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soaps-mohawk · 3 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 5: What I Want

Summary: You begin your training with Ghost, but not everything goes as smoothly as you'd hoped. At least you're learning how to want things, and that it won't kill you if you ask for them.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, some Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, brief violence, reader has a breakdown

A/N: I know I was supposed to rest, but I couldn't help myself. I just had to get this one done. I was feeling it. We're finally getting into the good stuff here. Things will kind of pick up after this part, so I'm really looking forward for that.

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(Gif pulled from google)

You tug nervously at your sleeve, feeling exactly as you did when you had to sit in the director’s office at The Institute. Only, you never got in trouble there. You had never been summoned because you misbehaved. You made it a point not to get into trouble, avoiding it at all costs.

You’ve been here just over a week and you’ve already messed up.

Price is staring at you across his desk, leaning on his elbows as his blue eyes bore into you. You’re not staring at Price, you think. No, you’ve come face to face with The Captain. He’s angry, though you can’t be entirely sure. You’ve never seen him truly angry. You’re waiting on the reprimanding, the punishment, for him to tell you they’re sending you back because you’re too much trouble.

“I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

You flinch at his voice, half expecting him to start shouting but he sounds almost calm. There’s a strain to his voice, like he’s restraining himself. He’s doing it for your sake, you think.

“Ghost and I were walking back from the mess when one of the alphas called out to me. He...he asked if I was going to go spread my legs for ‘that freak’ and he said he could offer me a better time.” You swallow thickly, Price’s shoulders tensing just slightly. “I don’t know what happened...I just suddenly felt so angry and it’s like I lost control of myself and I went up to him and he asked if I was gonna take him up on his offer and that he’d like to bend me over and stare at my sweet ass all night...and then I hit him, sir.”

“Good.”

You look up at Price in surprise at his answer, your eyes widening a bit. “S-sorry, sir?”

“I have little tolerance for alphas that think it’s alright to speak crudely to omegas, especially those they were explicitly told to let be. You saved me a lot of paperwork today. Simon would have done a lot worse had you not gotten to him first.” He moves the papers on his desk aside, holding out his hand. “Let me see.”

You stare at his hand for a moment before you realize he’s talking about your hand. You push your sleeve up, putting your hand in his. Your knuckles have swollen a bit and bruised, tender to the touch as he runs his thumb over them.

“Simon told me you asked him to teach you to fight.” He says, closing his fingers around your hand.

“Well, not so much fight, sir.” You say, staring at your hands. “Maybe just how to throw a decent punch.”

“I’d say the one you threw today was at least half-decent. Corporal Allen is sporting quite the bruise on his face.” The corner of his lips lift in a smile. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He’ll be properly dealt with and they’ll all be receiving a lecture on proper base etiquette.”

“So...am I in trouble, sir?” You ask, pulling your hand back slowly as he releases it.

“No, you were simply defending yourself after Corporal Allen made a pass at you. Just don’t make it a habit of going around punching alphas.” He smiles.

“I’ll try not to, sir.” You say, relieved that you weren’t about to get punished for your mistake.

“Go on.” He nods towards the door. “I’m sure the boys are waiting for you.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, standing up from your chair, heading towards the door.

Price leans back in his chair as the door closes, the sweet scent of caramel and strawberries still permeating his office. He breathes it in for a moment before pulling out his phone, scrolling through the contacts.

“You’ll be delighted to hear our girl punched an alpha in the face today.” He says once the other line picks up.

“She did what?” Laswell asks, genuine surprise in her tone.

“One of the Corporals made a pass at her, and she left quite the bruise on his cheek. She’s turning into quite the spitfire.”

“I told you she would fit right in. Underneath all that institute-taught BS there’s quite the personality. How is she settling in?”

“She’s softening up to the betas already. Still a bit fidgety, but she’s found a way to get Simon to warm up to her.”

“Oh? How so?”

“She asked him to teach her to fight.” Price grins.

Laswell chuckles. “I told you she’s smart. Just make sure he’s gentle with her.”

“Don't worry, I reminded him to go easy on her. I think it will be good for both of them. Some forced proximity will be good for Simon and she’ll get to learn a few things that could be helpful.”

“So long as she doesn’t go around trying to fight more alphas.”

“She’s already promised not to. The Corporal got off easy. I can only imagine what Simon might have done to him.”

“I’m glad to hear things are going well, John. I worry about her sometimes, but I know you boys will take good care of her.”

“We’re doing our best.”

“If you ever need anything, you know you can call.”

“I know. I’ll keep you updated as her heat gets closer.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to file that paperwork.”

Price grimaces. “I know. I hope you don’t have to.”

You’re tying your shoes as the knock sounds on the door. You’re not sure how they manage to do it, always seeming to catch you at the perfect moment. You’re glad Kate thought to get you some more active-wear type clothing, though perhaps she expected you’d be getting involved in their training or at least start a bit of your own once you arrived, just as she had thought to get you outdoorsy clothes too.

You open the door, staring up at the hulking form of Ghost.

“Come on.” He grunts, turning on his heel to walk down the hallway.

You quickly close your door, hurrying after him. Not much has changed since your request for him to train you, though you didn’t really expect it to. Not at first, at least. You still have to prove yourself to him. Simply existing and getting involved in their lives would not be enough.

He escorts you to the gym, a building you haven’t been in yet. There’s a few soldiers milling around, most of them in the weight room. There’s a pool across from the weight room, for more than just swimming, you think. Your father had talked about his own water survival training. You can only imagine the kind of water training they go through.

Ghost leads you towards the back of the gym, unlocking a door near the exit. It’s set up not unlike a dojo, mats on the floor and punching bags and other training equipment along the walls. Ghost empties his pockets, setting his things on a bench before removing his sweatshirt.

You can’t help but stare, only ever having seen him in long sleeves. His muscles bulge beneath his t-shirt, the first bit of skin revealed to you besides his neck, chin, and hands. Your eyes are drawn to his arms, taking in the sheer size of them.

Tattoos.

He has a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. You have a desire to look at them closer, to trace each one but you wouldn’t dare. Not right now. You pull off your own sweatshirt, folding it and setting it on the bench, leaving you in just a t-shirt and your leggings.

You fail in your attempt not to stare as he walks towards the center of the mat in his t-shirt and sweatpants, swallowing nervously. He turns to face you, motioning for you to approach with two of his fingers. Your face warms as you hurry onto the mat, coming to stand in front of him.

“Let me see.” He says, holding out his hand.

You stare at it for a moment before your brain catches up, and you put your right hand into his. You ignore the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your hand, lifting it so he can inspect your still bruised knuckles.

“We’ll start with dodging.” He says, releasing your hand, taking a step back. “Let me see your stance.”

You part your feet a little, bringing your fists up to your face. His shoulders shake in a quiet huff of a laugh as he stares at you.

“You need to stagger your stance more.” He says, circling you. “Otherwise,” Hands push you from behind, and you nearly avoid face planting into the floor. “You’re too easy to knock over. The last thing you want is the fight to end up on the floor. You won’t be getting back up if you let your opponent overpower you that much. Again.” He motions to you.

You set up your stance again, widening your feet just a bit.

“Good.” He says, moving to stand in front of you. “These protect your face.” He says, hands wrapping around your wrists, raising your hands just a bit. “You get hit in the face...”

“I won’t be getting back up.” You finish for him.

You know most fights end up with both opponents on the ground. You’d watched your brothers wrestle and play fight enough to know that. You’re not here to learn how to win a fight, only how to protect yourself enough until you can find space to run.

You barely have time to stumble back as his fist swings at you, nearly losing your footing. “Hey! You could warn me first.”

“You think someone attacking you is going to warn you?” He asks.

He has a point.

“Use your legs.” He says as you set yourself up again. “Move side to side if you can instead of ducking under the punch, but if you have to, don’t let your eyes leave your opponent.”

You see this punch coming, ducking to your right to avoid getting hit.

“Good.” He says, repeating the motion with his left hand. “Stay focused.”

You continue with the same motion a few times, already starting to feel a bit fatigued. Running is one thing, but strength is another. Most omegas aren’t naturally strong, nor are they inclined to increase their strength. That’s what alphas and their packs are for. It’s not unheard of, though, for omegas to increase their physical strength. Perhaps you’ll need to consider looking into doing that as well.

Ghost takes a step back, letting you rest for a moment. You’re breathing heavily, though he’s hardly looking fatigued at all. He’s used to this, you remind yourself. He probably throws more punches in a day in the field than he’s thrown at you so far in 30 minutes.

“Now, let’s make it a bit more realistic.” He says, a low rumble at the edge of his voice.

A wave of scent hits you, your brain nearly short-circuiting. Fear pulses through you, ozone burning your nostrils. You stumble backwards, landing on your back on the mat. You’re breathing heavily, every cell in your body screaming at you to run or submit.

“That’s...that’s n-not fair!” You say, your hands trembling from the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Any alpha you fight is going to use every natural advantage they have over you.” Ghost says, stalking towards you. You can practically see it, the purebred alpha within him coming through. “You need to learn to protect yourself against them.”

“That's...that’s not possible.” You say, the edge of a whine detectable in your tone.

He kneels down over you, crowding into your space despite the souring of your scent. It doesn’t even seem to phase him as he forces you flat on your back, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head. You stare up at him, every fiber of your being screaming at you to bare your throat, submit, give in.

Don’t back down.

