrap, “yeah, food is pretty decent.” He lifts the wrap but doesn’t bite into it. He hovers it before him. “You know, you didn’t have to be nice to me.” 

“You never know what other people are going through. Sometimes, they just need some kindness,” you say. “And if they’re just a butthole, well, you’re not going to change that by matching their energy.” 

His brows arch, and he tilt his head. He sucks in his cheeks thoughtfully, “well, I think I’m just a butthole, as you put it. Thanks for giving me a chance.” 

You don’t know what to say. It’s awkward. You usually eat alone. You don’t have anyone to eat with, not since dad passed. Still, not all change is bad, is it? You’ve already faced the worst kind of change. 

You lean forward and take a bite of your soup. Sometimes making someone’s day easier makes your own a little brighter. As of late, none of them have been more than gloomy. 

[brunchable]

Winter King, Part Two : I Wish You Would. . .

Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader Words: 18K Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, Arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, Eventual Smut. Summary: The Kingdom's court is treacherous, and enemies lurk in the shadows, waiting to exploit any sign of weakness. Althought Y/N is determined to be a worthy queen of the crown, she find out that The King is as elusive as he is captivating. A/N: Inspired by Queen Charlotte. Also, if you like Sharon Carter, I'm sorry, someone needs to be an antagonist lmao. I hope I tagged everyone.

Tags: @theendofthematerialgworl @httpb3a @spiidergirlsworld @sebastians-love @stevesbbgorl

@targaryenhues @almosttoopizza @scott-loki-barnes @brckenmemories @vicmc624

The clinking of delicate china sounded in the sunroom, but the undercurrent of hostility was unmistakable. Sharon and Leah exchanged a glance, their eyes gleaming with something far more sinister than polite conversation. The warmth of the sun couldn’t reach you through the tension coiling around the table.

Sharon’s voice sliced through the moment, sweet but sharp, as though testing the blade before delivering the cut. “You know, Princess, there’s a rather fascinating story about His Majesty. It surprises me that no one has mentioned it to you yet.”

Your grip tightened on the teacup, but you kept a calm facade. Their words were like needles, pricking at your composure, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you uneasy.

“Oh?” you replied, your tone light, “Do enlighten me.”

Leah leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as though sharing a secret meant only for your ears. “Well, it’s said that he was quite... entangled with Lady Maria for some time. You know how close they were? Practically inseparable.” She shot you a look that made your stomach tighten. “Of course, that was before you.”

The name Lady Maria was familiar to you, but the way they spoke it—like a weapon—made it clear they intended to lodge it in your heart, to make you doubt.

“Oh, I see,” you said, carefully placing the teacup down, though you could feel the prickle of unease beneath your skin. “Is this the same Lady Maris who now resides in the countryside?” You smiled, a sharp edge to your words. “Quite the distance from the palace, wouldn’t you say?”

Leah’s smile faltered ever so slightly, but Sharon’s eyes glittered with cruel amusement as she picked up the thread of the conversation. “Distance means little when it comes to passion. And His Majesty isn’t the type to forget such things... so easily.”

The insinuation in her words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. You could feel your composure slipping, the words sinking into your chest like stones. 

You met Sharon’s gaze squarely, keeping your tone even. “I find that real passion leaves no room for doubt,” you said smoothly, “nor for ghosts of the past.”

Sharon’s lips curved into a smile, “Of course, but the past has a way of... lingering, doesn’t it? Men like His Majesty—they tend to crave excitement. And I imagine keeping his interest will be... challenging.”

The implication hit its mark, a knot of jealousy tightening in your chest. They wanted you to believe you couldn’t hold Jame’s attention—that you were nothing more than a placeholder for someone more exciting, someone like Lady Maria.

Your breath caught, but you forced yourself to smile, lifting your teacup as if you hadn’t just been struck by their words. “I find that security comes from understanding,” you said, “And I’m more interested in the present than the past.”

Leah chuckled softly, leaning in closer. “Oh, but the present can be just as... tricky. After all, there are so many... distractions in the palace. You haven’t known him for very long, have you? So much is still hidden.”

Her words felt like poison, seeping into your mind, whispering the doubts you had been trying so hard to push away. Do you really know him? Can you trust him?

But you refused to let them see you falter. You couldn’t. Not when they were so clearly enjoying the game.

“Everyone has their secrets,” you replied calmly, though the weight of those secrets pressed down on you. “But I’ve learned not to rely on gossip to understand someone.”

Sharon’s eyes gleamed, her smile growing. “But don’t you wonder? All those nights he slipped away. Who knows where he went? Or who he was meeting under the moonlight?”

Your heart clenched, the insinuation sharp as a dagger. You could feel the cold tendrils of doubt creeping into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts. Was James still slipping away at night? Was there more he wasn’t telling you?

But you couldn’t let them see that doubt. You had come too far to let their words unravel you.

“I’m sure there are many stories about Prince James,” you said, your voice remained calm, though each word felt heavier now. “But I trust what I know, not what others choose to speculate about.”

Leah’s smile was thin, but her eyes sparkled with triumph, as though she sensed she had struck a nerve. “We’ll see soon enough, won’t we? After all, the wedding is tomorrow. Then we’ll all know whether you can... keep up.”

The words lingered, a challenge woven into every syllable. They were waiting for you to fail, to prove that you weren’t strong enough for this world, for him.

Your pulse raced, the pressure of their words settling like a weight on your chest, but you refused to let it break you. Slowly, you set your teacup down with a soft clink, meeting Sharon’s gaze one last time.

“I’ve faced many tests in my life,” you said, your voice low, but firm. “And I’m still here. I think that says enough.”

The tension hung thick in the air, you rose from your seat, the finality in your movement punctuating the moment. You had given them no ground, no cracks to exploit, and their smiles, once sharp and mocking, now seemed to falter, ever so slightly.

But just as you turned to leave, Sharon’s voice—smooth and saccharine—floated after you, stopping you in your tracks.

“It’s admirable, really, that someone from... Zienna is so resilient. I suppose growing up in such a small, modest country must have prepared you for all sorts of challenges.”

You froze, your hand pausing on the back of the chair. The underlying disdain in her tone wasn’t lost on you. Zienna, your home, was renowned for its beauty, but in the grander scheme of royal politics, it was often dismissed as insignificant. You could feel the mockery laced in her words, as if she were implying that your upbringing had made you desperate to prove yourself.

Leah’s laughter was light, airy. “Oh yes, Sharon. I imagine life there must have been... quaint. So very different from here, don’t you think, Princess?”

You turned slowly, meeting both of their gazes, your own smile never wavering. 

“You’re right. Zienna is different,” you said softly, letting the pride in your voice fill the room. “It’s a place where strength is measured by character, not status. Where beauty is in the resilience of the people, not the grandeur of a palace.”

Your words silenced them, the smile slipping from Sharon’s face. Leah’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though she hadn’t expected you to turn their words around so effortlessly.

“And if growing up there has prepared me for anything,” you continued, your voice steel beneath the sweetness, “it’s how to recognize empty words and empty hearts.” You paused, letting the weight of your gaze linger on them. “Qualities I can spot a mile away.”

The sunroom felt colder now, your retort hanging in the air like a cloud. Sharon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t respond. Leah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her earlier smugness evaporating.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you said, a polite smile on your lips that didn’t reach your eyes, “I have preparations to attend to.”

And with that, you turned on your heel, leaving them behind. Each step you took away from the sunroom felt like a small victory, but even as you walked, their words echoed in your mind. The whispers of Lady Maria, the insinuations about James’s loyalty, the insults directed at your homeland—they lingered, swirling together into a storm of doubt.

As soon as you were out of sight, the carefully composed expression you had worn in the sunroom dissolved. Your lips pressed into a thin line, and with a sudden surge of frustration, you stomped away, your footsteps heavier. The garden path crunched beneath your shoes as you strode forward, the crisp air doing little to cool the heated emotions roiling inside you.

Your maids hurried behind you, their footsteps quick and uncertain as they struggled to keep pace. The sun was bright but dipped lower, casting long shadows over the carefully manicured hedges, but none of it registered in your mind. 

You stormed past the familiar stone wall—the very one you had once tried to climb, desperate for an escape from this life. A fleeting memory of that morning flashed in your mind, but you quickly whipped your attention forward, determined not to linger on what felt like another lifetime ago.

The sting of Sharon and Leah's words echoed in your thoughts, the insinuations they had dropped like poison slowly seeping through your veins. The worst part wasn’t their cruelty—it was the lingering doubt they left in their wake, the nagging feeling of inadequacy they had sown in your heart.

As you rounded the corner of the garden, you nearly collided with Captain Rogers. You froze for a moment, caught off guard by his presence. His tall frame blocked your path, and you looked up to meet the eyes of the man you had only seen from a distance—a legend in his own right, but unfamiliar to you until now.

“Princess,” his deep voice said, the faintest hint of surprise in his eyes. He stepped back, his posture respectful, but his gaze lingered on you, as if trying to piece together the storm that was painted across your face.

You drew in a breath. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the space, the strength behind his calm gaze only adding to the silent authority he carried. This was the first time he had seen you up close—really seen you—and you could feel his curiosity. His gaze was far too perceptive, as though he could sense the frustration crackling beneath your surface.

He didn’t move, his eyes scanning your face, taking in every detail—the tightness around your lips, the tension in your posture.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he said, his tone gentler now, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Is everything... all right?”

You hesitated. There was something in his voice—genuine concern, but also a strength, as though he was someone who wasn’t easily swayed by the petty games of court. The temptation to unload your frustration rose, but you bit it back, unwilling to show any weakness in front of someone you barely knew.

Behind you, faint whispers and barely contained giggles from the maids floated through the air.

“He’s even more handsome up close.”

“I heard he’s unmatched with the sword.”

“I wonder if the princess is the one who’s caught his eye.”

Their words blended together, stoking the embers of your growing frustration. You shot them a glance, and the group immediately fell silent, though the sparkle in their eyes remained, a few of them nudging each other playfully.

“Captain Rogers,” you repeated, forcing your attention back to him. His eyes flickered past you, noticing the commotion, but he merely smiled, almost as if he was used to the admiration.

"Apologies," he added with a subtle nod toward the flustered maids. "It seems I've become quite the spectacle." His lips quirked in a brief, amused smile before his gaze settled back on you, serious once again. "But that doesn't matter. Is everything truly all right, Princess?"

Your chest tightened. For a moment, the warmth in his eyes threatened to melt the wall you'd built, but you steeled yourself, unwilling to let anyone—especially James’s dear friend—see the cracks.

“Just taking some air,” you replied, attempting to sound indifferent, but your words wavered, betraying a hint of the emotional storm that raged inside you.

Captain Rogers didn’t move, his gaze softening. “It doesn’t seem like the air is doing much to help,” he observed quietly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The subtle warmth in his tone took you by surprise, pulling you from the haze of your own thoughts. It was the first time someone had spoken to you without a layer of formality, without some hidden agenda woven into their words. You weren’t sure if it was refreshing or irritating.

“Well,” you said, lifting your chin slightly, “hence why I’m going inside.”

He stepped aside then, giving you room to pass, but not before his gaze lingered on you one last time, as though he were trying to understand what had unsettled you so deeply. There was no judgment in his eyes—only curiosity.

You nodded curtly in thanks and strode past him, determined not to let him see the cracks in your composure. But even as you walked away, you could feel his presence behind you, as if he were still watching, trying to figure out the puzzle you hadn’t realized you’d become.

Your rest of your maids caught up as you reached the palace doors, their hurried whispers behind you barely registering. You walked past the towering columns and through the grand foyer, a figure appeared ahead of you—a palace staff member—your valet—his uniform crisp and formal. He looked as though he'd been searching for you, his eyes lighting up with relief the moment they landed on you.

“Ah! Princess,” he said, his voice polite but hurried, his slight bow both respectful and urgent. “I’ve been looking for you. Please, follow me—your fitting for the wedding dress is ready.”

You blinked, your frustrations from the sunroom now mixing with a new surge of nerves. The wedding dress fitting. Another reminder of how close the ceremony was—how close you were to stepping into a role you weren’t sure you were ready for. But there was no time to dwell on that now.

You nodded, giving a small, composed smile, though inside, your thoughts still raced. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Scott straightened and gestured down the hall, his steps brisk as you fell in behind him.

× × × ×

The fabric of the gown rustled as the maids adjusted the delicate lace at your sleeves, each stitch tightening like the invisible binds that held you in place. It wasn’t the dress constricting you—it was everything. The ceremony, the expectations… him.

James had become more of a shadow in your life than a man. You hadn’t seen him properly since that morning in the garden, where the flicker of connection between you felt like something precious, something fragile. Since then, you’d only glimpsed him—his tall figure at the coronation, his back turned to you, always just out of reach. And yet, the memory of his touch, the sparkle in his eyes as he teased you, lingered in your thoughts, whispering promises that felt as intangible as smoke.

But promises were thin when matched against the reality of your situation.

Your fingers fidgeted with the silk of your gown as another seamstress knelt at your feet, adjusting the hem. The fabric was exquisite, shimmering beneath the light, but it felt like a gilded cage. 

Lady Monica Rambeau circled you, her sharp eyes missing nothing, her presence as unyielding as the steel boning of your corset. She had been assigned to you since the engagement had been announced, her demeanor polite but impenetrable. No matter how hard you tried, you could not pierce the veil of formalities that cloaked her every word.

As Lady Rambeau came around the front of the gown, you cleared your throat, trying to keep your tone light, though the questions weighed heavily on your mind. “Lady Rambeau, I’ve noticed something.”

Her fingers stilled as she pinched a piece of fabric at your waist. “Hm?”

You hesitated, watching her closely. “The King… he always wears a glove on his left hand.”

Lady Rambeau didn’t flinch, but there was the slightest pause in her movements, the briefest tightening of her lips. You had been trained to notice such things.

“Yes, Princess,” she said, her tone smooth, but you caught the subtle shift in her expression. “Many royals have their eccentricities.”

You narrowed your eyes, not satisfied with her evasive response. “It seems more than just an eccentricity, doesn’t it?”

For the first time, Lady Rambeau’s gaze met yours directly, a flicker of something—was it pity?—in her eyes. “The prince prefers not to discuss such matters. It is... a personal choice.”

You straightened your back, feeling the frustration coil tighter inside you. You were about to marry him, and yet everyone seemed to know more about your future husband than you did. 

“A personal choice that no one seems willing to explain,” you countered, your voice sharp. “I’m about to marry him. Don’t I deserve to know the truth?”

There was a beat of silence before Lady Rambeau averted her gaze, focusing on the gown again. “Some truths, Princess, are best left for the prince to share himself.”

Her words landed heavily in the room, closing the conversation with an air of finality. You clenched your fists, feeling the fabric of your gown bunch beneath your fingers, the weight of everything pressing down on you like the tight bodice of this perfect, suffocating dress.

“Perhaps,” you muttered under your breath, “but a queen who knows nothing of her king is little more than a pawn.”

Lady Rambeau’s lips tightened again, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she straightened, her expression smoothing back into its usual calm, controlled mask. 

“The gown is perfect,” she said, her voice cool. “You will be the vision of a queen.”

You stared at her, your frustration simmering. 

“A vision,” you repeated softly, looking at your reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at you wore a gown fit for a queen, but there was something hollow in her eyes. The truth was, you felt like an imposter in that mirror. How could you marry a man who remained an enigma, hidden behind secrets no one would speak of?

Lady Rambeau cleared her throat, sensing your thoughts. “Before we conclude, Princess, we must review the schedule for the day.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. Not yet, anyway. “Of course.”

Lady Rambeau reached for the small ledger on the table, flipping through the neatly written notes. “This afternoon, after we’ve finalized the details of your gown, there will be a brief... educational session.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Educational session?”

Her voice was smooth, unflappable. “Yes, Princess. It is customary for brides of your station to receive instruction on matters... related to the marriage bed.”

Heat rushed to your face, and the room suddenly felt stifling. “I—what kind of instruction?”

Lady Rambeau, as always, didn’t blink. “There will be materials provided. Diagrams, illustrations. You’ll be prepared for what is expected of you.”

The air in the room seemed to thicken, and you fought the urge to pull at the bodice of your gown. This wasn’t just a wedding—it was the beginning of something far more daunting, far more real. And you were expected to step into it without hesitation, without question.

Lady Rambeau seemed to sense your discomfort but pressed forward. “Afterward, there will be time for rest before your private dinner with His Majesty.”

Your pulse quickened. The first private moment with James since that morning in the garden. You hadn’t been alone with him since. You hadn’t seen him up close, hadn’t had the chance to ask the questions that had been building inside you.

“A private dinner?” you repeated, trying to shake the thoughts of the diagrams, of everything that seemed to loom on the horizon.

“Yes,” she confirmed, her voice unwavering. “It will be your final opportunity to speak with His Majesty before the ceremony tomorrow.”

You swallowed hard. Final opportunity. The phrase echoed in your mind like a warning. This was your last chance to confront him, to ask about the glove, about the rumors, about everything you had been kept in the dark about.

You nodded slowly. “I see.”

Lady Rambeau closed her ledger with a faint snap, offering a thin smile. “Everything is in place for tomorrow, Princess. You need only focus on your duties as queen.”

Duties. Expectations. Those were the words that seemed to follow you everywhere. But what about your fears? What about the truth? What about the man you were about to spend your life with?

You swallowed the frustration rising in your throat and nodded. “Very well.”

Lady Rambeau’s expression softened ever so slightly, perhaps sensing your internal turmoil. “Is there anything else, Princess?”

For a moment, the bitterness from the morning tea bubbled back to the surface, and you found yourself saying, “Actually, yes. Are there... any other ladies I can spend time with? The morning tea with Lady Sharon and Lady Leah left a rather bitter taste in my mouth.” 

Lady Rambeau’s lips twitched, the barest hint of amusement crossing her face before she masked it once more. “I see. I can certainly arrange for you to meet with a more agreeable company.”

A small sigh of relief escaped you. “Thank you. That would be much appreciated.”

With a nod, Lady Rambeau offered a brief, genuine smile. “Consider it done, Princess.”

× × × ×

You sat in an ornate chair, stiff and uncomfortable, while across from you, the Governess stood like a sentinel, her stern expression and ramrod-straight posture making the space feel even more intimidating.

