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writingunderneathawillow · 20 days ago

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first base

summary: Bucky and you have to go undercover as a married couple for a mission. In order to soothe your nerves, he shows you that kissing him is not a big deal. Or is it? content warnings: fluff, mutual pining, handsome bucky hehehe, kinda suggestive but really tame, pretty angsty (mentioned character death, but the person’s made up), female reader word count: 2k a/n: today i looked up how the whole first base, second base, etc is defined and that gave me the idea for this :) also it’s been around since the 1940s (ish) this was supposed to be super cute and fluffy but i just love angst so much and i couldn’t help myself

The dress that wrapped itself around every curve of your body was surprisingly comfortable. Its satin flowed smoothly and pooled like a waterfall around your legs, allowing for plenty of movement which eased your nerves a little. Still, you felt the blood pounding in your ears as you applied the dark crimson to your lips and blended out the sharp corner of your eyeliner. The person that stared back at you in the mirror had little resemblance to you. Gabriela Alderton, your alias for the next few days, was dressed up in expensive silks, owned a purse that was sold for more than what you had saved over the last few years and wore jewellery that your yearly salary could not finance. That included an engagement ring, which sparkled on your left ring finger. The band was made out of heavy gold, engraved with details so fine that only someone in your close proximity would be able to see it. The diamond that adorned the centre of the ring was so massive that it almost looked cheap again. Almost. S.H.I.E.L.D. or, much rather Tony, didn’t play when it came to undercover missions. One wrong detail, one off-hand comment could end every involved agent’s life. And you knew that too well. Which is why you had taken the time to craft a fully in depth, flushed out and comprehensive profile of your made-up personality, detailing little things such as Gabriela’s electives in middle school (badminton and pottery). A knock on your door detached your scrambling mind from listing any more childhood details under your breath and you walked over to the entrance to your bedroom, turned the knob and opened. Your throat constricted when you saw who stood there, waiting for you. There was no moment in time where Bucky had ever been unattractive – and you had lived with him for a few years now, seeing him bloodied, beaten up, hauled through dirt and grime and passed out on the couch after exhausting missions. But the way his anthracite suit jacket smoothed itself across his shoulders, not yet buttoned up and therefore allowing a glimpse of the pressed silk shirt – it just wasn’t fair how handsome he was. “Hello,” he said quietly. His own eyes darted over you, and you saw how he swallowed, the bump of his Adam’s apple quivering as he took in your dolled-up face, drinking in every inch of your powdered skin. His gaze dropped and wandered further down, assessing the hold of the fabric on your body and if you had had it in you to rip away your eyes from his face, you would have seen how his fingers twitched in a suppressed attempt to reach out for you. “Hi,” you replied, your cheeks warming under his steady evaluation and you opened the door further, beckoning him in. A sound, that was half sigh, half grunt tumbled from his throat as he entered your bedroom. The material of his pants stretched over his thoroughly trained thighs when he walked and despite the material surely being sturdy and expensive beyond your comprehension, you saw the faint outline of his leg muscles shifting. “So,” Bucky began, fumbling with something in the inside pocket of his jacket. It took him a few tries to grasp it and when he opened his palm, you saw a shining gold wedding band that matched the engagement ring on your left hand both in aesthetics and opulence. “You already got the other one, right?” The question was unnecessary as Bucky stared at the jewellery decorating your finger. An expression that you didn’t quite have the words for was plastered across his face, a mix of anticipation and… longing? You raised your hand, palm facing your face, and wiggled your finger. “Yeah, Stark gave it to me at breakfast. Told me to get used to it.” “Hmm.” His one-worded response left his feelings towards that open to interpretation but there was a timid smile on his lips, as if he might not mind the idea of you getting used to that ring and the connection that intertwined him and you along with it.

“Well, we’re… ‘married’, so you need both,” he mumbled, now shifting the ring in his hand so that he could hold it between pointer finger and thumb.

Instinctively, you stretched out your hand, resting it against his free one and let him ease the ring onto your other finger.

It fit perfectly. There was no danger of it slipping off or cutting off your blood supply, as if it had been melded to your measurements from beginning to end.

It was just as heavy as its counterpart, despite the lack of diamond. It seemed simple, a thicker band than what your mind usually connected to the words ‘wedding ring’ but the feelings it triggered in your heart threatened to affect the standards you had set for your own expectations for marriage.

“It’s beautiful,” you replied as you took notice of the heavy silence that filled the room.

The apples of Bucky’s cheeks took a slight pink hue, and he cleared his throat before replying.

“You think so?”

He looked at you, a glimmer of something you didn’t know how to place in his stare.

“Yeah, Stark did a fine job picking it out,” you answered, softly contracting the muscles in your hands which causes both rings to reflect back to you.

“I chose it.”

Your attention snapped away from the jewellery and landed right on him.

A sheepish smile ornamented his face, along with a deeper shade of pink on his face.

You had to take a few short breaths to compose yourself, to not let yourself melt.

“Oh.”

He hummed a soft response, not words but not a distinguishable sound either and just kept looking at you.

“Well,” you continued, “You seem to know my taste a lot better than I do. It really is beautiful.”

A proud smile snuck onto his face, lighting up the grey storm in his eyes to adjust to a soft blue.

Despite the calm that he brought into your room and mind, you felt your blood pressure pick up again as the clock ticked closer to 6 p.m., signalling that it was almost time to go down and wait for the driver who would pick you up and drive to the gala.

Bucky noticed your anxious shifting, the way you paced up and down the room in heels would wear you out and give you blisters before even arriving at your destination.

“You ok?” He asked and reached out, his metal fingers wrapping around your wrist. His hold was gentle, and you would’ve been able to free yourself from his grip at any time if you had wanted to. But you didn’t.

“Just nerves,” you replied, letting him still your movements.

“You’ll do great, doll. You don’t oughta worry.”

The term of endearment made the butterflies in your stomach practice summersaults and you almost closed your eyes to calm yourself.

Instead, you twirled the wedding ring, letting it circle around your skin a few times.

“I just…,” you began, trying to find the words to express what you felt without giving away too much but your mind struggled to make up a sentence that afforded that.

Bucky observed your stuttering and something seemed to click in his brain as his eyes softened.

“Is it because of… because of the last time you went undercover?”

The question hung heavily in the room, and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his face as you nodded.

The last time you went undercover, it had gone beyond sideways.

Your work partner, your long-time friend and one of the best agents you had ever known, hadn’t made it out because of two mistakes.

“I read the file, you know? Two weeks ago, Sam gave it to me. I feel like you should know that, so that you are aware that I’m… prepared.”

Bucky’s words didn’t have the effect he had intended.

Instead of soothing your worries, it upset you. “It wasn’t his fault. He was prepared. I was the one who messed up,” you snapped at him. Regret flooded your veins immediately but the tears that threatened to spill held your tongue in place, hindering you from apologising for your tone. “That’s not what I meant and I’m sure that it wasn’t your fault,” he murmured. You pulled the wedding band from your finger and held it in your hand, right under Bucky’s nose. “I made two mistakes. Two. They cost him his life that night.” You fumbled with the ring, took a deep breath that did nothing to help you relax and asked: “Do you have to return this after the mission?” Bucky nodded and before he could elaborate, you said: “Tell Stark to yell at me, not you.” Then you smacked the piece of jewellery against the table – once, twice. The third hit it took was from being thrown against the wall. The super soldier didn’t stop you – sure, he looked at you like you had lost your mind, but he didn’t try to intervene. Once you had properly let your anger on the ring, you picked it up and held it up again for Bucky to inspect. It was still beautiful, not bent, but slightly scuffed up. “It needs to look like it’s been sitting on my finger for longer than a few hours. We’re not newlyweds after all,” you explained, your voice trembling slightly. Bucky hummed a response, his eyes still fixated on you as realisation dawned on him. “Is that how they figured it out? That you guys were undercover?” He asked, his eyebrows knitted together while unease lingered on his face. No, not unease. Worry. Not for himself, but for you. “That was part of it,” you admitted then and placed the band back in its rightful place. He stayed quiet, leaving it up to you whether to open up further or keep it bottled up. You, surprising both yourself and him, continued in a quiet voice. “We had been friends for… for years. His name was Christian. And we carried out so many missions together, recon, gathering intel, anything. We had gone undercover before, but as business partners, not a couple. When Fury gave us that… that goddamn mission, Christian laughed, saying it’d be easy. And it was, everything went smoothly until the man we were spying on pointed out my ring. We tried to brush it off, saying that I had just gotten it cleaned and took great care off it. But he didn’t buy it. So, Christian did the only thing he could think of, and he kissed me. I froze.” You recounted the painful memory with a tremble, both in your vocals and your hands. Bucky listened, his palms resting inches away from your arm, almost as if he wanted to reach out to you, to ease your pain. “They shot him before I could look him in the eye, and he was… he was gone before he hit the ground.” Sympathy filled Bucky’s eyes. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t an attempt to convince you that it hadn’t been your fault. It was compassion. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” he whispered and sighed softly. You looked up at him, blinking away the tears. His face was just inches away from yours and you could feel his breath brushing up against your cheek. “I don’t want to freeze again. I don’t wanna mess this up again. I just… I was so close with Christian, but we were just friends, and it threw me off. I didn’t know how to react and I…,” you trailed off, your eyes flickering down to his lips. “You’re not gonna. We just gotta… get some practice,” Bucky murmured, and his hand came up to your cheek. “Hit first base or what?” Your question was supposed to come off as a joke, but it was a breathless plea, your fingers found themselves at the base of his neck, softly brushing up against his hair. “I can’t believe people still use that metaphor,” he replied and then he pressed his lips onto yours.

thank you for reading :) gentle reminder that likes are more than appreciated but comments and reblogs make the dream work part 2 out now

#marvel #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fanfic #x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #reader #bucky x female yn #bucky x f!reader #bucky angst #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #James buchanan barnes x reader

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deconstructthesoup · 9 months ago

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One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives analysis #costume design #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #jenny green #esther finch #the night nurse #tragic mick #monty finch #the cat king

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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months ago

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handlebars

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male and female receiving oral, face fucking, golf, rafe calling reader slut and whore but lovingly lol, established relationship, female masturbation kinda, bit of a dom/sub relationship but really its just rafes personality, semi public sex

“princess.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head as you're sat at your vanity, dabbing some blush onto your cheeks.

“mhm?” you tilt your head up, allowing rafe to press a kiss to your lips, not used to feeling your kiss without lipgloss, the next step in your makeup routine.

“if you're good for me and don't complain about being bored today, ill let you suck me off on the green.”

“really?” you squeal, turning to get a better look at rafe.

“yeah.” rafe nods. “but no complaining while we are golfing. topper will be joining me so you gotta wait until after we are done.”

“im gonna be so good rafey, promise.”

“i know you will, good girl.” rafe bends to give you another kiss. “finish getting ready, im gonna go load my clubs into the car.”

“mkay.” you nod. “love you, handsome.”

“i know you do, baby.” rafe smirks before leaving the room.

you turn back to your mirror, quickly finishing your makeup before getting an idea.

you part your hair down the middle before tying them into pigtails on either side, adding a pink ribbon around either hair tie, pulling a couple strands out to frame your face.

you skip down the stairs, dressed in your favorite golfing outfit. despite never playing and just watching rafe, you love to dress the part, wearing a tight white athletic tank top and a flouncy pink skirt, so short it shows off your matching pink underwear way too easily with just the slightest bend of your hips.

“shit.” rafe smiles up at you. “can't wait to strip those clothes off you later.”

“why thank you baby.” you give a twirl, showing off your outfit to rafe, knowing the ultimate compliment on your clothing is to tell you how much he wants to rip them off of you.

“im gonna have to kill top if he even looks at you with your tits out like this.” rafes arms wrap around your waist to pull you tightly against his front, lifting your feet up off the ground.

you wrap your legs around his hips, pressing sticky kisses and leaving pink gloss behind as rafe carries you outside, placing you in his passenger seat that has become yours, your name even added in rhinestones to the sun visor next to the mirror.

you hum along to rafes music and cycle between looking out the window and looking over at rafe as he drives, the muscles on his arms defining his every turn on the way to the country club.

“oh, there's toppers truck.” you point as rafe pulls into the parking lot, grumbling something about you knowing what his truck looks like before pulling into a spot.

you wait for rafe to walk around to open your door, helping you step down and keeping your hands held tight together as he grabs his clubs and slings them over one shoulder.

“hi topper.” you smile as you see him sat in a cart, quickly moving to the back as you approach.

“hey rafe.” topper says, completely ignoring your hello, but you know it's not due to being rude.

“no complaining, remember.” rafe says as you slide along the bench seat, making sure not to move too far so your thigh touches rafes as he gets in to drive.

“i remember.” you nod. “i will definitely not complain when i get really really super bored.”

rafe shakes his head, an unwilling smile growing on his face as he drops one hand down to your thigh, squeezing it so tightly you almost cry out before he releases and puts the cart into drive, speeding towards the first hole.

“i was so good, wasn’t i?” you turn your head to the side to look at rafe as he drops topper back at the parking lot.

“i mean, you started complaining when we played 18 holes instead of 9.” rafe tsks.

“okay, but only for like a second before i remembered! come on rafe,” you lean over him, placing your hand on his chest, fingers ghosting up and down to entice him. “don’t you want me to suck you off?”

“of course i do.” rafe captures your lips in a kiss, tugging you closer to his side as he takes off again, navigating the course to an isolated spot.

“finally.” you move to your knees on the cart, watching as rafe stands and walks to the passenger side of the cart, keeping his back towards the main part of the club just in case anyone comes by.

you reach forward, tugging on rafe shorts, undoing the zipper and button and pulling the sides of his pants apart. you reach into his pants and pull his cock out from his underwear, already starting to harden.

“i love it when i get my mouth on you and you’re still soft.” you press kisses along his length, feeling it grow under your lips before placing the head of his cock into his mouth, swiping your tongue over the slit.

“you’re such a whore.” rafe laughs. “dressed up like a slut and now you’re acting like it too.”

you just nod, not willing to take your mouth off his cock just to acknowledge how much of a slut you are for him. you both already know what the truth is.

rafe hardens in your mouth as you begin to move your head up and down, building up a slow pace that allows you to enjoy the taste of his skin, tongue sliding along the underside of his length.

“faster, baby.” rafe taps your cheek.

you pull off and frown up at him. “let me enjoy sucking you off. you said you’d let me.”

“yeah but i wanna see what you can do. impress me.”

the challenge from rafe works immediately as you wrap your lips around his cock, head bobbing up and down a lot quicker now as you build up tolerance in your throat, rafes length and girth too much to take him all the way down immediately.

“that's my girl.” rafe smiles down at you. “doing so good baby.”

you take a deep breath through your nose and move forward, pushing your nose into rafes shirt as you swallow around his length, resisting the urge to smile as you hear rafe moan.

“fuck.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, determined to keep his cock all the way down your throat for as long as you can.

“god, you just keep getting better at this darling.”

you pull off and drop your head to cough before smiling up at rafe. “wanna fuck my mouth now?”

rafe leans down to kiss your forehead. “im gonna put a ring on your finger one day baby, i swear.”

“you better.” you know you're still young, but you can't wait for the day you can call yourself mrs. cameron.

rafe straightens back up, smearing the head of his cock over your mouth, coating your lips in a second layer of gloss.

rafe grabs onto your pigtails as your mouth opens, keeping your throat as slack as you can as his hips push forward.

rafe moves your head in unison with his thrusts, fingers knotting around the pink ribbon to keep his grip.

you have to reach forward and place your hands on his thighs to keep from falling forward, your knees no doubt turning bright red as they scrape back and forth with the power of his movements.

rafe doesn't bother holding back his moans as he tugs on your pigtails, hips undulating and rocking, hoping he's far enough from anyone else to hear his groans and gasps of your name.

“next will be your pussy.” rafe smirks down at you. “as soon as we get home im getting in that delicious little cunt of yours.”

you moan around his cock, thighs squeezing together as you think of all the times rafes been inside of you.

rafe tugs your pigtails, holding them like handlebars on a bike as his cock grows in your mouth. he wishes he could go for longer, to fuck your mouth for hours, but the thought of getting home to your pussy makes him too excited to hold himself back.

“gonna cum right down your throat.” rafe says, grunting as his hips speed up. “unless you want me to paint your pretty face for everyone to see.”

you moan again, the sound vibrating around rafes cock as your hand drops to your pussy, pressing over your underwear to give your clit some relief.

“you like that huh?” rafe questions. “want everyone at the country club to see my cum dripping down your face?”

you push your hand under your panties, rubbing at your wetness, a finger plunging into your heat.

“hey, cut that out.” rafe tugs on your pigtails. “you can rub your clit but don't open up your cunt for me. that's my job.”

you groan but move your fingers back to your clit, leaving your pussy to clench around nothing.

“don't worry, bunny.” rafe pats your cheek. “you'll be bouncing on something soon enough.”

rafe moans as your tongue flicks over the underside of his length, throat constricting as you swallow along his cock.

“fuck, close.” rafe warns, pumping his hips forward with renounced speed.

rafes cock swells in your mouth and there's mere seconds before he releases, cum spurting down your throat.