You push past the fear, the instincts screaming at you as you drive your knee up into his stomach. He lets out a grunt but it doesn’t phase him, his hand wrapping around your leg, using his sheer strength to flip you onto your stomach under him. He presses against you, body folding over yours. You resist the urge, the instinct to press back into him, to be a good omega.

“If an alpha gets you onto the floor...” He says, warm breath fanning your ear through his mask. “You won’t want to get back up.”

His face presses against your neck as he inhales deeply before he pushes himself up, grabbing the back of your shirt and hauling you to your feet as well. You’re shaking, your heart thumping in your chest. Your head feels fuzzy, your brain buzzing a bit. Your omega is confused, poised to strike but she’s not sure against who. Ghost isn’t a threat, and you know that, but he had just proved how easily he could be. Any of them could be, with a simple scent change and their sheer strength.

“Again.” He says, getting into a fighting stance.

“You can’t expect me to fight after that.” You say, your voice breathless.

“If you’re in a real fight, you won’t have much of a choice.” He says, the rumble still audible around his own voice.

He’s right. If someone is attacking you, it’s likely going to be to kill, or to try and take you from them. Your omega shifts uncomfortably as you raise your shaking hands to guard your face. You continue to dodge punches, hitting the ground more and more as you continue to get tired. You’re going to be sore, still feeling your hike through the woods a bit.

The door opens, giving you a moment to breathe. Soap enters, a grin on his face.

“Ah, the wee lass is still breathin’.” He says, leaning against the wall. “Came tae make sure ye hadnae killed ‘er.”

You can practically hear Ghost roll his eyes, his back turned to you as he says something to Soap. You can’t hear what it is, the ringing in your ears too loud. Your omega is still worked up, still poised to strike, more so now in your exhausted state. You push yourself off the floor, not having a moment to think things through before you’re throwing yourself at Ghost’s back.

He turns before you hit him, catching you and flipping you onto your back on the mat. You hit hard, the breath forced from your lungs at the impact.

“Christ, Simon!” Soap shouts, hurrying to your side. “Ye tryin’ tae break her, ye numpty?”

“Don’t do that again.” Ghost growls at you, stomping over to grab his things before leaving the room.

“Easy, hen.” Soap soothes you as you gasp for air, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “Be over before ye know it.”

Slowly the paralysis of your diaphragm begins to lessen, your stomach still aching but the air comes easier now. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight the tears. You’ve messed it up. One day and you’ve already done more damage than you would have had you not asked him to teach you to fight.

“Don’ worry, hen. He’s just worked up, that's all.” Soap says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead.

“It’s his fault.” You murmur.

“Maybe, but yer scent...surprised you didn’t notice, hen.” Soap wiggles his brows.

Your face warms. You hadn’t noticed the uptick of muskiness in the room, the heady scent of arousal before now.

It’s not yours.

“Me?” You ask, letting Soap help you into a seated position.

Soap smirks. “It wasnae me that tented his breeks this time.”

Your face warms even more, your body feeling like it might explode.

“Come on, hen.” He says, slipping his hands under your arms to lift you to your feet. “There’s still time tae shower before breakfast.”

“I can assume you know why you were called in here sooner than our normal weekly meeting time.” Dr. Keller says as you sit in her office.

“Because I punched Corporal Allen.” You say with a wince.

Dr. Keller nods. “Indeed. I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright, after that. Getting into an altercation with an alpha can be tough.”

“I don’t think I’d call it an altercation.” You say quietly.

“Maybe not,” She says, shuffling her papers. “But standing up to an alpha can be daunting.”

“I wasn’t alone.” You shrug. “Ghost was there.”

“I saw both yours and Lieutenant Riley’s account of what happened. I’m wondering, would you have confronted him if you were alone?”

Her question makes you think for a moment. Would you have stopped? Would you have confronted him, much less punched him if you were alone, or even with one of the others? No, you likely would have ignored him and kept walking like you did with Gaz. You’d likely have gone straight to your room and cried a little out of embarrassment and disgust.

“No, ma’am.” You say quietly. “I don’t think so.”

Dr. Keller nods. “You’re aware of Lieutenant Riley’s status.”

You nod, a frown pulling at your brows. How did she figure it out? “Yes, ma’am.”

“I know because I have access to their medical records.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s required for statuses to be present in medical records since purebreds have to be treated differently, just as alphas, betas, and omegas have to be treated differently.”

You do know that. You know that an injured alpha can get defensive if they feel cornered. You know omegas can die from stress if they’re not taken care of correctly. You know betas can get overwhelmed by large groups of injured people all in the same place without proper training to filter out the scents of agony and suffering.

“I think you reacted to his scent.” Dr. Keller continues. “You mentioned feeling a sudden rush of uncontrollable anger. Do you remember smelling anything at that moment?”

You nod. “Ozone.”

She nods, the pieces beginning to come together in your own head. “I’m sure you’ve figured out how different purebred alpha’s are and how much more potent their scents are. Your own status makes you more susceptible to their scents and the changes in them. You were reacting to the change in his scent. Your omega sensed a threat, and took over for a moment to defend you. It’s a natural response in omegas towards those they see as protectors, or even packmates.”

Your eyes widen a bit at her words. Ghost is technically your packmate. He’s an alpha in your pack, but you’ve never considered that you see him as anything but. He has defended you, and he had defended you not long before your altercation with Corporal Allen. Had your omega begun to cling to him out of a sheer need for protection after something like what happened in the mess?

You would like Ghost to see you as more than just an omega in his pack, more than just Price’s omega. You know he’d never claim you, but you’d at least like to get onto friendly terms with him. Soap said it had taken proving himself before Ghost started to accept him. You’re hoping your time spent learning how to fight helps you prove yourself, that you’re not a threat or even a risk. That maybe you can be an acceptable omega for his pack.

“Aside from this incident, how are you settling in? How are things going with your new pack?”

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug, starting to pick at your sleeve again. “Ghost is teaching me to defend myself.”

“Oh? Does this have something to do with what happened with Corporal Allen? Or is there a different reason?” Dr. Keller asks.

“I mean, partially that but also, Ghost, he’s...hard to get along with.” You grimace. “I know that in relationships, a good way to bond with people is to get into their hobbies so you have something in common. Ghost...ghost speaks in violence and I think it would help ease some of my fears if I can at least defend myself.”

“I think this is a great idea. It allows for some bonding time between the two of you, and it can also be beneficial to ease your anxiety a bit. As long as you’re being careful and you don’t get hurt.” She says, giving you a pointed look.

You think back to Ghost flipping you onto your back on the mat, narrowly missing getting hit, how he’d pinned you down using his own scent against you. “He’s being careful.” You say, clearing your throat. “Price would put him through the ringer if something happened. Even just as an accident.”

“How are things going with Price?” She asks, writing something down.

You shrug. “Fine. He involved me in some training this past weekend. We hiked out to a watchtower and the others tried to follow my scent. We got to spend some time together while we waited.”

“Have you done much of that? Spending time together?” She asks.

You shake your head. “Not really. He’s...busy. A lot.”

“You should start making an effort to get to know him more.” Dr. Keller says. “It’ll make it easier once your heat hits if you’re familiar with him. Have you knelt for him yet?”

You shake your head again, not wanting to answer out loud.

“Why not?” She asks.

“He still hasn’t asked me to.” You murmur.

“Do you know why omegas kneel for their alphas?” She asks.

You nod. “It’s good for our brains and bodies. It helps relax us and soothes our omega, makes it easier to process stressful events and can prevent stress related diseases later in life.”

Dr. Keller nods. “Correct. It’s an important first step in building that bond between an alpha and an omega, when it’s done correctly.”

Bad alphas can use kneeling to control omegas, put them in certain mindsets, make them more subservient. You know this, you’d heard stories from your fellow omegas after watching their parents. That’s not kneeling. You never had the heart to tell them it was so much worse.

“Do you want to kneel for him?” She asks you.

That word again.

You do want to kneel for him. You’ve wanted to since this past Saturday in the watchtower. You’ve felt that urge, that drive to drop to your knees beside him and let yourself go, let him carry everything you’ve been feeling over the last week.

You nod slowly, ripping one of the strings off your sleeve. You’re fighting the tears, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You can feel them building, pushing against your stomach and your chest, threatening to burst right out of your skin and leave you nothing but an empty carcass. You’re breathing has picked up, shaking a bit as you inhale deeply.

“Why haven’t you asked?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowing as she stares at you.

“I don’t know how!” The words tear from your lips, almost echoing as they bounce off the walls like projectiles. You haven’t so much as raised your voice in years, much less to a person of authority, but you can’t stop. The dam has been breached. “Everyone keeps asking me what I want, but I don’t know how to want!” Tears cascade down your cheeks, your breaths coming in sharp gasps. You cover your face with your hands, muffling your sobs. “I’m not supposed to want.”

“Hey,” Dr. Keller’s voice is soft as she kneels in front of you, her hands trying to gently pry yours away from your face. “Who told you that?”

“That’s what we’re taught!” You hiccup, letting her pull your hands from your face. The tears are still falling, lips trembling as you sob. “We’re supposed to be good omegas. Obedient and serve our alphas. We don’t want anything, we’re only supposed to give.”

“Well that’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.”

Dr. Keller’s words shock you into reality, your sobs halting with a sharp inhale. You stare at her, the tears still spilling from your eyes. Your hands are closed into fists, your sore knuckles aching from the strain.