Your eyes flickered nervously to the stack of leather-bound books on the table between you, each one larger and more foreboding than the last. Then there was the parchment—rolled up, but ominous in its stillness. There was something about the entire scene that made your skin crawl, as though you were not here for a lesson but being led into battle.

“Princess,” the governess began, her tone clipped and authoritative, “this session is essential to your role as the future queen and wife. It is vital that you understand the... expectations that will be placed upon you in the marriage bed.”

You found yourself shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Your hands gripped the armrests, trying to hold on to a semblance of composure. But there was nothing composed about this moment, nothing regal about what was happening.

The governess pulled one of the books from the pile and flipped it open, revealing a diagram that made your stomach turn. The lines, the shapes—they were clinical, and yet, utterly mortifying. You felt heat rising in your face, and it took everything in you not to roll your eyes. The absurdity of the situation made you want to laugh, but you bit down on the impulse, hard.

“This,” the governess continued, her voice as sharp as her gaze, “is crucial knowledge for fulfilling your wifely duties. You must be prepared to consummate the marriage.”

You swallowed hard, shifting again, the lesson settling over you like an iron cloak. “I think I understand the general concept,” you muttered, trying to keep your tone light despite the tight knot of discomfort twisting in your gut.

She ignored your attempt at levity, her movements precise as she unfurled the parchment on the table. It revealed even more intricate—and mortifying—illustrations. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you stared at the detailed depictions, each one meticulously labeled as though this were a scientific experiment and not the intimate realities of your future.

You blinked, your heart pounding faster, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. This can’t be happening.

“Pay attention, Princess,” the governess said sharply, noticing your wandering gaze. “This knowledge is essential. You must understand your role—how to fulfill your responsibilities as a wife.”

Your patience snapped. You could no longer hold back the bubbling frustration. 

“My role?” you echoed, gesturing toward the diagrams with a wave of your hand. “You mean my role as a willing participant in this?”

The governess’ eyes narrowed, her back straightening further, if that were even possible. “Princess, this is not a matter to be taken lightly. The consummation of your marriage is not only expected, but required. You must take your duty seriously.”

A snort escaped you before you could stop it. The absurdity of it all—the coldness, the diagrams, the formality of something so intimate—was overwhelming. You hadn’t seen James in days, hadn’t even spoken more than a few proper words to him, and here you were, being lectured on consummation because it was a royal decree.

“I haven’t even had a proper conversation with the man,” you blurted out, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “How am I supposed to take this seriously?”

The governess’ gaze turned icy, her lips thinning into a disapproving line. “Princess,” she began, sounding a bit disappointed, “you may find this situation amusing, but let me remind you—this is no laughing matter. As queen, it is your duty to provide heirs. That cannot happen if you do not fulfill your responsibilities to His Majesty.”

The levity you had clung to vanished, replaced by something far darker, far more suffocating.

Heirs.

This wasn’t just about duty anymore. It wasn’t about vague responsibilities or distant expectations. This was real. This was your future—your life.

“So,” She cleared her throat noticing the change in your demeanor, “If you don’t want His Majesty to find a consort willing to provide him an heir, I suggest you listen and learn carefully.”

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. You tried to even out your breathing, but the panic clawing at your chest made it difficult to think, difficult to even breathe. You were no longer the girl standing in the garden, teased by a prince about escaping. You were a woman facing the stark reality of a role that felt far too large for you.

Your heart pounded in your ears as the governess’s cold, unrelenting gaze bored into you. She wasn’t just speaking of abstract duties or obligations. This was real, and you had no escape.

“I... I understand,” you whispered, though the words felt hollow. 

“Do you?” the governess asked, her tone softer now, but still cold with authority. “This is your reality, Princess. You cannot run from it. The marriage will be consummated. You will need to provide heirs. There is no escaping that.”

Each word she spoke settled into your bones, cold and unyielding. You had spent so much time avoiding this truth, brushing it aside as something distant. But now, with the weight of her gaze and the reality staring back at you from those diagrams, there was no avoiding it.

The laughter that had once bubbled in your throat turned bitter. There was no humor here. No escape.

Your hands clenched in your lap, gripping the fabric of your gown so tightly your knuckles turned white. You wanted to protest, to fight back against this fate being thrust upon you, but the enormity of it left you speechless. For the first time in days, you felt utterly powerless.

The governess, sensing your resignation, continued in her cold, measured tone. “I suggest you take these lessons more seriously from now on, Princess. This is not just about your future. It is about the future of the kingdom.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. There was nothing left to say.

You nodded, barely, the movement small and mechanical, as though you had been drained of all energy, all fight. Her words had pressed down on you, threatening to snuff out the last bit of spirit you had left.

And the worst part?

She was right.

There was no escaping this.

× × × ×

Lady Romanoff

The sound of clashing steel filled the training yard, the sharp ring of swords slicing through the afternoon air. Lady Natasha moved with deadly precision, her every strike calculated, her every parry effortless. The soldiers she sparred with were drenched in sweat, struggling to keep up with her, but she showed no mercy. Her red hair was tied back, a single loose strand framing her sharp, focused features.

"Lady Natasha!" A voice called out, breaking the rhythm of the duel.

She spun around, lowering her sword as a servant approached, bowing deeply before handing her a letter sealed with the royal crest. Her sharp eyes lingered on the seal for a moment before she waved her sparring partner off, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

Natasha turned away from the yard, stepping into the shade of the estate’s stone walls as she broke the seal. Her fingers traced over the words, the formal language of the letter at odds with the simple, direct life she preferred.

“To Lady Natasha Romanoff,

By order of His Majesty and the future Queen of Montelune, you are hereby invited to join the Princess Y/N’s court as a trusted advisor and protector…”

Her lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. Protector. She could handle that.

The wind stirred around her as she folded the letter, her eyes flickering toward the horizon where the palace loomed in the distance. She had been summoned. And when the future queen called, Natasha Romanoff never refused.

- - - -

Lady Maximoff

In the quiet of her private study, Lady Wanda Maximoff sat by a large, arched window overlooking the rolling hills that stretched far beyond her family's estate. The air smelled of herbs and candle wax, and the only sound was the faint crackle of the fire behind her. She was deep in thought, her hands idly weaving through the delicate threads of red magic that swirled around her fingertips, when a soft knock broke her focus.

A servant entered, bowing as he held out a letter sealed with the royal crest. Wanda's brows knit together as she dismissed the magic with a flick of her hand, taking the letter and gently breaking the seal.

The letter unfolded in her hands, the parchment crisp and formal, though the weight of its words pressed heavily on her chest.

“To Lady Wanda Maximoff,

By order of His Majesty and the future Queen of Montelune, you are invited to join Princess Y/N’s court, where your wisdom and unique abilities will be invaluable…”

She blinked, her eyes lingering on the phrase unique abilities. They were calling her for more than just her title. A sense of unease stirred in her chest, but also a flicker of something else—purpose.

She closed the letter carefully, her eyes drifting out of the window again. Her future was no longer here in the quiet, secluded halls of her family home. It was with the future queen. It was time to leave the shadows behind.

- - - -

Lady Potts

Lady Virginia Potts stood in the grand parlor of her estate, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over the polished wood floors. Her hands were busy organizing the mountain of correspondence scattered across the table, responding to various requests from lords and ladies who sought her counsel. Her estate was immaculate, a reflection of her meticulous nature.

A servant entered quietly, holding a single letter with a royal seal, far more significant than the others. Pepper paused, her hands stilling as she reached for the letter, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

Breaking the seal, she scanned the words with a practiced eye, though the gravity of the message slowed her reading.

“To Lady Virginia Potts,

By the request of His Majesty and the future Queen of Montelune, you are invited to join Princess Y/N’s court, where your knowledge and expertise in matters of statecraft will be essential…”

Pepper set the letter down, her fingers resting lightly on the parchment. It had been some time since she had involved herself with court politics, preferring the stability of her own estate and businesses. But this... this was a request she could not turn down.

The future queen needed her, and where there was a need for clarity and order, Pepper Potts would always step in.

She smoothed the letter, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. The court had no idea what they were in for.

× × × × 

The heavy oak doors creaked open as you were led into the private dining room, the faint rustle of your gown the only sound as the maid quietly withdrew behind you, leaving you in the stillness of the grand chamber. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a golden light over the room, and your eyes fell on him immediately.

King James stood by the large window, one hand resting on the frame, the other gloved hand at his side. He looked out over the sprawling grounds, the fading light of the evening casting a halo of gold through his hair, painting him in a soft, almost ethereal glow. You simply stood there, unable to speak. Unable to move. You hadn't seen him like this before—unburdened by the weight of ceremony or titles—and it stirred something deep within you.

Sensing your presence, he turned slowly, and the moment his eyes met yours, the air shifted. His smile bloomed—soft, adoring, and it lit up the space between you, as though you were the only person in the world.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice warm and intimate, yet restrained. There was a note of something unspoken there, something deeper. The way he looked at you—his blue eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face—made your heart stutter in your chest.

You offered him a small curtsy, your stomach fluttering as you lifted your gaze. “Your Majesty.”

"Please, to you I’m just James." James gestured to the long, elegantly set dining table. “Join me.”

You approached the table with grace, your pulse quickening as you took in the grand spread before you. The chairs were separated by a stretch of three empty seats, and despite the intimate setting, the distance felt like you're oceans apart. You hesitated for a moment but obeyed, sitting across from him at the far end.

He watched you, his smile not faltering, but his eyes grew thoughtful as you settled into your seat. “You look lovely,” he said quietly, his voice rich but gentle.

Your heart gave a little flutter, and despite the formality, you couldn’t help but feel warmth creep up your neck at his words. 

“Thank you,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a steadying breath. “You seem… deeply in thought,” you added, noting the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his gloved hand rested stiffly against the table.

He let out a quiet breath, his eyes lingering on yours as though he was trying to gauge your thoughts. 

“Perhaps,” he admitted with a small, almost shy smile. “It’s hard not to be when my future is sitting across from me.”

You look down with a smile, a shy reaction. But before you could let them settle too deeply, you cleared your throat, turning the conversation to lighter things. Questions formed quickly in your mind—trivial, unimportant things, but questions that would keep your heart from racing too fast, your thoughts from spiraling.

You gathered your courage, determined to make this dinner less formal and distant. There was so much you didn’t know about hum—about the man you were about to marry. So, before the weight of more serious questions settled over the evening, you decided to ask him about the smaller things. Things that would make him feel more human, less like the elusive king you were supposed to wed.

“Do you have a nickname?” you asked, breaking the silence with a playful tilt to your voice, hoping to ease the tension that had been lingering since the moment you entered the room.

James blinked, surprised by the question, then let out a soft chuckle. “A nickname? I didn’t expect that to be your first question.”

You smiled, “I have to start somewhere, don’t I?”

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement. ���Well, my mother used to call me Bucky when I was younger,” he said, his voice softer now. “But that name’s reserved for a select few.”

“Bucky,” you repeated, the name feeling strangely intimate on your lips. “And who are these ‘select few’?”

Bucky’s smile widened, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “People I trust. Mostly my closest friends.”

Your curiosity grew, and you seized the opportunity to dig a little deeper. “Speaking of which, who are your best friends? I feel like I should know the people who are important to you.”

“Steve—Captain Rogers, as you might know him. He’s been my best friend since we were boys. There’s also Sam—he’s got a sharp sense of humor and enjoys keeping me humble.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good group around you.” You couldn’t help but smile at the affection in his tone. 

Bucky nodded, his gaze growing warmer as he spoke of his friends. “Yeah, I’m lucky to have them.”

“And your horse? What’s his name?” You shifted in your seat, feeling a bit more comfortable now that the conversation had softened.

“His name’s Alpine.” He glanced at you with a grin, clearly surprised at your curiosity.

“Alpine?” you repeated, arching a brow.

“It suits him,” Bucky said with a shrug, though there was a twinkle of fondness in his eyes. “He’s stubborn, strong-willed… reminds me of someone.”

You laughed softly at that, feeling the weight of the room lift slightly. “I’d like to officially meet him sometime.”

Bucky’s smile lingered. The conversation had been easy, light, but the distance—both physical and emotional—still felt too vast. You wanted to ask more, to dig beneath the surface. But the space between you felt like a barrier, one you suddenly couldn’t bear any longer.

Without overthinking it, you set down your cutlery, stood, and lifted your plate from its place. Bucky’s eyes widened slightly in surprise as you walked around the table and sat beside him, taking the chair at his right.

Bucky watched you, clearly taken aback, but there was no disapproval in his gaze. If anything, he was amazed at how you seem to give no mind with tradition.

Bucky looked up at you, his lips curving into an intrigued smile.

“Sitting across from you felt… wrong,” you admitted softly. “There’s too much distance.”

Bucky’s eyes softened at your words, and though his expression remained composed, the way his body angled toward you—subtly, almost instinctively—revealed more than he probably intended.

You swallowed, heart pounding as you prepared yourself for the question you’d been avoiding all night. “There’s something I need to ask you, Your Majes—”

“James.”

“James. . .” You repeated his name.

Sitting next to him, the air seemed intimate, and the flicker of the candles on the table cast shadows that danced between your gazes. He was watching you—intensely, yet not in a way that was uncomfortable. There was something magnetic about the way he studied you, as if he was trying to figure you out, but not in the calculating manner you’d come to expect from others.

You swallowed, composing yourself. The words slipped from your lips before you had time to second guess them. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you... about Lady Hill.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t falter, but you noticed the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched ever so subtly. He turned slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

You hadn’t meant to sound so blunt, but the name had hung between you like a shadow since the ladies made sure the name stuck to you. The jealousy bubbling up inside you—the ache you refused to admit even to yourself—made it impossible to keep the question locked away.

“Lady Hill,” you continued, your voice quieter now, though no less steady. “I’ve heard... stories. About you and her.”

Bucky sighed softly, his eyes drifting momentarily to the flickering flames in the hearth before returning to you. “You’ve heard a lot, I’m sure.”

You pressed your lips together, not trusting yourself to speak. It was foolish, really—this feeling of jealousy. You barely knew him, yet the thought of him being close to someone else, someone before you, unsettled you in ways you couldn’t quite understand. Or, maybe you did, but you didn’t want to admit it.

Bucky turned his full attention to you now, his eyes softening, though his gaze held something more serious, something weighted with regret. “There was a time when Lady Hill and I were... close. But that time has long since passed.”

You exhaled softly, though the knot in your chest didn’t fully loosen. “And now?”

His gaze softened even further, as if he could see straight through your carefully composed exterior. “Now?” he echoed, his voice quieter, more intimate. “Now, I’m here with you, not her. And that should tell you everything.”

The words sent a flutter through your chest, though you tried to ignore it. There was something undeniable between you—a pull, a connection that went beyond formalities. Yet, you couldn’t let yourself get lost in it. Not yet.

“Yes, yes it does.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he studied your expression, taking in the slight tremble in your voice and the way you seemed to press your lips together, fighting to keep your emotions in check. He didn’t need you to say anything more to know what was going on in your head. He could see it, the doubt creeping into your mind.

He sighed softly, setting down his glass, the clink against the table louder than the quiet room. His gaze never left yours, though.

“Something’s wrong,” he said quietly, his voice laced with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. “You’re not just asking about Lady Hill. There’s something else. What is it?”

You blinked, taken aback by how perceptive he was. You hadn’t meant for him to see through the carefully built walls you had erected. But there he was, watching you with concern, as though he could sense something brewing inside you. Your pulse quickened as you struggled to keep your composure, to bury the jealousy that had crept up, uninvited, after hearing all those stories.

You looked away for a moment, trying to find the right words, to shake off the feeling that you weren’t enough—that maybe you never would be for a man like him. But Bucky wasn’t the type to let something like that slide.

“Y/N,” he said softly, leaning in just a little, as though closing the gap between you might help ease the distance in your heart. “Talk to me. Whatever you’ve heard... Whatever they’ve said, you can ask me. I’ll tell you the truth.”

Your breath hitched, his words wrapping around you like a lifeline you hadn’t realized you needed. Slowly, you turned back to face him.

“They...” You hesitated, biting your lip as you struggled to say it. “They said, you always sneak out late at night to see her.” The admission came out more quietly than you intended.

“Do you believe that?”

You swallowed hard, looking down at your hands as your fingers twisted the fabric of your gown. 

“I don’t want to believe it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But... they’re so convincing. And I—” Your breath hitched as the words caught in your throat, and you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence.

“Who is ‘they,’ Y/N?”

“People in court. They... they—”

“Be specific,” Bucky interrupted, his voice low, a command wrapped in concern. His blue eyes darkened with a mixture of frustration and protectiveness. He wasn’t angry—no, this was something else. He needed to know who had put these thoughts in your head, who had made you doubt him.

Your mouth hung open, caught off guard by the force of his words. He wasn’t going to let this go. He wouldn’t just sit there and let these rumors fester. And now, you couldn’t stop wondering—what would he do if you said their names? What would happen if you told him it was Sharon and Leah who had whispered those poisonous words into your ears?

For a brief moment, the idea of saying their names lingered on your lips. But you hesitated. Would telling him only make things worse? Would it lead to a confrontation you weren’t ready for? What if he confronted them, and everything in court shifted?

His gaze remained locked on yours, unwavering, waiting.

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice softer now, “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter who said it,” you murmured finally, shaking your head before looking back at him.

He blinked, surprised by your words, by the mercy you had just shown—choosing not to name those who had tried to plant doubt between the two of you. Most people in the court would have been eager to point fingers, to seek revenge or justice. But not you.

It doesn’t matter who said it. Your words echoed in his mind, and he realized just how different you were from the others. You weren’t driven by spite or the need for retribution. And that stunned him, amazed him in a way he hadn’t expected.

A slow breath escaped him as he continued to watch you, the vulnerability in your eyes clear, yet there was a strength there, too. A strength in choosing to let go of the pettiness of court gossip, in refusing to let others’ words dictate your path.

God, you're unlike anyone I've ever known.

But even as that admiration filled him, Bucky knew one thing for certain: he would find out who had whispered those lies to you. He wouldn’t let this slide. Not for the sake of revenge, but because those people—whoever they were—had tried to tarnish what was growing between you and him. And that was something he couldn’t forgive so easily.