“fuck!” he moans, giving one last thrust before pulling out.

you take a deep breath, hand still moving on your pussy as rafe breaths deeply, checking over his shoulder before tucking his softening cock back into his pants.

“stop that.” rafe hums, eyes dropping to between your legs.

“im so close.” you whine, keeping your fingers thrumming over your clit.

“yeah, and i wanna be the one to make you cum so stop.”

rafe picks you up and places your bum on the seat, frowning when he sees your knees. he presses kisses to each of the red splotches.

rafe pushes your thighs open next, pulling your hand out of your underwear as he tugs them to the side.

you didn't expect rafe to surge forward, mouth greedily eating your cunt, slurping on your wetness.

“fuck!” you squeal, head falling back as he focuses in on your clit, sucking with the taste of you on his tongue, sticking it out to flick over your clit.

“im- im gonna cum!” you warn, fingers tangling in his hair, pressing his face further into your cunt.

his mouth keeps working as you reach your high, moaning out rafes name as your clit pulses against his tongue.

he moves lower to press against your entrance, briefly dipping in. “gonna fuck you so soon.” he whispers, and you swear it's more to your cunt than it is to you.

“shit.” you fall back against the seat as rafe rearranges you, flinching when his hand brushes against your clit while putting your panties back in place.

“better not be sensitive by the time we get home.” rafe says, flipping your skirt back down to cover you before he shrugs. “or be sensitive, im fucking you either way.”

“you're such a dick.” you giggle as rafe drops his head to kiss you, lips melting together, the shared taste on your tongue mixing.

“love you.” he says. “future wifey. you give the best head.”

“wow, thanks.” you roll your eyes sarcastically, hands moving to your pigtails as rafe rounds the cart to drive back.

“you know, you really messed up my hair.” you frown, attempting to fix your bows without a mirror to look in.

“yeah, you can't wear that style again.” rafe looks over at you. “unless you want me to fuck your face every time.”

“well…” you tap your chin, a smile growing.

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uzurimisery · 8 days ago

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love thy neighbor. / john price x reader

Buying a house to use when you’re never home is a stupid idea, but John Price has done it anyway. He doesn’t think much of it after 10 years, til you move in behind him, and then suddenly it’s not so bad.

warnings: MDNI, John “talk her through it” gentle dom Price, unprotected sex, piv, oral sex (fem receiving), reader is called girl, praise kink, light biting, implied pregnancy, you have a child at the end

w.c.: 5.6k

It’s not often that John finds himself so… distracted. With a job like his, that means certain death. Never let your head wander. Never let your eyes drift. Stay focused. Ready. Out in the field, your head swivels for a bird like his is and that's a bullet to your temple. Hopefully, the shot kills you right away and doesn’t leave you bleeding on the floor. Slow and painful way to go. Choking on your blood, teammates around you just watching, wishing they’d finish the job, and you wouldn’t have to fade away.

But there’s something about you that’s got him distracted.

Your garden backs up against his, property lines defined by an old wooden fence that's been there since the 60s. Not much to look at for his side. He keeps his grass cut short with minimal landscaping. Few large paver stones between the patio and the slab of concrete the hot tub sits. He’s rarely even home to see it.

The house had been a purchase he felt he had to make when he hit 30. Soap joked it was his midlife crisis since every crisis could be their midlife one. He guessed it gave him a weird sense of normalcy that never sat right. Like shoes that are ever so slightly too tight. They fit, could even fit better if you took the time to stretch them out, but he doesn’t. Told himself it’d be a better fit when he retired. If he got the chance.

Now he’s 40, a homeowner for a decade, and it’s barely used, and he’s barely there. Hell, the weekly cleaner and gardener had been there more since he bought it than he had. John’s only ever there when he’s got an extended break between missions, but well and truly, how often is that?

He hadn’t even noticed when the old couple who used to own the end of the terrace house passed away, and you moved in. Meredith and James. It had happened eight months ago, right at the end of autumn. Tells you how much of a good neighbor he is. John didn’t learn about it until April hit, and you came knocking on his door.

You had a black oversized jumper tucked into some dark wash high-waisted jeans with a big hole on the left knee. Hair held back with a claw clip, brows drawn ever so slightly together. Like you were nervous as you shifted side to side holding a plate of cookies.

It was one of those gross British spring days where the air starts to get muggy as the sun hits its peak. Past the part of spring where it’s grey and drizzly for weeks straight, the cold still clinging to your bones.

He’d barely been home for 13 hours. Came in and passed out, only woke up about 20 minutes ago, and turned on the TV in the lounge to listen to the news while he made a late lunch. Still in the groggy headspace of jetlag, but he swore you looked radiant.

“Hi! I wanted to introduce myself.” You had a soft voice. Gentle. Like you were afraid of spooking him. “Meredith told me that you’re often overseas, and… well, this is the first time I think I’ve seen you home.” You gave him your name and told him you owned the house behind his now.

John was pleasant for the whole interaction, chatting with you for about 15 minutes before you excused yourself. Smiled and said all the right things like his mum raised him to, still not really all there mentally. Didn’t even really click for him that you shared the fence with him until two days later, he saw you in the garden, taking a hammer to the fence with a mean look on your face.

Good opportunity for him to be neighborly.

“You alright?” He’s leaning out the first-floor window, arms resting on the windowsill.

John didn’t expect you to startle so much, dropping the hammer with a shriek before your head whipped up to him. “Fucking hell you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, love,” he chuckles, “Something wrong with the fence?”

“Yeah,” there's sweat beading down your forehead that you swipe away. He has a wandering thought about licking it off you. “I think the wood’s rotted through. I leaned something against it yesterday and it about gave through.”

Great opportunity for him to get closer to you.

“I’ll come down and have a look.”

Turns out the wood was rotted through for more than half the fence. The whole thing was one bad wind day away from falling over. John had removed some of the worst parts that day with plans to remove the rest on Tuesday morning. That was until you both got hit with a stop-work order. One of the neighbors had called the council and complained. Something about protecting historic areas, and the boundary of the two properties not being legally defined. Not their place at all, but regardless, neither of you could do anything about it now.

They did at least let John finish taking the fence down for safety concerns, so the two of you spent that time getting to know each other better. You were 34, worked as a fashion buyer, but you really wanted to be a designer, liked holidays with your girlfriends where you could try new wines, and were perhaps the sweetest bird he’d ever met, hidden behind a layer of fierce sass.

Then the council told the two of you it’d be another eight to ten weeks for them to assess the new fence and then another three for them to do an impact report on whether it’d require the other fences to be changed. Typical British bureaucracy. The fence was being built in the same way it had looked prior to it being torn down.

But now it meant the two of you shared one big garden. One big, ambiguous green space only defined by how much landscaping you had done and the numerous planters full of growing veggies you had. Not a big deal for him. While he liked his space, a week or two of shared garden wouldn’t kill him.

Then the pandemic hit and no one was going to approve jack shit or build anything. It was like the council fully vanished, emails going unanswered.

John had been deployed shortly after the lockdowns were announced and told you to email him if anything important came up with the council. You laughed, told him you would, and followed it up by demanding he stay safe lest you have to deal with a new neighbor and no fence.

True to your word, you did email him. It was never any updates regarding the fence. Rather, it was you checking in on him and telling him about the local gossip. Turned into penpals. Between bouts of violent warfare, he got to know you, and hell, he’d say you’re bordering on friend territory now, which isn’t a title he gives out often. He tried to be polite and cordial, but the image of you sunbathing never left his mind.

When he came back 12 weeks later in the dead of night, he climbed into his bed in the primary suite on the third floor and passed out. Bags dropped by the front door, half blocking it from opening. Maybe he was finally getting too old for this.

He didn’t wake up until 1 pm, sunshine making the room uncomfortable and hot. He hadn’t programmed the aircon to come on yet. Sweat clung to his back, t-shirt fabric uncomfortably damp, and he pulled himself out of bed.

Trudging to the window, he throws it open in the hopes that the jet stream might bless him with some breeze before he hops into the shower. He might have opened it with more force than needed, hinges creaking, now squinting from how bright the sun was.

Then he saw you. Lounging on a beach chair.

Now, remembering the lack of fence between the two of you, he didn’t think much of it until he rubbed his eyes as his vision cleared.

You were lying in the chair, sunglasses on as you listened to Jazz House, a staple of yours, he noticed, stretched out supine and basking in the sun. The glint of an anklet was the first thing he noticed before trailing his eyes upwards to your baby blue bikini bottoms and no top. Tits soft and supple in the sun. They shone, covered in what he assumed was tanning oil, jiggling as you raised your arms to cover your eyes.

If he were a better man, he’d look away. Step back from the window and pretend he never saw anything. Unfortunately, he’s not a better man. John looks on a bit longer, memorizing every inch of your skin, before he walks to the bathroom.

The shower he takes is ice cold.

It’s a couple of days later, right before the sun starts to wane, the light turning golden, and the squad has shown up for a barbecue. You’ve spoken to him briefly, claiming you’d catch up more when you weren’t so busy.

Price’s place became the de facto grilling spot a few years back. It was probably the most use it had ever gotten. Helped, he had a big garden, a high-quality grill, and guest rooms for the lads to crash in if they drank too much.

Ghost and Soap had brought four packs of Carling. Pure shite in his opinion, but Soap was a fan and at the end of day free beer is free beer. John’s on his third can, enjoying the build of a buzz as he stands over the grill flipping kebabs, lamb, and beef with some veg, listening in on a story Ghost is telling him. There’s an old 80s rock playlist one of the lads found on Spotify that’s agreeable enough. Soap and Gaz are wrestling while Ghost intermittently laughs at their attempts to pin each other.

He almost forgets there’s no fence between your places till you come out bounding over in a short little white dress that scrapes the tops of your thighs, struggling to open a jar of olives. You looked like a goddamn angel.

“Hey John,” he places the tongs down as you come closer. “Could you help me open this jar? The girls and I are making martinis, and I can’t seem to—oh. Hello!”

You’ve crossed the imaginary threshold and are only a few feet away from him as you look up, still trying to open the jar.

“Take it this is your squad?” Your eyes flick between him and the group of very large men near him.

“Aye, love,” he motions with his head towards them. “Lads, say hello.”

Like the well-trained dogs they are, a round of “You Alright,” and “Evenin’” rings out.

You smile and give a small wave. “Sorry, I won’t interrupt for long.” You draw closer to him, holding out the jar with one hand and the other curling around his bicep. “Could you open this? We’re dangerously low on olives, and we’re making martinis.”

You smell like coconut cream, vanilla, and sunscreen as the tips of your French manicured nails catch on his skin.

John smiles, takes the jar, and opens it before sealing it again and passing it to you. You beam up at him, lips shiny with gloss. “There you go, love,” he tries not to look down the front of your dress, but from this angle, it's hard not to. Especially once he notices you’re not wearing a bra.

“Ugh, my hero!” Sighing dramatically, you give his arm another squeeze before holding the jar with both hands. “I’ll bring you a martini as payment. What are you making?”

You’ve leaned across him, pulling your hair to the side as you inspect the grill. From the corner of his eye, he sees Gaz give Soap a nudge.

“Kebabs.” You lean a bit too far forward and he puts a hand your your waist to steady you. “Have a few steaks to put on if the occasion calls for it.”

You gasp and smack his chest. Mock betrayal and hurt with a smile. It’s light and playful, and you don’t make any move to get away from his hand on your waist. “Where was my invite?”

John raises a brow. “You told me you were with the girls tonight.”

“Yes, but if I had known you were grilling I would have told them to sod off.”

One of the boys, surprisingly, Ghost, laughs. It’s a real laugh too, which is a bit mental coming from him.

“Don’t be cruel to your friends now.”

“They’d understand,” you’re quick with the reply. “We’re only having martinis and cheese.”

You do this thing he’s picked up on. Leaning a little too forward and looking up at him through your eyelashes, lips in a slight part. Intentional? Maybe. Innocent? Probably. Dangerous? 100%. It’s the kind of look that gives him pause. Stabs him in the heart and weasels its way into his bloodstream. Gets his thoughts going a bit too fast.

Makes him wonder what you’d look like with his cock in your mouth.

“Tell you what,” he offers, clearing his throat. “You go to Tesco and get some more, and your lot can join us.”

“Would you guys mind?” You direct the question to the squad, peaking over John’s shoulder.

Even if they did, with the hunger Price has in his eyes for you, they’d never have said no. There’s an intensity there they’ve only seen in the field, and they aren’t stupid. They can tell that he’s itching to fuck you. He had been glued to his inbox when they were deployed and evasive about answering them about who he was emailing. Easy to put two and two together.

20 minutes and one Tesco Express trip later, you and two of your friends, Joanne and Marcy, had pulled up your two garden chairs to join the men, bringing with you enough martinis for everyone. The three of you go the rounds teasing one another, breaking into fits of giggles, and you all get situated once the food is done cooking. He didn’t expect it, but your friends get on well with his squad.

Rather than bring one of John's dining room chairs out, you’ve taken to perching on his knee. One arm draped across his shoulders, toying with his shirt, and the other holding a skewer that you pick at in between talking. You’re acting like it's the most natural thing in the world, so he does the same, resting a hand on your knee.

Once the food is done and you girls have moved onto a wine, unmotivated to make more martinis, you get looser. The sun has fully set now, and everyone's been well fed. It's reaching the point where you know that once someone says they’re heading home, everyone will naturally see themselves out, but no one’s making the first move.

He’s painfully hard and every time you wiggle, giggly from the alcohol, your ass brushes against him and makes it worse. Maybe it’s the alcohol getting to him or maybe it’s the pent-up sexual frustration, but when you move again, he can’t help but whisper in your ear, low and slow. “Careful there, love.”

“What do you mean?” Voice soft and teasing as you turn towards him.

He likes the sweet and innocent act you put on as you rock back against him. At first, he thought you weren’t aware of it, but now it’s clear you knew.

It’s a quick, sharp breath he draws. “You know exactly what I mean,” John’s lips brush your ear. The low rumble of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling in your core.

“Hmm…” you rock backward again. “Maybe I need you to spell it out for me?”

There’s a coy smile on your lips that makes him want to fucking bend you over the table. But he’s barely a gentleman and wouldn’t do that in front of your friends. One hand grabs at your waist, stilling your movements. The tension between the two of you feels electric. You’re hyper-aware of every place his bare skin meets yours. It’s not quite a warning, not quite a promise. Just enough to make you realize he’s barely holding onto his composure.

Joanne laughs loudly, pulling your attention outwards.

Ever aware, Ghost notices what's transpiring between the two of you and stands. “Right then, time for me to head home.”

Price watches as Ghost ushers the lads up, and your friends follow. He leads them all to the back door, turning to Price and nodding before heading through himself. You catch the look he gives John as he goes. A subtle little note.

Behave.

The door shuts and the garden falls quiet.

Now alone, nerves start creeping through you. Doesn’t help that John doesn’t move. He sits there for a minute, hands on your waist, thumbs brushing at the fabric of your dress. You’re 99.99% sure that he wants the same thing you do, but god forbid a girl feels nervous. Feels like your heart is loud enough he could hear it as well as he felt it through your clothes.

He exhales, slow and controlled.

Then, his grip tightens on your waist.

“Nervous?” he noses at your shoulder, mustache tickling slightly. His voice is low and rough, like he recently smoked a cigar.

You nod, small and shy. “A bit.”

John hums, happy he has that effect on you. Almost like he’s purring. One of his hands slides up your front, brushing past your tits, before settling on your jaw and turning your face towards him. The look in his eyes is one you’ve never seen before. It goes beyond hunger, he’s starving.

“Don’t be.”

You crash into him. The kiss is heavy, all-consuming, and leaves you lightheaded. John’s hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers enmeshing themselves in your hair, tilting you as he sees fit. His other hand roams your body, grabbing your breast and squeezing it. You moan, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth, and you melt into him.

When you break apart, panting slightly and leaning back against him, you giggle as he presses open-mouthed kisses against your exposed neck and shoulder. “Been thinking about this for a while, pretty girl.”

He lets go of your hair to pick you up at the waist and reposition you better on his lap. “Thinking about ‘ow pretty you’d sing for me.” John settles his hands on your hips now. “‘Ow sweet you’d taste.”

Strong hands pull your hips back before pushing them forward. It goes to your head a bit, and you're stunned as he repeats the motion.

“Don’t be shy now. Had no problem doing this earlier, did you?”

“No,” you stuttered out, grinding your hips down as instructed.

“That’s a sweet girl,” he continues to guide your hips.

Each bump and grind pulls you further and further into a corner of debauchery you thought you left behind in your 20s. It sends waves of pleasure through your body. John’s hands grip you tighter, driving you into a steady rhythm with him. His erection strains against his shorts.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Just like that, love.”

Your breath is short gasps drawn in a haze as the friction builds, panties soaked and clinging to your folds. Price’s lips find your neck again, pressing more hot kisses to the strip of flesh. Feels like you’re burning up as his teeth graze your pulse point, and you whimper.

“John,” you plead. For what you aren’t sure.