“You’re an omega. It’s in your nature to want, to need. You can’t help your alpha if your own needs aren’t being met first. It’s okay to need things, to want things. Are there things you want?”

“Softer blankets. Fluffier pillows. A nightlight. Something to put on my walls. Strawberry scented body wash. Some goddamn authentic Mexican food.”

Dr. Keller chuckles lightly. “I can agree with you on that last one.” She squeezes your arms gently. “You’re allowed to ask for things. You’re not a soldier, and even they are allowed to have things of their own, comfort items, with them. It doesn’t have to be material things either that you ask for. I’m sure your pack would find a way to bend over backwards if you asked them.”

She’s right. The book says omegas can hold great power over the members of their packs if they try. A mix of playing their instincts and the right behavior and temperament can have betas and alphas wrapped around your finger. The idea of having such control over four powerful men makes your head spin.

“I want Soap to kiss me.” You blurt out, your face warming as you hastily wipe at your tears to hide.

“Oh?” Dr. Keller’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “This is a new development.”

“We...we almost did...a couple days ago.” You say, burying your face in your hands. “But I stopped it because I thought maybe Price...but then he said he didn’t care...”

Dr. Keller gently wraps her hands around your wrists, lowering your hands. “It’s okay to want that, and it’s okay to want to kneel for Price. I bet he’d be delighted if you asked him. I bet he was waiting because he didn't think you were ready for it yet.”

The calming beta scent washes over you, Dr. Keller projecting it to try and help you calm down. Your tears have stopped, your breathing starting to slow as the gentle almond scent goes straight to your brain.

“I’d like us to still meet for our regularly scheduled appointment this week, but I’m giving you an assignment to complete between then and now.” Dr. Keller says. “I want you to ask one of the members of your pack for one thing that you want. You can pick what it is, and who you ask, but I want to hear about it when I see you later this week, understood?”

You push back the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She pushes herself up to stand. “You can stay here as long as you want. Just let me know when you’re ready to go back to the barracks. Take your time. You are my only patient.”

She grabs the paperwork off the couch before moving to her desk. You watch her for a moment before letting your eyes wander. You wipe at your face, your cheeks feeling puffy from your tears. You’re glad she’s giving you time to relax. The last thing you needed was to run into a member of your pack like this.

That’s not a conversation you want to have right now.

You take deep breaths, letting the beta scent permeating the air calm you down. You sink down further into the chair, letting it surround you. It’s soft, the cushions pressing around you like a hug. You wonder how she managed to get it in the hard, “function-above-all” world of the military. You wonder how she got most things in her office, or maybe if she’d brought them with her.

It was likely Kate’s doing, you think. The office space was made for an omega, set up to be as comforting as possible. Though, you don't doubt Dr. Keller would have argued her case for having these things fearlessly if she had to.

You stay in her office for a while, listening to the clacking of her keyboard as the soothing beta scent washes over you. Your eyes are still burning a bit as you force yourself out of the chair, out of the soft comfort you could spend days wrapped in.

“I’m ready to go now.” You say quietly.

“Okay.” Dr. Keller says, finishing what she was typing before she stands, grabbing her keys.

She locks the office behind you before you leave the medical center, pulling up your hood to protect you from the drizzling rain. You’re growing used to the perpetually grey skies and sudden rainstorms.

Dr. Keller squeezes your arm gently as you stop at the door to the barracks. “Remember what I told you. I’ll see you in a few days, alright?”

You nod. “Thank you.”

She smiles softly. “You did good today. I am proud of you.”

You slip into the door of the barracks as she makes her way back to the medical center, your shoes squeaking on the tile floors. You head back to your room, the silence in the barracks telling you they’re not back yet.

You kick off your shoes, pulling your damp sweatshirt off as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at your ruined sleeve, the seam split to the edge of the cuff now. You got the sweatshirt from one of your fellow omegas at the institute, and you’ve worn it almost every day since. It’s turned a bit raggedy, and your picking at it hasn’t helped any.

Ask for one thing that you want.

It would be easy to ask for a new sweatshirt. You’re sure if you asked Gaz, he’d give you the one right off his back. Everything you can think to ask for, they’d have to buy. If you asked Soap, he’d likely commandeer the closest vehicle and drive straight to town and buy you one in every color, even if he didn’t have permission to.

You could ask for something that’s not material.

Warmth floods your face as you think about it. How would you even ask? You can’t just ask directly. You could, but you might die of embarrassment if anyone heard you. There’s nothing to really be embarrassed about, but you can’t help it. It’s a bold thing to ask for, and you’re not sure you’re feeling quite so bold today.

You chew on your lip as the barrack door opens, their voices echoing down the hallway as they return from their morning training. They pass by your door, their own doors opening and closing. You get up, moving to stand in front of your own door, holding your breath. You could just step out, knock on his door and ask. He’s probably changing, though. You’d never get the words out if he thought it was one of the others and opened it half dressed.

You have to do it, though, before you lose your nerve. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never do it and you’ll have to tell Dr. Keller that you failed. You’re allowed to want things. It’s your nature to want things. It’s human nature to want things. There’s nothing wrong with having needs and wants.

You can want this.

You repeat it over and over as you slowly open your door, letting it close behind you. You smell the air, finding the trail of his scent. It disappears down the hall and around the corner towards the rec room. Your legs feel shaky as you follow it, your stomach twisting anxiously. You can want this. It’s okay to want this.

You turn the corner, finding him coming out of the rec room. He grins at you, eyes sparkling.

You want this.

“Hey, lass, was just lookin’ for ye. Are ye ready for lunch-”

His words cut off as you grab his face, standing on your toes to press your lips against his. He makes a surprised sound against your lips, his body tensing. It’s quick, only a couple seconds before you’re releasing him, taking a big step back. Your eyes are wide with shock, almost as wide as his. His lips are parted in surprise still, his shoulders tensed.

“Sorry.” You blurt out, your nerves only heightened. What if he hadn’t wanted it? “Sorry, I just...I wanted to do it and I wanted you to do it that day, but I’ve never had a real kiss before and I thought maybe Price would want to...but then he said he didn’t care-”

Your words cut off as he grips your chin, lifting your face so you’re looking at him. The tension has melted from his shoulders, the surprise gone from his face. His eyes are soft as they stare down at you, his thumb brushing your lower lip.

“I didnae know it was yer first kiss.” He says softly. “I wouldnae pushed it so far if I did.”

“It wasn’t technically my first kiss, I kissed another omega at the institute but I don’t really count it cause I did it for her.” You shrug. “I’ve regretted pulling away since that day and Dr. Keller said I should start learning to want things and she gave me the assignment of asking for one thing that I want before I see her again at the end of the week and I could have just asked for something simple but-”

Your words are cut off as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours again. It’s soft and sweet, his hand sliding from your chin to the back of your head, holding you against him. Your fingers grip his shirt, and you lift yourself onto your toes to press back against him as his lips move against yours.

His forehead presses against yours as he pulls away, your breaths mingling as you continue to hold each other. “Gaz will be upset he missed out.” He says quietly, lips tugging up in a smile as he squeezes your waist.

“He can kiss me later.” You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips once more before pulling away. “After lunch.”

Soap chuckles quietly, slipping his hand into yours. “After lunch.”

You hesitate outside the door, shifting nervously on your feet. You could turn around and go back to bed, pretend like you hadn’t spent an hour convincing yourself to walk down here, like you haven’t been thinking about this all afternoon. You had already completed your assignment for the week. You’d kissed Soap, done something you wanted. You’ve fulfilled that desire, and it didn’t kill you. You hadn’t dropped dead afterward. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything.

This isn’t a want.

You knock softly on the door, half tempted to turn and run and hide under your covers until you inevitably have to get up tomorrow.

“Come in.”

Your hand hesitates on the door handle for just a moment before you’re turning it, stepping into the office. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, though you suppose if nothing else, he had smelled you standing outside. The thought makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment. How long has he known you were standing out there?

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” He asks, setting down his pen.

You shuffle nervously, clasping your hands in front of you. “I-I was wondering...I..um...” You take a deep breath. “I was wondering if I could kneel for you.”

You bite your lip as he stares at you, the words having come out fast, almost meshing into one long string of nonsense. His eyes darken just a bit, his scent thickening in the air.

“You want to kneel for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and rough.

You nod, shifting your weight again. “Yes, sir.”

“Grab a pillow.” He nods to the couch. “I won’t have you hurting yourself.”

You grab one of the pillows from the couch, wondering how often he’s slept in his office. How many nights he’s spent awake, pouring over files, his mind working too hard for him to find any rest. You set the pillow on the floor before kneeling down next to him, facing his desk. You shift until you’re comfortable, sitting back on your feet. You let out a long breath as your eyes slipped closed, your fingers twitching anxiously in your lap.

Price’s hand is gentle as it comes to rest on the top of your head. You relax into his touch as he strokes your hair, working his way down towards your neck. You force your mind to relax, easing away the desire to tense your shoulders, to draw them up around your ears. It’s pure natural instinct, one that will fade the more you practice, the more you bond with him. The more you trust him.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice sounding far away despite the fact you’re right next to him.

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, pressing your head into his hand.