Still, he wouldn’t push you now. He wouldn’t force you to tell him. You had shown mercy, and he respected that. But he would find out in another way. Quietly. Without involving you any further.

“You’re right,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “They don’t matter.”

You nodded with a fleeting faint smile. Your eyes flicked to his gloved hand, the leather dark and smooth, always present, never explained. 

“The glove. . .” you trailed off hesitantly, “Why do you always wear it?”

Bucky’s gaze followed yours, landing on the glove that covered his left hand. His face shifted, the softness hardening into what seemed like pain, and you thought he might not answer.

He flexed his fingers beneath the glove, his jaw tightening. “It’s... not something I speak about often,” he admitted quietly, his voice rougher now. “But since you’ve asked, and since we’re to be... married, I’ll tell you.”

You held your breath, your heart pounding as you waited for him to continue.

Bucky turned his head slightly, the tension in his posture growing. “I was injured. A long time ago,” He paused, his eyes flicking to you, gauging your reaction. “The glove hides the... reminder.”

He was holding back, guarding himself. You could feel it, sense it in every strained breath he took. Whatever lay beneath that glove—whatever part of him he hadn’t revealed—it was something that still haunted him, something he wasn’t ready to share to its full extent.

“I’m... sorry,” you said quietly, the words feeling inadequate. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Bucky offered a small, strained smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s no need to apologize. It’s just a part of who I am now.”

“I see. You are very brave.”

His fingers twitched, aching to close the small space between you. But instead of reaching out, he curled them into his lap, trying to keep control. Because if he touched you now—if he let himself give in even for a second—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

But the fear... the fear that you wouldn’t want this—wouldn’t want him—kept him silent. For now.

“You surprise me, you know,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

You blinked, “I do?”

He nodded, his lips curving into a small, almost tender smile. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. You ask questions no one else dares to ask.”

“I want to get to know you. .” You said without missing a beat, “You gave me a choice at the garden—whether to run or stay while knowing who I was—I chose to stay.”

The warmth in Bucky's gaze sent a flutter through your chest, making it hard to think clearly. You could feel the weight of his stare on you, the way his eyes traced every curve of your face, every movement you made.

"I feel the same way," Bucky said, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the space between you. His eyes lingering on your lips before slowly moving to look into your eyes.

You felt a pull, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air. You smiled and straightened yourself, “Good, I’m glad we both ag—”

Before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face and captured you into a kiss. His touch electrifies every fiber of you, and you froze, your heart hammering in your chest.

It wasn't a tentative kiss, nor was it hesitant. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, gently nibbling on your bottom lip. He kissed you like he'd been dying to do it, like he'd been holding back for far too long, and now he couldn't help himself.

Your breath hitched, your mind going blank as you melted into him, your hand instinctively gripping the sleeve of his coat. The taste of him, the feel of his body so close to yours, was intoxicating.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His eyes searched yours, filled with an adoration you had never seen before, and it took everything in you to catch your breath.

“I've wanted to kiss you since that day but I had to let you go," Bucky whispered, his voice rough with need. 

His gaze was heavy, half-lidded with desire, and just as he was about to lean in to taste you again, a knock at the door cut through the moment, shattering the fragile bubble of intimacy.

You jolted away from him, creating a hasty distance between you, while Bucky remained unusually calm, though his eyes still burned with the heat of the moment.

“Enter,” Bucky called out, his voice steady despite the tension lingering in the room.

The door creaked open, and Steve entered, his gaze flickering between you and Bucky before settling on his friend.

“Your Majesty, Are you ready to leave?” Steve asked, his tone casual, though you didn’t miss the brief glance he gave you.

“Oh,” Bucky muttered, his posture relaxing as he slid his hands into his coat pockets. “Is it that time already?”

You busied yourself, trying to smooth down your gown and regulate your breathing as you stood up, your heart hadn’t quite slowed.

Bucky stood slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he straightened his coat, a small, teasing smile curling at the corners of his lips. He took a step toward you, the warmth of his gaze made your heart flutter all over again.

He reached for your hand, taking it gently on his own, and brought it to his lips, his touch soft and reverent. The kiss he pressed to the back of your hand was tender, but the heat of his breath sent a shiver racing up your spine. When he pulled away, his fingers lingered, tracing the delicate skin of your knuckles.

“I enjoyed my time with you tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. His thumb brushed lightly over your skin, and you could feel the sincerity in his words. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

He leaned in ever so slightly, his voice dropping even lower, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. “And Princess, don’t think about climbing any more walls,” His lips tugged into a smirk, “I won’t help you, if I find you.”

A soft laugh escaped you despite the warmth in your cheeks, and before you could respond, he stepped back, releasing your hand with a lingering touch.

Turning toward Steve, Bucky’s expression shifted back to his usual composed self. “Steve, walk her to her chambers, I’ll meet you outside.”

Steve nodded, stepping forward as Bucky offered you one last look, his gaze softening again. “Rest well, Y/N. For tomorrow I shall be yours, and you mine.”

And with that, he left the room, his presence like a shadow lingering even after the door closed behind him. You stood there, still reeling from the touch of his lips on your hand, from the quiet promise in his words, as Steve approached, clearing his throat gently to pull you from your thoughts.

“Shall we?” Steve asked, his voice calm as always, though there was a knowing edge to his expression, as if he had sensed more than he let on.

You nodded, your heart still racing, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as Steve offered you his arm. As you walked together toward your chambers, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had changed everything. And no matter how much you tried to calm your racing heart, the warmth of Bucky’s kiss stayed with you, long after you had bid him goodnight.

× × × ×

The heavy velvet drapes lining the walls absorbed much of the noise, leaving the soft echo of your footsteps the only sound that filled the space.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, “You’re quiet,” he said, his voice gentle, as though he didn’t want to intrude on whatever was lingering in your mind.

You gave a soft, tight-lipped smile, your heart still not quite calmed down after what had transpired with Bucky. 

“I find myself with much to contemplate,” you murmured, your voice carrying the weight of the evening. You stole a glance at Steve, who seemed to nod, understanding more than you expected him to.

“Bucky often has that effect upon people,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips, though his gaze remained forward.

The comment caught you off guard, and despite yourself, a soft laugh escaped. “Does he?” you asked, your tone teasing, but there was something in Steve’s smile that hinted he knew exactly what had happened between you and Bucky.

Steve chuckled, his voice a low rumble. “You’ve noticed by now, haven’t you?” He gave you a sidelong glance. “He is not an easy man to understand, I grant you that. But when he chooses to care for someone…” Steve’s voice faltered slightly, as though choosing his words with care, “…he does not do so in half measures.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the implication, but you didn’t respond. Instead, you kept walking, the candle lit hallway stretching out ahead of you, each flickering light casting long shadows on the stone floor.

Steve’s words hung in the air, and as you walked in silence for a moment, you couldn’t help but replay Bucky’s kiss in your mind—the way his lips had lingered on yours, the way his eyes had softened when he looked at you, the teasing warmth of his final words.

“Bucky’s lucky to have someone like you,” Steve said after a while, breaking the silence again. His tone was sincere, almost protective, and when you looked at him, you could see the loyalty in his eyes—not just to his friend, but to you as well.

The comment took you by surprise, and you blinked, unsure of what to say. “I’m lucky to have met him,” you replied softly, your voice carrying more weight than you had expected. It wasn’t just a formal response; it was the truth. In the short time you’d known Bucky, he had drawn something out of you—something deeper than you were prepared to admit.

Steve’s gaze softened, and his lips curved into a small, approving smile. “I’m glad you think so.”

As the walk continued, the palace walls seemed to narrow slightly, the corridor leading toward your chambers now dimly lit by only a few flickering torches. You could feel the end of the evening approaching, and with it, a certain reluctance to leave the comfortable quiet that had settled between you and Steve.

“Tell me, Captain,” you began hesitantly, “do you believe that His Majesty ever... doubts himself? Given the weight of the responsibilities he bears?”

Steve’s expression grew thoughtful, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. “He bears more than most could comprehend,” he said slowly. “But one thing I know with certainty—once his mind is set, whether it be upon a matter or a person,” his gaze flickered toward you meaningfully, “he does not question his resolve.”

As you approached the door to your chambers, Steve slowed, and you could feel the shift in the air, the end of the conversation nearing. He let go of your arm and turned to face you fully, his expression serious but kind.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” he said simply, as if promising something far greater than just his presence. “If you need anything.”

“Thank you,” you replied, meaning it more than you could express.

He gave you a small nod, stepping back slightly as you reached for the door handle. “Goodnight, Princess.”

You paused, the door half-open, and gave him a warm smile before slipping inside. “Goodnight, Captain.”

As the door closed behind you and you backed against the door, your heart still racing, you realized that tomorrow your life will be changed drastically.

× × × ×

Captain Rogers descended the grand staircase, he adjusted the hilt of his sword, his gaze scanning the courtyard for Bucky.

The king was waiting by the fountain, leaning against his white stallion, Alpine, his silhouette almost ethereal under the silvery moonlight. 

“Ready to head out?” Bucky asked, his voice low and casual, as if they were merely discussing a routine ride instead of what lay ahead.

Steve mounted his own horse, the leather creaking softly beneath him as he settled into the saddle. He glanced at Bucky, then asked, “You kissed her, didn’t you?”

A smirk tugged at Bucky’s lips, but he didn’t turn to face Steve. “Wouldn’t you?” he replied smoothly.

Steve let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not going to answer that.”

A soft laugh escaped Bucky, the sound surprisingly light given the tension that clung to the night. They nudged their horses forward, the steady clop of hooves the only sound as they made their way along the moonlit path.

“You know,” Steve began, his gaze drifting to the silhouette of the palace behind them, “I have to wonder… Why do you want to be in Annecy tonight? Your wedding is tomorrow, Buck.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed slightly, and he let out a low, rueful chuckle. He flexed his left hand, the movement barely perceptible but unmistakable to Steve’s watchful eyes. 

“You know why,” he said softly.

Steve nodded, understanding flashing across his features. He knew Bucky’s struggle—the ghosts that haunted him, the weight he carried that went far beyond a king’s responsibilities. There was always a part of Bucky that seemed to be at war with himself, the part that made even the simplest things—like sharing the same roof with his own future wife—feel like an insurmountable task.

They rode in silence for a few more minutes, the steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves lulling them into a semblance of calm. But then, Bucky shifted in his saddle, his gaze flickering to Steve.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Bucky said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm. “I need you to show a little interest in the princess.”

Steve’s head snapped around, his eyes widening. “What?” He blinked, incredulous. “Have you gone mad? Are you trying to get my head chopped off by the Queen Dowager?”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a smile, but his eyes were serious. “It’s important, Steve.”

“No,” Steve said flatly, shaking his head. “I’m not doing that. It’ll cause a scandal. It’ll make you look like a fool and make me look even worse.”

“Oh, come on,” Bucky urged, his tone almost playful.

“No,” Steve repeated firmly, his jaw set. “Why? Why would I do that?”

“Because I need some gossip,” Bucky said with a grin, though his eyes held a hint of something deeper. “Just enough to keep people talking.”

Steve let out a begrudging laugh, shaking his head again. “That’s worse, Bucky. Do you know how bad that would look? I’ll look like I’m trying to swoop in and steal the queen. The court would eat us alive. And besides—” he narrowed his eyes at Bucky, his expression hardening, “you really want to make me look like that?”

“Just trust me on this,” Bucky insisted, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “I’ll have your back, like I always do. You know that.”

Steve held his gaze for a long moment, suspicion mingling with concern. Bucky had that look in his eyes—the one that said he was up to something, something he wasn’t sharing.

“What are you really up to, Bucky?” Steve asked quietly, his brow furrowing. “What’s this really about?”

Bucky hesitated, the playful glint in his eyes dimming. He looked away, his gaze turning distant. “I need to find out who’s making up stories about me.”

“So, you want to use me to flush out whoever it is?”

Bucky’s lips twisted into a rueful smile. “Something like that.”

“Bucky…” Steve’s voice held a warning edge. “You’re risking a lot by playing these games.”

“It’s not a game,” Bucky shot back quietly, his voice tight. “They’re trying to undermine her, and I can’t stand by and watch.”

Steve stared at him, a mix of disbelief and reluctant understanding on his face. “And you think feigning interest in the princess will make them reveal themselves?”

Bucky shrugged, his smile strained. “Jealousy’s a powerful thing. If I act indifferent, it might embolden them. If I get you to show some interest in her, they might think they have more of an opportunity to turn her against me. The more they reveal, the more I can do.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Bucky’s expression softened, the steel in his eyes giving way to a gentler determination. “I know. But I can’t let them manipulate her. I can sense that Y/N is strong, but she’s alone here. She needs to see I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe—even if she doesn’t understand it yet.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, his gaze searching Bucky’s face. “And what if it backfires? What if she thinks you’re encouraging me because you don’t care?”

“Then I’ll have to fix it.” Bucky’s voice was resolute, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll make her see. But first, I need to know who’s been feeding her lies.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped, a sigh escaping him. “You’re asking me to throw myself into the lion’s den.”

“Just for a little while,” Bucky said softly, his voice almost pleading. “Just until I get to the bottom of this.”

Steve shook his head, but a small, resigned smile tugged at his lips. “You owe me a lot for this, you know that?”

Bucky let out a quiet laugh, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “I know. I always do.”

They continued riding in silence, the moon casting long shadows along the path. Steve’s mind raced, weighing the risks and consequences, but beneath it all was a steady resolve.

“Fine,” he murmured after a long pause. “But don’t blame me if this blows up in your face.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Steve.” Bucky smiled, his expression grateful and laced with relief.

Steve nodded once, the resolve in his eyes mirroring Bucky’s. “Let’s hope this works. For her sake.”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered, his gaze turning distant as his thoughts drifted back to you. “For her sake.”

× × × ×

The morning of your wedding dawned with a soft golden light filtering through the tall windows of your chamber, bathing the room in its warmth. You sat in front of the grand vanity, your reflection staring back at you, almost unrecognizable in its regal splendor. The maids had been working tirelessly to prepare you, their hands deftly weaving your hair into an intricate style, fastening the delicate tiara onto your head—a symbol of the new life you were about to enter.

Your gown, a masterpiece of lace and silk, shimmered in the soft light, its heavy skirts spreading around you like a cascade of moonlight. The bodice fits you like a second skin, the embroidery of gold thread intertwining with pearls, adding to the weight you already felt in your chest. You could hear the faint noises of activity from the palace below, the preparations for the ceremony well underway.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Lady Rambeau entered, her usual composed expression softening slightly as her gaze settled on you. 

“Princess,” she said, bowing her head, “the carriage is being prepared. It will be time soon.”

You nodded, your hands clenching and unclenching in your lap. Your heart was a storm, the events of the past days swirling together with the impending reality of the ceremony. This is it, you thought. There was no more time for questions, no more time for doubts.

Lady Rambeau approached, sensing the nervousness in you. “You look every bit the queen,” she said quietly, offering a rare, almost motherly smile. “His Majesty will be pleased.”

You swallowed, your heart stuttering at the mention of Bucky. Bucky. How strange it felt to think of him as both the man you had kissed, the man whose touch had ignited something deep within you, and the king you were about to marry. The man who was still so much of a mystery to you, though the connection you felt with him was undeniable.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft, your mind too tangled with emotion to say more.

The doors of your chamber opened again, and in walked Captain Rogers, looking as composed and stoic as always, but when his gaze landed on you, he froze, his eyes widening with something akin to awe.

For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, and then his expression softened, his voice coming out quieter than usual. “Princess…” He cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over you once more. “You look... radiant.”

His compliment caught you off guard, and you felt a faint blush creep up your cheeks. “Thank you, Captain,” you murmured, unable to suppress a small smile. There was something endearing about seeing the usually composed Captain Rogers momentarily taken aback.

He gave you a small, respectful nod before regaining his usual composure. “It is time,” he said, though his voice was still tinged with admiration.

Lady Rambeau stepped back, allowing you space, and Captain Rogers extended his arm toward you. “Shall I escort you?”

You hesitated only a moment before placing your hand in his. His arm was strong and steady, a rock amidst the storm that churned within you.

Captain Rogers led you down the grand staircase and out to the courtyard where the carriage awaited. Its intricate design was fit for a royal wedding, adorned with fresh flowers and draped in soft velvet. The horses were restless, sensing the energy of the day, and the servants moved with ease, making final adjustments.

As you reached the bottom step, Captain Rogers assisted you into the carriage, his hand still steady as he helped you settle into the seat. Lady Rambeau followed behind, ensuring everything was in place before stepping aside.

Captain Rogers gave you one final look before closing the door. “You will be magnificent, Princess,” he said, his tone filled with quiet confidence. “And His Majesty will be waiting.”

You smiled softly, trying to calm the flurry of nerves that danced in your chest. “Thank you, Captain.”

With a nod, he stepped back, and the driver clicked his reins, the carriage lurching forward toward the abbey where your future awaited.

The ride was quiet, the only sounds were the clatter of hooves against the cobblestone streets and the soft rustling of your gown as you shifted. Through the windows, you caught glimpses of the city—banners flying high, people lining the streets to catch a glimpse of the royal procession. Their cheers and waves were a blur, but their excitement was palpable, filling the air with a sense of anticipation.

As the carriage approached the abbey, your heart began to race. The towering spires of the grand stone building loomed ahead, casting long shadows across the cobbled courtyard. The doors of the abbey were open, revealing the grand aisle that stretched toward the altar where Bucky would be waiting.

The carriage came to a slow halt, and you took a deep breath, steadying yourself as the door opened. Captain Rogers appeared once again, offering his hand to help you down.

“Are you ready, Princess?” he asked, his tone as steady as his hand.

You nodded, though your heart felt as if it were about to burst from your chest. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Captain Rogers smiled softly, and as you stepped out of the carriage, he guided you toward the abbey’s entrance. The distance between you and the altar felt both infinite and fleeting. The weight of your gown, the gaze of the crowd—it was all overwhelming, yet the thought of Bucky waiting for you at the end of the aisle gave you strength.