He takes his hands off your hips to push the straps of your dress off your shoulders. It falls softly off them, exposing your tits, nipples hard. John tweaks one, rolling it between his fingers, and your head falls forward with a soft cry. You don’t stop moving your hips, lost in the feeling as he continues to palm your chest. He cups them, kneading them as you continue to rock your hips.

“Love… Sweet girl,” he bucks his hips up to meet yours, grinding himself against your aching core. “Tell me you want this and I’ll take you inside and give you what you’re begging for.”

“I want it,” you stutter out. “Please, John.”

His grip on your breasts tightens. “That’s it.” He stands, picking you up bridal style in one fluid motion, your body pressed firmly against his chest. The night air is cool as it hits your bare breasts. John is swift as he takes you inside, closing the door with his foot as he brings you into the lounge. He knows he doesn’t want to make the trek upstairs yet. He’s gotta fuck you on the couch before he takes you upstairs and fucks you in his bed or he might burst at the seams and fuck you like a wild animal.

Price deposits you on the chaise part of his sectional so he can lay you out as you pull your dress off, leaving you in your panties. You look goddamn delectable.

He pulls off his shirt and shorts, leaving himself in his boxer briefs as he moves towards you. A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling your leg up and pushing you onto your back. John kisses your ankle and drops your leg, before he grabs the waistband of your panties and pulls them off you.

“Look at this,” he brings your panties up. The white’s gone transparent in the light. “Soaked through.”

Price gets down on his knees and pulls your pussy towards him. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt. Just look at you. So wet and ready for me.”

He runs a finger through your core, chuckling with a full smile as his finger comes back glistening. Parting his lips, he brings it to his mouth and moans at the taste, watching as it makes you wiggle in anticipation. “Delicious. You going to be good for me and let me eat you out?”

You nod diligently. Submission looks good on you.

His hands grip your thigh, pushing them further apart as he settles between them. He leans forward, presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, and then drags his tongue against you in one long, smooth stripe. The groan he lets out comes from deep inside him, echoing in the hollow of his chest. And he buries himself in your pussy.

He focuses in on your slit, sensitive from the lead up and circles it with the tip of his tongue. John sucks it into his mouth, passing his tongue over it. Your hips buck, jagged, and stuttered as he does. It feels like he’s got you on display, and the rapt attention goes to your head. Each pass of his tongue pulls you closer and closer to the edge as he devours you.

A finger prods at your hole, sliding in with no resistance. He pumps it in and out, warming you up, before adding a second. The sound of his filthy slurps and your moans fill the room as he pumps in and out of you, angling his fingers to bump your G-spot. It's obscene. You’re so wet it sounds like the set of a porno.

John wants nothing more than to consume you. Wants to watch you come on his tongue and clench down on his fingers. He can feel your body tensing, muscles pulling tight as your climax draws nearer. Your hands fly to his head, pulling on his short hair, as you grind your pussy against his face, and Price moans.

“Sweet girl, cum for me.” He pulls away for a second to speak before going right back to working you to a fever pitch.

“John,” it comes out as a broken gasp. “I’m gonna cum.”

He hums in approval, and it sends you over the edge. Your clamp down around his fingers like a vice, and it washes over you. Price doesn’t let up, doesn't stop. He continues to pump his fingers at the same steady pace, extending your orgasm. Your nails dig into his scalp, spurring him on as he sucks on your clit harder.

John can feel your juices gushing out, getting caught in his facial hair, and soaking the couch. He wants to break you, make you fall apart completely, to build you back up with the knowledge that there’ll never be another man like him. So you keep wearing those tiny little dresses around him. You’re pushing at his head now, and he takes his mouth off you with a wet pop. When you lock eyes with him, you whimper.

“Fucking gorgeous love. Prettiest I’ve ever seen.” he purrs, pressing a kiss against your clit, making you twitch from sensitivity. “You want more?”

“I want you to fuck me,” it’s a breathy whisper as you come down from your high and he swears he’s never heard something so erotic before in his entire life.

John remembers that he hasn’t had a hook-up in years and that there are no condoms in the house. “I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable, but I don’t have any condoms.”

You’ve scrambled up from your back. Propping yourself up on your knees, chest resting on the back of the couch.

“I don’t care,” the way the eye contact you make with him from over your shoulder makes him feel should be criminal. “Fuck me.”

He stands up, left knee popping from an old injury, and he looms over you. Big, beefy frame taking up all the space behind you. John reaches down and pulls down his boxer briefs. It’s not lost on him how you lock in on his erection as it bobs up and makes a soft plap against his stomach. His cock is thick, probably the thickest you’ve ever had, with an angry red swollen head leaking pre-cum.

Price grips your hips, pulls them closer to him, and deepens the arch in your back as he settles between your spread thighs again. The thick length on him meet your slit. He gives an experimental thrust, grinding himself against you and coating himself in you.

“You’re a dangerous one, aren’t you?” John quips, reaching down and grabbing his cock to line up with your entrance. His head catches, pushing ever so slightly in, but not enough.

At this, you push your hips back, pushing more of his length inside you, and the stretch is delicious. He’s prepped you so well that there’s not even an ounce of discomfort— the sweet growing feeling of being full.

“Worst criminal you’ll ever meet,” you hum, pushing back further. “Show me the error of my ways?”

The teasing lilt gives John the encouragement he needs to let go and fully enjoy this and finally he thrust forward, sinking himself fully inside your drooling cunt. He pulls out to the tip and then buries himself to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice strained as your walls flutter around him. “Tight ‘n’ warm cunt made for me.”

Price sets a steady pace with long, full strokes. Skin meeting skin fills the room as you meet his thrusts. He leans down, breath hot against your shoulder as he kisses your shoulder, relishing in your soft pants before biting the skin. It makes you tighten around him as a sharp moan breaks through.

One hand slides around your hips to your front where he finds your clit and starts rubbing it in tight circles. His voice is low in your ear. “That’s it, love, can feel you getting tighter ‘round me.”

He punctuates each word with a deep thrust.

“Such a sweet girl, been so welcoming for me. Taking it like you were made for it.”

The praise makes you dizzy, your head falling forward on the couch. He’s quick to wrap his other arm around your chest and pulls you upright, flush against his chest. The new angle lets him push even deeper inside you while he continues to play with your clit, your orgasm quickly building.

“Christ, you’re like the gift that doesn’t stop.” Sparks of pleasure shoot through you as he bites the shell of your ear. “Feel how deep I am inside you? How your tight little pussy clings to me?”

Price kisses along your jawline, beard scraping your skin. “Can tell you’re close. Cum for me love. Want to feel you cum on my cock.”

Your skin feels prickly. Like you’re too hot and too cold at the same time.

“That’s it, dove. Let it happen,” he urges you on, letting your chest rest back on the couch and cementing his hold on your hips. “So sweet for me.”

And you let it happen. It’s slow and builds itself up, and he continues to thrust up into you til it reaches a fever pitch that makes your whole body shake and writhe. The loudest moan you've ever let out comes past your lips, your fingers digging into the couch cushions.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, thrusting faster. “Tell me where you want me.”

It’s hard to speak as he doesn’t let up.

“Inside.”

“What was that?” John teases you, bending down like he can’t hear you.

“Inside, I want it inside,” you cry out.

John’s happy to oblige, rutting into you like a wild animal. His thrusts are harder than before, your ass jiggling everytime his hips meet yours with wet paps. The force rocks your entire body, and all you can do is take it. With a final thrust, he sinks all the way inside you, cock pulsing. Ropes of hot cum fill your insides and it feels like the world goes blurry and you aren’t sure what happens next.

You’re groggy when he gets you to come to. A lazy, satisfied smile spreads across your face when you’re able to focus on him. He’s got a warm washcloth and is cleaning you up. He’s so soft and gentle as he goes, kissing your knee. The room is quiet, filled with an intimacy that feels far too real, like something between lovers, for the first time you’ve slept with him.

“You alright?” He asks, his tone is tender and soft. The look in his eyes is so tender, like you carry the moon and stars. It tugs at your heart and nestles itself in your chest next to it.

You nod, still a little dazed, still in the afterglow of a really good orgasm. “I’m good. Really good.”

That smile he has makes you clench. “Want to take me upstairs and fuck me on a real bed?”

John laughs a full belly laugh. “Bossy woman, you are.”

The complaint is one of nothing but jest. A barking dog with no bite. He’s already picked you up and crossed the threshold to the stairs and starts heading up then.

────────────────────※ ·❆· ※──────────────────

TWO YEARS LATER…

It’s another sunny Saturday, so everyone's once again at the Price household for a barbecue. Feels routine at this point. You’re in the kitchen finishing up a cheese board and drinks, he's out at the grill. The lads are doing what they always do, except now, Soap is doing it to impress Joanne. She sits on one of the now-plentiful outdoor chairs and pretends not to be impressed. Mundane and peaceful. Not something he thought he’d ever experience.

Marcy opens the back door and comes out with the cheese board. You’re trailing behind her with a fat nine-month-old on your hip. Rhys, named after John’s very Welsh grandfather, takes after his father and is perhaps the biggest baby anyone's ever seen. He’s also an incredibly happy baby.

The second John sees you’ve come outside, he's placed the tongs down to come kiss you. Every morning he’s not on base, he wakes up next to you, but he still can’t believe it’s real. Rhys starts babbling excitedly as he walks closer. Price bends down to press a kiss to his head before kissing you.

“Your son is heavy,” you shift, hiking Rhys up to get a better seat on your hip, and look at him. “You get that from your daddy.”

You boop him on the nose, and the baby erupts into a fit of giggles.

“You calling me fat, dove?”

“One of us was the biggest baby in the county history when we were born, and the other one is mummy, isn’t that right, Rhys?” You attack Rhys’ cheeks with kisses, giggles continuing from the little boy. He’s losing it now, little hands grabbing at your face as he squirms and wiggles.

John can’t argue with the facts. He was the biggest baby, still to this day, to have been born in his home county. So he smiles, kisses both of you again, and goes back to grilling.

The meal is how it often is. Loud and full of laughter. Plates passed around, drinks passed around, Rhys passed from person to person. The sun is warm on everyone's skin with the scent of sunscreen hanging in the air.

In the lull between bites, Gaz pipes up.“Are you two ever going to fix the fence?”

Everyone's head swivels to the back of the property, fence fully gone, where they can see clearly into the other lounge. It’s covered in baby toys and fashion mannequins. It’s the smaller of the two houses, so when you got married, it turned into your studio to work on your brand.

You giggle, sipping from your glass. “Ah, right.”

Rhys slaps the table, the glass making little hollow sounds.

John looks out fondly at your back door before facing you. Fuck the fence.

It can stay down.

©️ uzuzrimisery

thank you cas for beta reading :)

#uzuri writes #john price x reader #john price imagine #captain john price #x reader #john price #cod john price #cod imagine #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic

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ramp-it-up · 2 months ago

Text

Bolder

Summary: Bucky and Steve's relationship is practically perfect in any way. And then Bucky wishes for what would make it complete for his birthday. Happy Birthday Bucky Barnes!

Word count: 5.6 K

Pairing: Stucky x Enhanced!Reader (Sparrow)

A/N: This is another dream inspired by #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Another Year Older, Another Year Bolder. Althought I've written mfm before, I've not written Stucky. Let me know how I did. 😬 Please reblog, comment, and like!

Another note: This is canon divergent in the events of Endgame, Steve returns from replacing the Infinity Stones, but he still gives Sam the shield.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Bucky and Steve. That should be the entire warning, but it's not. Grumpy Steve and, cock blocker Sam. Poly sex acts, angst, emoting, wild thoughts, a birthday wish, which leads to birthday sex. Birthday sex: Captain and Sargeant kink, fingering, voyeurism, nipple play, oral (female receiving), raw p in v, two sex acts simultaneously (not dp) cock denial, creampie, squirting. I wish I could say this was a one shot, but... well, let me know if you want another part.

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The way Bucky pushed back against Steve’s command and control, subtly at times, outrageously at others, was a sight to witness.

The order and restraint that defined the former Captain America trembled in Bucky’s presence.

And Steve made Bucky come alive, fully awake for the first time in years.

Steve belonged to Bucky and Bucky to Steve, for almost a century, even when he couldn’t remember his own name. After all they’d been through, they finally had the time and space to proclaim and celebrate their love.

They were the most beautiful couple you’d ever seen.

When you first joined the team, you were starstruck not because they were some of the most famous Avengers, the hero and the villain, but because they were sun and moon, yin and yang, and seemed utterly perfect and complete in their relationship.

They were nice to you, respectful and curious, as you were the most like them. But you were so very different. You’d wanted to serve your country as a volunteer for a 20 week trial of the serum, the effects of which you were assured would be reversed.

Turned out, the people doing the assuring were HYDRA in disguise.

Now, here you were, another supersoldier and newbie on the team, and that caused them to drift toward you naturally. Skittish at first, you warmed up to them and became the third musketeer, training, working together, and hanging out.

Your code name was Sparrow, because you were small yet fierce, which Steve admired, and handy with sharp implements, which made Bucky smile, which was a feat.

With this team, you third wheeling became a running joke. Although you didn’t admit that you would jump at the chance, you could handle the ribbing, mainly because you thought you were in no danger of having your deepest fantasies fulfilled.

Of course it was a joke, because what would they need with you?

It was a question you were beginning to ask more in the past few months. It had almost been a year since you joined the Avengers and everyone was comfortable with you now.

Especially Bucky and Steve.

As time progressed, way they acted with you was more than familiar and you began to feel something…else in the way they interacted with you.

When he looked at you, Steve’s gaze was steady, with heat simmering just beneath it. You admired the way he shared command of the team with Sam easily, his restrained and disciplined demeanor the default until he was pushed.

And so you did it, because you wanted to see that control crack for you like it did with Bucky.

You disobeyed Steve on a routine mission, but the actions you took put you in slightly more danger than was planned. Steve snapped and chewed you out so thoroughly that you were wet for the entire seven minutes that he lectured you on protocol. It was a thorough dressing down, and it made you want to get undressed for him.

After, he retreated to the other side of the room, looking at you like he was considering all the ways he could break you apart and put you back together. You stared back at him, silently daring him to.

He would have bent you over the desk if Sam hadn’t told him to give you a break. He stalked out and you wanted to follow him and submit to anything he wanted, but Sam followed him instead.

Bucky didn’t hold back that day either. His hunger was blatant, carved into the smirk that tugged at his lips, in the way he leaned just a little too close, testing, demanding.

His voice dropped when he spoke to you, low and rough, thick with the promise of something dark and dangerous.

“What you did wasn’t too smart, Sparrow. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that. Better be careful, before Steve takes it out on your ass.”

Bucky devoured you with those sharp and knowing eyes, like he already knew how you’d sound when you moaned his name and how you’d feel beneath his hands.

“Something tells me that you wouldn’t mind that…”

Sam came back into the room and cocked blocked yet again. This time you escaped the situation.

After that, you were caught in a storm of tension so thick it was dizzying. You knew what Bucky and Steve were to each other, two halves of something unbreakable that was forged through war and loss and survival.

And yet, somehow, they’d turned their attention on you.

The heat between you was filled with unspoken promises that these two men would destroy you in the most exquisite ways.

And God help you, you wanted them to.

—-

Bucky’s birthday rolled around not too long after that, a crisp March day bright with newfound sunlight and celebration.

Steve had apologized to you and you to him, yet there was something unfinished there. He still held you at arms length.

Nevertheless, you were able to have a fun day celebrating your “old man,” as you joked about Bucky. Steve’s eyes flashed and Bucky’s jaw clenched when you said it.

And when you kissed him on the cheek after wishing him happy birthday, Steve’s cock hardened when he noticed the way Bucky’s fingers twitched on your lower back.

Bucky had never been one for birthdays. For too many years, they were just another mark on a calendar he didn’t remember, a reminder of how much time had slipped through his fingers like sand.

But now, things were different. Bucky was bolder now.

The older Bucky got, the more he leaned into asking for what he wanted. And for what he needed.

Because of that newfound boldness, now he had Steve.

And this year, he had you.

Was that right?

Maybe he should’ve questioned the way you had slipped into their lives like you were always meant to be there, and the way his body recognized your presence before his mind did.

But it was all so obvious.

He noticed it in the way Steve looked at you, that quiet hunger he tried to reign in but never quite managed to. He felt it in himself, in the way his pulse jumped when you laughed, in the way his fingers twitched with the need to touch you. It was also in the way his stomach tightened whenever you looked straight through him into his essence.

Only Steve had been able to do that before.

And Steve was lost, too. His eyes followed you when you walked out of a room, like he was waiting for the moment you'd return.

Strangely Bucky wasn’t jealous, but at first he was alarmed when he noticed the way you looked at both him and Steve. Like you were just waiting for one of them to finally say it out loud.

But then he realized that he just needed to ask for what he wanted. For what he and Steve both needed.

So Bucky did.

It was 2 AM of the morning after night of his birthday, the three of you the last hangers on in the living room of their apartment. Each time you made to leave, one of them drew you into another conversation.

Finally, Steve lit the match.

He asked Bucky what he wished for when he blew out his candles.