His hand slips lower, curling around the back of your neck. You inhale sharply as he finally makes contact with the sensitive area. His hand is warm, the tension slowly easing from your body as he presses his thumb lightly into the side of your neck. The back of your brain begins to buzz, your mind slowly filling with static. You relax even further, your head bowing just slightly as you feel the weight of the last three months lifting off your shoulders.

All the emotions, all the fear, all the unknowns suddenly feel far away. All the apprehension and the anxiety are soothed to nothing as he holds you, the hand on your neck a firm reminder that you’re not alone in this anymore. You have an alpha now, a strong alpha that you can trust in, that will carry it all for you.

You don’t need to be stressed or afraid anymore. A warmth begins blossoming within you, spreading from your core out to your fingers and toes. You feel a bit dazed, but not in a bad way. You’re not afraid of the feeling, not with your alpha’s hand around the back of your neck keeping you safe.

You’re not sure how much time passes, how long you kneel there. It could be five minutes, it could be two hours. Price continues to go over his paperwork, his other hand steady on the back of your neck. It’s not until he’s done that he carefully pushes his seat back, kneeling on the floor next to you. He releases your neck, catching your body as it slumps over, drawing you against his chest.

“Easy, sweet girl.” He murmurs, pressing your face into his neck.

You’re shaking a bit, brain still dazed and flying as you breathe in his scent. Earthy, trees, petrichor. The warm muskiness of a content alpha. You made him smell like that. You invoked that scent.

“Feeling alright?” He murmurs into your hair, gently stroking your side as you begin to come back into your body.

You hum in affirmation, wrapping your arms around his neck. You haven’t been this close to him yet, not since the scenting and that was more of a formal closeness, a required closeness. This is because you want it.

“Don’t let me go.” You murmur into his neck, clinging to him tightly.

His arms tighten around you for a moment before he slips them under you, lifting you into his arms easily. He pushes himself from the floor, moving to sit on the couch with you on his lap. You let yourself go lax in his hold again, feeling calmer and more relaxed than you have in months. You feel safe in his arms, not that he would have let anything happen to you before.

You’ve always been safe, you think as you let your eyes drift closed again.

The water is hot as it runs down his back, contrasting the cool tile against his forehead. His eyes are closed, breaths slow and steady through his nose. He can’t get that damn scent of vanilla and sweet, sweet omega arousal out of his head. He drives his fist into the wall with a growl, cursing the blood rushing south.

He can’t forget the way you felt under him, pinned so easily and helpless beneath him. He hates the way his cock twitches at the thought of the pout on your lips as he’d swung at you, narrowly missing you too many times. The way you tried to jump him.

He lets out another frustrated growl, slamming his forehead into the tile. A hand presses against his bare back and he turns on his heel, hand wrapping around Johnny’s throat, slamming him back against the shower wall.

Jesus Christ, he’s going to kill the mutt one of these days.

“Easy, Lt.” Johnny rasps, not fazed at all by the alpha’s actions. His eyes flicker lower, to the hard cock standing at attention. “Bit worked up, eh?”

He lets Johnny go with a growl, stepping back under the water, turning it all the way to the right until it’s nearly freezing. He almost groans in frustration as the water shuts off completely, his eyes cracking open as Johnny’s hand trails up his chest.

“Easy, big guy. Let me help ye.”

Simon moves until his back is pressed against the tiles, eyes not leaving Johnny’s sapphire ones as the beta slowly kneels in front of him. Johnny’s hands trace over his hips, outlining scars both old and new. Johnny’s fingers finally reach his cock, wrapping around the thick length. Simon sighs in quiet relief as Johnny slowly pumps his length, their gazes still locked.

Simon stares down at Johnny through his blonde lashes as Johnny leans forward, dragging his tongue along his head. A low growl rumbles through his chest as the beta circles his tongue around his head, smearing precum on his chin. He’s painfully hard now, breaking his gaze as his head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed.

His fingers sink into Johnny’s mohawk as the beta takes his cock in his mouth. He breathes through his nose, relaxing his throat as Simon’s cock sinks deeper and deeper, Johnny’s hands closing around his hips to hold himself steady. Simon grips his hair tightly as he begins to move, bobbing his head along his length, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his cock.

Simon squeezes his eyes closed as an image comes to mind, a smaller hand fondling his balls. His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he imagines soft lips on his tip, Johnny’s tongue tracing the parts of him that you can’t fit yet as you take him in your mouth. The sweet whines that would be pulled from you as he choked you on his thick length, Johnny whispering sweet encouragements to you.

He can picture the two of you, you and Johnny with your tongues entwined, his cum stringing between your lips.

He growls, yanking Johnny off his cock and pinning him to the tile wall. Johnny’s lips are parted as he breathes heavily, eyes blown with lust as he stares up at his alpha. Simon’s hand tugs at his hair, tilting his head back to bear his throat. Johnny lets out a quiet moan as he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin, leaving a mark he’ll wear proudly for a few days.

“Turn around and bend over.” He growls to the beta, his cock still hard and throbbing.

“Sir, yes sir.” Johnny says, smirking wickedly as he slowly turns to face the wall.

Fucking christ, Simon groans. They’re going to be the death of him.

You’re going to be the death of him.

Taglist, part 1:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #alpha beta omega #a/b/o #john price x reader #captain price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x soap #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 6 months

Text

DPxDC. Talon Dick. Part 2 of Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls

~Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you~

Danny was terrified when he got the body of Talon in his morgue. The Court of Owls was notorious for leaving no trace after work. But Talon, a young man only a few years older than him, did not look like a mindless killing machine at all. Of course, the first time he had a couple of stab wounds from his new acquaintance but after numerous assurances that his help would remain their little secret and that he would not inform his superiors that he had fucked up on the mission, Talon began to trust him a little. as one dead boy to another. In a few months, most of the Talons come to him for first aid, and of course he got attached to the guys. After all, Gotham is not Amity Park and without the other dead ones around Phantom felt a little lonely. It was nice to give these poor people a few quiet minutes. Danny’s assistant has warned him many times not to mess with the Court of Owls, but Danny are Phantom and from the first time he met one of them he was planning to lose his temper and beat the boys' bosses to free them.

Fenton was not prepared to lead the Court of Owls. Even if Danny got his education as a villain he never thought he’d work according to his profession. But leave a whole den? nest? of creatures turned into weapons he could not. Of course, the best choice after defeating the leaders of the Court would be to destroy the entire organization. But Danny couldn’t do that.

Talons were killers, means of intimidation, even if not of their own volition. They will be killed (again) or sent to prison for the rest of their lives. Talons needed safety and a good therapist, not all of this. Danny’s scared, and he doesn’t know how to take care of them, but the others won’t do it. People are afraid of everything different. They won’t care that these dead are just victims, they’ll only see monsters. He could be half-human, but now he has to think like a full ghost. Talons are dead like him. And they have been dehumanized, tortured, used. People can be cruel. To do the right thing, he has to protect them.

It was difficult for Danny to identify likes and dislikes of his new friends because they always had the same facial expression and were taught that they had no feelings. Bullshit. Danny’s parents also think ghosts have no emotions, but they just have wrong theories and do not manipulate them to make ghosts think the same. Well, maybe it’s because they don’t think ghosts can think at all, but still! So, Danny know that number three loves strawberry jam, and number five always steals some of his cereal, and number 11 always gets closer to the music column to enjoy the sound. And he also know that the Talons weren’t fully fed in their organization because they definitely have problems with their digestive system, and he is going to fix it. Vlad said that he had trouble taking human food for only a few months after the portal accident, and some of the Talons were dead for years and still use injecting nutrient solutions. When a Dead Man can’t have a couple of spoons of treats, well, that’s a crime.

He needs to find a way to consult with Frostbite and conduct a full-fledged health diagnostics for his 'minions'. And he needs to settle the paperwork so guys have a legitimate reason to live in the Infinite Realms.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey Jazz, I’m in trouble. When can you come to Gotham? This time I don’t mind hearing a little advice.

~~~~~

Even though Dr Fenton smelled like death and blood all the time, the smell was different. And this difference was enough that something dead inside them swore allegiance to this Owl at their will. Not that they had it, of course. Weapons don’t have free will. But at least pretending to be able to choose is nice.

The new Master was weird, but in a good way. Not that this Talon know more about what is good than any other Talon. Ah, Di- Talon had a headache. Anyway, serving him is right. They all feel it..And feelings matter!! Well, they are not supposed to have them too but… looks like the young owl didn’t mind.

Master was not angry at how Talon № 4 frowned when the master had to pull a bullet out of his shoulder, and he missed Talon's sweet laughter when it saw the battle of Signal and Spice King on TV. The only times he raised his voice to them were when they were trying to threaten people near the master. Looks like this owl wanted to instill fear on his own. Strange. Usually there was always an enemy of the court who had to be hunted down and destroyed.

~~~~~

Danny: See, when you kill people, you do not make it easy for me. First, I will need to examine the bodies and write the report of their death. Second, if their souls remain restless, they will become my problem again. No more trying to get the cashier to have a heart attack. He said they ran out of the product I needed, not that he’s cursing my family for the next millennium. No one wants to see any more angry ghosts in Gotham. Me after a 24-hour shift is enough, okay?

Talons were alarmed. So far the master had shown no signs that he might want to completely break one of the weapons. But what if this owl is planning on punishing them for all their mistakes at once when he’s really angry?