The inner doors of the abbey slowly creaked open, revealing the breathtaking sight before you. The soft sound of music swelled through the vast stone hall, a hauntingly beautiful melody echoing off the towering pillars. As you took your first step inside, delicate flower petals, pale pinks and whites, drifted down from the ceiling, falling like a gentle rain around you, each petal kissing the floor at your feet.

The entire kingdom seemed to be watching, every gaze fixed on you as you stood framed by the grand doorway. Your heart raced, each beat thundering in your chest as you took in the magnitude of the moment. The aisle stretched out long before you, lined with noblemen and women from across the kingdom, their eyes wide with anticipation. But none of them mattered.

Because at the end of the aisle, waiting by the altar, stood James.

His regal form was clad in the finest ceremonial attire, gold embroidery gleaming against the dark velvet of his tunic. He looked every bit the king he was, tall and powerful, but his gaze—his gaze was solely on you. As the flower petals fluttered down, his expression softened, his lips curving into the smallest, most tender smile. His blue eyes, usually so guarded, were filled with warmth, a quiet awe that sent a rush of emotion surging through you.

You inhaled deeply, gathering your strength. You were walking alone, without an arm to hold, without anyone to guide you. This moment was yours to face. And with each step you took, you felt the weight of the gown, the tiara on your head, the delicate lace of your veil—all of it settling over you like a mantle of responsibility and power.

The crowd whispered in reverent awe, but their voices seemed like distant echoes as you walked forward, the petals beneath your feet crinkling softly with every step. The aisle felt both endless and too short, time stretching and compressing. But you kept your head high, your gaze locked on James, the silent thread between you pulling you closer with every heartbeat.

As you drew nearer, you could see the way his eyes shimmered, as if he, too, felt the enormity of the moment. His posture was regal, composed, but there was something in his expression—something that told you he was as affected by this as you were.

With each step, the world around you faded. The grandeur of the abbey, the watching crowd, the petals—they all became background to the electric pull between you and James.

Finally, you reached the end of the aisle. Your breath hitched, heart pounding, as you came to stand before him. For a moment, everything else fell away. It was just you and him.

James’s hand extended toward you, his touch warm, his smile soft and full of something deeper than words. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low, meant only for you. “You’re captivating.”

A flush crept up your neck, you were about to become his queen. You were about to take your place at his side—not just as a bride, but as his equal, his partner.

You gazed deeply into the most bewitching blue eyes, in the way his hand held yours so carefully, you knew that whatever doubts you had carried—about the kingdom, about him—they had no place here. Today, there was only you and Bucky, standing together at the threshold of something far greater than either of you could have imagined.

Bucky’s eyes never left yours, as if he were searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or some unspoken promise. His fingers, warm and steady, curled gently around yours, grounding you in the midst of your racing thoughts.

The officiant’s voice cut through the air, ceremonious and strong, pulling you back to the present, though Bucky’s gaze still tethered you in place.

“Today, we bear witness to the union of our King, James Buchanan Barnes the third and his chosen bride, Princess Y/N of Zienna, a bond that not only joins two hearts but solidifies the foundation upon which this kingdom shall flourish.”

The words washed over you, powerful yet distant, as if they belonged to someone else’s story. And as you stood there, facing Bucky, you realized that while this was the culmination of the court’s expectations and the kingdom’s future, it was also more than that.

It was about him.

And you.

Bucky’s thumb brushed lightly against the back of your hand, a small, intimate gesture that sent warmth flooding through you. You met his gaze, and in that moment, something shifted. The doubt, the fear that had haunted you for weeks, seemed to dissolve under the intensity of his silent promise.

“Princess Y/N,” the officiant’s voice drew you back, “do you take King James as your husband, to honor and stand by him for the good of this kingdom and for all the days of your life?”

Your heart stilled for a fraction of a second, and then, with a steady breath, you nodded.

“I do,” you said softly. It wasn’t just a vow to the kingdom or its expectations; it was a vow to Bucky, the man beneath the crown, the man you were beginning to see more clearly with every passing moment.

The officiant turned to Bucky. “And do you, Your Majesty, take Princess Y/N as your wife, to cherish, protect, and honor her, for the good of this kingdom and for all the days of your life?”

Bucky’s gaze never wavered. His voice, low and steady, seemed to echo through the hall, even though he spoke just for you. “I do.”

As the officiant began the final blessings, you barely heard the words. All that mattered was Bucky’s hand in yours, the gentle press of his thumb against your skin, the warmth of his presence. And in his eyes, you saw it clearly—this was not just duty for him either. There was something deeper, something neither of you had fully acknowledged yet, but it was there, undeniable and magnetic.

“By the power vested in me,” the officiant declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The abbey seemed to hold its breath. The world, once again, shrank to just the two of you.

Bucky took a slow step closer, his hand still entwined with yours. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again, something flickering in his expression—anticipation. He leaned down, his movements careful, as though savoring the moment, and pressed a kiss to your lips.

It wasn’t a ceremonial kiss. It wasn’t for show.

It was the kiss of a man who had been waiting, yearning for this moment. His lips were warm, his touch tender yet filled with a quiet passion that left your heart racing all over again. The crowd faded away once more, the applause distant and faint, as you melted into him, your hand tightening around his.

When Bucky pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re mine now,” he whispered softly, just for you. There was no arrogance in his voice, only a raw honesty that sent shivers down your spine.

“I am,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, but the words hung between you, carrying a promise that went far beyond this day.

Bucky’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes alight with something warm, something real. And as you both turned to face the crowd, ready to walk back down the aisle as husband and wife, you knew—whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever doubts or fears still lingered, you would face them together.

× × × × 

The grand hall was alive with music and laughter, the sounds of celebration echoing off the high ceilings. Glittering chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow across the room, illuminating the hundreds of guests who had gathered to celebrate the royal union. The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers and fine wine, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.

You stood at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of champagne in hand, watching as couples twirled in elegant dances, their gowns and suits a blur of color and movement. The weight of the tiara on your head reminded you of your new role, but it felt strangely lighter now, after the vows had been spoken, after the kiss that still lingered on your lips.

Across the room, Bucky stood among a group of nobles, listening to their conversation with polite attentiveness. But his gaze kept drifting back to you, his watchful eyes never leaving your figure for too long. There was a tension in the way he stood, a quiet possessiveness in the way he observed you, as if even from this distance, he wanted to be sure you were safe, that you were comfortable.

You could feel his gaze burning on you, and it sent a flutter through your chest. He hadn’t been far from your side all night, his presence a constant reassurance, a steady anchor amidst the whirlwind of festivities. And though you hadn’t had much time to speak since the ceremony, every glance, every brief touch of his hand against yours, felt like a promise that this night was only the beginning.

A soft voice at your side drew your attention back to the present. “Your Majesty.”

Lady Rambeau appeared at your elbow, her expression as composed as ever, through her eyes held a hint of warmth. “There are a few ladies I’d like you to meet,” she said, her tone formal but respectful.

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Of course.”

She gestured toward a small group of women approaching from the other side of the room. As they drew nearer, you recognized them from their noble houses, each of them a prominent figure in the kingdom. But there was something more about them—an air of confidence, of grace and power—that set them apart from the other courtiers.

“These are some of the finest ladies in court,” Lady Rambeau continued, her voice lowering slightly as they approached. “They will be valuable allies to you, my Queen.”

The first woman stepped forward, her striking red hair catching the light as she offered you a small, respectful curtsy. “Lady Natasha Romanoff, Your Majesty,” she introduced herself, her voice smooth and controlled, though her sharp eyes seemed to take in everything at once. “It is an honor to serve the queen.”

You smiled, feeling the weight of her words and the strength behind them. “The honor is mine, Lady Natasha. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

Next, a woman with dark, piercing eyes and an aura of quiet intensity stepped forward, offering a graceful curtsy. “Lady Wanda Maximoff,” she said, her voice soft but filled with a certain gravity. “If ever you have the need for my skills, my Queen, they are at your disposal.”

You nodded, sensing something deeper in her words, though you couldn’t quite place it. “Thank you, Lady Wanda. I appreciate your support.”

Finally, a woman with an air of calm authority and intelligence stepped forward, her blonde hair elegantly styled. She smiled warmly at you, her eyes twinkling with a quiet humor. “Lady Virginia Potts, Your Majesty. I oversee many of the palace affairs, so if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You returned her smile, feeling instantly at ease with her. “I will certainly keep that in mind, Lady Virginia. Thank you.”

Lady Rambeau stepped back slightly, allowing you to take in the moment, surrounded by these powerful women who had now become your allies. There was a sense of reassurance in their presence, a reminder that while this role may be daunting, you were not alone.

As you exchanged a few more pleasantries, you felt Bucky’s gaze on you once again, a protective and possessive energy that seemed to radiate from him even across the crowded hall. You glanced over your shoulder, catching his eyes from across the room.

He gave you a small, knowing smile, his eyes flicking toward Lady Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper as if to acknowledge their presence before returning to you. There was a promise in his gaze—a promise that he would always be watching over you, no matter where you were or who you were with.

You turned toward Natasha, who was observing the room with sharp, calculating eyes. "It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?" you asked, your voice soft but holding a hint of amusement. The grandeur of the evening, the weight of the crown on your head, the people all watching—it was overwhelming, and yet, there was a certain thrill in it.

Natasha’s lips tugged into a small smile, her gaze flicking back to you. “It is. But I imagine you’re used to holding your own.” 

“I’m learning quickly, I suppose.” You smiled back, appreciating the compliment. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Natasha replied smoothly. “You’ll find the court can be... an interesting place. But if you play your cards right, you’ll have allies in all the right places.” There was a sharpness to her words, a subtle warning about the political nature of the people around you. But beneath it, you could sense her offering her support—her expertise.

Pepper leaned in slightly, her tone warm and filled with humor. “What Natasha means is that while the court can be a bit of a battlefield, there’s no need to navigate it alone. The three of us, well,” she gave a small shrug, “we’ve had our fair share of skirmishes.”

Wanda nodded, her dark eyes studying you with quiet intensity. “The court is full of whispers and schemes. People will say anything to sway your favor.” Her voice was soft, but there was a firm resolve behind it. “But when you surround yourself with people who have your back, the noise becomes just that—noise.”

You took a sip of your champagne, letting their words sink in. It was comforting, in a way, to know that these women had been through the same games you were just beginning to experience. You had already seen the sharp edges of the court with Sharon and Leah—how they used rumors and backhanded comments to try to shake you. 

Pepper glanced at you, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “I’m sure you’ve already had a taste of how competitive some of the women can be.” She raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Sharon and Leah, I imagine?”

A soft laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you nodded. “You could say that. They’ve been… welcoming in their own way.”

“Welcoming. . .That’s one way to put it.” Wanda exchanged a glance with Natasha, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Don’t worry about them. They’re just... testing the waters. Seeing if you’re as strong as you look.” She paused, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have a feeling they’ll be disappointed.”

 “I certainly hope so.” You couldn’t help but grin at Natasha’s confidence in you.

Pepper leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping slightly, though there was still a playful edge to it. “If you ever need a little extra... assistance in handling those types, just let us know. We’ve got plenty of experience dealing with difficult people.”

Wanda’s gaze softened, sensing your internal struggle. “Don’t let them intimidate you. You are the queen now, and that holds power. But more importantly, you have us.” She gestured to the women around you. “We’ve all been through our own trials. We know what it’s like to navigate these treacherous waters.”

Natasha nodded in agreement, her voice quieter now, more sincere. “And we’ve made it through to the other side. You will too.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at their words. It wasn’t just the alliance they were offering—it was genuine friendship, the kind of support that went beyond titles and formalities.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice laced with gratitude. “I didn’t expect to find this kind of... connection here.”

Pepper placed a gentle hand on your arm, her expression kind. “We look out for each other. That’s how we survive.”

They exchanged glances, their shared smiles filled with a mixture of amusement and affection, and you felt a deep sense of belonging in their presence. It wasn’t just about surviving court anymore—it was about thriving.

Pepper gave a mock sigh, shaking her head with a smile. “Honestly, I’m surprised there hasn’t been any drama tonight. Though, with Sharon and Leah, it’s only a matter of time.”

Wanda chuckled softly. “Perhaps they’re waiting for the right moment. You know they love an audience.”

Just as the laughter between you and the ladies began to fade, a warm presence approached from behind, sending a shiver of awareness down your spine. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The subtle shift in the air, the quiet command of the space—Bucky.

You glanced over your shoulder, your heart giving an unbidden flutter as his deep blue eyes met yours. He wore that easy smile, the one that made it seem like he was perfectly comfortable with the world, though you knew there was more to it than that.

"Ladies," Bucky greeted smoothly, giving a small but respectful nod to Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important." His gaze lingered on you, a playful glint in his eyes.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Nothing you couldn’t improve upon, Your Majesty.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes flicking to each of them before settling back on you. “In that case, I wonder if I might steal my wife away for a dance?”

You could feel the amusement radiating from the women beside you, but it was Pepper who spoke first, her tone light and teasing. “By all means, Your Majesty. Just don’t keep her too long. We were just getting to the fun part.”

Wanda smirked, adding, “We wouldn’t want her to forget where her real loyalties lie.”

“I’ll do my best to have her back before you can miss her.” Bucky chuckled again, his hand extended toward you, palm up, his gaze softening as it locked onto yours.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through you as you placed your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours, firm yet gentle, and the simple touch sent a wave of anticipation through you.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised the ladies, though your attention was already fully on Bucky.

Bucky gently led you away from the group, to the dance floor, you felt the world begin to fade away, leaving only the two of you.

The music swelled around you, the soft notes of the waltz filling the air like a gentle breeze, but it was Bucky’s presence that consumed you. His hand was warm and sure at your waist, the other cradling your hand as he guided you effortlessly across the floor. His touch, the closeness, made your heart race with an unfamiliar but welcomed thrill.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and the corners of his mouth lifted into that boyish smile that always made your pulse quicken.

“You seem deep in thought, Y/N,” he teased lightly, his voice a soft rumble, the glint in his eyes mischievous.

“I was thinking,” you replied, feigning seriousness, “how lucky I am that you haven’t stepped on my gown yet.”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm, and without warning, he spun you, pulling you back to him with a flourish that made you gasp in surprise. You stumbled slightly, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you against his chest.

“I’d never let that happen,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You’re far too precious for me to misstep.”

Your laughter bubbled up, light and carefree, filling the space between you. It was strange how easy it was to laugh with him, how quickly he could disarm your nerves, making the weight of the evening feel like nothing.

As the music slowed, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your temple, the tender gesture sending a wave of warmth through you. His hand, still at your waist, slipped slightly lower, pulling you closer as he whispered, “I think you owe me a dance every day for the rest of our lives, don’t you think?”

You grinned up at him, your heart soaring. “Every day? I thought kings were supposed to be busy ruling kingdoms.”

Bucky’s eyes gleamed with affection, his lips brushing your forehead this time. “For you, I’ll always find the time.”

Before you could respond, he spun you again, your skirts flaring out around you as you twirled. You giggled, completely caught up in the moment, in him. When you came back to him, he caught you easily, his grip firm and strong, and you couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped you.

“There’s that laugh. You should smile more often. It suits you.” He smiled down at you, his gaze tender, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

Your cheeks flushed under his gaze, the butterflies in your stomach refusing to settle. His eyes held something deeper, something that made you feel as though you were the only two people in the room.

Without another word, he leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. Then, as if unable to resist, he placed another kiss on your cheek, then one at your jaw, and finally one just below your ear.

“James!” you gasped, though your laughter betrayed you as you squirmed in his arms, the playful affection catching you off guard.

He laughed, a low, rich sound, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “I can’t help myself. You look too alluring tonight.”

You couldn’t stop the blush that crept up your neck, but you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest for just a moment, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of his embrace. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that matched the sway of your bodies as you danced.

As the music slowed to a gentle hum, Bucky’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the soft skin there. He tilted your chin up, his eyes soft but filled with that same playful affection.

“Have I told you tonight how lucky I am to have you by my side?” His voice was a low whisper, meant just for you.

You smiled, feeling your heart swell. “No, this is the first.”

“I’ll make it a hundred before the night is over.” He grinned, his thumb gently tracing your jawline. 

Before you could reply, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss slow, tender, and full of unspoken promises. It wasn’t the hurried, stolen kiss from before—it was on purpose as if he were reminding you that despite all the eyes watching, this moment was just yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “I’ve been waiting all night to be with you.”

“And now you are,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips.

His lips brushed yours again in response, a feather-light touch that left you breathless. And as the music faded and the evening stretched on, the two of you swayed together, the rest of the world melting away in the warmth of his touch and the quiet, intimate moments you shared.

For the first time all night, you weren’t just the queen and her king. You were simply Bucky and Y/N—two souls bound by something far deeper than titles or crowns.

× × × × 

From your position on the dance floor with Bucky, you caught glimpses of the other guests enjoying the festivities, but it was Captain Rogers who caught your attention. He stood near the edge of the room, his eyes drifting—not to the crowds or the dancing couples—but to Lady Natasha.

For most of the evening, you had noticed him, his gaze lingering on her with a quiet, almost tentative intensity. Steve Rogers was many things—brave, honorable, and steadfast—but when it came to matters of the heart, it seemed he was not as confident. Natasha, for her part, appeared entirely unaware, laughing and speaking with Wanda and Pepper, graceful as always.

But then there was Sharon, standing not far from Steve, her eyes on him, watching his every move. You could see it in her posture, the subtle tilt of her head, the way her fingers gripped her glass—she thought his attention was on her. It wasn’t difficult to guess where this was heading, and the tension of it made your heart race for reasons entirely different from the dance.

Beside you, Bucky must have sensed your distraction, because he leaned down and murmured, “What’s caught your eye, my Queen?”

You smiled, tilting your head slightly toward Steve. “I think Captain Rogers is about to make a move.”

Bucky followed your gaze, his lips quirking into a knowing grin. “About time. He’s been staring at her like a lost puppy all night.”

You chuckled softly, watching as Steve squared his shoulders, his resolve clearly building as he took a deep breath and started toward Natasha. The room seemed to slow, the moment stretched out as he approached her, his expression carefully composed but with a hint of nervousness beneath the surface.

But just as Steve was a few steps away from Natasha, Sharon stepped forward, a bright smile lighting up her face, clearly under the impression that he was coming for her. She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm in what she must have thought was a gentle, flirtatious gesture.