Bucky didn’t even hesitate because he wasn’t good at pretending. Never had been.

"I wished for Sparrow to join us," he said simply, leaning back against the couch, watching as Steve processed his words.

Neither you, nor Steve, had to question what he meant. The meaning was painfully clear.

Steve’s blue eyes flickered with something unreadable. His jaw tightened as his fingers flexed against his thigh. Bucky could tell he was already overthinking, probably considering a dozen different ways this could go wrong.

That was just the way Steve was, always careful, always considerate. Even to the point of denying himself.

But Bucky knew Steve wanted this too.

Across from them, you stilled. Then, slowly, like you wanted them to see, you tilted your head and uncrossed your legs in your short skirt, just to cross them again, the smooth slide of your thighs against each other made Bucky’s mouth go dry and Steve’s pulse race.

A smirk played at the edge of your lips, but your eyes gave you away. There was curiosity there, something that said you’ve thought about this too.

Bucky pretended to be cool even as tension and heat coiled tight in his gut.

"It’s my birthday. And I figured—why not make it interesting?"

Steve exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand through his golden hair, his ears tinged red. Bucky knew that look.

He had seen it in battle, right before Steve made a decision that would change everything.

He’d seen it in private, right before Steve begged for his cock.

Steve’s gaze flickered to you, then back at Bucky, then at you again. He and Bucky had built something solid between them, something unshakable, but he couldn't deny there was a certain pull whenever you were around.

The tension, the glances, the way you fit so seamlessly into their lives. It was heady.

You sat watching the scene, eyes flickering between them with interest.

"You don't have to say yes," Bucky said, giving Steve an easy out.

But he smirked anyway, because deep down, he already knew what the answer would be. Steve was flustered, Bucky could tell, but not upset.

No, this was something else.

"You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?" you asked Bucky, your voice smooth, teasing.

"Sweetheart, you have no idea," Bucky chuckled.

You gasped as if those words alone sent a jolt through you. Then you hummed trying to remain calm as you tapped a finger against your knee, eyes flickering toward Steve.

"And you, Captain?"

Steve’s breath hitched just slightly as he gazed at you. Small, but Bucky caught it.

And when Steve’s gaze landed back on him, slow and deliberate, Bucky felt it. That heat. That unspoken understanding.

Bucky saw it happen in real time, the shift in Steve’s expression, the way his pupils blew wide, the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to reach for you right now.

Steve smiled and his voice was a low rasp when he finally spoke.

"Happy birthday, Buck."

Bucky grinned.

—

The second Steve said it, the air in the room changed.

You didn’t move right away, just watched them, your breath just a little uneven. Bucky could feel your body heat, close enough to touch. Close enough to ruin.

He’d imagined this. Countless times.

What it would be like to have you here, caught between him and Steve, wanting them.

But reality was so much better.

Bucky reached out first, metal fingers around your wrist, pulling you up and forward until you landed on his lap with a soft gasp. His other hand found your waist, grinding you against him. Your body was warm, soft, and pliant in all the ways he had dreamed about.

"You sure about this, sweetheart?" he murmured against your ear, his lips just barely brushing the sensitive skin there.

His voice was rough and hungry.

You shivered in his grip.

"I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t."

Bucky let out a low chuckle, his grip tightening.

"Good."

Behind you, Steve shifted, so close Bucky could feel the desire radiating off him. When he spoke, his voice was thick.

"You look good like this," Steve murmured, and when you turned your head slightly to look at him, Bucky caught the way Steve's face changed to a look of pure lust.

Fuck.

Bucky had always known Steve wanted you, just as much as he did. He’d seen it in the way Steve watched you, in the way he tried to be respectful, to keep a distance, even though everything in him wanted to close it.

Not anymore. He was going to help Bucky thoroughly defile you.

Bucky leaned in, pressing his lips just beneath your jaw, smirking when he felt your pulse racing beneath his lips.

"You gonna let us take care of you, Sparrow?" he rasped. "Since it is my birthday, after all."

Your breath was uneven, but you didn’t hesitate. You turned slightly in his lap, your fingers reaching up to fist in Steve’s shirt, tugging him closer.

"Yes. I want you both to take care of me tonight.”

With those words, the space between all three of you disappeared in an instant. Bucky felt your body press against his, your breath warm against his neck, and it took everything in him not to lose himself right then and there.

He wanted to take his time. He wanted to feel this, wanted to drag it out until you were breathless, until Steve’s control cracked, until all three of you were left trembling in the aftermath.

Steve’s lips hovered just above yours, his breath uneven. Bucky watched, enthralled, as you stared up at him, eyes dark and half-lidded.

"You absolutely certain about this?" Steve asked, voice low and thick with something deeper than just desire.

You reached up, moving your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him down until your lips brushed his.

"Never been more certain of anything."

Steve groaned softly, capturing your lips in a slow, hungry kiss. Bucky exhaled sharply, his grip on your waist tightening as he felt you melt between them.

Holy shit, this was happening.

Watching you kiss Steve, watching the way his hands skimmed over your sides and the way your body responded, Bucky swore he could feel it in his own skin.

When you finally pulled away, your breath hitched, and your lips were swollen as your eyes flickered toward Bucky. He smirked, tilting his head slightly, fingers grazing your jaw before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his own.

While Steve’s kiss had been slow and languid, Bucky’s was something else entirely.

Possessive. Starved.

You let out a soft sound against his mouth, your fingers tightening in his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his metal hand trailing up your spine, cold against the heat of your skin. You shivered, arching just slightly, and hell, that was enough to drive him crazy.

Behind you, Steve let out a low chuckle, pressing closer, his lips grazing your collarbone.

"Didn’t think you’d be the greedy one, Buck," he murmured, amused.

Bucky smirked against your lips.

"Oh, I know how to share."

His blue eyes flickered between both of you, dark and full of promise.

"Especially when it’s something this good."

Your breath came in shallow pants, eyes flickering between them, heat pooling between the three of you, thick enough to drown in.

Steve’s fingers traced the curve of your jaw, tilting your face back toward him, his lips barely ghosting over yours as he whispered, “You sure you can handle us both, Sweetheart?”

His voice was teasing, but beneath it was reverence, like he needed to be sure before he let himself fall. This was the fourth time they’d asked for your consent.

They were really about to ruin you.

“Guess we’re about to find out,” you murmured.

A soft, delighted hum rumbled in Steve’s chest behind you. Bucky caught the way your body shivered at the sensation of the warmth of Steve pressed against your back and at the weight of Bucky in front of you.

Sandwiched between them, you fit perfectly, like you had always belonged here, like this was inevitable.

“We should take our time with this,” Steve murmured against the skin of your neck.

“Make sure she knows exactly what she’s gotten herself into.”

Bucky smirked, sliding his metal hand up your spine, relishing the way you arched into his touch.

“That sounds like a plan, Stevie.”

The way they were talking about you as if you weren’t there served to make you wetter than you already were. You wanted to be used by them for their pleasure.

For yours.

The two men looked at each other in a silent exchange that didn’t need words. It had always been that way between them. Decades of understanding built through war, through loss, and through finding each other over and over again despite the odds.

But this?

This was new.

Sharing something, someone, this intimately wasn’t just about lust.

It was trust. It was knowing Steve would move when Bucky moved, and that Steve would read him the way he always had. It was knowing that they could balance each other, even in this.

And you were centered in it, the tether between them, the unspoken possibility they had both been too afraid to touch until now.

Bucky slid his hand to the back of your neck, guiding your lips back to his. He kissed you slowly and deeply, savoring the way you melted into him, the way you rolled yourself over him.

The sound of your soft sigh sent heat curling in his stomach, and just as he deepened it, Steve’s hand slid over your hips, grinding you down harder on Bucky’s lap.

“Fuck, you feel s’good, Bucky”

You were already lust drunk, the thought that you would have them both electrifying your body. And your mind.

“Think she likes this,” Steve mused, fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt.

“What do you think, Buck?”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark, searching. You were breathless, caught between them, pupils blown wide.

“Oh, she loves this,” he murmured, dragging his metal fingers down your spine again, watching the way you arched your back, feeling the heat pool between your legs.

Steve hummed in approval, his grip on your shirt turned to pulling it up and over your head. Bucky’s eyes widened at the fact that you didn’t have on a bra. Well, he’d guessed at it earlier as his eyes took in your body, but seeing you in the flesh, and in his face made his blood heat.

When Steve grabbed your tits and, softly at first, then more urgently pulled and rolled your nipples, Bucky licked his lips and glanced over your shoulder before he leaned down and sucked you through Steve’s fingers.

You threw your head back on Steve’s chest as you rode Bucky’s straining jeans covered cock.

Oh, this was heaven.

“Open your eyes, Sparrow.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d closed them. You opened your eyes as Bucky’s hands went to your thighs and spread you wider against him. The move bunched your skirt high up around your hips, leaving you with only your panties covering you.

Steve watched as Bucky pulled your dress higher yet and then palm your pussy through your panties. He reached down and together, the two men tore your panties and tossed them aside like they were made of tissue paper.

“She’s so wet, Stevie. Wet and…”

Bucky slid his hand to your pussy and pushed two fingers into you.

“…Tight. Holy fuck she’s going to feel so good.”

You rocked your hips to take his fingers deeper, but he gripped you with his metal hand, forcing you still.

“"M gonna fuck you first since it's my birthday. But should we show Steve what he’s missing?”

Bucky’s touch, while authoritative and demanding, was nothing less than reverent. And Steve’s gaze was on you as much as it was on Bucky.

You made a noise that must have been enough for Bucky, because he turned you around on his lap as Steve backed up for a better view. Bucky palmed and finger fucked you for Steve’s benefit.

And yours.

You moaned and squirmed in his clutch, while the only reaction from the blond was a tightening in Steve’s jaw and his blue eyes going molten steel. Bucky laughed softly.

“I’ll tell you a secret, Sparrow. I’ve never met a man with better control than Steve. It’s downright supernatural. It’ll take a better show than this to get him over back over here to put his hands all over you.”

He nipped your earlobe.

“If you make it very, very good, I’ll even let him use his mouth.”

There wasn’t enough air in the room. There couldn’t be. Your breath hitched in your lungs, and it took you two tries to force words out.

“What–what if I want his cock?”

This time, Bucky’s laughter filled the room. He sat up, taking you with him, and positioned you with your legs on either side of his thighs.

“Tell her, Stevie.”

The other man crossed his arms across his broad chest, his features cold. Why did that turn you on so much?

“After what you did on that last mission, you have to earn my cock, Sparrow.”

His arrogance should have been a turnoff. It should have made you want to put him in his place and make him earn access to you. Instead, a part of you that you just met whispered in your brain.

I want to earn your cock, Steve. Just tell me what I need to do.

You slammed your mouth shut hard enough that your teeth clicked to avoid giving voice to those thoughts. You took a breath, and then another, then leaned back against Bucky more firmly.

“Then let me play with you, Sargeant.”

Bucky didn’t laugh again. You were a team now, testing Steve’s restraint. He let you stand and guided you out of your clothes. A few seconds later, his shirt joined the growing pile, then he sat you back down on him again.

The shock of his bare skin against your own drew a small moan rom your lips. There wasn’t a soft spot on his body, and he caged you with his chest and arms, one flesh and one metal, holding you open for Steve’s perusal.

You twisted to offer him your mouth, needing to taste him again, and Bucky didn’t hesitate to give in to your unspoken request. His tongue tangled with yours, and he cupped your bare breasts and pinched your nipples to aching peaks. Bucky spread his thighs, forcing yours wider.

You felt Steve’s gaze all over you: On the curve of your neck. Following the path of Bucky’s hands. Centering where your pussy was exposed.

You felt it as if he’d reached out and touched you.

Or maybe it was Bucky responsible for those sensations. It was too much and not enough and you whimpered against his mouth.

“Stop teasing and touch me.”

You grabbed his hand and pressed it between your spread thighs.

“Please, Bucky. I’m gonna die if you don’t make me cum..”

“Can’t have that, can we Stevie?”

He looked him in the eye as he drew your wetness up around your clit with a single finger and circled the sensitive bundle of nerves, easily finding the motion that made your entire body go tight and hot. You opened your eyes and met Steve’s gaze as your orgasm spiraled closer and closer.

A challenge rolled around your brain.

I’ll get what I want, and you’ll have to watch while it happens, knowing you could have been a part of it.

Bucky, damn him, seemed to know exactly you were thinking. He slowed his pace, dragging it out. You whimpered.

“You see how he looks at you? He’s seconds away from stalking over here, smacking my hand away, and licking that pretty pussy until he takes your orgasm for himself.”

You made that soft whimpering sound again. The whole situation was overwhelming your senses, dragging you into a place where every part of you centered around these two men.

“Please!”

You didn’t know what you were pleading for. An orgasm. Bucky. Steve. All three.

“I’ll make you a deal, Sparrow,” Bucky murmured in your ear, his finger never stopping its slow circles that seemed designed to keep you on the edge but never take you over it.

“I’ll let you choose this time. Who do you want to gift this orgasm to?”

“Both!”

The answer tore itself from your lips, too honest for your own good. Steve grinned. His white teeth flashed and his eyes lit up with amusement, the whole effect knocking him from just handsome to downright dangerous.

Oh God, what have I gotten myself into, you thought.

Bucky kissed the back of your neck.

“Good girl.”

He slid his hand away from you cunt as you grunted in displeasure.

“Stop playing and get over here, Steve. We’ve got to take care of our girl.”

Steve walked toward you and stopped to tip up your face, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip.

“This mouth was made for one thing.”

You caught his thumb between your teeth and bit him, just hard enough to get his attention. You felt off-center and floaty and needy, but you weren't weak.

You lifted your chin at the same time you looked at the bulge in his pants.

“Then do something about it.”

There it was again. The heat radiating off of Steve that made you sure he wanted to ruin you. You shifted, but Bucky held you, caged and spread by your thighs and your elbows behind you.

You rocked your ass back against his cock, desperate for him to lose control the same way you were on the verge of doing.

Steve just stood there, staring down at you with his mouth quirked in a smile. He released your mouth and shook his head.

“You haven’t earned my cock and you damn well know it.”

He kneeled and braced his hands on Bucky’s legs. His knuckles dragged along your inner thighs, close enough to where you wanted him that you felt his heat near your clit

Steve leaned towards your face, his dark eyes intent, and you braced for another kiss.

But he didn’t kiss you. He dragged his rough cheek against yours, and you twisted as best you could to watch him take Bucky’s mouth.

You stared in shock as they kissed right next to you.

No, calling it a kiss was too mundane.

Steve and Bucky came together like two titans clashing, like opposing forces of nature, where one had to submit or they would destroy each other. Bucky shifted his grip on your elbows to one hand and used his free hand to tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair.

He disconnected the kiss, and Steve groaned softly. You felt it as intensely as if it had come from your own throat. Bucky raked his teeth over Steve’s bottom lip as they parted, his blue eyes darker than they’d been before. He ran his thumb over Steve’s bruised mouth, mirroring what Steve had done to you.

“You give her your cock when I say you do. Not before.”

Through some unspoken agreement, they reversed positions. Bucky released your arms and Steve caught your wrists in a single hand before you had a chance to fully appreciate your freedom. He dropped onto the couch with you sprawled on his lap.

You huffed out a breath.

“I can move on my own, you know.”

“We like moving you.”

Bucky knelt between your and Steve’s spread thighs.

“And you like being moved by us.”

He looked up at you and whatever smartass comment you were thinking of disappeared into thin air.

“Wider, Stevie. I want to see all of her.”

Steve responded, spreading his thighs and parting your legs further. Bucky ran his thumbs up the dip where your thigh met your pussy, exploring, his expression intense as if committing every bit of you to memory.

He glanced at Steve, and that was all the other man needed to guide your hands down to the couch on either side of his hips.

“Don’t move.”

Steve spoke softly in your ear, as if too much volume would break through the spell Bucky wove around you three with his touch. Steve released you and you realized that he wanted his hands free, too.

Lust made your head spin.

You nodded, “Okay.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the quirk of his lips.

“Good girl.”

Steve ran his hands up your stomach and cupped your breasts as Bucky dipped his head and dragged his tongue up your center. Your body went hot and cold, tight and unfurled, all at the same time.

You gripped the edge of the couch cushions with everything you had and bit your lip hard. It was only when Steve nudged you back to lean fully against his chest that you realized you were frozen in a half sit-up, waiting for Bucky’s next move.

The man between your thighs chuckled, the sound vibrating across your skin to your clit.

“Let Steve watch, Sparrow.”

Steve moved your thick hair to the side with one hand and dragged his mouth along the line of your shoulder up to your neck. His beard prickled against your skin, which only made the smooth slide of Bucky’s tongue even more intoxicating.

Your brain couldn’t handle the onslaught of sensation.

Bucky’s hands gripped your thighs as his mouth worked your pussy. Steve played with your nipples as he sucked on the pulse point in your neck. A sound came out of your mouth that you’d never heard before, a keening cry that was more animal than human.

“There you are,” Steve murmured.