Talon is not supposed to show initiative or empathy. But Talon 12, who suffered an injury in the course of a mission with old owls, has not yet recovered. They inadvertently hid it when the leadership changed. 12 has not yet met Doctor Fenton, and they do not know whether the privileges of medical care are retained now when they belong to him. So far, the Master has been rather careless about their movements and a few of them have slipped away for a while to check on a fellow. They didn’t lie if they weren’t asked about another weapon, right? They shouldn’t be punished too severely when the Owl finds out. Talons were hoping that Doctor Fenton, who was not in a hurry to look at the document of the court, would allow them not to write off the damaged thing. № 12 was an old and experienced weapon and could train beginners even if it has only one hand now.

Well, that was the plan. Talons allowed themselves to become too careless. Terrible mistake. Even the Owl that is usually nice to them remains dangerous. They need to find a way to satisfy their young master. Young Owls always have anger issues, not that Talons can judge.

The youngest Talon shared information that he sometimes had flashbacks of a working red bird who always had a murderous expression until he got to the coffee pot fluid. And it's non-Talon past was never afraid of this bird. The chick could always be calmed with this dark liquid. Coffee is something that will return the master to the favorable mood!

Talons rejoiced at this remarkable discovery and decided to send one of them on a mission as soon as possible to get rid of the potential danger.

~~~~

Danny: Thanks for the coffee, man. Hey, you also took another drink, judging by the dollars in the check. I'm so proud of you! How it was? Good?

Talon thought for a second and nodded. Yes, it was good. He didn’t drink the drink himself but when a coffee shop employee wrote down his order with a trembling hand, a boy appeared in the door.

This boy, now almost a young man, he was from his memories. Another coffee was automatically added to the order.

On his way out, Talon walked up to the sleeping chick and gave a cup to him. Even without opening his eyes, the bat’s cub sniffed and sucked the drink. Dick chirped with delight and patted boy's head, ignoring the frozen people.

That's a true magic drink which is commanding the minds of the powerful of this world. Yes, it will help them for sure!

~~~~

Danny: See, Jazz, Dick’s making progress! He went to the coffee shop today. That’s great, isn’t it?

Jazz: First, don’t call him that, we’re still not sure that’s his name and not the way Owls used to insult him.

Danny: Hey, the fact that he hissed when you called him Richard proves nothing. I don’t like being called Daniel either, or, over my dead body, Dan. I have to call him something. They’re all Talons. What are your suggestions? Jazz: We’ll talk about this later. Now back to the coffee question. Danny, did you forget anything when you let Talon go for a walk? Danny: Which one? Jazz: Don’t play dumb! Did you open the news headlines today or not? This is serious! Danny: What? Shit...civilian clothes. I didn’t think he’d wear a combat suit for it. Jazz: Didn’t you give them outfits for everyday use? Danny: Yeah, I did! But they still wear their Halloween outfits. All the time. Look, it’s not my fault they take everything I say as an order. When I asked them to make the tea and our teapot broke, they broke into some guy’s house and stole it. Jazz: Which guy? Did you at least apologize? Danny: One of Hood’s goons. I’m pretty sure he’s already met Dick on patrol, 'cause the first thing he did called Jason and start crying about being followed. Lucky for him Red was at my house that night and went to calm goon down. But I swear to you, Dick was a little shit on purpose. Of all the apartments choose his? Nah, such coincidences do not exist.

Jazz: I could be happy that he’s getting more independent in his decision making but now I feel like I have to offer the poor guy a discount therapy course.

Damian: Drake, we need to talk. I know about your investigation. You suspect one of the Talons is our missing Grayson. I’m willing to provide some evidence in exchange for… Tim: I don’t suspect, I know that. Damian: What? Where from? Tim: Well, the quadruple somersault was a good hint. And the fact that the Red Hood ran from him through the streets screaming that he wouldn’t take lunch from a damn golden child is also a tip. Damian:...Not a word to my father until we know more, right? I don’t want my older brother thrown in Arkham. Tim: Agree. It’s not like he doesn’t have a memory problem. He wouldn’t have made Alfred worried if leaving was his choice. We need more information.

Meanwhile in Gotham, Alfred aka the only one batfam member with more than one functioning brain cell *on his way to his first grandson and future husband of his sweet angel Jason*.

Danny: Jazz, we need to clean this house right now. Jazz: Since when do you start spring cleaning? Danny: I don’t know how to explain, it’s not a ghost sense, it’s more an unexplained sense of danger. Where’s the vacuum cleaner?

~~~~~

Talon №5 stood in the knitting shop in thought. What color would the little mistress prefer? It should remain useful even if the Owl does not give them direct orders. Knitting a cute sweater for mistress Dani would be a good start. Yeah, that color’s gonna be perfect. And maybe it should stop holding those needles like a weapon, it makes the cashier nervous, and he wants to pay without saving a civilian from losing consciousness.

~~~~~

Danny became a little alarmed when Talon threw himself at the old man standing on the porch. To his surprise, the Briton readily embraced the bird, and Dick let him. Talons who stood behind Danny happily chirped. Making their youngest member happy things always meant something good.

Alfred: Gentlemen, good afternoon. I guess I should thank you all for taking care of my dear grandson. Would you let me come in for a cup of tea?

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc au #talon dick grayson

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peachesofteal · 6 months

Text

Black Sun

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/female reader 5.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Dark and twisty. Explicit sex, dubious consent, forced breeding/pregnancy kink, praise kink, size difference, creampie. Simon is insane about you. Panty sniffing/stealing. Obsessive behavior. Possessive Simon Riley. Alcohol. Reader is prescribed/taking muscle relaxers. Toxic but I think it's sweet. Angst, comfort, emotional hurt/comfort. Tags are for your health, not mine. Simon never wanted a divorce.

Simon does not consider himself a common criminal.

A war criminal, perhaps. The things he’s done for the 141 would put him behind bar in over fifty countries, and on death row in at least eight. The things he’s seen alone make him eligible for life in a padded room, and that’s if you don’t count the things that have happened to him.

But he’s never stooped to petty crime like this before. Before this mess. Before you asked for a divorce, insisted he move out, demanded time apart.

There’s a first time for everything, he thinks. First time for a lot of things, actually. The first time he actively tried to avoid the divorce paperwork, first time he let his obsession take him this far, first time he indulged in his darkest fantasies, things he wouldn’t even dare whisper about to Price-

The door welcomes him like it always does, squeak gone from the hinges, greased out by his hands in the middle of the night last week, swinging wide so he can silently step across the threshold… into his house. Into yours.

Riley whines in greeting, lowering himself into a play bow, and Simon kneels to pet him, rubbing his between the ears and under the chin just how he likes, before instructing him back to his bed, to keep watch. He’d maul another man who tried to step foot in here, per his training, but his dad- his dad is okay. His dad is allowed.

It’s not that he’s too far gone to recognize the complete dismantlement of your boundaries, it’s that he doesn’t care. The chilling fear of losing you has seeped deep into his bones, fostering the growth of a plan that he knows is not rational, or right.

He knows what he is doing is wrong, but he cannot stop himself.

You are his. His wife. His life, his person, his reason for it all. You’re the sun and the moon and the stars and everything that makes this miserable fucking existence worth living.

He’ll do anything to keep you.

Anything.

So, it doesn’t feel wrong when he stands in the bedroom at the foot of his bed, watching you sleep, twisted up in the blankets, favoring your one side like your shoulder must have been bothering you before you fell asleep. It concerns him, worries him, this lack of improvement regarding your pain, and he wonders if maybe you should be in physical therapy.

It doesn’t feel wrong, when he traces the curve of your ass, perked up in the sheets, as if you’re waiting for him to strip your ratty little sleep shorts down to your knees and shove his cock to your cervix. He wonders if you’d even wake up if he rubbed his nose across the seam of your cunt. You’ve always been a heavy sleeper, through thunder or commotion, you’d stay sweet with your lashes flush against your cheeks, mouth slightly open in a soft snore.

He leans over you in bed, stroking the back of your head with his hand before pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple, something he knows won’t stir you, not with you how deep you’re dreaming, and certainly not with the muscle relaxer in your system.

He is a stealth operator, after all. It’s not like he hasn’t been watching, observing your new routines, the changes to your schedules and habits that have appeared over these last few months. The muscle relaxers, for example, that were prescribed for the strain in your neck and shoulder, that you’ve been taking once an evening for a week and a half, around six thirty. They’re extended release, usually able to keep you mostly pain free through the night, and he’s grateful to your doctor for insisting upon them. For more reasons than one.

He gives you another light kiss before pulling the sheet up around your shoulders, tucking you in how you like. You get cold in the middle of the night, icicle toes usually wandering across the mattress to seek the space between his thighs for warmth, shocking him into a gasp that would elicit a string of sleepy giggles from your mouth. He makes sure you’re comfortable, before slinking onto the second part of his routine.

The bathroom.

Every night, he holds his breath as the medicine cabinet pops open. He hates the anticipation, the fear of what he could discover, dreads the idea of having to start the clock over or worse, swap them for placebo. You never disappoint him though, and he catalogues the perfectly color-coded rows of birth control pills that haven’t been touched in over a month, not since his last op with wicked desire hearting his belly. What a good girl you are.