“Captain Rogers,” Sharon greeted warmly, her voice lilting. “I was just wondering if—”

Steve, clearly caught off guard, blinked at her in confusion, his eyes flickering quickly from Sharon to Natasha, who had just turned and was watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow.

Sharon’s smile faltered slightly, but she pressed on, her tone hopeful. “Would you like to dance?”

Steve's gaze flickered toward Natasha, who stood not far from him, her expression composed but with that ever-present sharpness in her eyes. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then his eyes caught sight of Sharon’s father, Lord Carter, watching the scene unfold from the corner of the room. The older man’s gaze was piercing, his posture stern and authoritative.

Steve hesitated, his throat tightening. He was well aware of the power Lord Carter wielded within the court, the weight of his opinion, and how much sway he held over many matters—both spoken and unspoken. His glance darted back to Sharon’s expectant expression, her eyes wide with anticipation.

For a heartbeat, the room seemed to hold its breath. Steve’s jaw clenched, his shoulders rigid as he fought with himself internally. And then, as if a decision was made for him, he forced a smile and nodded. 

“Yes, of course.” he said simply, offering his hand.

Sharon’s face lit up with a brilliant smile, and she slipped her hand into his, her gaze flickering triumphantly to Natasha for just a fraction of a second. Lord Carter nodded approvingly from his spot, his face easing into a look of satisfaction.

But as Steve led Sharon to the dance floor, his eyes found Natasha one last time. The disappointment in her gaze, so well hidden behind her cool demeanor, pierced him deeper than any wound ever had.

Bucky’s hand remained steady on your waist as you moved together, his gaze focused on you. But your attention wavered, drawn back to where Steve and Sharon now stood together on the dance floor. The way Sharon’s lips curved into a self-satisfied smile made something coil unpleasantly in your chest.

You kept your expression serene, eyes trained on them with the same polite interest expected of a queen surveying her court. The facade was perfect—no one would guess that beneath the surface, your feelings toward Lady Carter were far from friendly.

“Everything alright?” Bucky’s low murmur brought your focus back to him. He was watching you, his eyes filled with curiosity. He hadn’t noticed the brief flicker of disapproval in your gaze, hadn’t caught the way your fingers tightened slightly against his shoulder.

You smiled up at him, soft and unassuming. “Of course,” you replied lightly, matching his steps with effortless grace. “I was simply observing our Captain. It’s not often we see him… in such a position.”

Bucky’s gaze shifted briefly over your shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “No, it’s not,” he agreed, amusement lacing his tone. “Poor Steve, stuck dancing with Lady Carter when it’s clear his mind is elsewhere.”

Your smile grew a touch tighter, but you nodded, letting out a soft, almost indifferent laugh. “Yes, quite the predicament,” you mused, keeping your voice light and even.

You knew Bucky wasn’t probing further—he was simply sharing an observation, unaware of the way Sharon’s presence grated against you like nails on silk. And you intended to keep it that way.

He spun you gently, your skirts sweeping elegantly around you, and you caught sight of Sharon’s face once more. She was speaking animatedly, leaning just a bit too close to Steve, clearly basking in whatever illusion she’d spun for herself.

You looked away before Bucky could follow your line of sight, turning your gaze to meet his instead. 

“Do you think they make a good match?” you asked the question casually and laced with just the right amount of interest.

Bucky shrugged slightly, his grip on you unwavering as he guided you through another smooth turn. 

“Steve can decide for himself,” he replied, a neutral smile on his lips. “But it’s obvious where his heart lies.”

You hummed softly, nodding as if merely considering his words. “I suppose so,” you murmured, then shifted the topic with ease, guiding the conversation away from Steve and Sharon.

As Bucky’s attention shifted fully to your words, your expression remained the picture of calm. Yet inwardly, your gaze flickered back to the dance floor, watching as Sharon leaned in, whispering something into Steve’s ear.

Your smile didn’t falter, not even for a second. But the disdain simmering beneath it was a quiet, insistent thing, buried beneath layers of grace and composure. Sharon could have her little victory tonight—it didn’t matter.

Because you knew exactly where Steve’s gaze would turn when the music ended, and it wouldn’t be on the lady currently in his arms.

× × × × 

The carriage wheels creaked softly beneath you as they rolled over the gravel path, the only sound filling the heavy silence between you and Bucky. You sat across from each other, the space that had once felt warm now stretched and distant. Bucky’s gaze was fixed out the window, his profile bathed in the soft moonlight, but his expression was unreadable. You had tried to break the silence once or twice, but each attempt had fallen flat, met with a polite nod or a quiet murmur. The joy and excitement from the wedding already felt like a distant memory, replaced by the weight of unspoken words and something heavier that lingered between you. The estate loomed ahead, but instead of excitement, a growing unease settled deep within your chest.

The estate stretched out before you, magnificent and imposing. The manicured gardens glistened in the fading light, and the grandeur of the manor seemed to stretch endlessly, its windows glowing like embers. As the carriage halted, Bucky disembarked first, extending a hand toward you. His touch, though familiar, carried an unusual stiffness that unsettled you.

As you stepped down, you glanced at him, uncertainty swirling in your chest. "Where exactly are we?"

Bucky’s lips curved slightly, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. His gaze drifted to the manor. "Well, what do you think?"

You took in the estate’s breathtaking beauty, momentarily distracted by its splendor. "It’s magnificent. Who resides here?"

Bucky’s gaze softened as he turned back to you. "I had it refurbished just for you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, a warm flutter of surprise catching you off guard. "This is our home?" you asked, hope threading through your voice. "James..."

But Bucky’s expression faltered, his tone more measured. "It’s your home."

Confusion washed over you, your brow furrowing. "My home? What does that mean?"

"This is where you will live." Bucky’s eyes flickered briefly, avoiding yours.

A chill ran through you as his words sank in. "I’m not sure I follow," you said slowly, your voice laced with uncertainty. "If this is my house, then surely it is ours as well?"

Bucky’s face remained impassive, though his tone was distant. "Technically, St. Vincent’s Palace is our residence. But here, this is where you will stay."

Your pulse quickened. "And where will you stay?" you asked, feeling the weight of his reply before he even spoke.

Bucky’s jaw tightened slightly. "I have an estate in Annecy."

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. "So, you intend to live in Annecy?"

"Yes."

"And I’m to live here?"

"Yes."

Your chest tightened as you stared at him, disbelief clouding your thoughts. "But it’s our wedding night."

"It’s late," Bucky said, calmly, almost too calm. "You’ve been traveling. You should go inside, meet the staff, rest. You’ll need your strength for the coming days."

You shook your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, James. It’s our wedding night. We’ve just been married." Your voice dropped, your cheeks flushing slightly. "Aren’t we supposed to spend the night together? Is that not what married couples do?"

Bucky’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you asking me to perform my marital duties to you?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "I’m not asking anything," you replied, your voice wavering. "I just thought... Isn’t this the night we’re meant to spend together? My governess always said that’s how it’s done. . . That it’s important."

He let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders palpable. "Very well," he muttered, turning abruptly toward the entrance. "I’ll stay then."

"James!" you called, quickening your pace to follow him.

"I said I’ll stay," he repeated curtly, his strides long and deliberate. "Are you coming or not?"

The staff clapped politely as you entered the grand foyer together, but your mind was elsewhere, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

"James, slow down," you pleaded, your voice rising as you hurried after him. "I can’t keep up with you."

He came to a sudden halt, turning to face you, frustration etched into every line of his face. "You wanted me in the bedroom. Isn’t that what you were asking for?"

You froze at his words, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. "No."

His brow furrowed. "No?"

"Not if you’re going to act like this," you said, your voice trembling. "You’re upset. What have I done? If I’ve offended you in any way, I’m sorry—"

Bucky’s expression softened, but there was still tension in his stance, his left hand flexing. "You haven’t done anything wrong," he said quietly, though his voice carried the weight of something unspoken. "It’s just... I’m comfortable in Annecy."

Your heart clenched. "Then let’s go to Annecy together."

Bucky shook his head. "No. You’re staying here."

"Why?" you asked, searching his face for answers. "You don’t want me to go with you?"

"This is your home," he said firmly, his tone final.

You felt the distance between you grow with every word. "My home. . ."

"Yes."

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. "I see."

Bucky exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he nodded. "Good. Then everything is settled."

But nothing felt settled. Not at all. "No. No, it is not settled." you said, your voice cracking in utter confusion. One moment he couldn’t get his hands off you, this sudden change was too difficult to let go. "James, is this what our marriage will be? Us living separately?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice steady but detached.

"Why?" you whispered, tears threatening to well in your eyes.

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "I thought it would be... easier this way."

"For whom?" you asked, the pain in your voice evident. "For you? Or for me?"

Bucky’s patience frayed, his tone sharpening. "I’m not having this discussion with you."

You stepped closer, your voice pleading. "I just want to understand. Please, tell me why—"

"I don’t need to explain anything!" Bucky’s voice thundered, his frustration boiling over. "I’m the one who decides, and I have decided. Are you forgetting that I am your KING?!"

His words hit you like a physical blow, your heart shattering. You stepped back, your voice trembling as you dropped into a low curtsy. 

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," you said quietly, your head bowed in deference. "I thought you were just James."

Bucky’s expression fell, regret flickering across his face. He reached out for you, his voice softer now. "Y/N, please—"

But you pulled back, avoiding his touch. The guard you thought you’d lowered, the tentative trust you were building—everything slammed back up, a fortress around your heart. You were foolish enough to think you were getting to know him better.

 It was clear now how wrong you were.

"May I take my leave, Your Majesty? Or do you have more to say?" Your voice was brittle.

Bucky’s hand dropped to his side, a look of defeat crossing his features. "Y/N... you don’t understand, this is for the best."

You swallowed hard, forcing a brittle smile as you nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever you wish. I shall rest now. I wish you a safe trip to Annecy."

With that, you turned and walked away, the echo of your footsteps haunting the grand hall as you left him standing there, the distance between you stretching wider than ever.

Love always blew up in your face, shattering whatever good you’d dared to believe in. You were a fool to believe that it wouldn’t go south in the worst way this quickly.

Each step you took, you buried the yearning, the desperation to reach out and demand more from him—from what you could be together.

Instead, you rebuilt the walls. You raised the drawbridge.

And you vowed to tread carefully with your emotions when it comes to him.

[whimsyfinny]

He’s a Winchester

Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader

Warnings: language, anxious Dean, anxious Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2683

MDNI 18+

A/N: another slightly shorter chapter (sorry). Idk why but I rewrote this chapter so many times to try and get it right, so fingers crossed it’s not awful. But the encounter finally happens! Not long now until we get to see Dean doing dad things, and tbh, I’m living for it. Feedback is always appreciated! Love you all

A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out.

Photos from Pinterest

New Readers Start Here: Chapter 1

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Spilling the truth took a lot less time than I'd anticipated, so after a quick update texted to Kat and the much needed coffees, Dean and I decided to head over to the track. Dean himself was feeling every emotion under the sun. He expressed a constant string of heartfelt apologies for nearly the whole walk from Jolenes’ Café back to where we'd parked, despite me constantly reminding him that he has nothing to apologise for. He's here now, and that's what matters. The phrases ‘I have a son,’ and ‘I’m a dad’ seemed to intertwine with the ‘I’m sorry’s’ like a mantra, to the point where I had to stop him in his tracks and refocus his attention before his head got lost in the clouds.

“I get it, Dean. This is so much to absorb right now, and I can't imagine what is going on in that crazy brain of yours. You don't have to come with me right now, we can meet tomorrow if you want-”

“No, absolutely not. I've been absent for too long and I'll be damned if I waste another minute,” he nervously wiped his hands over his face as we approached my truck. I couldn't help but smile. “I mean, what if he doesn't like me?”

I couldn't stop the chuckle from escaping my mouth, earning a raised eyebrow from the man who was working himself into an anxious sweat.

“Dean, trust me, he's going to want to be your best friend. Especially when he knows that’s your car,” I nodded my head to the impala a few spaces away, recalling Levi's excitement when he saw it in town yesterday.

“Really?”

“Really. Plus…” I hesitated, unsure what emotion my next statement was going to stir within Dean, “he's been bullied for not having a dad around, and I think he'll be grateful for that to stop.”

Deans’ brows furrowed as he leant on the side of my truck, dropping his head and muttering a few curses.

“He's been bullied because I've not been there?” He looked up with a pained pinch in his brow. I sighed.

“Yes but trust me, your boy gives as good as he gets,” I smiled a little, bringing Dean some reassurance. I could tell the words ‘your boy’ had an effect on him. “Look,” I reached out to rub his shoulder affectionately, to which he responded with a warm hand over mine, squeezing my fingers. “We need to get going to pick him up. Why don't you come in my truck with me?” He paused for a moment, thinking, gathering his thoughts before standing up straight and nodding. “Great,” I grinned at him, a few nervous butterflies fluttering in my own stomach now. I reached for his hand again, giving it another squeeze, “let's get going then.”

Dean had insisted on driving, mainly for his own sanity and I’d happily obliged, remembering what a terrible passenger he was. After a couple of painstaking minutes of him readjusting my seat, we pulled away and headed down to the track. 

The drive was about twenty minutes, and most of that was spent in a comfortable conversation about Levi. Dean wanted to know everything. And I mean everything. His hobbies, his favourite movie, his favourite cereal, his least favourite cereal, his grades, his favourite subject… the list went on. Before we knew it, we were turning down a dirt road and pulling into a large gravel car park. As we pulled up and hopped out, the buzz of dirt bikes and loud chatter filled the air, along with the intense smell of petrol. Dean walked around to my side, looking around and taking it all in.

“Levi does this? He can ride a dirt bike?” he asked, an impressed tone to his voice. Dean had forgone the leather jacket and as I glanced at him, I couldn't help but trail my gaze over his biceps and the way the grey fabric of his t-shirt stretched around the large muscles. I looked away quickly before he caught me. Now was not the time to let my eyes or thoughts wander.

“Yeah, he's really into it, and he's good too; he has a few trophies at home. To be honest, he loves anything with wheels and an engine,” I grinned, meeting Deans’ eyes with a knowing look. He smiled back.

“Really?”

“You know, he's a lot like you - even though you've never met. It's kinda crazy,” I started heading down to the gathering point, knowing that Levi would be coming off the track soon. Dean was hot on my heels. “He even looks like you.” 

“Poor kid.”

I smacked him on the arm playfully as Dean chuckled.

“You're handsome and you know it, so shut your mouth.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Just as we were approaching the gathering point I heard a familiar voice calling my name. Looking through the crowd I saw Kat trotting up to us in her poorly chosen footwear, Toby nowhere in sight. She pulled me into a hug with a smirk already growing on her lips, and as she pulled back she turned to study the tall man at my side.

“Hmm… you are even finer than your photograph.”

“Kat!”

She ignored me.

“I'm Kat, it's nice to meet you, Dean. I feel like we'll be seeing a lot more of each other. You know, since our son's are besties,” she stuck out her hand and grasped Deans, giving it a firm shake and dropping it before he'd even uttered a word. She turned back to me, her smirk still on her lips.

“Since Levi is coming home with you today - much to Toby's disappointment - how would you feel about him sleeping over tomorrow?”

“Yeah totally, he'd love that,” I grinned at her, forever grateful.

“Great! I'll pick him up tomorrow,” she beamed, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before turning on her heels and heading back into the crowd of parents. We'd normally wait for the boys to emerge together, but I know her, and she didn't want to step on Deans’ toes. This was a big deal, and in her eyes, she was the outsider here.

“What was that?” Dean looked at me, slightly stunned with a quizzical brow.

“That,” I gestured to Kat's disappearing figure, “is Kat. She's my best friend, and to be honest I don't think I'd have made it this far without her.”

“Kat. Got it,” he seemed to make a mental note of who she was, catching on quickly that she was an important person in my life. In Levi's life. I grinned at him, perhaps a little nervously before grasping his hand and pulling him with me in the same direction Kat had left.

“Come on, he’ll be out soon, let's wait for him.”

Dean flashed the smallest smile whilst taking a deep breath. He looked down at our hands and I noticed his palms were a little sweaty. He gripped tighter, hanging to me like I was a lifeline as I pulled him through the crowd. His silence spoke volumes of his nerves, so I stopped at the edge of the gaggle of parents, fearing that he would soon find this all too much. 

For the whole five minutes that we waited, Dean didn't let go of me.

It didn't take long for the whirring of tiny engines to draw closer and closer before finally stopping, shortly followed by the chatter of smaller, childlike voices. Kids began to filter through the crowd, and it wasn’t long before a familiar outline pushing a small, black dirt bike headed our way. Suddenly Dean pulled his hand away from mine and raked his fingers frantically through his hair, pacing in a small circle.

“Shit…shit- what do I say to him? How do I talk to him? He's gonna hate me-”

“Hey hey hey, calm down, everything is fine! Trust me, Dean, Levi is not going to hate you,” I reached to rub a hand over the back of his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense and flex with every deep breath he took. 

“I've done a lot of terrifying shit in my life but this really takes the cake,” he dragged a large hand over his paleing face.

“He's an eight year old boy, baby. Trust me, you've got this.” 

He sighed before stopping in his tracks, his gaze catching mine with a twitch of his lip.

“It's been a hot minute since you've called me that, sweetheart,” he stepped closer, reaching to touch the small of my back with tender fingertips.

It took a moment for realisation to dawn, and when it did I felt heat bloom across my cheeks. 

“I-I'm sorry- it just slipped out- I didn't mean-”

“(Y/n) it's ok! I don't mind,” he chuckled slightly, his nerves seeming to dissipate. The playful glint had returned to his eye for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with something calmer, more serene. His grin lessened, but the warmth in his features remained. “I don't mind.”

I looked up at him, my heart and stomach feeling warm and light as we seemed to acknowledge our own familiarity between each other. It wasn't just Levi that connected us, and I seemed to forget that Dean and I used to be in a relationship. We were more than just a one night stand - we were intimate on multiple levels. 

“Hey mom!” 

The bubble around Dean and I popped as Levi had crept up on us, crash helmet still equipped and his bike to his side.  I felt Dean tense beside me, the air around him practically sizzling with anticipation.