Bucky speared into you with two fingers, and then a third, spreading you almost painfully, the sensation completely at odds with the way he sucked your clit. He met your gaze and then looked over your shoulder, and you knew he and Steve were watching each other as Bucky ate your pussy.

The realization sent you hurtling into an orgasm that blanked what few thoughts you had left in your head and bowed your back sharply enough that you would have fallen off Steve’s lap if both men hadn’t held you down.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh my god, oh shit.”

You were just saying words as you experienced the feelings.

Bucky brought you down gently, giving your clit one last thorough suck and shifted to ever-widening circles as your pulses slowed down. He nipped your thigh and sat back on his heels.

“We’ve barely gotten started.”

You blinked at him.

“I don’t know if I can survive more.”

“You can take it.”

This from Steve. He reached down and cupped your pussy, his fingers huge and causing you to dream of his cock.

“Change your mind yet, Sparrow?”

“Is that a trick question?”

They had gotten you off harder than you’d gotten off… well, ever. You weren’t about to stop now.

“I want this.”

Bucky didn’t take his gaze from your face as he unbuttoned his jeans and underwear and replied, “Good.”

You weren’t as polite. You stared at his cock.

Holy shit, you thought.

You’d known he was big, but he wasn’t just big, he was big.

“Oh fuck,” was what you said aloud.

“That’s the idea.”

Steve lifted you and turned you around as Bucky caught your hips. You ended up with your hands on the back of the couch on either side of Steve’s head, your legs wide on the outside of his thighs as you were bent over, tits very nearly in his face.

You looked from his beautiful eyes down to his jeans, to where his large cock was straining against the heavy material. You licked your lips, but Steve used a single finger to tilt your chin back up.

“Not. Yet.”

Bucky stroked his metal hand down your spine and gripped your hip as he lined up at your entrance and you tensed, thinking he would slam home in one thrust.

Or maybe you were hoping.

Instead, he held you tightly so that you couldn’t throw it back on him, and teased you, one delicious inch at a time.

“More, Bucky, moreeeee…”

You were desperate.

Steve shut you up with his mouth, his tongue twisting over yours as Bucky shoved into you to the hilt. Steve cut the kiss off prematurely, then sat back with a smirk as Bucky started fucking you.

“Oh. My. GOD!”

Bucky drove into you again and again, making you sob. He felt so fucking good. Pleasure spiraled through you, and you didn’t know if it was Bucky’s cock, or the way Steve was watching, or both, but you were so close so soon.

Bucky stilled, buried deep, then leaned over and braced his hand on the back of the couch, caging you in with his chest to your back.

Steve moved, sliding down to sit on the floor.

“What are you…? Oh fuck…”

The words choked out of you as Steve captured your hips, his and Bucky’s hands entertwining around you, and then his mouth was on you.

“OH GODDDDD.”

“Not God, Sparrow, Steve.”

Bucky started moving again slowly, and you weren’t able to do anything but take what they were doing to you.

Steve was relentless, and there was nothing restrained in the way his mouth moved over your pussy. He tongued your clit even as Bucky fucked you, and their hands clasped you so hard, that you were sure there would be bruises later.

The thought brought you closer to the brink.

You were gripping the couch so hard that your knuckles went white, and the wood inside was cracking from your strength.

The sight of Steve's golden head between your thighs, of knowing exactly how close it was to Bucky’s cock sent you speeding toward the edge.

Bucky seemed to read your mind.

“Another time, and it would be a stroke for your pussy and one for his mouth,” he chuckled as he palmed your breast and rolled your nipple.

“You’d like that.”

“Yes!” you gasped.

Like didn’t even begin to describe how that image made you feel. And when Bucky’s fingers laced through Steve’s hair, holding him to your clit, it was too much. You could only imagine what Steve was doing to Bucky as well as you. And the image tipped you over the cliff.

Your orgasm buckled your knees and it was Steve and Bucky that kept you on your feet. They held you in place as Bucky kept fucking you, his strokes becoming wilder.

How could one person endure this much pleasure?

The pressure built until you couldn’t hold it any more and then the pleasure caused you to release, squirting all over Steve and all of you melted into a puddle on top of him.

You were speechless, as both Bucky and Steve soothed you with their hands, and words that were meaningless murmurs because of the blood rushing in your ears.

There was no mistaking that this wasn’t over yet. And that you didn’t want it to be.

Bucky stood up, and lifted you in his arms, looking at you for a minute as Steve started down the hallway ahead of you, stripping off his clothes.

You heard the shower start as Bucky murmured.

“Been one hell of a birthday so far. Stay with us tonight?”

“Yes,” you managed to whisper as Bucky claimed your lips again.

“Happy Birthday Bucky Barnes.”

——

Let me know if you liked it! 🥰

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milkoomi · 3 months ago

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finding & knowing your worth. ᥫ᭡

i wanted to take some time and talk about self-worth. this is something that was extremely difficult for me to find and realize for myself, but as i look back on my life and reflect on my growth, i’ve found myself truly knowing my own worth. of course, i still have those days that are more difficult than others, but i’ve been able to quickly pick myself back up. why? because i know my worth. i want to share a few things that have helped me realize that for myself, so i hope this post is able to enlighten you. ㅤ♡

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — lose interest in outsider opinions

in simpler terms: stop caring. i kept asking myself, “why do i care so much about what others are thinking of me?” and then i came across a couple quotes where one said, “if you wouldn’t trust their advice, why would you take their criticism?” and the other said, “i would never want to trade lives with someone who hates me.” those two quotes really stuck with me because it reminded me that those people who didn’t have a good opinion of me were the same people i needed to stop caring about.

so what if someone didn’t like me? that person is either no longer a part of my life (for good reason) or they don’t know me in the ways that my loved ones or my own self do, so why should what they have to say or think about me matter?

i knew myself better than anyone, so whatever anyone had to say about me shouldn’t have bothered me, and i let it stop bothering me. i also realized that as my day goes on and i find myself not thinking about what someone said, i tell myself that it wasn’t even worth a single thought in the first place because, clearly, it doesn’t bother me anymore!

if it won’t matter to you in 5 years, don’t continue to give it any more of a meaning.

୨ৎ — stop seeking validation

to piggyback off of my previous point, seeking outside validation is 1. not worth your time and 2. pointless. other people should never be the ones who define your worth. you have to seek validation from yourself. nobody else has a right to tell you whether or not you’re worthy.

i was always looking for validation from others, and it made my own journey to finding myself even more difficult. there were so many different opinions about me that i kept hearing, and it made me feel lost. it felt like i was getting further and further from truly discovering myself and feeling like i was worth something.

i had to pretty much force myself to seek validation within myself rather than from anyone else. it was hard, but the longer i kept searching for some kind of worth to others the more miserable and empty i felt.

୨ৎ — self reflection

time to bring out that journal, babe. we’re going to write about ourselves.

no, seriously, take some time to reflect on yourself. look within yourself and understand yourself a bit more. getting to know yourself and taking the time to focus on yourself can help you figure some things out and even bring you one step closer to truly knowing your worth.

prompts for reflection:

what are 3 characteristics about your personality do you like about yourself? why?

what are your strengths? how do those things about you make you a better person?

what’s your favorite thing(s) about you? how would they compare to what a loved one would say about you?

what are the things that weigh you down? what can you do to lift that weight off your shoulders?

how have you changed within the last 3 years? what about you has changed that you’re really proud of?

self reflection has helped me grow so much. i’ve learned so many new things about myself and it’s helped appreciate myself way more. you’ll be surprised at all the things you find about yourself, and guess what? one of those things will be your own worth.

୨ৎ — surround yourself with positivity

the people who you surround yourself with will play a huge role in how you feel about yourself. i spent too many years surrounded by people who made me feel like i was never enough, and i continued to keep the same kind of people around. i was sick of it. i was tired of being mistreated and feeling betrayed. those people made me feel miserable and they only ever brought me down rather than lifted me up.

even the media i consumed didn’t help me. i was always so focused on comparing myself to those instagram models and tiktok girls who looked nothing like me, and it made me feel worse about myself. even watching videos or shows that brought me down made my esteem drop too.

it’s important to surround yourself with people and media that make you feel good, that lift you up, and that help you feel confident because that kind of good treatment is what you deserve! you shouldn’t have to submit yourself to negativity, it only makes you feel worse and it’ll continue to get worse the longer you keep those things and people around.

now that i have people in my life that make me feel genuinely loved and cared for, i feel like i can offer that same energy those people give me to myself! it really makes a huge difference who your close circle consists of, so make sure those people are people who are genuinely and unconditionally there for you.

୨ৎ — final notes

if you do need a reminder: you are worthy, and you always have been! finding and knowing your own worth is no easy feat, but the journey you’ll go on to discover it and implement it into your life will be so extremely worth it. i promise!

you will always be more than enough, and i hope you can continue to remind yourself of that. treat yourself with genuine love and kindness, and don’t ever take yourself for granted. you have achieved so much and you have so many things to offer in life. you may not see it now, but once you do, you’ll see just how beautiful and bright your own light is.

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

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greenwitchfeeder · 2 months ago

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I remember when used to be a model student who got up early to go to the gym and stayed up late studying.

That was before I got you to go to parties. It didn’t affect you at first, but a couple weekends of drinking and eating party food slowly turned into a couple nights a week. You skipped the gym because you were too hung over. Your grades dropped because you spent your nights playing drinking games instead of studying.

Then, all that partying caught up to your waistline. Turns out you can’t drink a case of beer a week and keep defined abs. When your jeans stopped fitting you switched to sweat pants. Your tight crop tops turned to baggy t-shirts. But that wasn’t enough to hide the pig you were turning into. You outgrew those eventually too.

I always think of what you could have been: graduating at the top of your class to a 6 figure job. Instead, you dropped out your junior year after your gpa dropped from a 3.65 to a 1.2 and weight rose from 150 lbs to 320 lbs.

You seem so much happier now though. Stress free, spending your days drinking and stuffing your belly with whatever I put in front of you. You’re in bliss.

I always knew I could ruin you.

I always knew you’d let me.

That’s why I love you so much

#wg text #feedee text #feedee belly #feedee feeder #feedee piggy #wg fantasy #feedee girl

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snow-snowball · 5 months ago

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Pretty boy/girl (part 1)

a/n: Seth's 19 years old. English is not my first language, so I apologise for my mistakes.

characters: Paul Lahote; Seth Clearwater; Sam Uley; Leah Clearwater; Embry Call; Quil Ateara; Jacob Black.

w: 3,2k

warnings: fluff; 18+; smut; lgbt with Leah; sex with Sam; mention sex with Seth.

Paul Lahote:

You and your boyfriend decided to head to the slope to enjoy a beautiful view of the sea. Everything seemed perfect until you realized you weren’t alone after all.

As you made your way through the dense forest, you finally emerged at the edge of the cliff. To your surprise, you spotted your boyfriend's friends leaping from the rock into the water below. Slowing your pace slightly, you instinctively hid behind Paul’s broad back, and he smirked at your action, straightening up to completely shield you from the curious gazes of the three pairs of eyes.

“Whoa! Is that your girl, Paul?” Embry asked, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of your head. “What a beauty!” Quil added, along with the rest of the guys as they gathered around you. “You gonna share her?” Jared smirked, earning a fierce glare from Paul and a playful smack on the back of his head from Quil.

“This is [Y/N], my girl and future wife,” your boyfriend said calmly, and the moment you heard his words, you buried your face in your hands. “Why are you so shy?” Lahote turned to you, trying to pry your hands away from your face. “Hey, you can’t hide from me!” When he finally managed to remove your hands, he planted sweet kisses on your cheeks one after another.

You could feel the warmth flooding your cheeks, half from embarrassment and half from the affectionate gesture. The guys laughed, their teasing echoing in the air, but Paul just stood there, a proud grin plastered on his face as he looked at you, radiating nothing but love. The moment felt electric, and you couldn't help but feel lucky in the midst of this goofy, chaotic scene.

“Ugh! Enough of the baby talk!” Jared shouted. “Hey, [Y/N], can you do this?” He said, taking a running jump off the cliff and plunging straight into the frigid water below. You gasped, covering your mouth in shock, and rushed closer to the edge to see how Jared was doing. To your surprise, there he was, floating effortlessly as he waved his arm, beckoning everyone else to join him.

“You guys aren’t seriously…” You didn’t even finish your sentence before two half-naked guys sprinted past you, leaping into the water with a huge splash. “Paul, you—” Your boyfriend grabbed you effortlessly, lifting you off the ground. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist as you clutched his strong shoulders.

“What are you planning to do?” you asked, a mix of excitement and trepidation in your voice.

“Do you trust me?” Paul asked, his thumbs gently gliding over your thighs. You nodded. “Then hang on tight!” he shouted, taking a couple of steps back before sprinting forward and leaping off the cliff. Your hands instinctively flew up, wrapping around his neck as you buried your face into the well-defined curve of his collarbone. Feeling the cold water envelop you, you shot your head up. You were both submerged for a split second, eyes locked in surprise, before breaking the surface with a splash.

“You're insane!” you yelled, playfully shoving him in the chest, but not swimming away. Right now, he was your lifeline—since you didn’t know how to swim.

“But you love me, right?” He pulled you closer, pressing his lips gently to your forehead. You gazed into his mesmerizing face for what felt like an eternity. Those striking deep-set eyes held nothing but your reflection, sharp jawline and chiseled features, a prominent yet handsome nose, and lips chapped yet inviting, begging for another kiss. “What’s with that stare, huh?” Paul squinted playfully, a smirk creeping across his lips.

The water sparkled around you, reflecting the sun like diamonds, and in that moment, nothing else mattered but the pulse of attraction and the sheer thrill of being so close to him, heart racing like you were flying again.

“You're pretty.”

“What?”

“You're pretty.” After those words, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his in a passionate kiss. The fabric clinging to your body brushed against the warmth of his bare chest, creating a tantalizing contrast between hot and cold. Just as you were about to lose yourselves further in each other’s desires, splashes flew at you from various angles, forcing you to break the kiss. “Hey!” you shouted, your irritation bubbling up.

“What the heck, guys?” Paul snapped, annoyance dripping from his voice.

The chaos around you was unreal—like a scene from a wild beach party where laughter mixed with shouts and the sound of splashing water turned everything into a chaotic symphony. You shot a glare at your boyfriend’s friends, who were clearly having way too much fun at your expense. But in that moment, with adrenaline pumping and laughter echoing, it all felt like part of the adventure.

“Home is where you suck like leeches!” Embry shouted again, swiping the edge of his palm across the water, splashing you and Paul once more.

“Seriously, this is kinda gross,” Jared pretended to gag dramatically.

“I dunno, I think it’s kinda cute,” Quil grinned, dodging the spray from Jared and Embry's antics as they retaliated with a splash war.

“You've got some pretty… interesting friends,” you whispered to your boyfriend, trying to find the right words to describe the chaos around you.

“Yeah, they’re a bunch of clowns.”

Seth Clearwater:

Set invited you over to his place to play this new board game, and you just couldn’t resist those puppy dog eyes of his.

Sitting on the floor, you both took turns rolling the dice and moving your pieces around the game board — yours was red, and his was yellow. But honestly, you were more focused on the sparkle in his eyes, so bright with excitement as he celebrated each move like he’d just hit the jackpot.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he said your name softly, breaking your trance. “Your turn, by the way.” Set shot you a playful look, practically brimming with confidence. “Get ready to lose, my friend!”

“Not a chance!” You smirked, a sneaky idea popping into your mind. “How about we make this more interesting? Let’s bet on a wish?”

“A wish?” He tilted his head, curiosity dancing in his eyes. He looked like an adorable puppy, and you just wanted to squeeze him.

“If I win, you have to grant my wish; if you win, I’ll grant yours.”

“Deal!” Now Seth was 100% focused on victory. The game was in full swing. It was your turn to roll the dice, and oh my gods! You rolled a 6! Luck was shining on you, because after that, only two steps were left to the finish line. Seth sighed as he rolled the dice himself. He landed on a 3, which meant bad luck for him—his token moved three spaces, only to land on a “move back 6 spaces” square. Now victory was firmly in your grasp. “Oh no!” he groaned, his head drooping in disappointment.

“I won!” you smirked, already lost in thought about your wish.

“I’m genuinely happy for you,” Seth said, exhaling with a sincere smile.

“Don’t move.”

“What's going on?” the guy asked, confusion etched on his face as he watched you crawl toward him on all fours, resting your hands on his knees and rising slightly. “[Y/N? What are you planning?” He swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Your hands glided from his knees to the inner part of his thighs, then to his abs, gently tracing the defined muscles and drawing a shuddering breath from him. Then, your hands moved up to his chest, finally settling on his broad shoulders. As your thumbs caressed his skin, you climbed onto his knees. “[Y/N...]” Seth tried to push you down, but you swatted his hands away. “Hey!”

“I said don’t move.” You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his face. Your hips pressed against his groin, sending shivers across Seth's skin due to the overwhelming closeness. He silently cursed this day and your short skirt that gave him a tantalizing view of your exquisite thighs. Taking his chin in your hand, you tilted his head toward you and admired him. Seth was incredibly handsome—devastatingly so—but the guy rarely spoke about his looks. “You’re pretty,” you said, planting a soft kiss on his jaw.