Before, he would have told you the opposite. He did, tell you the opposite. He told you were good, so good, for taking your pills, for making sure that you were safe for him, that there wouldn’t be any accidents. Guilt would eat at him each time the two of you had the argument, the ‘discussion’, about having a baby, and you would cry with misery staining your cheeks.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” He tried to tell you, dozens of times, that he didn’t think he’d be good at it, that he wouldn’t like being gone so much, leaving you at home all the time with a baby.

“I love you, Simon. I want to have a baby, with you. My husband. Is that so wrong?” You would cry, and he could feel the weight of his choice breaking you apart, the pressure cracking beneath his skull.

“You… you don’t understand. I- I can’t.”

It’s not why you asked for a divorce, but it certainly played a part.

Something catches his eye when he turns to leave, a wayward item of clothing hanging haphazardly outside of the hamper.

Your underwear.

He plucks the scrap of blue lace and cotton from the edge and balls it into his fist, bringing it to his nose with a deep inhale. It’s sick, the way he needs you, the way the smell of your dirty panties, the honeyed ambrosia of your musk, makes his mouth water like a juvenile. Before he can change his mind, he shoves them in his pocket. He doesn’t usually take things, too aware of potentially tipping you off, but this; this is something he needs.

“Simon, can we please just… can we please just meet up and at least look at these papers?” It’s early for you to be up, on a Saturday, and he frowns at the screen in contemplation. Before, you’d never be up this early. Before, you would have insisted he stay under the covers with you, would have draped your body over his eagerly to convince him, sweetening him to your side with barely a whisper.

“How many weekends do we even get, anyway? This is your first one home in weeks. Stay in bed with me.” And he would, because of course he would. Because there was no place he’d rather be in those moments, curled up in bed, his nose in your hair, watching the rise and fall of your chest just to be sure it was all real, that it wasn’t some cruel dream that would disappear as soon as he woke up.

“You’ve been home for two weeks and haven’t even looked at them.” He grits his teeth, pressing the hard edge of his phone into his cheek. He can’t be divorced if there’s no signature. But you sound exasperated, stressed, and he’s eager to fix it for you, easily agreeing without too much badgering.

“Alright, sweetheart. Alright. I’ll meet you.”

He cannot believe his luck.

You’re nervous. Your hands flitter about, constantly touching the table, the silverware, your sore shoulder, the manilla envelope before finding the stem of your wine glass and tilting it to your lips, swallowing the alcohol over and over without any kind of hesitation. You must not have taken the muscle relaxer. He's well versed in navigating your emotions, calming you into a relaxed state with a few words or a reassuring touch, and he wants to reach out and take your hand in his, soothe you, tell you that everything is alright but… it would serve no purpose for him tonight. Sorry, sweet girl. He sits at the little two top across from you with his arms crossed, watching his lack of interest in the conversation break you down, little by little, until you’re ordering another glass of wine, and then a third, all while he nurses the same glass of bourbon. The alcohol distracts you, strays you from your course, and you eventually stop trying to try talk about that bloody manilla envelope, leaning to one side a little more than the other in your chair. When you order a shot after dinner is over, he doesn’t protest, just watches your tongue follow the seam of the citrus wedge, dabbing along the spongy white fibers before your teeth dig into the flesh of it, lime juice squirting across your tongue.

He loves you drunk. Loves you sober, loves you tired, or grumpy, or smiling. He loves you anyway he can get you, but sometimes, when you’re like this, your smile sweet like sticky toffee, buzzing and humming, it helps him get away from himself, helps him stay present and lost inside you, swept up in you. It makes him think about the honeymoon, your feet buried in the sand, tucked away in secluded cove, no one around for miles. He fucked you on the beach, fucked you in the ocean, fucked you in someone else’s cabana that day, and you giggled the whole time. Pearly pitched music that wrapped in him the strongest feeling of bliss, skin that tasted like brine and sun, your hand in his on the walk back the hotel, peeking under your wide brim hat every few minutes to press his lips to yours.

“Wan’ one?” He shakes his head, but pulls your hand into his, feeling the warmth of your skin. When you don’t pull away, his blood heats, churning through his veins like fire. “Figured.” You sigh, and then flash him a mischievous, coy grin. Cheeky girl. Think you’re so clever. “Want to get out of here?” You croon, and he smiles indulgently behind the mask. “Lead the way.”

You’re giggly, excited when he bends you over the table, the kitchen table where you used to eat together, breakfast for dinner when he’d come home, waffles and bacon at one in the morning.

You don’t protest when he slides your skirt down your hips and over your ass, thumbs spreading you wide to reveal your glistening cunt, twitching and desperate.

“My poor girl, has it been so long?” He coos, relishing in the way you moan with your lips on the wood. He knows it has, knows you haven’t been with anyone since the last time he fucked you, months and months ago, on the night you asked for the divorce. “Shhh. I’m here now, I’m gonna take care of it.”

“You have to pull out.” You slur, breath hot, fogging against the finish of the table. “Promise.” He grunts something under his breath, nonsense, but you can’t tell the difference, and when he slides inside your scorching cunt, you howl, breath hitching with the stretch.

Bleedin’ Christ. You’re so tight, so wet, soaked enough that it sticks to the curls around the base of his cock. How could he ever give this up?

“That’s it.” He kisses your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back with his weight, pinning you in place, his hands clamping down around your wrists like shackles. “Squeeze me tight, good girl. Show me-“ Show me how you’re going to hold my come in your tight little pussy once I fill you- comes to mind, but he bites his tongue instead, not willing to tip you off too soon.

To have and to hold. In sickness and in health. For better or worse.

I promise to love and cherish you.

Till death does us part.

Till death.

“Simooon.” You sing, hips start to push back with him, fucking yourself onto his cock, chasing him, chasing your pleasure, mouth half open with the little pants and whines that are music to his ears. He keeps you pinned, flat against the table, fingers between your legs, stroking your clit, shoving you closer to your orgasm, delightfully pleased by the way your pussy pulses around him.

“Come on.” He urges, big hand between you and the table, pressing against your lower belly, still tapping away at your clit, indulging in the trembling of your legs.

“Fuck- fuck, Si.” You cry, clenching down around him with your orgasm, voice breaking.

“There it is… what a good girl.” He hisses, keeping his pace, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s notching himself nearly inside your womb. It’s overwhelming for you, he knows, but he doesn’t stop swirling his fingers around your clit, zapping electric pulses through body.

“Nngh Si. Too- ooh it’s- it’s too much.” You wail, a tear on your cheek, and he nods, nosing above your ear.

“I know. You’re doing so good for me, so perfect.” It’s whispered with a groan, hands stroking your hip, keeping your steady, in place. “Just need a little more, just- just a little, I’m gonna-“

“What-” You ask, more with it now that you recognize the edge he’s riding, the roughness in his voice clueing you in to where he is, but he sends you back into orbit, pressing your clit and working you in circles. “Oh, oh.” Your hips rock, and he moves with the momentum, fucking into you faster, grunting the truth as he speeds towards the cliff, desperate to drive the car over the edge, eager to change the course of his life, your life, his marriage.

“Take it.” He spits, wide palm spread across your shoulder. Everything in him tightens, fire spreading through his veins, pressure rising in his body like a fucking tea kettle, about to scream out a whistle. He’s going to breed you, fuck you deep with his come and put a baby inside you, give you what you want, what you’ve always said you wanted, the thing that made you cry in the middle of the night when he refused.

Well, he’s going to give it to you now.

“Fuck- here it comes.” You rock again, half lost to the world, eyes glazed over in pleasure, spasming around his cock with your second orgasm. He slams into you, burying deep and you keen, fingers gripping the edge of the table, his hips flush with yours like a lock.

And he’ll throw away the key.

You blame yourself for the first time.

You blame your nerves. Your lack of self-control. You drank too much, trying to fight the anxiety that was threatening to spill from your mouth by way of your tongue.

And well, didn’t he just look too fucking good, sitting across from you at dinner. Eyes on your lips. Hand dwarfing the rocks glass. Shoulders broader than a door frame. He put on mass since you saw him last, and you spent half the meal trying not to think about stripping his shirt off so you could inspect for new wounds, new scars, new stretch marks.

And didn’t he feel so fucking good too, bending you over the kitchen table, sliding into you from behind with almost no prep, hint of pain making you see stars, just the way you like it. Fucking you like the man you married, like the man you fell in love with. Calling you his good girl and making you come all over his cock like a champ.

You blame him for the second time.

You could blame yourself, for inviting him over- but your intention was clear. Sign the papers. Discuss the house. Be done with it all and close this chapter. Move on with your life, with both your lives.

But he showed up on the wrong day, at the wrong time, with a bottle of your favorite wine, the malbec. The one from your first anniversary, with a large pizza, thin crust with extra cheese (your favorite) and an order of garlic knots.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d eaten or not, figured I’d pick something up, just in case.” He shrugged, and just like that, you were bereft of words, staring at him with nothing coming to mind. Didn’t you say tomorrow? You stood in the door, blinking, Riley whining behind you, already eager to see his dad. “Sweetheart? You feelin’ okay?” His hand was on your arm, warm, thumb rubbing a circle on the inside of your elbow, and even that small amount of contact, that little trickle of concern, sent you into a spiral, muscle relaxer already working its way through your system, slowing your response time, making your brain a little fuzzy. His eyes shimmered in the porchlight, and you nodded, robotically, feet still stuck in the doorway, until he was prompting you to let him inside. “Can I come in then, get this signing business done?”