“Hey there, trouble! You had a good afternoon?” I stepped up to Levi and patted his helmet. He nodded vigorously.

“Great! You can tell me all about it in the car,” I paused and glanced at Dean, frozen in place and not taking his eyes off Levi since he appeared. It took a moment for Levi to realise that Dean was even standing there, his focus still on me and his fun afternoon. After a few breaths, Dean tore his gaze away from his son and he looked over at me, his expression heavy with a whole concoction of emotions. I offered him a small smile before nodding. 

“Hey, Levi,” I crouched down to my sons’  level, “I have a surprise for you. I'm gonna need you to take your helmet off, ok?”

I saw his eyes light up as he nodded vigorously. Helping him to support his bike, he eagerly tore his helmet off, his short brown hair tousling in the process. He grinned at me, his helmet now tucked under his arm as he waited patiently. I heard a sharp inhale hiss through Deans’ teeth from behind me as he laid eyes on his sons’ face for the first time. I smiled at Levi, taking his smaller, dirt covered hand in mine.

“Ok, so… You see this man behind me?” I tilted my head in Deans’ direction, and Levi followed with his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, his grin unfaltering.

“Well,” I drew in a breath, “his name is Dean. And I knew Dean a long time ago,” there was another apprehensive pause as my own pulse quickened. “Sweetheart… Dean… He’s, well… He’s your dad.”

I watched as the grin fell from Levis’ face, his green eyes widening.

“What?” his voice was all but a whisper, his gaze flitting rapidly between me and Dean, who’d now taken a step closer.

“He’s your dad,” I repeated, reaching up to softly comb my fingers through the front of his wild hair. Levis’ bottom lip started to tremble as my words sunk in, the truth of the situation we were in starting to hit home as tears started to well in his eyes.

“You’re serious?” he squeaked with a sniff.

I nodded, the emotions from my son now bleeding into me, a lump forming in my throat.

“Yeah honey, I’m serious.”

Levis’ helmet hit the dirt with a thud and in that instant he’d thrown himself at Dean, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his mud streaked face into his shirt. His dad didn’t hesitate to return the gesture, wrapping his large arms around Levis’ shoulders and pulling him into the same crushing hug I’d received earlier today.

“Hey kid,” Dean spoke against the top of Levis’ head, his voice rasping as he choked his words out, “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here.” 

I stood up from where I’d been crouching, now clutching the small helmet that had been flung to the ground. I drew Deans’ attention as I shifted, and I felt like my heart could have exploded in my chest when I saw the glossiness in his eyes. Tears of joy, relief and perhaps even bittersweet regret were on the brink of spilling over, and the soft smile he threw my way said a million ‘thank yous’.  The quiet sounds of Levis’ sniffling were what pulled on my heartstrings the most. The boy who loved nothing more than to race bikes, watch movies and talk about cars had grown up without a dad to share those interests with. He’d watched the other kids around him down at the track, their fathers joining in with the activities. Other kids had their dads to play sports with down at the park on a sunny Sunday afternoon. They’d had a role model who they could admire, always in the bedroom next to theirs. But not Levi. He’d had me, and I did my best to fill those fatherly shoes, but we both knew it just wasn’t the same. There were times when I think it upset me more than it had upset him, feeling like my child was missing out on something so important. But now… now that Dean was here, for however long he was planning on staying, Levi could finally experience the things he’d dreamt of for so long. I just hoped it would turn out to be everything that he’d ever imagined.

I watched as Levi finally pulled away from his dad, his tears having cleaned tracks through the mud on his face. He sniffed one my time before beaming up at Dean.

“Hey, kid,” Dean smiled softly, ruffling his hair with a hand the same size as his head, “maybe if your moms ok with it, we could hang out a bit. Maybe go and grab some ice-cream? My treat,” Dean shifted that smile to me, and I would’ve had to have had a heart of stone to decline that request.

“Of course,” I smiled back, “ice-cream sounds perfect.”

“Great,” Deans’ grin widened, a refreshed look in his eye as he let go of Levi and stepped towards me, taking the helmet from my hands. My breath caught in my throat when he pressed a warm, lingering kiss to my cheek. I took everything to not let my eyes flutter closed, to not get lost in that moment, but the familiar feeling of his lips on my skin and scent washing over awoke the butterflies in my stomach. My heart leapt in my chest, and I couldn’t help the sigh of relief when he pulled away, stepping around me. He kicked the bike stand back and wheeled the small vehicle forwards, looking at Levi and urging him to come and push it.

“Come on kid, why don’t you tell me all about this beast on our way back to the truck,” he smiled to his son who beamed back, leaping over to him. Dean chuckled slightly as the smaller version of himself burst into conversation about top speeds and engine strokes, and the wide look in Deans’ eyes as he glanced up at me, finally understanding what I’d meant when I’d said they were so alike. And as Levi chatted animatedly to his dad as we walked, my heart swelled as I watched them.

I couldn’t seem to look away as I witnessed Dean gaze down at his son, looking like the proudest father in the world.

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[jarofstyles]

The Favor 11

Dear lord… this took a million years to write and I’m sorry for that 😭 I’ve never written something of this nature before and I wanted to get it right. I hope you enjoy because this is a shift in the whole thing!

The Favor masterlist

Check out our Patreon for early access to part 12 and 200+ exclusive writings

WC- 6.5k

Warnings- cuckolding, Danny (ew), bd/sm elements, dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex, creampie, slight angst, fluff, obvious smut, soft dom!h, kinda asshole h (to Danny hehe)

Y/N wasn’t sure what she had thought this sort of scenario would look like, but she was putting her trust in Harry. In this case, it was her trusting him to set this up at a hotel instead of his place, saying that neutral ground would be better in case Danny had an unsavory reaction. 

It was a classy joint, that much was obvious. He’d painted it as a weekend staycation for the both of them, which she liked more than she cared to admit- but there were mixed reaction she had in the idea of Danny being there at all. It was like an intrusion in a way, having him look in to their private little world… but on the other hand, she wanted to show him how far gone she was for him. How Harry could provide for her things that she needed and he could never provide. 

“Y’alright, pet?” He stroked over her hair as he knelt down in front of her. His shirt had been discarded to the side not too long ago, setting up the bed for their activity. The dominant had ran through what would be happening tonight with her a number of times to make sure she felt safe and comfortable, but there was nothing like the anticipation of her boyfriend she was actively planning on dumping coming up to watch the man she was utterly infatuated with give her the type of sex that had made her dream come true. 

“Yeah. A little nervous.” The admission was quiet, her eyes reaching his own. It was instant comfort. Another reason why she knew it was the right thing to break up with Danny. As cruel as it may sound, she’d be doing him a favor. Never in her life had she had just a simple look calming her down. Perhaps it was the trust, maybe it was the familiar, but there was no doubt in her mind that Harry was going to take care of her. 

“That’s alright, and very normal.” He reassured. “But it’s not too late to cancel. It’s never too late to stop. The moment you color, we can stop and we can send him out. Okay?” The tenderness he treated her with had never failed to make her fall further down the cracks, right into the palm of his hand. 

“I know. I trust you.” Reaching out, her hands cupped his face and impulsively brought him forward. 

It was something that had started to become normal. The kissing like lovers, kissing for comfort and passion, and it far exceeded what a strictly Dominant and Submissive relationship would be, but they both knew it was much more than that. He was going to be hers Officially soon enough, and selfishly he was giving in. Indulging, smug that finally she had decided to drop the man- and better yet, prove to him that it was only the natural choice. 

Humming into the kiss, he stood up and guided her to follow, securing his hand over her throat and giving it a gentle squeeze as he pulled back. Wet lips and a soft pant, he thumbed over her lip and wiped away a bit of the slickness his tongue had left. “I trust you, too. And m’happy that you’re….” He paused for a second. “I’m happy that you are leaving a relationship that isn’t good for you.” 

It was a moment she could have ignored, simply nodding her head, but she could see that subconsciously he was searching for validation in his own way- so she gave it to him. “I’m leaving him because someone else is making me happier than I ever thought I could be. So I’m very happy, too.” 

The loaded statement had him staring at her for a few seconds before his mouth fell back on hers, a bruising kiss making her whimper into the air. He was happy with that, more than that, but he had no time to properly respond when there was that dreaded knock on the door. 

Fucking prick, always ruining everything. As evil as it was, he was going to take full pleasure in fucking Y/N in front of him and making him see how he had failed to provide even the simplest pleasures to her. He wasn’t going to mourn their friendship like he thought he would. Not when he got the better option in it. 

“Go lay on the bed, baby.” He gave one last kiss, a small squeeze to her throat before he loosened up. “I’m gonna let him in and remind him of the rules.” 

They had decided that she was going to keep her lingerie on. Harry wasn’t keen on him getting a full show, full access to what now belonged to him- and Y/N not so excited to have him see every part of her at once. He’d be able to see Harry’s cock in her, but her breasts would be hidden away. That was solely for H. 

She did as he asked, getting into the agreed position. Face down, ass up. Hands at her side, face turned away from the chair Danny would sit in. The silk eye mask slipped over her eyes, she did her best to be a good girl and laid on her position as she heard the murmuring. 

The pre established rules had been simple 

No touching 

No talking to Y/N 

Phone off, Harry would place it inside a drawer.  

Leave when he said to leave. 

This was something that she hadn’t expected to happen when the arrangement had first started, but then again- she hadn’t expected to fall in love with Harry either. 

Silly, foolish girl. As if she ever had a chance at resisting.

It was nearly impossible to not fall for him. Between his attentiveness, his thoughtful gestures, his sweet demeanor, his humor, his patience, his ability to take care of her and the way he fucked her?  It was inevitable. There was no way she could have ever resisted that. 

The water bottle he’d gotten her sat on the side table of the bed, filled up with cool water for when she needed it, for fucks sake. Danny had barely ever gotten her gifts, let alone just because he was thinking of her. Not that she needed to be showered in material things, but the fact that Harry had come up with the ideas on his own and thought of her enough to grab something just for her had been enough of an indication that it was something she liked and wanted far more of.

Her decision to break up with him wasn’t one she had come to lightly, but seeing how she was treated by Harry had proven she deserved better. Even if… Harry decided he wasn’t into her anymore down the line, he set the new precedent that she could and should be treated with more respect. She could have the things she wanted and it wasn’t necessarily odd of her to ask for them. The right person would be happy to fulfill those wants, and more.

Her body was cold, but her insides were hot. Hearing the shuffling, the door closing, being unable to see but having the knowledge that he was sitting on that chair about to watch Harry, the man he’d essentially pawned her off to on loan, give her the things he couldn’t dream of doing. There had been mixed feelings at first, unsure if it was the right thing to do, but considering he had asked and consented, Harry had calmed her about it. 

He was kind enough not to mention how wet it had made her when she had spread her legs after that conversation and he got a glimpse of the wet patch on her cotton panties. 

Her mind was going a million miles a minute, not stopping once as the thoughts continued racing around her brain- until she felt his hand on her. Smooth, large fingers running over her back, all the way up until he gently wrapped them up in her hair and pulled her face up, giving her cheeks a squeeze with the opposite hand. “You know your safe words, my sweet. At any time, for any reason, if you want to stop…. What are you gonna say?”

“Red, sir.” She peeped, leaning into his touch. It was her body’s natural inclination now. The moment Harry started talking in that specific tone, that tilt to his voice, her body knew exactly how to react. Melt, give in, please him. It’s all she wanted. 

“That’s my good girl.” Another squeeze to her cheeks had her lips pouting out before he gently laid her head back down on the sheet. “You just keep bein’ good for me and I’ll take care of everything. Just like normal, hm?” He ran his hand back down her body, using one finger over her asscheek. 

“Yes, sir.” She nodded, rubbing her face against the soft fabric. “Take good care of me always.” 

Harry grinned, moving back towards the end of the bed. “Good. Be as loud as you’d like tonight, my pet.” His eyes were soft when he looked down at her, body splayed out on the blankets but not completely bare. There were some things Danny was never going to get to see again- and god, did that make him happy. Moving towards the side, he undid his belt lazily. Letting it draw out not only to build anticipation, but to leave her guessing. 

Danny had never seen anything like this before and in all honesty, they’d agreed to keep it relatively vanilla for that reason… and another. He didn’t deserve to see the flogging, the paddle, the ropes, not at all.. Y/N wouldn’t feel fully safe with him in the room with Danny watching either, so she had eagerly agreed to keep it downplayed, insisting that their sex had been missionary and bland to begin with so even the shit they’d done without the bells and whistles would be enough to shock him. Even though that made him jealous, it only added motivation to prove that Harry could give it to her a hundred times better even without the toys and tools. He could make her cum harder than Danny could have ever dreamt of with just his fingers, just a few flicks of them, because they had a connection that no one had been expecting. 

Perhaps his inkling of a god complex was showing, but he was more than happy to show off just how much better he was. 

“Legs together.” He ordered, watching with a little smile as she immediately placed them together. “Don’t want to deal with you squirming too much today. Know you love to when it gets to feel too good, but I think keeping you restrained would be better.” Diligently, he wrapped the leather through her ankles and began to wrap them up. Firm, he tightened it so she had no chance of wriggling them out, he hummed at his handiwork. 

“Is that safe?” For the first time, Danny spoke. Harry’s head snapped towards him, a reproachful look shot his way. 

“Yes, it’s safe. Everything we do is safe. I’d never put her in danger… Not too much.” His hand ran over her thighs. “Now shut up. You want to watch? Fine. But we’re going to pretend you aren’t there.” His voice was gruff as he placed his attention back to Y/N. There was nothing else said as he used his binding as a grip, pulling her down so her feet nearly touched the ground, her upper body on the plushy bed. 

“Yeah.. This is a nice position, isn’t it?” He murmured, focusing solely on her now. “You look so gorgeous like this, pet.” His fingers gently slipped over her cunt, cupping it lightly as he got that gasp he was looking for. He bit back a groan as he felt how wet she was for him, how she had ruined the pretty lace. Giving it a squeeze, he clicked his tongue down at her. “Exactly what I expected. S’not a day that goes by that this cunt isn’t desperate for my cock, hm?” 

Y/N held back the urge to grind into his hand, her breathing picking up as he began to touch her. She felt hyperaware of everything going on around her- and a little fucking pissed that Danny had opened his mouth. 

How dare he ask as if he actually gave a fuck? He had essentially made her someone else's problem, not at all looked into the sort of shit BDSM could entail. Thankfully Harry was an absolute godsend, but what if he hadn’t been? Would he have just given her up to any other of his friends? Just because someone did kinky shit didn’t mean they were good enough or safe enough to give our girlfriend over to. It was infuriating. 

“Yes, sir. I always want it.” She answered without hesitation. It was the truth. Over her time with Harry, he’d fine tuned her into being addicted to him in every possible way- and now she was pretty sure he felt the same way about her. 

“That’s good. Considering how much you whine for it, I’m not shocked.” Thumbing over her clit, he felt increasingly smug. “You need to get that wet for me anyway. Poor little hole has a bit of trouble fitting me in, doesn’t it?” 

“Mhm. I love it.” She breathed, only to squeal a few seconds later as his hand came down on her ass. The burn sent tingles down her body, cunt throbbing against his hand as she opened up her mouth again. “Sir! I love it, sir. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure y’are, pet. You usually are so good for me, jus’ a little overwhelmed. I know how my girl is.” He crooned, leaning himself forwards and pressing his cock against her ass. “Kept you worked up all day. I know it’s a lot for you, ‘specially when your pretty head gets a bit empty when you’re waiting for my cock…. But you have been so good for me.”

Harry found himself slipping into his own headspace. They’d both agreed to keep it relatively short with the other man in the room and he had been more than happy with that agreement, but he liked that he was getting a look at how she came undone for him. That he got to hear the little gasp she let out as he slipped a finger inside of her cunt, and then two, fucking them into her slippery hole.

“There it is. Barely touched you and you’re dripping like a whore.” His coo was contradictory to his harsh word, tone soft with a slight chuckle at the end because of course she was. Y/N got worked up so easily, the tiniest things making her wet for him and that was one of his favorite things about her. Her eagerness that could borderline desperation. The submissive could try if she wanted, to pretend that she wasn’t a whore for him- but it would be a lie. “Do you like being a slut for me, pet? Barely touched you and you’re dripping down my knuckles.” 

Y/N’s head spun at his word, nodding into the fabric under her face. Maybe she’d be embarrassed if she hadn’t come to terms with the fact that Harry had some sort of magic touch to him, but between the both of them it was no secret. She’d get on her knees or bend herself over the moment he even suggested it because she was greedy and they both knew it. “Uh-huh.” She nodded. “I love being your whore, sir.”

To his credit, his fingers knew exactly where to curl, where to stroke, how hard and fast to move. Harry had been becoming an expert in all things Y/N, but especially when it came to how her body reacted to him. The feeling of her bound ankles keeping her from squirming too much and the practiced ease of his fingers curled right into a spot he knew would make her weak already had her feeling pathetically close. “Sir- I’m gonna cum- can I-“ 

A sharp spank was given to her ass again, his free hand squeezing the stinging flesh as she bit back a moan. “We’ve been over this, pet.”

“S-Sorry, may I? I’m gonna if you keep-“

“Cum.” Harry didn’t make her finish her sentence as he continued his motions, watching his fingers sinking into her and her legs tremble just a bit. He had known exactly how to get her there, betting on it actually, as he felt the fluttering around his digits as she breathed heavier and did her best to writhe despite her constraints. It was one of the most beautiful things, he thinks, watching her lose herself to pleasure that he personally gave her. 

He just didn’t stop there. He could feel her pulsate around his fingers as he fucked them into her harder, placing one hand on her lower back as he continued thrusting them inside her weeping cunt. Overstimulation was a favorite of his, always, but he liked even more so making her cum when he knew it was getting her to relax. To get to that headspace easier. Part of him wished he could see her eyes, watch them get teary for him as she began to babble slightly, but he didn’t want anything taking her out of this moment. 

Out of the corner of his eye he was reminded that they had someone watching but he didn’t pay him any mind, focusing solely on the woman in front of him that took up the majority of his mind even when she wasn’t here. 