“You're even more beautiful.” He stammered shyly, suddenly moaning when you teasingly nipped at his earlobe. “[Y/N]! Leah's in the next room and...!” You let one hand slide down to his bare chest, giving his nipple a playful squeeze. “Holy hell…” He threw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing tantalizingly, calling you to him.

“Whatever. She probably won't hear us.”

Two hours later...

You and Seth, blissfully disheveled, make your way down to the kitchen, only to stop dead in your tracks, utterly surprised and slightly embarrassed. The whole wolf pack was gathered in Leah’s and Seth’s house, completely taking you off guard.

“Wow, Seth. You’ve really become a man, haven’t you?” Paul said, causing Seth's older sister to elbow him in the shoulder.

“Could you guys keep it down?” Jacob smirked and winked at Seth. Seth sighed and headed deeper into the kitchen for a glass of water, and as soon as everyone caught a glimpse of his back, they started whistling and gasping.

“Holy crap, Seth, did you fuck with a cat or something? What’s up with your back?” Jared asked, immediately glancing at you with a teasing grin.

“Well, you could say that,” Seth replied with a smile, winking at you.

Sam Uley:

Sam had been acting strangely lately. He would forget his promises, bump into corners of the house, and then angrily kick at them, leaving them to suffer his frustration. In short, he had become quite irritable. You understood the nature of your boyfriend's behavior. There had been an unsettling increase in wandering vampires in the woods, and that was precisely why he forbade you from stepping outside.

Today, determined to lift his spirits (and perhaps more), you decided to surprise him. You slipped into delicate lace lingerie, the intricate patterns clinging to your skin and accentuating your curves. Then, you draped a soft robe over yourself, adding an air of mystery to your appearance. With a sense of anticipation bubbling within you, you settled in to wait for your fiancé, hoping that your gesture would bring some light back into his troubled eyes.

But he didn't show up—not after an hour, nor two. You sighed, wrapping yourself tighter in your crimson silk robe, and stepped out onto the veranda. As you gazed into the distance, you felt an unsettling presence and, jerking your head to the right, froze in place. Before you stood a stranger, a man with red eyes and skin as white as snow. He licked his lips and began to slowly approach you, while you stumbled backward until your back hit the door. The man lowered his eyes to your trembling chest and smirked. “I never thought my meal would surprise me like this,” he said, his voice oozing with menace.

He trailed his hands over your delicate shoulders, squeezing them with enough force to elicit a scream filled with pain. “Now, now, sweet thing. If you behave yourself, maybe I'll be generous and turn you into a vampire. You've got quite the appeal.” He leaned closer to your neck, pausing momentarily to scan the surroundings. “What the—” he didn't have a chance to finish his thought before a massive black wolf lunged at him from the side.

“What the hell, are you werewolf’s girlfriend?!” The vampire exclaimed, his hands raised defensively as he scrambled for an excuse. But your wolf had no intention of listening and, in an instant, tore him to shreds.

"I thought you weren't coming back," you said with a smile. "Thank you, pretty boy!" You scratched the wolf behind the ears, and he unconsciously wagged his tail in response. "By the way, darling, what do you think of my new lingerie?" you asked, twirling around to give him a full view, stirring up a mix of emotions within Sam. "Why don’t you turn to human and let’s go unwind?" you suggested, walking back to the kitchen, your hips swaying enticingly.

Sam could only sigh. He transformed back into his human form and headed to the shower to wash off the sweat and dirt.

"[Y/N]?" he called out, stepping out of the shower wrapped in a towel around his waist. He took a deep breath and made his way upstairs to your shared bedroom. As soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by the lovely scent of sandalwood and roses. Spotting you lounging on the bed, a smirk spread across his face as he approached you. "What have you set up here?" he asked, gently squeezing the inside of your thighs before placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“Just wanted my most handsome man to roughly take me.” You giggled, running your hand through his short cropped hair.

“Hmm, handsome man is certainly a debatable concept, but take you he can.” Positioning himself between your spread legs, he quickly pulled off his towel, giving you a view of his large erect cock. You gasped and blushing, you looked away. “Oh, look at that, who's blushing like that?” Sam laughed, lowering his face to your vagina. And licked his way down to your pussy. His tongue works wonders. The way he manipulates it, making the stars appear in front of your eyes.

“Sam!” you cried his name. “Sam! Oh! Sam!”

“Oh, sweetheart, I haven't even started yet, and you're already getting me all wet.” The man grinned, pulling away from your dripping vagina. “Look what you've done.” He stuck out his tongue, showing you all your juices. Sam was just devouring your pussy like a real beast that hadn't eaten in a long time.

Uley, licking two fingers, gently inserted them into your entrance. Arching your back, you moaned loudly, and from the pleasant feeling, you moved towards the guy yourself, mounting his long fingers. “Sam! Sam, please!” you begged. The man couldn't hold back anymore and, pulling out his fingers, immediately inserted his huge cock into your entrance. Growling, he threw his head back, gently moving his hips. You gripped the sheets, and from his thrusts, the gold bracelets you why put on started to jingle to the rhythm of the guy. “Sam, faster-ah-faster!” After your words, the werewolf seemed to break free from his chains. He pounded into you with rough and fast thrusts, tearing out moans of pleasure from you.

Sam gently ran his hands over yours and reached your wrists, slipping his fingers through your bracelets. He buried his nose in your neck, biting and sucking on it to leave his marks. You gasped from the rush of feelings, biting his shoulder, pulling a quiet chuckle from him. “Oh, I can see you’re teething.” Sam felt your pussy squeeze his cock. “Fuck!” he growled.

“I’m going to…”

“No! Don’t you dare without me!” He ordered and you only squeezed his cock harder. After a couple more deep thrusts that made you scream out loud, he nodded, giving you permission to cum. “Come on, cum with me.” As soon as he felt your juices, he spilled inside you. “Don’t spill a drop, baby. I’m going to fill that tiny pussy of yours completely!” " Sam moved his hips. Skin to skin. Heart to heart. "I want you to get pregnant with me. I want you to be the mother of my children. Damn! You're just beautiful! Your pussy was made just for me." While he was saying all this, he was kissing every inch of your skin, not leaving a single area unnoticed by his warm lips.

Leah Clearwater:

For several days, Leah has been trying to catch your attention: she would wear striking makeup, don a new dress with a daring neckline, or style her hair into alluring curls. Yet, it seemed you remained oblivious to her efforts. Frustrated and tired of waiting, she decided to give up. Fortunately, Leah has a brother like Seth, who rushed to your home and revealed everything.

“Wait, so she was trying to get my attention?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and pulling your fluffy white robe tighter around you. Autumn in these parts was always chilly. The guy nodded vigorously and as he stepped closer, you extended your hand to stop him. “Whoa there, buddy, hold up. I’ve had enough of being whisked away in just my pajamas after an argument with Leah, remember? Just give me a minute to gather my thoughts. When I’m ready, then we can talk.” You invited Leah's brother inside while you made your way to the bathroom to freshen up. It felt like the dynamics of your relationship with Leah relied more on Seth than on the two of you.

An hour later, you were finally ready and headed to the living room, where Seth had managed to doze off on the couch. Had you really taken that long to get yourself together? Giving him a playful shove, he tumbled off the couch in surprise, looking at you with a disgruntled expression. “Seriously? It hasn’t even been a year!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation.

“Let's go.” You and Seth stepped out of your house and headed to a little restaurant. “I thought that after my little theft, you would traditionally take me back to your house.”

“Leah said that if I ever do that again, she'll have my head,” Seth said, eliciting a giggle from you. “It's not funny!” As you approached your destination, Seth began to slow down. “I should be going.”

“Where are you off to?” you asked.

“You have a date, and I don't want to be the third wheel,” he replied, taking a few steps in the opposite direction before pausing for a moment. “Hey! Just try not to compliment her!!” He shook his fist at you playfully and then jogged off. You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. No matter how much he argued with Leah, Seth would always stand by her side, even though he was so much younger.

As you stepped into the small building, you grimaced at the noise of the crowd. Scanning the room full of people, your eyes landed on a familiar crown of hair. A grin spreading across your face, you stealthily approached your girlfriend and gently covered her eyes with your cold hands, chilled by the weather outside. “Guess who?”

“Hmm, Jacob?”

“Hey! It's actually [Y/N]! Your girlfriend, by the way.” At your words, Leah turned around completely to face you. She wore a flowing silver gown that shimmered in the light, her hair elegantly curled and resting over her right shoulder, and her face adorned with a subtle touch of makeup. You were taken aback, momentarily speechless as you gazed into her eyes, captivated by her beauty.

“Hey, dear?”

“Oh my God, yes! I mean... you look absolutely stunning! You’re so pretty today! Eek! I meant to say you’re always beautiful, but today it’s something special. Ugh! I should probably just stop talking, right?” You said, nervously rubbing your neck.

“Definitely.” She smiled and tenderly kissed your forehead. “So, are you covering the bill tonight?” She chuckled mischievously and took your hand, leading you to your table.

© 2024 do not reblog, copy or publish my work on other platforms, or translate (without my permission) into other languages. Any coincidences are coincidental! The dividers belong to me! If you want use them, just tag me: @snow-snowball

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bywons · 11 months ago

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✧ YOU BELONG WITH ME ENHYPEN—

╰—— 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

( ✶🪽 𝓢. ) 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 x 𝖿! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 g. 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 1796 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 !𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 ✦ ◞ 𝒞ATALOGUE?!

๑´ ³`) ﾉ pls leave feedbacks if u liked it ♡ REBLOG !!

LEE HEESEUNG tightens the grip around your waist and pulls you in until you bump by his side. you could easily figure out the fake smile plastered on his face, holding you tight by his side in front of his friends.

“so, is he more handsome than me?”, he whispers as soon as his friends are gone. it took you a couple of minutes to realise why he had a death grip on you, “you seem to like him a lot.” a single conversation with him has heeseung going tomato red now.

“what do you think?”, you scoff, looking him dead in the eye.

“he's got the old fashioned looks, a proper gentleman with a perfect sense of timing. your kinda guy,” his eyes twitched while defining the guy, oh how bad he wanted to punch him.

“you know, you sound like one of my friends with terrible taste trying to set me up on a blind date”, you laugh, wrapping your hand around his suited biceps. “yep,” heeseung scoffs, “he will go blind soon.”

“what do you think of me—?”

“i love you a lot”, you roll your eyes and chuckle, now walking side by side with heeseung, his grip still present on you, “nobody can replace my bambi boy.”

“your bambi boy huh?”, heeseung realises he can never be angry with his pretty girl when he melts the second he hears his nickname by you, pressing a small kiss on your cheeks and pulling you in.

“you want it to be somebody else?”, you smirk.

“hey!”

PARK JONGSEONG keeps a steady frown on his face, watching you finish up your pastry. he's not the type to sulk over things, if there's any problem the first thing he does is talk it out with you, and maybe have a small ice cream date later. but it's been 4 days now, that stupid frown won't leave his face, accompanied with his cold replies, even on this café date!

“is something bothering you these days?”, the fork softly clings against the plate, you try to hold in a giggle, “babe you know can tell me anything,” his sulky face is kinda cute.

“nope, i'm all good,” jay forces a smile. red flag, he's not calling you ‘love’.

“jay, you haven't even touched your pudding,” you sigh.

jay puts on a good serious thinking face, slowly withdrawing his hands from the table and releasing a deep sigh. this thing looks really serious. oh poor jay, what's wrong?

“well”, jay clears his throat before he goes off, “i really didn't think you were like this y/n i didn't expect this from you, if i did something wrong you could've just said that you know how much i love you i would do everything!”

“jay, what are you—”

“and the fuck kinda name's benjamin anyways? like hell we're not in the 19th century, y/n you could do better.”

oh. so that's what it's about. he thinks you're cheating on him, because you left your shared apartment for some benjamin guy for 3 days straight. you don't blame him though, you owe him an explanation.

“babe,” you sigh, “it's not what you think, remember benjamin? my cousin sister's child? i visit her to babysit him.”

“.....the one who called me uncle?”, jay's expression softens, instead he's shocked now.

“yeah!”, you giggle, putting your hand over his for comfort, shooting him a sorry look. “i hate that kid”, jay scoffs, you sigh.

SIM JAEYUN lets out a groan while he stares at the anime plushie in your arms. you're basically burying your face in it snuggling it, and if that wasn't enough the plushie is a man!

no way jake has to compete with a fictional man now.

“why do you need that ugly plushie when im here…”, jake whines, plopping down right beside you and scooting even closer, “am i not good enough?”

“did you just call toji fushiguro ugly?”, a frown casts upon your face as you whip your head around to shoot a glare at your boyfriend. poor him, he's too confused and jealous for this, he really wants to replace the plushie in your arms. “you're out of your mind jake.”

“i am in fact very willing to be out of my mind and be crazy for you,” jake rolls his eyes, shifting closer to you until there's only a pillow between you and him, which he soon throws away. the fresh smell of laundry and cologne floats from his sweatshirt and hits your nose, it always puts you at ease, and you miss the warm afternoons with him, just snuggling and all over each other, giggling over random past memories. “but i know for sure that plushie will…not do that for you,” jake breaks you from your trance.

“how about you show me that?”, you wink at him. heck, have you been staring at him too long?

“now you're talking”, jake smirks, snatching away the plushie from you as he sets it aside, practically throwing himself on top of you, engulfing you within his strong arms to press a series of kisses on your face, “fuck that ugly plushie.”

PARK SUNGHOON sighs, entering your shared bedroom with a bored face and arms folded. some obvious yet subtle signs he's disappointed by you, but the last disappointing thing you remember you did was eat his tiramisu. what crime have you committed now?

the bored expression quickly turns into a playful one as he clears his throat, tilting his head to one side, “are you resisting the urge to kiss and make up with me right now?”

“no not really”, you answer instantly, typing away on your laptop. but then you realised what he actually just said. with squinted eyes and a smile, you turn your head towards him, “kiss and make up? what exactly happened for us to do that?”

“i think it's about time you stop texting your best friend”, sunghoon sits down beside you giving you the meanest eye roll ever. he scoffs, “i don't get why she hates me and you don't do anything about it. it's like you two backbitch about me.”

“you won't believe it but i actually rant about you all the time to her”, you giggle, sunghoon's cheeks blooms from underneath, “she's sick of my extreme love for you.”

you let out a gasp as sunghoon pulls you in his lap, a coy smirk playing around his lips, “she should be. everyone should know i'm the best boyfriend in the world.”

you hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer, “so was the kiss and make up part just an excuse to kiss me.”

“maybe”, sunghoon chuckles, pulling you in for a chaste kiss, “who knows.”

KIM SUNOO stares straight into your phone screen, while listening to you ramble about your day and how it was. and when it glows to reveal the lock screen, sunoo feels infuriated.

“seriously now y/n, i can't believe this!”, sunoo's sudden shift in position causes your head, which was lying on his shoulders, to hit the bed frame, “like this is too much”, he seethes.

you utter a small ‘ouch’ and rub the hurt spot, a confused “what?” leaving your mouth, “wh-what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean, love”, he rolls his eyes, taking your phone and holding up the lockscreen in front of your face. it's not him. it's a random tv show character that he doesn't even know about. it should be him, it must be him, not a guy he doesn't know. “am i really being robbed of my wallpaper privileges?”, he sighs.

you let out a heavier sigh, putting up one of those smiles sunoo can't help but blush to. “don't you worry, love. maybe i don't want other girls to perceive my man. but if you're begging for it, i'll change it”, you giggle.

sunoo let's a sigh of relief and scoffs, “i'm not begging—”

“on one condition though, my head hurts!”

“aww come here, let me kiss it better”, he smiles, pulling you in again.

YANG JUNGWON literally just spawns right behind you as soon as the guy you're talking to at your friend's birthday party decides to make a move on you.

“go find someone who's not taken dude”, jungwon's eyes are green as he spits his words out, your waist already accompanied by his hand. the poor guy leaves in a hurry, not wanting to mess with the intimidating yang jungwon.

jungwon then turns to you, a shadow over his face, he's obviously upset about this, jealous even. “if you were that bored you could've called me”, jungwon mumbles.

“you were in the restroom, ‘won”, you sigh, placing a hand on his broad chest you pout, “are you…jealous—?”

“of course i'm jealous, i leave my pretty girl alone for one minute and some hipster comes and thinks he can have my girl?”, jungwon pauses for a moment to look into your cresent eyes looking up at him, you're smiling, “no. fucking. way.”

“well, it's good for you that i'm yours and only yours”, you reassure him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek and you have his breathtaking smile back. he grins at you before kissing you back, “now let's go home, i hate this party.”

NISHIMURA RIKI follows you around like a lost puppy after the dance class with his heart in shatters. just an hour ago, your dance teacher assigned partners for the upcoming festival. and it just looks like the universe is definitely not on riki's side cause you two were not paired.

“listen i'm gonna tell mrs. lee to make you my partner and i'm very sure she will listen, trust me! because you can't just—”

“riki, it's okay! it's just a project it'll be over till next week!”, you comfort your boyfriend ‘cause you know mrs. lee is a tough case, she won't crack at all. “besides, we'll be practising in the same hall.”