You ate pizza and drank a glass of wine (frowned upon considering your medication, but one glass couldn’t kill you, right?) out of regular glassware (a sin, if anyone asked your poor mother) as the manilla envelope sat on the coffee table and practically watched the two of you, oozing with judgement.

You’re supposed to be divorcing. Not cozying up on the god damn couch. Weren’t you the one who told him to find a new place to live? Weren’t you the one who said the two of you wanted different things in life, from it? Weren’t you the one did this, pushed him away, shoved him out the door, told him it was all too little, too late?

But when his fingertips drifted to the top of your spine and then over, like he knew exactly where you were tender, you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into his touch, more and more until he had your back against his chest, strong grip on your shoulder, working your taut muscles with expertise.

His fingers dig deep, groan slipping between your teeth, breathy and low, enough that he’s immediately releasing you.

“Did I hurt you?”

“N-no.” You shake your head, which only makes you dizzy. Probably shouldn’t have had that glass of wine. “Feels good.” He chuckles, and tucks you closer, head tipping back into his chest, eyes half closed. “Tweaked something in m’shoulder a few weeks ago.” For some reason, you feel the need to explain it, to tell him. “Went for a slide tackle, ended up halfway under the girl. And she was a lot bigger than me.”

“You still playin’ in that women’s league?”

“Every Sunday.”

You were so relaxed, so pliable, that you didn’t utter a single protest when he leaned you back on the couch like a doll, pulling your leggings down and off your ankles, sliding your panties away to bury his face in your pussy. You didn’t want to protest, or stop, or get up off the couch, even though, somewhere, in the back of your logical mind, you knew what you were doing was stupid. You knew, that doing this once was mistake, but doing it twice was just downright foolish. It’s just sex though. He can still just sign the papers and go. Who hasn’t had a little runaround with their soon to be ex-husband before the final nail is hammered in the coffin? You’ve never been a saint, after all.

“Lift your hips.” He taps your side, and you do, letting him slide a throw pillow under them, plumping it under your ass for good measure. “Good girl.” You beam, woozily, and he chuckles, face cracking into something that’s flooded with light, something happy, the face of the man who used to be your husband, used to love you, want a future with you, not just endless rotations around the world with the 141 and a sometimes wife that he sometimes saw.

“You have to pull out.” There’s backbone to your words, but it’s brittle, and easily breakable. “You didn’t listen last time, and ‘m still mad about it.”

“I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His lips press against your thigh, and then your knee, trailing up to where he’s got your ankle in his hips. “You just feel like fuckin’ heaven.” You huff. “I will this time, promise.” He rubs your thigh, zinging your skin with a small slap, your yelp teetering off into a moan when he presses knuckle deep into your sopping wet cunt.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You don’t know why you say it, why you’re so compelled to draw the line in the sand in this moment, when you could have said it any time before hand. Or, even better, had him sign the papers like you originally planned.

“I know.” He shifts you, pulling his occupied fingers free to rearrange your legs, folding your knees back against your chest, the position combined with the pillow under your hips practically tilting you all the way back, the angle enough to make you a little dizzy. Your hand shoots forward to latch onto his forearm for balance, little whimper sneaking away from you, making his brow crease in concern. “I’ve got you.” He whispers against your cheek, lips ghosting over yours, plucking a sweet kiss from your mouth before there’s heat grazing your opening. He keeps a hand on your knee until he’s pushing inside, thrusting in one fell swoop all the way until he can’t go any further, punching your cervix with the head of his cock, swearing behind a tight jaw. It’s a lot of stretch at this angle, deeper, sharper, and you squirm, adjusting to the pressure of him splitting you open.

“F-fuu-ck.” Your eyes roll back in your head, off somewhere, somewhere not this planet, not this plane of existence where he’s practically in your belly, slick noises bouncing off the walls of your living room, his knees against the pillow, back sloped for enough leverage that he’s practically fucking downwards into you, bent forward with his chest against yours, torso locking you in place, arms around your head like crown. Or a cage. “Si- fuck. It- it hurts.” you babble, gasping into his neck, teeth dangerously close to his shoulder.

“I know, doin’ so good. Almost there.” You start to melt around him, gentled into it, the patting and cooing and kissing sweetening you soft by the passing second. “Easy love, open up for me.” He pants into your mouth, tongue licking in behind your teeth, invading your senses, your very existence, and it’s so much, too much, but you can’t stop. You let yourself get swept away, mind slipping deeper and deeper every time he thumbs your clit, rubbing a circle around the swollen bud, tapping across it just how you like. “Relax, sweetheart, that’s it.” He keeps bringing you closer and closer to coming, playing your body like only a husband could, plucking the strings that make the sweetest melodies, chords vibrating together until you’re clenching down on his cock, spine curling forward, everything inside of you exploding with a blinding, fiery orgasm that has you crying his name, body shaking underneath him with aftershocks. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” He murmurs into your sweat-soaked temple, cock sliding out just to push all the way deep again, hips grinding against your ass in a circle. “Haven’t you, sweet girl?” You nod, because yes, of course. You’re always good.

“Yeeah.” You squeak, vowels heavy, eyes heavy, head heavy, everything too thick underneath the weight of your orgasm, his cock lodged inside you, the muscle relaxer mixed with the Malbec, the chagrined manilla envelope sitting on the table, a mere two feet from your prone body.

“I know. I know you have.” The muscles in his arm flex, tendons in his neck becoming more defined, and his movements stutter, fucking you in a frantic, desperate way, wild with some sort of chaotic need. “I’m gonna give you a gift for it. For being so good.”

“You- you-“ You mean to say you what? What do you mean? What are you talking about? But you can’t get any of it out, only able to watch him through half shuttered eyes, admiring the slope of his jaw, the white of the scar on his chin, the drip of sweat in his clavicle.

“I love you.” A big hand holds your hip upwards, steady, pinning you to the pillow, pace turning hungry, unrelenting, his forehead pressed to yours as he bottoms out, trying to fuck you as deep as possible, to consume you, to drown in you, shoving you further and further up the couch. It’s erratic, and insane, and so- so Simon, that the tears dripping down your cheeks feel normal, everything feels right in your hazy, fucked out brain. “I love you.” He tells you again, and his jaw clicks in your ear. “I love- fuck, fuck, I’m coming.”

You should have protested. You should have reminded him of his promise. Should have said no, remember, you did this last time. We talked about this. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Couldn’t even get your mouth to work right, too spun out on him, on yourself, on floating on a cloud, high above your life, like choices didn’t have consequences. You were blissed out on your own bad decisions, sleepy in the cocoon of an alternate universe with your hips tilted on a pillow, where your husband was still your husband, and not some absent ghost.

You didn’t even protest when he gathered you together in his arms and carried you upstairs. Didn’t mind that he got one of your make up wipes from the bathroom and cleaned your face, tucked you in, and kissed you goodnight.

You didn’t mind any of it, until you woke up the next morning and faced that manilla envelope.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because in a weeks’, two weeks’ time, he’d be somewhere on the other side of the planet, or hemisphere, or country, somewhere classified, doing god knows what. He’d be gone, and you’d be here, just like always. Just like old times. The sex didn’t matter. It meant nothing. You hardly remembered most it, just clips here and there, the taste of his mouth, the feeling of being so full of him. It didn’t matter, and you repeated those three words in the mirror, four, five times in the morning, intentionally not looking at the gleam of your rings, the wedding band and engagement ring, a fated pair… all alone.

Besides, you could always mail the paperwork. Address it to John. He’d make sure it gets taken care of.

You cringed when you thought about the note you’d have to enclose, the awful acknowledgement of your ineptitude- “Hi John, sorry, but could you have Simon sign these when you get a chance?”

And then, everything changed.

“LT!” Soap shouts over the din of the common room, jerking his head towards the office at the end of the hall. “Price needs ye.”

Price is standing behind his desk, arms across his chest when Simon pushes the door open. His lips quirk, head shaking with a sigh. “You have a phone call.” He motions to the landline, one of the only phones in this entire building, currently off the hook, open line waiting in the air. A phone call? “I’ll give you some privacy.”

When the door shuts, and he’s alone with the phone in his hand, he takes a deep breath, and puts it to his ear. “Hello?” His thumb strokes the silicone wedding band on his ring finger, rubbing it in a circle as he waits for a response. This number is for family members and emergencies, real serious shit, and he’s not-

“Simon?” It’s you. It’s your voice on the other end of the line, wet with tears. His heart stops in his chest, lungs frozen in place, anxiety curling in the pit of his stomach. Your crying always puts him on edge, and it’s worse, with him here, and you alone, everything hanging on the precipice. “Simon? Are you there?”

“I’m here. What’s wrong?” He closes his eyes. Say it. Please. Fucking hell. Please.

“I- I need, I have to tell you something.” You’re still crying, hiccupping with distress, and he wishes desperately that he was there with you, holding you, telling you everything going to be okay to your face, instead of over the phone.

“What is it sweetheart?” He tries to encourage, relaxing back into the chair when you take a deep breath. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I’m pregnant.” His palm covers the receiver immediately, just in case, and he thumps the top of Price’s desk with his fist, stupid grin stretching his face wide.

“You’re what?” He feigns shock, confusion. “Did you say… you’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” You blubber.