“H-ha…” She went to say his name but caught herself, letting out a muffled moan as she buried her face in the comforter of the bed again. The leather of the belt bit into her skin but in the best way, the burn of her legs trying to push apart to both trap his hand and push it away adding to the pleasure swirling in her tummy. It was borderline too much, his palm slapping against her and the constant stimulation to her spot, but she knew that Harry knew best.

“Hm? What was that you’re tryin’ to say, pet?” He hummed, gently letting his nails run over the expanse of the lingerie. It tickled, making her squirm a bit but she had no complaints except a hybrid of a giggled moan. “Are you feeling good?” 

 “S’good, it’s so good.” Her head nodded quickly. “I’m just- you’ll make me cum again, sir. A-and I haven’t even made you cum and I don’t wanna be greedy, I want to make you happy and-“ her words were cut off with his fingers back in her hair, pulling her up a bit so he could make her back arch. 

“I’m doing what I want. This makes me happy. Like seeing you dripping on my fingers, squirming around the bed because you can’t help it. I’ll cum when I feel like it. I want you to do it again on my hand and then we’ll worry about me, yeah?” 

The pinpricks of the grip on her hair had her mouth hanging open, and if the eye mask was uncovered he’d see her eyes rolled back into her head. It was a heavenly combination in her opinion. The only thing that would make it better would be to replace his fingers with his cock but she wasn’t about to make any demands. 

“Now cum for me again. Want that cunt nice and soft for me when I slip into it.”

Y/N knew that Harry had an ungodly level of control over her body just by command alone, but it took the both of them off guard by how quickly her orgasm came. Wet gasps into the air as his honorific left her lips, slick arousal dripping off his knuckles and over his palm as he worked her throat the second orgasm well enough before giving her another surprise.

The dominant didn’t give her a chance to recover as his cock was pushed into her, a garbled moan leaving her throat as she felt it fill her up. Her nails dug into her palms as she felt the grip on her hair tighten, pulling her further up as he dug in deep. It was in her stomach, her toes curling as she panted into the air. “Oh-“ 

Harry repeated it. “Shush.” He muttered, slipping his fingers into her gaping mouth. “Suck these clean. You want me to feel good? Take my cock and shut up, sweetheart.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” 

Danny. Y/N had forgotten about him until she heard his voice, her body tensing slightly- but Harry didn’t stop. Pushing his fingers back in her throat he made her gag, knowing that she’d need the distraction to keep sucking again. 

“If you can’t keep your mouth shut, you’ll get the fuck out.” Harry’s voice was unlike how it usually was, even being mean to her. It was cold. If it was ever directed at her like that she’d cry- but she couldn’t deny that a part of her liked him being mean to Danny. Especially because it was mostly on her behalf. “She likes this shit. Clearly, you’ve no fucking clue what gets her off… S’why you sent her to me, isn’t it? Couldn’t get her off in the way she wanted so you sent her to someone who could.” He scoffed, pulling his saliva soaked fingers from her mouth. “You like when I tell you you to shut up and take it, mm baby?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded without a second guess. “I l-love it so much. I love how you fuck me.” The second part wasn’t necessary, but she wanted to say it. As if it wasn’t visible and audible by how wet she was around his dick, how she moaned. Then again, Danny really didn’t have a clue about how to make Y/N feel good anyway. 

“See?” Harry grinned maliciously, finally glancing over to the man. His face was flushed and he looked slightly bothered, but he wasn’t making any effort to move. “I’ve taken the time t’learn what she likes, I’ve listened to what she wants- shown her the shit you’re too scared to even try. So if I want to tell her to shut up n’take it so she soaks my cock a bit more? M’gonna fucking do it.” His thrusts were deeper, making Y/N let out little noises as he got into her tummy. “If you want to keep watching, don’t talk. I won’t warn you again. I’ll simply kick you out and make her finish on my own.” 

Maybe she should feel bad about how aroused this was getting her. The show of dominance and how overwhelmingly clear it was that Harry was in charge, that he’d always been in charge and that he was so blatant about the fact that he was the one making her feel good. It would make her felt guilty later, she’s sure, that her cunt got more slick and she clenched around him as he essentially told him to shut the fuck up and let him get to business or get out, that their pleasure wasn’t indicative on if he was there or not. 

But right now, it had her melting, malleable, easy for him to do as he pleased. 

Subconsciously she could probably surmise that it was because a man was finally showing initiative. He was claiming her, in a way, with little care for anyone but her opinion. He had made sure she was okay with this but leaned into it with the somewhat unspoken knowledge that this was going to further prove that they were the better match. Harry showed that cared about her when he smacked her ass and pulled her hair and called her a filthy bitch when he came inside of her, because he knew that’s exactly what she wanted. 

“More.” Her voice broke through the weighted lack of words, only the sounds of sex. “More, sir- I want more.” 

“Okay, pet.” He grinned- she didn’t have to look at him to hear it in his voice. “Been going too soft on you, I know.” 

The dominant knew what she wanted. So he gave it to her. 

The last threads of caring about the man she called a boyfriend in name only fell away as Harry fucked her. Deep, heavy thrusts as he pulled her up and wrapped his arm around her chest, letting his mouth pant against her ear as his cock filled her over and over again. 

“You like it.” He murmured, just for her. “You like that he knows that he can’t give this t’you. My dirty girl.” He pressed a kiss right under her ear, chuckling as she immediately gave him room. The proof was in how she held him tight, dripping and weeping all over his cock as he manhandled her. She had no control in this, not in appearance anyway, and it’s what she wanted. 

“I want…” her voice was hoarse as she tried to turn her head so Danny couldn’t hear. “Wanna have you cum in me with him watching. It’s your pussy.” The words fell out as her guard lowered, interrupted at the end by his mouth. Part of her wished to be naked right now so she didn’t have the layer between them, but Danny had lost the privilege of seeing her fully nude. That was something she only wanted Harry to see. 

“That last part.” He grunted. “Say it louder.” 

“It’s yours.” Even with a slightly straightened voice, she tried her hardest. His other hand collared her throat, keeping it tightly wound with slight pressure. That promise had been something that set him off, and she liked that bit of power she felt with making him lose it slightly. 

“I can’t quite understand, Pet.” He spoke louder, giving the ability for it to be heard now. “What’s mine? Need you to elaborate on that for me.”

“My cunt.” She gasped, feeling his teeth graze her jaw. “My cunt- it’s yours. You- you fuck me so good and I want it all the t-time. I need it.” 

“Yeah, baby? You need me?” He’d let the softer pet name slip, as well as the fondness he’d been trying to keep from his tone- but if the man sitting in the chair had any sense at all, he’d be able to see that he’d lost the girl. That she was Harry’s, and it was his own fault. 

He’d sent her straight into Harry’s arms. Straight into his bed. He’d stupidly assumed that Y/N didn’t actually know what she wanted, that she’d be scared off- but now, she knew even more so. She begged for it, was greedy for it. She was hiccuping slightly as he slowly pushed her down, pushing her face into the blankets as he adjusted just so- making her let out a soft sob. He’s found the spot he had been avoiding, her legs quivering under them. 

“Yeah, I need it. I need it, I need it so much, I need you-“ she let out a shuddering breath. “Please, Sir. You’re gonna make me cum again and I need to- I need you to cum too. Wanna be good.” It was her favorite line. 

Little did she know, Y/N was always good. Harry had been a little spooked at first at just how good she actually was, how much he had wanted her.  He had been a goner since day one, as soon as he got permission to look at her as more than a friend’s lover and potentially one of his own- he should have known he’d never be able to give her back. 

“You are, pet. You are. Such a good fucking good with a perfect cunt. Dunno how anyone could ever let you out of their sight.” A slight dig at Danny, but he wanted him to watch and understand. “Where do you want me to cum, hm? Your precious cunt’s got me close.” He slipped the hair away from her mouth, adjusting the mask over her eyes. “Want it on your ass? On that cute little tummy?” 

He was taunting her, making her ask for it out loud. 

“No- no, sir. Please, y’know where I want it. Want it inside me.” She was whining, his sweet girl, pushing her ass up the best she could with the position she was in. “Please, please, please, just let me cum n’I can take all of yours, I’ll do a good job. I’ll clean you up, I-“

“Oh, darling. Love when you ramble like that, know there isn’t much going on in your head when you get drunk on cock like this- but I’ll give it to you. You’ve been so good.” The praise seemed to have her melting into the bed. “Go on, baby. Tell me who you belong to when you cum on my cock.”

Harry knew it would be a lot, but he didn’t realize how satisfying it would truly be to hear her whine out loudly, her body trembling under him as she soaked him. Slightly gushing on his cock, his brows furrowed as he watched the mess she made on him. Even he had underestimated how good this would be. “Yours- m’yours, it’s yours, H-sir, I can’t…” her tongue tied, her body writhing slightly under his as her pussy massaged her his cock. 

It wasn’t like he stood a chance. Coughing out a loud groan, he hovered over her, burying his face in her hair as he let his hips stutter and cum shoot into her. It felt like a lot- it probably was, considering how heavy his balls had felt- but he felt a piece of his settle. The scent of her shampoo he’d gotten her, her softness underneath him, the velvety walls of her cunt milking every drop from him, it was almost there. The claiming in front of him has felt like one of the final pieces, a nail in a coffin, lips pressed against her temple as he whispered praises to her. 

The only thing that caught his attention was the sound of ruffling that had his head turning. Danny stood looking a mixture of angry and…

Something else. Unsure what to do. Harry sighed, not wanting to leave the warm confines of her pussy. 

“Your phone is in the drawer in the entrance. You can leave.” He said simply, deciding that was enough. There wasn’t much else that could be said- could there? 

He couldn’t apologize. There was nothing he was sorry for. Being the better man and giving the girl the proper treatment wasn’t something he’d feel bad for. He’d asked to watch himself, and maybe it hadn’t been all the paddles and whips and chains but it had been kinky in terms of someone watching- so he got a hint of it. A real clue about how good Y/N felt with him. 

His whole body relaxed once he heard the drawer open and the door close, finally ridding them of the man neither of them really wanted much to do with in the first place. 

“He’s gone, baby.” Harry spoke softly to her, ever so lightly lifting the mask from her eyes. He could see her wince at the light, though not much of it, the cute little nose wrinkling making his cock twitch inside of her. Even the cute things she did made him feel borderline insane. “There she is.” He cooed, leaning further up to kiss under her eye and over her brow. 

“Hi.” She said quietly, blinking up at him a few times before letting her cheek melt into the bed. They were alone now, truly alone, and she could let her guard down. As much as Harry made her feel as safe as she could in that scene, it was exactly why she had wanted to feel in relatively vanilla. Add in the idea of anything experimental or really kinky and she wouldn’t have had good connotations. 

“How are you feeling?” It felt like a dumb question to ask but he couldn’t help but ask it. It was something he needed to know. 

“I’m okay, weirdly.” She admitted. “I thought I’d feel more emotional. I don’t, though.” There was peace underneath it all. Yes, she’d deliberate later about how she would actually have the conversation with him about breaking up with him- but she wanted to enjoy her weekend with Harry first. “I think… I’ve known it’s been over for a bit and it felt nice to…” it was hard to say it out loud but not because she regretted it, but more so because it was difficult to put into words. “I think that I felt nice knowing he was getting to see that you care about me and you give me something he never has. Part of me felt guilty at first but not so much anymore. I forgot he was here most of the time.” Harry was her focus. 

“Okay.” He nodded, seeing that maybe it was something that she needed to think about some more on her own. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind she was going to go through with it, but he knew it had to be difficult to break up with someone. She was over him and that was clear, but the anxieties that surrounded all of that would rise to the surface soon and he didn’t want to make it worse. “We can talk about it some more later.” The last thing he wanted was to pull out of her but he needed to undo her restraint and make sure she was cleaned up and comfortable. “But for now, why don’t you let me clean you up, hm? I’ll order something for us on the room service menu, you won’t have to think about a thing.”

—-

One of the best parts about being with Harry was letting go. It wasn’t just physically, though that was nice- but emotionally, mentally. She felt the restraints slipping, allowing him to make decisions she usually would make herself. It wasn’t that he thought her as incapable, no. Not at all. But he wanted to make it easier for her. It started with him picking out food for her in the room service menu, and then her sleep set. The next morning, he’d asked her if she wanted him to do the same and she had shyly agreed. 

He picked out her outfit from the bag they’d packed for their little staycation- a lilac dress with a little cardigan to go overtop, her comfy pink cotton panties (which had surprised her considering there were sexier options) and her slightly beat up black converse. It was interesting to see what he had chosen to put on her, but she felt extra giddy as he let his eyes roam over her, humming in approval when she finished getting ready. 

“Love this.” He pinched the cardigan. “I like you in those. You look soft. You are soft- but S’like a reminder.” And fuck if she didn’t fall to her knees right then and there. “Can you put your hair up for me, please? S’a little windy today and I know it bothers you when it gets in your face. Or do you need help with it?” 

Y/N realistically didn’t need any help. Thousands of times she had tossed her hair up, but when it came to the specific ask… she wanted to have him do it. It took a few tries, but he got it eventually, focused on making sure there was no fall out except a few pieces that framed her face. “Beautiful.” 

It had haunted her all day, really. Flirting at the back of her mind, but knowing it wasn’t exactly the time to ask it. Was this something they could do all the time? Was that something that he’d want?

It came naturally to him. That much was very glaringly obvious. Harry was easy to slip into the dominant role both in and out of the bedroom and she wondered if he was fully aware how he was doing it as they walked around. They were only 30 minutes outside their town, but it felt like another universe as he held her hand firmly, making sure he walked on the side of the street near traffic, opened doors, ordered for her during lunch again, picked out some clothes she had trouble deciding on when they went into the shops. It felt right. 

She didn’t want to go home. 

As much as she missed his house and his dog, she wanted to live in this little world. 

“You’re quiet today.” He noticed. Of course he did. Y/N doubted there was much the man missed. When you first met him you wouldn’t expect the sharp eye for detail but she caught on fairly quickly how attentive he was to even the slightest shift in her demeanor or her face- or even her texts. 

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, sitting back on the hotel bed. They’d decided to spend their last night here before returning to Harry’s tomorrow. “I just don’t want this weekend to end.”

Harry’s shoulders dropped in what  seemed to be relief as he took a seat next to her, gingerly pulling her legs on his lap. “I don’t either. But we’ve got next weekend. Or… well.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Depending on when you have your discussion with Danny, I don’t think we’ll need to stick to just a weekend schedule. If that’s something you’d like, of course.”

Seeing him blush wasn’t super common, but it was fucking adorable. She wanted to coo but instead smiled, placing her hand over his as some of the nerves at the idea of him wanting to end all of this because her breakup with Danny would mean the deal was over slipping off her back. “Yeah? You don’t think you’d get sick of me?” 

The man scoffed. If only she knew just how clingy he had started to feel. How he had to talk himself out to texting her far more than he did, how he had tried his best to make sure he didn’t come on too strong when she was still figuring things out with her last relationship- but if she was willing to spend more time with him, he would take up every single crumb, every second, every tiny sliver her could. “I don’t think you really get how…” he sighed, readjusting the words. “I don’t think that you comprehend how much I’d love to have you around more often. I don’t think it’s possible for me to get sick of you.”

That brought a smile to her face. “I don’t know. I do sing a bit obnoxiously. And I keep forgetting to put the cap on the toothpaste…”

“As long as it’s a good song, I don’t mind. As for the toothpaste… we can work on it.” He raised an eyebrow. “I know plenty of ways to get you to remember. Don’t worry about that.”

[mikkomacko]

loved the blurb it was amazing!!! you should do something about how reader convinces nico to get john to the devs! only if you want to ofc😘

Nico is in the back office of Sötis, renewing and updating his business registration and licenses when you come in.

Jesper usually handles these types of things but he had a baker call out sick this morning and was currently in the kitchen filling in, so Nico offered to cover for him.

Payroll and paperwork can be a bitch, and they take up most of the day, so it was better to just get it out of the way rather than push it to next week. And he gets to enjoy the smell of coffee and sweets in the oven.

“Ya know,” you say thoughtfully, “if Jesp really wanted to drive business in, he’d put the pretty things up front, not in the back office.”

Nico looks up from the computer, finds you leaning in the doorway. You’re dressed in a pair of loose jeans and Uggs, one of his already oversized hoodies swallowing your torso and bunching up on the curve of your hips.

You so look so fucking cute. Hands hiding behind your back and a sweet little smile on your glossy lips.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite little distraction,” he teases, leaning back in the rolling chair and shutting the laptop. You push off the doorway, slowly trailing towards the desk. Your hands stay hidden behind you and he raises a curious eyebrow.

“Distraction?” You round the desk, Nico swiveling the chair to follow you. “Is that all I am?”

Parting his thighs, you effortlessly slip into his lap, Nico’s hands finding your hips. He notices the careful way you move, turning just slightly to keep whatever you’re hiding from his line of sight.

“Amongst other things.”

Nico leans in, chest aching impatiently as you meet him halfway and press those beautiful lips to his. You cup the back of his neck, fingertips threading through his hair and pull him in even closer. Ironically, he’s so distracted by you that he doesn’t even notice the laminated book you’ve placed on the desk until he’s having to part from you.

“Are you busy?”

He shakes his head softly. “For you? Never.”

“Have you eaten today?”

Nico pecks a chaste kiss to your jaw. “Was actually gonna call and see if you wanted to meet me for lunch. Timo too if he’s with you.”

You laugh. “Oh he’s already behind the counter stealing croissants.”

“Just you and me then, huh?” He smirks, and your mirror it, nodding slowly.

“Can I talk to you about something first?”

Nico blinks, taken aback by the little bit of nerves in your tone. You’re never nervous with him, he doesn’t want you to be nervous with him.

“Of course baby,” he assures, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. “What’s up?”

You press a sweet kiss to his cheek, reaching onto the desk to slide the surprise you brought with you to him. Nico looks over your shoulder, surprised to see what looks like an official business deal, the cover reading “The Steel Deal” in big black letters.

“What is this?” He asks, fingers itching to grab the book and flip through it. But this is your thing and you seem really anxious to show it to him, so he’s gonna let you take a second.

“My first ever project as a Dev,” you say, a bit shy but when he looks over you’re smiling down at it proudly. “Or I guess deal, not project.”