“exactly! that way that asshole can tease me how he got you”, riki sighs, plopping down on the benches, “i want to dance with you.”

“and i want to dance with you”, you sigh, sitting down beside him, “but you know mrs. lee would never rearrange.”

riki pulls you in a tight hug. he breathes in the vanilla scent of your hoodie before pulling back, gazing into your eyes, “if that dumbass holds you by your waist, i will go insane.”

“i won't let him do that”, you laugh, hitting his chest.

“can't we just drop out of this already? we can be the audience instead”, riki whines.

“i agree, kissing in the audience and booing them would be way better”, you nod your head. niki laughs, “you're the best girlfriend.”

📌:: TAGLIST IS OPEN ! nets. @/k-labels tags! @dollyos @leaderwon @dimplewonie @wonfilms @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaa-sia @ashtxrie @kgneptun @flwrstqr @haechansbbg @river-demon-slayer @in-somnias-world @teddywonss @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @mylstserenade @branchrkive @aishigrey @nctislifue @greyminyoon1 @ro-diaries @rikibun @sleepyxxhead @belowbun @belovedsthings @moond1or @oddracha

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 11 months ago

Text

“hungover” - hotch x fem!reader

after a girls’ night in, you wake up next to your boyfriend.

1380 words - FLUFFY FLUFF

cw; mentions of alcohol and food, implied age gap?, typical hangover, jemily agenda (sry not sry)

a/n: I wrote this on my phone on vacation bc I have a serious problem

———————

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that you are not in your clothes.

You aren’t in your clothes. And you only realize it because of the scent wafting up your nose. Sea Salt Breeze - the cologne you’d gotten him for Christmas last year - emanates from the t-shirt that envelopes your upper half. You dip your chin for another whiff, breathing him in deeply. You want the smell inscribed into your brain.

You feel the bed dip and creak and you instinctively shut your eyes, playing possum as Aaron pads into the bathroom. The door whines as he shuts it most of the way, not totally closing it because he thinks you’re still asleep and that the sound of the door shutting will wake you.

Each of your senses turns on one at a time, like your brain waves run on dial-up Internet. You open your eyes and the room is mostly dark, save for the sliver of light creeping in through the outline of the curtains. You run the palm of your hand along Aaron’s sheets and marvel over how soft they are - Egyptian cotton, he’d told you once before.

Your head hurts, but only mildly. You’d certainly been drunker before, but last night was still up there. Penelope made her mojitos strong.

You slowly sit up in the bed as Aaron opens the door, flicking the bathroom light off in the same motion. Your eyes meet his and he cracks a small smile. “Thought you’d still be asleep,” he muses. You love his pale blue boxers and seeing the hair on his legs. His calves are crazy defined - he’s a runner, after all, but still. You rarely see him in anything but a suit and tie, so it’s always a treat. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shake your head, wincing slightly at the movement. Maybe you’re a little more hungover than you thought. “I was already awake,” you mumble, running a hand over your face. “Did you put me in your own clothes last night? I have pajamas in my drawer,” you point out, gesturing to the second drawer of Aaron’s dresser, the one that contains your set of pajamas, a few spare pairs of underwear, and a couple of emergency outfits, just in case you end up sleeping over at his place.

It happens more often than not, so you keep the drawer decently stocked at all times.

“You insisted,” Aaron climbs into the bed, reaching for you. He tugs you to him and you roll over onto your side, and then halfway onto your tummy so that your leg drapes over his and your palm rests flat on his chest.

You can hear his heart beating. It’s like a metronome, steady and guiding and calm. You feel his pointed chin nuzzle into your hair and then, his lips, quick yet effective, against your forehead.

Flashes of last night run through your head. You, Emily and JJ, over at Penelope’s apartment. A symphony of girlish giggles, talking about Emily and JJ’s upcoming wedding date, drinking at least three pitchers of mojitos among the four of you. Watching Dirty Dancing and gabbing the entire time, realizing it’d be a bad idea to drive yourself home, and calling Aaron to come get you.

When he arrived, you called him Hotch and apologized for him having to come get you, and he reminded you that he was Aaron and he was your boyfriend and he would pick you up anytime you needed it. You were determined to play the Dirty Dancing soundtrack on the ride home, fumbling with his phone until you found it.

You belted out (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life and demanded Aaron sing along. He admitted that he didn’t know all the words and you gave him a stern lecture until you started laughing so hard that you were in tears. Traffic lights reflected Christmas ornament colors in Aaron’s brown eyes as he drove, occasionally glancing over at you.

You swore you saw the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as you berated him for not knowing the words to such a classic song.

And then, once you were back at his place, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at your shoes dumbly until Aaron offered to help you take them off. “Laces too hard,” you mumbled, and Aaron just hummed in agreement before kneeling down to help you.

And then he helped you out of your clothes. He went for your drawer, and you threw a pillow at him. “The college t-shirt,” you demanded with these Bambi-esque eyes.

“Arms up, baby,” Aaron said as he slid his law school t-shirt onto your upper half. He saved that specific term of endearment for times like these, when he was taking care of you, when he himself was exhausted. You could tell he was, too, not only because he kept yawning, but because of that glazed-over look in his chestnut eyes.

You glance down at the words George Washington University, printed over your chest.

Aaron’s arms around you tighten for just a moment as he embraces you, and you dig your face a little further into his chest. “No Jack today?” You ask, your voice coming out croaky.

“At his grandparents’,” Aaron murmurs, and you yawn. He strokes your hair. “How’s your head?”

“I haven’t had any complaints so far.”

Aaron’s hand freezes in your hair, and you lift your head, smirking at him. His mouth has formed a straight line, but you snicker and you can tell he’s trying not to smile at your dirty joke. “Degenerate,” he calls you.

“Prude,” you tease back, inching closer to kiss his jaw briefly before laying your head back down. “It hurts,” you answer his question. “But not as bad as it could.”

“That’s good,” Aaron comments, his hand running through your hair again, gently, the world’s most relaxing and least effective hairbrush. It feels nice, but his hands are so big that his fingers snag on the tangles, accomplishing nothing but making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Nothing wrong with that, though.

“Do you want some Tylenol for your headache?” Aaron asks, and you just curl up into him even more. He’s so warm, and sturdy, and it’s so rare that you get mornings like this. Either you’re both working or Jack has a soccer game or there’s something else going on. It’s nice just to lay around with him, to be mildly hungover and pretend like that’s the only thing going on in either of your lives.

“That would require getting out of bed,” you protest, and feel Aaron’s arms tighten around you. He’s a very doting boa constrictor.

“How about I get it for you, then?” He offers, and you shake your head and shift all your weight onto him. He chuckles, a deep, throaty noise you know you’re only privy to for about twenty minutes right after he’s woken up. “So that’s a no.”

“That’s a no,” you confirm, settling back in to your original position.

You lay like that with him, in comfortable silence, for a few minutes. Until it feels like you’ve melded into one being. Then Aaron finally shifts under you. “Honey, my arm’s asleep,” he whispers, as though he’s afraid to disturb you.

You slither off of him, then clamber out of bed with no amount of grace, going so far as to trip over the corner post of the bed. As Aaron sits up, you exclaim, “I’m okay!” and hold your hands out to steady yourself.

Aaron stifles a laugh and you watch him stand from the bed and he walks towards you, steadying you with one of those gargantuan hands on your shoulder. He then lifts that hand to tip your chin up. You step forward in a silent dance, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him. “Oh, shit,” you murmur. “I bet I have really awful morning breath.”

He just blinks a few times, and then offers you a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, honey, you kind of do,” he admits. You lightly punch him in the pectoral and then head to the en suite to brush your teeth.

#aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch fluff #hotchner x reader #hotch fic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #hotchner #hotchner fluff #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic

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kiwriteswords · 4 months ago

Note

Jealous Angsty Hotch is my favorite

Envy is the bond between the hopeful and the damned [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 3.1k|| AN: I am so sorry this one took me so long!

Tags/Warnings: jealous Hotch, bombshell reader, flirtatious Derek, canon-typical themes, canon-typical injuries, angst, argument, established relationship, secret relationship, BAU reader, undercover operation

Summary: Aaron Hotchner never considered himself a possessive man. He was on board to keep his relationship with you a secret, that was...until Derek Morgan increasingly got under his skin with his flirtatious comments toward you.

Aaron Hotchner was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve. His stoic demeanor and calculated expressions were hallmarks that defined him both as the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit and as a man who guarded his private life fiercely.

Yet, despite his best efforts to keep his emotions under wraps, recent developments were challenging his usual composure.

You had been part of the BAU team for a couple of years now, blending seamlessly into the fabric of the group with your sharp analytical mind and equally sharp wit. You were undeniably beautiful—a fact that had not escaped the notice of the team, especially Derek Morgan. Morgan, with his charming smile and flirtatious banter, had always found a way to make his admiration for you known. The team often teased you about being 'Morgan's type,' laughter and light jests filling the air around such comments. Initially, Hotch had found it amusing, a harmless part of team dynamics. But things had changed.

Lately, his feelings for you had deepened into something more profound, something private and intensely personal. The two of you had started seeing each other outside of work, cautiously at first, but with growing seriousness. It was a secret affair, hidden behind closed doors and knowing glances that only the two of you could interpret.

However, Morgan's casual flirtations were starting to stir a feeling Hotch was unaccustomed to—jealousy. Today, during a brief downtime in the bullpen, Morgan had sauntered over to your desk, leaning close enough that his voice was exclusively yours to hear.

"Hey, pretty lady, how about we grab dinner tonight? My treat," Morgan suggested, his smile broad and inviting. The team perked up, the usual teasing poised on the tips of their tongues.

You looked up at him, your expression a mix of amusement and mild irritation, a look Hotch knew all too well. "Derek, you know I appreciate the offer, but I've got plans already," you replied, your voice steady but gentle, trying not to bruise his ego.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, his smile faltering just a bit. "Oh, come on, you always have plans. When are you gonna give me a chance?" he half-joked, half-serious—a tone that didn't go unnoticed by Hotch, who was watching the exchange from his office with a frown creasing his brow.

Garcia chimed in, passing through, her voice carrying across the room. "Morgan, you better watch out; maybe our girl here has a secret love we don't know about!"

The team laughed, and you blushed, glancing unintentionally up towards Hotch's office. Hotch's heart skipped, his own feelings mirrored in your fleeting look. It was these moments that he cherished—these brief, shared seconds where the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. Yet, it was also these moments that fueled his growing unease at Morgan's attentions.

Later that day, when the team was wrapping up, Hotch found you alone in the break room. He approached quietly, his demeanor serious. "Do you ever think," he began, pausing to choose his words carefully, "that it might be time to let the team in on... us?"

You looked surprised, a spoonful of coffee halfway to your lips. For a moment, Hotch looked at your lips, and that’s all he could think about--an effect only you had on him.

"I... Aaron, are you sure? It's been nice, just the two of us knowing. It feels like something just ours."

"I know," Hotch admitted, his voice low. "But seeing Morgan today, how he—"

You reached out, placing a hand over his. "Aaron, Derek is just being Derek. It doesn’t change how I feel about us. But if it’s important to you, maybe it’s time."

Hotch nodded, appreciating your reassurance. "Let's think about it a bit more," he decided, his hand turning under yours to squeeze it gently.

But life got in the way, and the time to “talk about it” wasn’t there.

The next case had been grueling—a string of violent robberies across Virginia that had escalated into a hostage situation by the time the BAU was called in. Tensions were high as the team worked tirelessly to profile the unsub and predict his next move. You and Derek had been on site, working to establish a perimeter, when the unsub unexpectedly made a desperate, violent break, catching everyone off guard.

During the chaos, you had been hurt—an injury that seemed minor at first but was soon revealed to be more serious when you collapsed from a hidden stab wound you had sustained while trying to subdue the suspect. Derek, who had been by your side during the takedown, was riddled with guilt and insisted on accompanying you to the hospital, his protective nature in full display.

Hotch, meanwhile, was left to coordinate the wrap-up of the case, his leadership duties anchoring him to the scene. As much as he wanted to be by your side, his responsibilities as Unit Chief made it impossible for him to leave immediately. The knowledge that Derek was there with you, while he could not be, stirred a tumult of emotions within him—jealousy, frustration, and a fierce protectiveness that was unusual in its intensity.

By the time Hotch arrived at the hospital, you were already being patched up, Derek hovering nearby, his worry palpable. Hotch's arrival was quiet, his eyes immediately seeking you out in the busy emergency room. You looked pale, the pain evident in your eyes, but you managed a weak smile when you saw him.

"Aaron," you murmured, relief coloring your tone. Derek stepped aside, giving Hotch space to come closer, but his presence lingered, heavy and unmissable.

Hotch nodded to Derek briefly before turning his full attention to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice low, a controlled calm masking the storm of emotions inside him.

"It hurts, but they said I'll be fine," you replied, trying to ease the worry in his eyes.

Derek chimed in, "She was incredible, Hotch. Took the unsub down like a pro, just got caught with a bad angle." He turned to you, “Glad I was here to hold her hand though when they patched her up.”

Hotch's jaw tightened at Derek's words, his gaze flicking briefly to him before returning to you. "I'm just glad you're okay," he said, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently, a silent message of support and something more, something only you could understand.

Derek, a profiler after all, picking up on the subtle interplay of looks between you and Hotch, excused himself to give you some privacy, though his glance back as he left spoke volumes of his continued concern. Alone now, Hotch's expression softened.

"This thing with Derek..." Hotch began, hesitating as he searched for the right words. "Does it bother you? His attention?"

You shook your head slightly, wincing from the movement. "It's just Derek being Derek. I don't encourage it, Aaron. You know where my heart lies."

Hotch's features relaxed at your words, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. "I know," he admitted. "It's just hard, not being able to show... not being able to tell everyone that you're mine."

The possessiveness in his tone surprised you both, a stark contrast to his usual reserved nature. You squeezed his hand, understanding the depth of his feelings, the struggle it was for him to even voice them.

"Aaron, maybe it's time," you suggested softly. "Maybe it's time we don't have to hide anymore."

Hotch nodded, the idea settling into his thoughts like a weight lifted. "Let's talk about it when you're out of here. For now, just focus on getting better. That's what matters to me the most."

You both should have known--with your busy schedules, you might as well block out a scheduled meeting time and place it on the bureau-wide calendar to set up a time to talk.

While on the next case, the briefing room buzzed with discussion as the team reviewed the details of the new case. It was a standard undercover operation, one that required a couple to infiltrate a high-end social circle.

The unsub targeted women at exclusive parties, and the BAU needed a pair to blend in. Derek and you fit the profile perfectly—both attractive, confident, and capable of playing the roles effortlessly. The physical descriptions between the two of you were an ideal match as well.

But Aaron Hotchner hated the idea. Like absolutely hated this idea.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Hotch said firmly, arms crossed as he addressed the team. “We don’t know enough about the unsub’s habits to ensure their safety. There are too many variables.”

Rossi tilted his head, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Hotch, the profile’s clear. Physically, they’re perfect. A couple in their late twenties to mid-thirties. Derek and her fit the bill. You’re overthinking this.”

JJ added, her tone light but pointed, “And honestly, it’s not like we have many other options. No offense, Rossi, but you’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

Rossi smirked. “I could charm my way through it if I had to.”

Hotch wasn’t amused. “It’s a security risk,” he said, ignoring the banter. His eyes shifted to you across the room, catching the subtle glance you threw his way. It was a look only he could decipher—a quiet reassurance, a silent message that you understood his concerns. But it did little to ease the growing tension in his chest.

“Hotch,” Emily chimed in, her voice cutting through his thoughts. “We’ve done riskier operations. She and Derek can handle this. Don’t you trust them?”

It wasn’t a question of trust. It was the idea of watching Derek, whose flirtations were already a sore spot, act like he was yours. It churned in Hotch’s gut, a raw, irrational frustration he struggled to suppress.

“Fine,” he said sharply, his tone curt as he relented. “But we keep constant surveillance, and the moment it looks like the situation is escalating, we pull them out.”

The room relaxed as the team moved on to logistics, but Hotch remained stiff, his jaw clenched as he tried to focus on the operation instead of the storm brewing inside him.

The operation started smoothly. Derek and you slipped into your roles with ease, playing the part of a glamorous couple navigating the lavish party scene. Derek’s hand rested on the small of your back as you laughed softly at something he said, your body language exuding the confidence and charm required for the role. A confidence you brought forward even in your real life.

Hotch watched from the surveillance van, his tension palpable. He hadn’t looked away from the monitors since the operation began, his eyes tracking your every move. Derek leaned in close, whispering something in your ear, and you tilted your head toward him with a smile. It was fake—Hotch knew that. But it still set his teeth on edge.

“Hotch, you okay?” Emily asked, her voice gentle but curious. She’d noticed his rigidity, the way his hand hovered over the comms button as if he were ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. He was hyper-focused on every detail, practically looking for a reason to shut this down.

“I’m fine,” he replied tersely, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Uh-huh,” Emily murmured, unconvinced but wisely choosing not to push.