Nico laughs, tries to ignore how much he wants to just say yes already. He wonders if you know, probably not judging by the fact that you went through the hassle to present a deal to him. But he’d say yes to you no matter what. He doesn’t need whatever plan and outcomes you’ve mocked up.

Whatever you want, he’d make happen.

“Alright,” he says instead. “Sell it to me.”

You flip open the first page and he almost dies at the FaceTime screenshot image of none other than John fucking Marino staring back at him.

“This is Johnny,” you introduce, like he doesn’t already know. For months now all he’s heard about is Johnny. “He’s a Peng, but I think he’d be much more suited as a Dev.”

Oh, Nico wasn’t expecting that one. He thought maybe it was some idea you had about wanting to go see him in Pittsburgh, some kind of trip you were planning and wanted Timo to escort you on.

No this is a Devils contract deal. You want him to join the family. Nico internally cringes, already hearing Crosby’s bitching and moaning if he were to ask for this deal to go through.

God how is Nico gonna make this one work out?

You flip to the middle of the booklet, an amazingly designed chart and noteworthy points decorating the pages. Nico looks closer, realizes that you’ve managed to get your hands on every single job Johnny has done with the Penguins. You’ve analyzed it all; the statistics of which jobs have better outcomes for him, which ones he excels at, the dirty work Sid and Geno have him do, everything.

Intrigued and impressed, Nico flips to scan the next four pages. You’ve got even more stats on him, even going back to the classes and sports he did at Harvard.

A hockey player, Nico thinks, just like the rest of them.

“He does a shit ton of work for Sid, probably even stuff he’s over qualified for,” you explain, “but it’s all outside of what he’s best at. Medical, surveillance, and rat work. He can get into almost any building undetected. And he gets everyone else in too.”

Nico hums. You’re right, Johnny is the best at the grunt work. Grunt work that isn’t suited for the type of city Pittsburgh is.

“They don’t need him like that there, though.” You continue, and Nico can feel you looking at him carefully, gauging his reaction. “The Devs do. He’s our best shot at keeping up with Lee and Trouba, he’s too quick and sneaky for either of them.”

He leans back in the chair, not needing to see anymore. You’ve convinced him. Hell you convinced him as soon as you asked.

But the real problem is convincing Sid, and figuring out if the kid is worth everything Sid is gonna ask for. Nico will try everything he can to make this happen for you, but he can’t guarantee it won’t come without a great loss. For all they know, Sid could ask for Timo or Alex in return, both men he knows you’re not willing to give up.

“I can get you Johnny,” Nico agrees tentatively, and you lean into his chest, eyes wide and eager. “But I don’t know if you’ll like what Sid is gonna ask for him.”

“He won’t-“

“Baby,” Nico says gently. “These deals are rougher than you think. This isn’t goods or product, this is manpower. And loyalty. What is Sid asks for Timo?”

You shake your head, grabbing the book and laying it out over your thighs.

“I talked to Sid and Johnny, I have the deal Nico. Look…”

You’ve surprised him a lot today. But not as great as this. The back of the book has an information page on a man Nico hasn’t laid his eyes on in years. A member of the Devs but not in practice.

Ty Smith.

“Timo told me about him, and then I asked Jack and yeah.” You explain. “Sid would be willing to swap Johnny for Ty Smith, and then he’s gonna turn Ty for some young guy in Carolina.

“Jack said Ty would be willing to be bought out in Carolina, get out of the business entirely. Maybe he’d do behind the scenes stuff there but he’s tired of the city.”

Nico looks over at you, chest swelling with pride. You’re a natural. Sure it seems Timo and Jack helped, but those two are awful at deals not negotiated by Nico before hand. Meaning this plan was all you, and it’s doable. Completely doable.

It’s probably even for the best. Ty had been asking Nico to let him buy him out, but the price he’d have to set would be too high for the poor guy. So he’s just been hiding out in Jersey City for years, waiting until the Devs were big enough to drop him.

“You talked to Sid?” He asks, biting his cheek to keep from smiling. He’s at least gotta pretend this took a little effort for him to give into.

“Yeah,” you assure. “And Johnny. He wants to come here Nico, said it feels more like his home than Pittsburgh does.”

“And you want him here?”

Your gaze flickers, something heavy settling in them like you’re caught up in a memory. Nico would guess it’s something from Philly, but he can’t be sure when it comes to Johnny. You like the kid because he reminds you of your family. Because you get to speak your familial language and reconnect with your past when you talk to Johnny.

That’s always been the one thing Nico couldn’t give you.

And now he can.

“Yeah I do,” you murmur, meeting his gaze again, eyes glossy. “He’s-he’s family to me.”

Nico takes the book from you and closes it, placing it back on the desk. He brushes your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek.

“Ok,” he agrees, easily. “I’ll talk to Sid tomorrow. Tell him we’re good on the deal, and then I’ll let Ty know.”

“Really?”

Nico laughs. “You really think I’d tell you no?”

Blush creeps up onto your cheeks. “Well no but I thought I’d have to grovel more. Or you’d be mad I did this without talking to you first.”

He squishes your cheek and nudges your nose with him. “Aw my little mafiosa, m’not mad. Impressed actually.”

Nico can almost feel the way you buzz under his praise. “I did a good job?”

“Good?” He scoffs. “You did better than half the putz’s here do. I don’t know how you found all this information or how to put it together but I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You giggle bashfully, eyes scrunching and he kisses you again. And again. And maybe for a couple more moments too.

And then you pull away, hand on his chest and fingering at his pendant. “I stole your work files,” you say innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

Nico frowns, tries to think of the last time he saw those files in his office at the house. He hasn’t gone looking for them in a while. He can’t even tell you where the key to that drawer is.

Well now he can, he thinks. It’s with you.

“You’re good at this minx,” he chuckles. “Sure you don’t want be boss?”

“No,” you say certainly. “I just want Johnny.”

[iamtired10]

hiii, could you write a one-shot or headcanons, whatever you fancy the most, of newjeans (or just danielle, i dont mind!) with a thoughtful, attentive gf? someone who does not actively demonstrate that she makes an effort to remember their habits and preferences but deep down knows everything about them... 😍

and not in a "stalker" way! (☠) more like in a "I care so much about you it just comes naturally" way

thank you!! have a nice day♡♡

masterpiece in your eyes

pairing - gf! danielle marsh x female reader

synopsis - you love knowing all the little things about danielle marsh—everything that makes her, well, her. but it’s not in an obsessed way; it’s just the kind of deep connection you both share.

genre - FLUFF (someone please request angst. and teach me how to write it too! im so over fluff)

warning - nothing just cringe and boring ig, dani have blonde hair here :(

word count - 831

a/n - fun fact... i always update before i go to sleep 😪

the museum air was still.

the kind that made you want to talk in hushed whispers, but that didn’t stop danielle from bouncing on her heels, her eyes wide with excitement.

she was in her element—curiosity and wonder radiated from her as she stood in front of an art piece that you, frankly, didn’t quite understand.

but that didn’t matter.

what mattered was the way danielle’s face lit up, her soft blonde curls bouncing with every little skip she made from one exhibit to the next.

she turned to you with that signature spark in her eyes. “babe, look! isn’t this one so cool?”

her aussie accent mixed with the sound of wonder in her voice made it impossible not to smile.

you tilted your head, pretending to examine the piece like you knew exactly what she was seeing. “yeah, totally. the… uh, colors are super deep.”

she giggled, knowing you had no clue, but appreciating the effort.

that was the thing about danielle—she never needed you to be into the same stuff she was, but you loved the way she came alive around the things she loved.

you’d always made mental notes of her little habits, what made her smile, what made her laugh.

even though you weren’t the type to be super showy about it, you made sure she felt seen.

like how you always brought her that lavender-scented hand cream she liked when she forgot hers or when you made sure to grab the spicy ramyeon whenever you both went grocery shopping because she secretly loved the heat.

she never outright said it, but you knew.

you knew she loved it when you held her hand in museums, quietly slipping your fingers through hers whenever she got too excited and started wandering off like a curious little puppy.

and so, as she moved to the next exhibit, you reached out, lacing your fingers with hers.

danielle smiled at the touch, her gaze softening as she glanced at you. “you always know what i need,” she murmured, squeezing your hand gently.

she pulled you closer until your arms were lightly brushing.

“of course, i do. i’ve been taking notes,” you teased, nudging her playfully with your shoulder.

she blushed, that adorable pink creeping up her cheeks that always made your heart flutter.

across the room, you heard the unmistakable laughter of hanni.

your friends, they were gathered around an interactive display, messing around with a touchscreen that let you create your own digital art.

haerin was tapping through the colors with focus, while hanni was trying her best to mess it all up.

danielle waved over to them with her free hand. “come on, let’s go see what they’re doing!”

the two of you wandered over, still hand-in-hand, joining the chaos. “unnie, you’re ruining haerin-ah’s masterpiece!” danielle laughed, nudging hanni playfully.

“i’m adding to it,” hanni said with a grin, barely holding back her laughter as haerin shot her a death glare.

hyein was watching from the sidelines, clearly amused. “it’s abstract art now.”

you leaned into danielle’s ear, whispering, “they’re all such nerds.”

danielle giggled, nodding in agreement. “and we love them for it.”

minji, the mom of the group, finally stepped in. “alright, alright. give hae a chance to finish it.”

then she turned to you and danielle, raising an eyebrow. “enjoying the tour?”

“yeah, it’s been amazing!” danielle beamed, her excitement spilling out. she turned to you with a wide smile. “i love that we’re all here together.”

minji smirked. “she loves you being here.”

you rolled your eyes, but inside, your heart was swelling. danielle was so effortlessly herself around you, and that’s what made everything feel so perfect.

after wandering around for a bit more, you both found yourselves in front of a painting that seemed to catch danielle’s eye.

she stood there, staring at it, her expression soft and thoughtful.

“what are you thinking?” you asked, watching her closely.

she didn’t say anything for a moment, just continued gazing at the painting. “it’s beautiful, isn’t it? it makes you feel something, like… warmth.”

you looked at her, not the painting, and said softly, “yeah, you're right, it’s beautiful.”

danielle turned to you with a shy smile, and your heart skipped a beat.

you didn’t have to say much for her to understand.

she rested her head on your shoulder, her hand still holding yours. “you’re such a dork,” she whispered, her voice light and teasing.

“but i’m your dork,” you teased back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

in that museum, amidst all the art, the real masterpiece was the love you both shared—thoughtful, quiet but so deeply understood.

the kind of love that didn’t need to be shouted from the rooftops because it was already written in every soft glance, every gentle touch.

and in that moment, you both knew — this was the kind of love that felt like home.

a/n - SORRY TO THE ANON IK IT'S NOT GOOD :( MY HEAD IS TOTALLY BRAINDEAD SAURR I JUST WROTE WTV POPPED INTO MY MIND LMAO. IT'S A MESS, SORRYYY! ANYWAY IM GONNA HEAD OUT NOW. BYE-BYE GOODNIGHTYYYYY!

[darklydeliciousdesires]

John Shelby Vs. Breakfast - A John Shelby/Reader Short.

I haven't written for any of my Peaky lads in a hot minute, so I thought I'd do a little fun, fluffy piece for my fave ginge <3 Enjoy!

Words - 792

Warnings - None, just John being John!

Clattering. Swearing. Burnt toast. Those are what greet you after descending the stairs, coming into the kitchen to see perhaps the most unnatural sight in the world; John cooking. Or rather attempting to.  

“Bastard, bloody thing!” Yes, the cast iron pan handle heats up while cooking eggs and bacon in it, not that he’d realise, being a man. Naturally, he’s had a woman perform these tasks for him all his life, so why would he know that? “Oh, shit, shit, shit, not again!”  

At least this time when he reaches for hot metal, he has the sense to cover the end of the toasting fork with a kitchen towel, pulling the slices of bread from in front of the fire. “Fuckin’ hell!” 

You stand and watch it, the sexy, ginger ball of stress whirling like an agitated tornado around the space, John much too predisposed by messing up the preparation of breakfast to notice you there, his entertained audience of one.  

“Alright, I can save that. Scrape the burnt bit off. Right, kettle’s almost done. Sodding hell! How the fuck do women do this and make it look so bloody easy?” 

“Because we’re magicians,” you finally speak, watching him jump before he spins around, pointing at you through the chaos of his own making. 

“You should be in bed, still!”  

Shrugging, you approach, stroking his bare forearms, his sleeves all rolled up. “I was wide awake, so I thought I’d get up.”  

He bustles, waving his arms. “No, no. Ain’t supposed to be like this. I had a plan! Bring you breakfast in bed and now it’s all bloody going wrong!” 

Casting your gaze over his shoulder, your eyebrow flutters upwards. “I don’t think that has anything to do with me coming down the stairs, John. The pan is smoking, by the way.”  

His face falls. “Fuckin’ hell!”  

“Do you want a hand?” you offer, watching him move it from atop the range, scraping the slightly overdone eggs and bacon out onto two plates. 

He waves his hand towards the table. “No, you sit down.” 

“I can do the teapot, at least?” 

More hand gestures are directed. “Sit down, bab!”  

He’s adamant to do this, so tucking your dress, you take a seat, picking up the morning paper as he butters the toast. Finishing plating up the breakfast and pouring the tea, he brings it to you, everything a little crispy and haphazardly presented, your new husband looking at you from under a few furrowed brow.  

“Don’t look nothing like when you make it, but I hope it tastes alright, at least.” 

Digging your fork in, you take a first mouthful. “It’s lovely, darling. Thank you. What made you want to cook for me in the first place, though? You always denounce it as woman’s work. Not that you should. We’re in the twenties now, us women are to have our equality.” 

“Oh, not you an’ all!” he groans, rolling his eyes. “You and bloody Pol and your women’s lib!” His little wink indicates he isn’t a hundred percent serious, picking up a slice of toast and taking a huge bite, crumbs collecting at the corners of his lips. “And I did it because I wanna make amends. Ain’t proper that we’re married and I can’t take you on honeymoon. Nah. Even a weekend up the seaside would have been nice. Got all this fuckin’ shit round me neck, though.” 

Indeed, he has. You know well who you married, and the life of a prolific gangster is seldom easy. Or, in this case, flexible enough to allow for time away from Birmingham with his new bride.  

Reaching for his hand, you stroke the freckled flesh, cocking your head. “You’ve no amends here to make, love. I know, I understand. It is what it is.” 

“Yeah, but it bloody shouldn’t be, cos’ you deserve more!” he fumes, forehead creasing. “And I can’t give it to ya right now. Feel like a right bloody joke of a husband, I do.” 

“You know what you can give me, though?” you tease, John not immediately picking up on the connotations. “A bloody good seeing to.” 

He pauses his chewing, an eyebrow arching. “Get that scran down your neck sharpish, bab. I might not be able to take you away even for a weekend, but I can take you to bed instead.”  

To be honest, is seeing a lot of time pressed against a mattress beneath your new husband not the point of a honeymoon? You’ve always thought so, at least, therefore it matters not where that mattress happens to be. Whether further afield or Birmingham, as long as John is there, it’s all the honeymoon you need.  

A slightly cremated breakfast is an added bonus, too.  

[deancasbigbang]

Title: I'm Not Living Here Without You

Author: Avonlady

Artist: TwinOne

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel; Meg Masters/Bela Talbot; mentioned Gabriel/Kali; past Charlie Bradbury/Dorothy; implied Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle

Length: 26229

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply; Cancer Diagnosis

Tags: Dean/Cas Established Relationship; Castiel has cancer; Angst; fluff; explicit sexual content; Dean Winchester wears panties; Dean Winchester is in denial; minor character death; grieving; eventual happy ending (Castiel lives)

Posting Date: November 5, 2024

Summary: Castiel promised Dean that they would be together forever. They met when they were just kids and they were each other’s first everything. They are happy and have an unbreakable bond that makes them the envy of everyone around them. Everything changes 15 years into their marriage when Castiel is diagnosed with cancer and the doctors aren’t very hopeful that the treatments will work. Dean is crushed and spends a lot of time in denial while trying to find a cure for his husband. Castiel knows that his dying will destroy Dean, so he fights as hard as he can to stay alive for his husband’s sake.

Excerpt: “Cas, have you seen my green tie?” Dean yells towards the living room from their bedroom. “I think it’s in the closet.” His husband’s voice yells back at him.  Dean keeps searching, but he isn’t having any luck finding it. Tonight is their 15-year-wedding-anniversary dinner and he wants it to be special. Dean knows how much Castiel likes his green tie because it brings out his eye color, so he needs to find it, no matter how long it takes. He hears someone clear their throat and he turns around to see Castiel holding his tie, a snarky grin plastered on his face. Dean reaches for it, and begins tying it as he speaks. “Thanks, babe. Where did you find it?” “It was right where you left it last, on the bed in the guest room.” “Why the hell did I leave it there?” “I don’t know. I’m not sure it would be safe for anyone to try to figure out what goes on in that gorgeous head of yours.” Dean grabs Castiel by the back of the neck and pulls him closer, kissing him on the lips. “Do you think we have time to fool around a little before we go?” Dean says with a waggle of his eyebrows.  “We do not have time, Dean. The reservation is in an hour. We can always fool around when we get home.” Castiel gives him a swat on the ass. “Now, finish getting ready. I’m hungry.” Castiel leaves the room and Dean watches him as he walks away. He will never take for granted how lucky he is to have been able to marry his childhood sweetheart. Castiel makes him so happy and he knows he would be lost without him. That’s why he tries to show him everyday how much he loves him.  They met in 1st grade, two years after Dean’s mom, Mary, died of cancer and his father’s soul died right along with her. Dean didn’t talk for two years, but the moment he saw Castiel and glanced into those blue eyes that gave Dean hope that good things still existed, he finally found his voice again. Dean didn’t like to talk much about Mary and John became a living ghost once she was gone, so Dean and Sam were raised by John’s brother, Bobby. Dean hasn’t seen John in 15 years. They have been distant ever since John made a scene at Dean and Castiel’s wedding spouting hatred about how Mary would be rolling over in her grave if she knew her eldest son was marrying a man. Castiel broke his nose and told him if he ever came near Dean again, he would do worse. That moment just cemented the fact that he was going to be with Castiel forever.

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