When the operation concluded, and the unsub was apprehended, the team regrouped back at the precinct. Hotch’s mood had not improved. If anything, it had worsened.

Watching Derek touch you, hold your hand, and lean into your personal space—even for the sake of the mission—had been unbearable. It was irrational, he knew, but his emotions felt like a live wire sparking inside him.

“Well, that was fun,” Derek said, clapping you on the shoulder as the team settled into the conference room. “You were a natural out there.”

You laughed lightly, though your eyes flicked to Hotch, who stood stiffly at the edge of the room, arms crossed and jaw tight.

“Thanks, Derek,” you said, your tone kind but dismissive. You could tell something was wrong—Hotch hadn’t looked at you since the operation ended, and the air around him practically crackled with tension.

You walked over to him, keeping your voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “Hotch, are you okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Hotch’s eyes finally met yours, dark and stormy. “I’m fine,” he said curtly, his tone sharper than you’d expected.

You flinched slightly at his words, confusion flickering across your face. “Aaron—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice louder now, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. The room went silent, everyone exchanging bewildered glances. Even Derek looked taken aback.

Hotch exhaled sharply, realizing he’d let his emotions slip. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving you standing there, stunned and embarrassed.

You caught up to him in the hallway, your heels clicking against the linoleum as you quickened your pace. “Hotch!” you called, your voice firm. “Aaron, stop!”

He did, reluctantly, turning to face you. His expression was a mix of anger and something deeper—something raw and vulnerable.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared up at him. “You snapped at me in front of everyone. Do you have any idea how unprofessional that was?”

“I know,” he admitted, his voice quieter now but no less tense. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Then why did you?” you pressed, stepping closer. “What’s going on with you?”

Hotch looked away, his jaw tightening again. “I didn’t like seeing you with Derek,” he admitted after a long pause. “I didn’t like him touching you, acting like—”

“Like what?” you interrupted, your tone softening as understanding dawned. “Like we were a couple? We were undercover!”

He nodded, his gaze finally meeting yours. “It’s irrational, I know. But I hated it. I hated every second of it.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite the tension between you. “Aaron, it was just a role. You know that.”

“I do,” he said, stepping closer. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I never thought of myself as a possessive man, but with you... I wouldn’t mind if the world knew you were mine.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression softening as you placed a hand on his chest. “Then maybe it’s time they do. We keep saying it.”

Hotch’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, the weight of his emotions finally easing. “Maybe it is,” he agreed, his hand covering yours. “But first, I owe you an apology.”

“You do,” you said teasingly, though your tone was gentle. “And you might want to apologize to Derek, too. He looked like a kicked puppy.”

Hotch sighed, a faint smile breaking through his grumpy demeanor. “One step at a time.”

And that one step at a time was forgoing every other responsibility until this conversation happened. What came from that was the decision and action to tell the rest of the team.

After updating your supportive coworkers, Hotch watched you move around his bedroom with a contented ease that warmed his heart.

You had just slipped into one of his shirts, the fabric hanging loosely on your frame—a sight that never failed to stir something deep within him. As you began brushing your hair in front of the dresser mirror, he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, still processing the team's reactions from earlier that day.

"They took it better than I expected," Hotch commented, breaking the comfortable silence. His tone was reflective, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he recalled the varying expressions of surprise and support from the team.

You turned to face him, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I think Garcia already had a betting pool going for when we'd finally admit it," you teased, setting the brush down. "Though I'm pretty sure Derek was the most relieved to have it out in the open."

Hotch's expression darkened momentarily at the mention of Derek, recalling the tension of the past weeks. "Relieved isn't the word I'd use."

"Oh?" You walked over to him, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Are you sure it wasn't just because you stopped glaring daggers at him every time he came near me?"

"I was not glaring," Hotch countered, though a faint smile betrayed his defensive tone. "It was strategic observation."

"Strategic observation?" You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Is that what we're calling jealousy these days?"

Hotch sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he placed his hands on your waist. "I was concerned, not jealous. As your unit chief, I had to make sure he was remaining professional."

"Concerned," you echoed, nodding exaggeratedly. "Concerned enough to nearly have a coronary every time Derek played his part a bit too convincingly."

"I did not—"

You cut him off with a quick peck on the lips, silencing his protest. "You know, I thought it was kind of hot," you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

"Hot?" Hotch raised an eyebrow, his hands tightening slightly on your waist.

"Mmm," you hummed in affirmation. "Seeing you get all possessive. I half expected you to mark your territory somehow. Maybe a tattoo on my forehead that says 'Property of Hotch.'"

Hotch laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "I think a tattoo might be a bit excessive, but maybe they could add a spot on your badge," he conceded, making you laugh. His eyes softened with affection. "But I can't deny that the idea of everyone knowing you're with me doesn't have its appeal."

"I could see it in your eyes," you continued, playful and light. "One more flirty comment from Derek, and you might have started a BAU brawl."

"I would have handled it professionally," Hotch assured you, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

"Of course," you agreed, a twinkle in your eye. "Professionally pinning Derek to the ground in a fit of 'strategic observation.'"

Hotch shook his head, his smile lingering as he leaned in to kiss you gently. "I'm just glad we don't have to hide anymore," he murmured against your lips.

"Me too," you replied, your voice soft. "No more secrets. Just us."

"Just us," Hotch repeated, pulling you closer. The weight of the secrets they'd carried felt lifted, and as he held you in his arms, the quiet of the night wrapping around them, Aaron Hotchner felt a profound sense of peace settle over him. Here, in this moment, with you, everything was exactly as it should be.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry

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mssorceressupreme · 4 months ago

Text

Working Late | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: you got a new job at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and you’ve developed a strong attraction to one of your new bosses.

Warnings: boss/employee, age gap (ish), making out, shy reader (not a warning lol but yk). Actually it's kind of a sweet fluffy-ish one, might make a pt 2. with more smut tho idk

———

It all started with butterbeer. Ginny Weasley and you had decided to meet at The Three Broomsticks for a long-overdue catch-up. The amber liquid foamed in your mugs as you laughed about school, gossiped about classmates, and vented about our worries. But your laughter faltered as you stirred my butterbeer idly.

"I just don’t know what I’m going to do after Hogwarts," You confessed, keeping your gaze fixed on the swirling foam. "Everyone seems to have their plans lined up, and I’m… stuck. No job, no prospects, nothing meaningful."

Ginny cocked her head, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "You know, my brothers could use some extra help at their shop. You’ve heard of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, right?"

Your heart skipped. Of course, you’d heard of it. And of Fred.

"I don’t know your brothers that well," You mumbled, cheeks warming. Ginny waved you off, grinning.

"Doesn’t matter. I reckon they’ll like you, and I’ll put in a good word."

Unbeknownst to her, the mention of Fred sent your heart into overdrive. He was everything you weren’t—loud, confident, and irresistibly charming, well you had your own charms but his was just effortless. Not to mention your stupid infatuation with him.

You barely spoke to the twins at school, your shyness building a wall you were too scared to scale. Besides it kept you safe, from unwanted conversations, judgement and meaningless social interactions.

Still, Ginny’s determination left you little room to argue.

“Uh sure, thanks Gin.” You forced a smile, unsure of whether seeing Fred, let alone being in the same compound as him would help with your infatuation. This forced proximity might be the end for you.

It’s time to let go of him and move on, you mentally slapped yourself. Besides, he was a couple of years older than you, no way he’d go for you right?

———

The following week, you stood outside the shop at 8 a.m., shivering slightly despite the warmth of the sun.

To your surprise you actually got the job, Ginny managed to secure you a position. And after a quick interview with George last week, you found yourself rewarded the position of becoming an official employee of the store.

Great, you had misread the opening time—Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes didn’t open until 9. Just as you debated whether to leave and return later, a deep, groggy voice startled you.

"You’re early."

You spun around to find Fred Weasley standing behind you. He was taller than you remembered, his fiery hair slightly tousled, his jaw more defined. His eyes, sharp and glinting with curiosity, locked onto yours, and your stomach flipped.

"I, uh, thought you opened at eight," You stammered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Fred smirked, his voice still husky from sleep. "Well, early bird gets the worms. Come on in, I can give you a quick tour."

He unlocked the door, holding it open for me. "Ladies first."

———

Inside, Fred gave you a whirlwind tour, his tone surprisingly serious as he explained the tasks. Stocking shelves, organising merchandise, assisting customers—it all seemed simple enough until we began working side by side.

"Here, let me show you," Fred said, reaching over your to grab a box from the top shelf. His arm brushed yours, sending a wave of excitement through your body.

The proximity was electrifying, and you found focus wavering. “These are our latest addition, love potions. We have yet to stock them on the display there,” He leaned in closer to you, pointing to the pink display near the entrance, “See that one, the pink stand there.”

“Do we get to sample one of the potions?” You teased, wanting to ease the tension.

He paused, turning to you, “Have someone on your mind for these eh?”

Your eyes grew wide, “Oh no no, no one at all, just wondering.” You forced a smile, mentally face palming yourself.

He smirked, then continued explaining to which you nodded slowly, listening attentively to everything he instructed.

“George was supposed to help bring these boxes up to my office but since he’s not here yet, ‘spose you could help bring them up.” Fred gestured to some boxes by the door, newly delivered packages.

“Yes sir.” You replied hastily, making your way to the boxes.

“Fred.” He chuckled softly, “Just Fred would do.”

One by one, you carried what seemed like never ending inventory into his office upstairs for him to stock check them, making sure the quality was up to par.

Finally, it was the last box’s turn to be brought up, as you were carefully walking up the stairs, the entrance swung open and George ran in, "Oi Fred, Ginny said Y/N would be starting today, have you showed her-"

Upon hearing your name, you whipped your head around, missing a step in the process, and tripping right outside Fred's office. The box fell on the ground, and out spewed the items, clinking and clanking on the floor. It was some mini metal boxes with assorted treats inside of them. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!"

The items scattered across the floor, and you crouched down hastily, picking them up one by one. Fred was in his office, rushing to your aid as soon as he heard the noise.

"Accidents happen all the time, don’t worry about it," Fred said, kneeling to help. Upon picking the items up, your hands touched, grazing each other softly and you froze.

His eyes locked onto yours, intense and searching. The air thickened with something unspoken, something undeniable, before a loud voice interrupted you. "Oh hey guys, sorry I was late, was caught finding the keys to me' office." George apologised, he saw the two of you kneeling on the ground, giving Fred a quick glance before darting towards you.

"Y/N! We meet again, I trust Freddie has shown you around. Come on down when you're done yeah, the shop's opening soon." George instructed before heading downstairs.

As the day wore on, you noticed whispers among some customers—girls your age, glaring enviously.

"She only got the job because she’s Ginny’s friend," one of them muttered.

"Why is she the only employee? If I had known, I would've applied too...obviously for George." The other one giggled.

"Whatever, she's not even that pretty, they probably hired her out of pity."

Fred happened to overhear their conversations, and his eyes shot daggers at the girls, but forced himself to remain calm, they were after all his customers. "Actually," he interjected smoothly, "she’s here because she’s a hard worker and great at what she does."

His words left you stunned. Had he been paying that much attention to you? You pretended to be busy with another task, acting as though you hadn't heard a word they said.

A few hours passed and boy, you were already tired, legs exhuasted from standing all day and arms from all the reaching, stocking, grabbing and the likes. How on earth did the twins manage to do this everyday, you wondered.

While restocking on a ladder, a mischievous kid aimed a Decoy Detonator at you, hoping to get trial some pranks with the samples provided.

The explosion erupted in your face, colourful sparkling fireworks crackling around you, causing you to loose your balance, "Merlin!" You panicked as you slipped, falling off the ladder. Before you could hit the ground, you felt a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

His familiar scent filled you, it was him. Fred.

You gasped, gripping his forearms. He pulled you upright, his hold lingering for a moment too long.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, but your pounding heart felt like it would bust right out of you at the rate it was beating.

Once he made sure you were alright, you carried on. Though the rest of the day was a bit dull as Fred was in his office doing paperwork, whilst George stayed downstairs entertaining the customers.

You could't help but think back to the situation moments before, the way he held you, his scent, his voice, Merlin this was not helping your crush at all. And it did not help that he looked so handsome in that all black suit he was wearing, ugh your mind began to wonder, but that did not hold you back from delivering great customer service.

"Thanks Y/N, have a good day!" A kid waved at you before leaving, and you waved back grinning.

"Enjoy your new gizmo!" You smiled with awe, among the devils, there were also the sweetest most angel-like children you came across in the store.

The next few days flew by, you quickly adjusted to working at the shop, your kind demeanour welcomed guests and made them feel right at home.

You barely saw Fred as he was buried in work, constantly in his office, but you learnt to live with it. After all, you were here to gain experience, not date your boss.

One particular night, you stayed back in the stockroom as there had been a surplus of inventory, and since you had no plans, you decided to help out as much as you could, sorting out new arrivals for the next week.

"Working late?" a familiar voice asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You shrugged, smiling. "Just wanted to get ahead."

He frowned slightly, feeling guilty that you had been overworking yourself. "How bout a reward then, say, dinner?"

"Dinner?" Your heart soared, but his next words tempered it.

"Just a casual, y'know thank you dinner."

Still, you agreed. ___

You walked to The Three Broomsticks together, you felt a bit upset that he kept a good distance from you, though he thought it was respectful, a part of you wished he stood closer.

At the restaurant, he pulled out your chair, playfully grinning, "M'lady." He teased.

"And what would the lovely couple like to have for dinner tonight?" The waiter asked and, as you were about to deny that you were a couple, Fred played it off and went with it.

"I'll have the steak and chips, and she'll have the fish and chips."

"Amazing, it'll take 10-15 minutes, have a lovely evening guys. What a beautiful couple you two make." The waiter complimented, before taking our menu's off us.

"You did not." You chuckled with disbelief.

"Did what?" Fred defended himself, raising his hands.

"Why didn't you say we weren't a couple." You laughed, shaking your head.

"And embarrass the poor lad? Not a chance, besides, what's wrong with that." He shrugged nonchalantly at the last bit, and you bit back a smile.

After dinner, Fred insisted he walk you home for safety reasons, "Can't have my best employee not getting home safely." He insisted.

"I'm your only employee." You retort, laughing softly.

"And the best one at that." He added.

The moment you reached home, he paused outside your door. For a moment, his gaze dipped to your lips, and you held your breath. Could this be it, the moment you waited for.

But he stepped back, murmuring, "Goodnight." Flashing a small smile before he headed home once you were inside.

---

The next day, you wore a skirt to work, wanting to feel more free, plus it was way too hot to be wearing jeans or pants. But of course, there was the underlying reason of wanting to catch a certain someone's attention.

As you arrive, George greeted you, his playful cheerful self did not go unnoticed. Fred however was quieter, sterner, and noticeably distracted. He brushed past you more often, his touches lingering but you shrugged it off, thinking you were imagining things.

"Hey Y/N, Fred's asking for you, he's up in his office." George informed you, while you were rearranging one of the messy shelves, you nodded and made your way to Fred.

You found him alone in his office, staring out the window.

"Fred?" You knocked softly.

He turned, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Shut the door."

You obeyed, suddenly nervous.

"Why are you wearing a skirt?"

"I thought it would be appropriate, given how incredibly scorching today's weather is." You replied, truthfully.

"Merlin, you don't know what you've been doing to me as of late." Fred sat on one of the leather couches in his office, rubbing his temples as he did so.

"I'm sorry, I can go change if you want-"

"No. It looks good on you, come here." He ordered, and you slowly made your way towards the couch where he sat, standing in front of him. "Bloody hell, you don't know do ya?" He eyed you up and down, his gaze exploring your figure.

"I’ve been trying to ignore this," he continued, "But I can’t..."

"Ignore what?" You whispered, your pulse racing.

"You."

His confession hung in the air, heavy and intoxicating.

"Fred, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you." You finally confessed. "Ever since Hogwarts...I just...figured I wasn't your type."

"You think I haven't noticed you before? Everytime you came to the Burrow, seeing you in the halls, always hanging with my sister. The wrong Weasley, dare I say. You have no idea how much I wanted to come in and sweep you off your feet. But you know, you, always into your books, always in your own world, I just-...and now seeing you again, Merlin, it's like you've got me wrapped around your finger again."

You responded by closing the distance, sitting on his lap, straddling him which earned a groan from him. Immediately, his lips captured yours in a kiss that was fiery, desperate, and everything you'd dreamed of.

You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands gripped your waist. His arousal was growing beneath you and you could feel yourself getting soaked just from this, all that pent up tension was getting released.

"I’ve wanted this for so long," You admitted breathlessly.

He smiled, his forehead resting against yours. "Me too love."

For the first time, the tension between you broke, replaced by something infinitely sweeter. ___ A/N: Might do a part 2, with more smut? Or how it's like at WWW now that they've established they like each other? Not sure yet hehe

(Update: check out Pt 2 here!! 🥰 )

#fred weasley imagine #weasley family #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred x reader #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins #george weasley #hogwarts fanfiction #harry potter #hp fanfic #hogwarts #harry potter headcanon #harry potter fandom #ginny weasley

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