“I thought you were on the pill, sweet girl. I wouldn’t have-“

“I told you to pull out! And I was b-but I stopped taking it, like two months ago. I forgot and after the first time when you were home, after the restaurant I thought, oh well, I had only been off the pill for a month, less than, after being on it for like fifteen years!” You practically shriek in his ear, a mix of sob and hysteria, trying to suck air into your lungs before continuing. “Getting pregnant after being on it for so long just doesn’t happen. It’s almost impossible! So, I d-didn’t worry about it. And then the second time was only like, two nights after that night and I just thought- I thought everything would be fine! I’m s-s-sorry, I’m so sorry.” You’re babbling, gasping, and he rubs his neck.

“Alright, alright. Hey, hey listen,” you’re still crying, voice cracking over the line and his heart breaks for you, guilt swamping him over you being alone. This was not the plan. He was supposed to be home for this part, to be there for you, if it took. “Sweetheart, breathe. You need to breathe.” You struggle through a few deep breaths, nearly wheezing, and he winces each time. It can't be good for you, or the baby, to be stressed like this. “Good girl, that’s it. Nice an’ slow. Good.”

“I'm sorry. I don’t know what to do, but-” You whisper, like you’re telling a secret, and he closes his eyes, imagining you pacing in the kitchen, hand in your hair, on your hip, anxious. He knows you. Knows you better than he knows himself, anyone. Soap, even. He knows, the reason why you’re saying sorry over and over, isn’t because you’re apologizing for getting pregnant, the two of you did that together. Or rather, he did it.

It’s because of what’s coming next.

“I do know that I… I want this baby, Simon. I know you… you don’t want this. That you’ve never wanted it, and that’s okay. I can do this, alone. We’ll still get divor-“

“Stop.” He doesn’t enjoy cutting you off, but he needs to put an end to this talk, this idea that still seems to have a hold on you. “Look, I’ll… I’ll come home. We can talk and, figure out what we’re going to do, okay? You’re not alone sweet girl. I’ll be there.” You’re silent for a moment, a moment that feels too long.

“Okay. You promise?”

I promise to love and cherish you.

Till death does us part.

Till death.

“I promise.”

#peaches writes #black sun #simon riley #simon riley x reader #🥞 anon #🌵 anon #tw forced pregnancy #tw dark and twisty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #tw forced breeding #cod x reader #cod mw2 #female reader #simon riley x female reader #Black Sun by Death Cab

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adelheidvonschicksal · 2 months

Note

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR3sKhum/

Just found out Zayne has a sensitive back….ideas are going wild…maybe a little Drabble of reader messing with Zayne back (kissing it, dragging their finger down his back…, etc)

Synopsis: You discover Zayne’s biggest weakness and have some demands. Or, the one where Zayne doesn't like having his back touched...unless it's you.

⋆｡°✩ Fluff, kissing, gender neutral reader

Zayne shudders when the slip of a fingernail traces the center of his spine from top to bottom, all the way to his lower back. Nearly dropping the paperwork in his hands, he reflexively holds a palm to his lower back to angrily stroke at the tingling sensation left behind.

“So, the rumors are true,” someone whispers. “You don’t like having your back touched.”

Zayne turns his head from the paperwork in his hand to find you standing behind him, with nothing but smiles and giggles. He didn’t even hear you come into his office this time; his back turned to the door as he stood in front of his desk. You use the position to your advantage to box him in as you playfully poke and tickle at the small of his back again.

Zayne tenses before swatting your hand away. “Yes. Now, that's enough.”

“Someone’s ticklish,” you sing out. Zayne is prepared for you to try to attack him again; but this time when you make contact, it’s with your hands spread over the width of his lower back.

Slowly, you climb your hands up his back to rest on his shoulder. It’s a gentle enough gesture that he doesn’t stop you immediately, choosing to let your actions play out for now. “This just in: it seems I have discovered Dr. Zayne’s greatest weakness.

“I suspect I won’t get a moment’s peace now that you acquired that knowledge.”

“You are correct, sir,” you tease. Then, there’s the softest sensation of your lips between his shoulder blades, kissing softly, as you tiptoe a set of fingers back down. You poke at his back as if holding him hostage. “Now that I have you at my mercy. I think I’ll make the orders around here, doctor.”

“What are your demands?”

“First! You’re going to leave work at a reasonable time, now would be good, and let me take you out to dinner,” you request firmly.

Zayne holds in a small smile, choosing to only shake his head at your antics as you continue.

“After dinner, I’ll have you get candied chestnuts with me.”

Your hands smooth out at his lower back again. Gently, you rotate your thumbs into the divot and layer kiss after kiss at the nape of his neck. This time the shudder he holds in is from the peace wrapping around him, forming a pleasant warmth in the center of his chest when your cheek finally presses against his back.

“Last but not least, my most dastardly of demands, you’re going to go home and get a full eight hours of sleep for once,” you mumble into his clothes.

“Is that all?” he replies, quickly finishing restacking his papers.

“Let me see..." You hum, gently circling a random spot with your fingertip. You never get to make another demand though as he quickly turns and grabs your hand.

Zayne presses you against the side of the desk, reversing your positions and causing you to lightly squeak as he corners you.

“I think there's one more thing between dinner and sleep,” he informs you, but you’re already too lost looking at the longing in his gaze to pay attention. You don’t regain focus until his hands move to lay flat on the desk and trap you between his arms. “You forget. I know a weakness of yours as well.”

Slowly, Zayne leans in closer. His breath is on your neck, teasing the fact that he’s so close to kissing you. It makes you shy and exhilarated at once: the idea that he might actually dare to kiss you in his office…

The idea you could get caught.

Just when you think he might actually do it, he pulls away, leaving you with eyes half-lidded and neck slightly tilted in preparation to receive him. Dumbfounded, you scrunch your face at him as he smirks at you. It may have been a little mean, but he can’t help it when you look this cute worked up.

“You don’t play fair,” you whine.

“Life is repeatedly unfair I’m afraid,” he responds, lets you up from the desk, and goes to pull his jacket from the chair. “Now, I’d like it if you take me out to this amazing dinner you promised.”

Zayne doesn’t miss the way you pout at him before following him to the door. He holds it open and allows you to pass, but gives in to the sudden beat in his chest that tells him to reach out and hold your arm. You look at him with widened eyes, and it only takes one quick moment to connect the two of you with a kiss.

When he stops, your face is dazed and dizzy, as if you’re unsure why he did it.

“You don’t have to threaten me to get what you want,” he reminds you, wondering if you haven’t figured out just how easily he would offer everything he has to you, if only for you to keep being the person you are. “You're more than enough.”

#zayne fluff #zayne x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lds x reader #zayne #lnd x reader #this request gave me such fluff brainrot

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hello-kuni · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝚨𝐊𝚰𝚴𝐆 𝐘𝚶𝐔 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝚰𝐑𝚻

ft. chifuyu, draken, ran, shinichiro, koko

cw: 18+ mdni, squirting, fingering, oral (f receiving), vibrator, overstimulation

a/n: i don’t know when the last time i posted was so here’s a little short something

chifuyu

he’d seen it in porn and wanted to try making you do it. the thought of it being you was so hot to him. and now he had you on the bed, two fingers buried in your pussy and his other hand toying with you clit while he laid beside you lower half. his eyes were watching you with a foreign intensity. he was putting more effort into this than ever before.

when his fingers finally reached that spot deep inside, a moan forced its way out of you. something sparked in his eyes. he continued the quick pace of his fingers, working you inside and out. the pleasure that had been steadily building inside of you erupted so suddenly. it coated his arm and the bed.

out of mild embarrassment, your hands came up to cover your face. his coco throbbed as he took in the sight of the aftermath. he started to crawl between your legs, his face level with your pussy. “do that again, baby. ‘want it on my face this time.”

draken

he’s made you squirt before. many times. and it drove him wild each and every time you did. it was so easy for him to turn you into putty in his hands, writhing beneath him.

kneeling on the bed, his thick cock threatening to split you half with each deep thrust, he ushered you towards your orgasm. his fingers dug into your hips, harsh enough to leave bruises. he his grip as leverage to reach your sweet spot. you moaned his name, a sweet sound that him driving his hips into with more vigor then before. you knew what was coming. could feel it bubbling up in your core.

you trembled with the force of your orgasm, a string of moans leaving your lips as your pleasure covered draken’s chest and abs. he shifted ti hover over you, face centimeters from your own. his breathing was heavy as he spoke, “so pretty when you cum for me.”

ran

despite what his reputation may have you believe, he’s not the most active in bed. most times, if you want something you have to work for it. he laid back on the bed, hands resting lightly on your hips and watching as you guided yourself up and down the length of cock.

you rested your hands behind you, just above his knees. the building pleasure made your arms shake under your weight, but it didn’t matter with your orgasm so close to your reach. your pussy squeezed around him and he gave you a mischievous grin. he drew lazy circles over your clit, the most he’d give you tonight.

it didn’t take much after the added touch to have your orgasm washing over you. ran gave a single sharp thrust as you collapsed onto his chest. “always so desperate to get yourself off on my cock. look at the mess you’ve made.”

shinichiro

he was a virgin when you first met. all of his experience came second-hand. but those once sloppy techniques only got better the longer he was with you. his tongue diving onto your soaking pussy, licking long and slow stripes through your folds.

he held you firmly to his face, tongue working you with fervor as he nose nuzzled your clit. your thighs squeezed around his head, fingers tugging at his hair. he groaned into you, the reverberation making your toes curl. you began squirm under him as that foreign began to build up.

his grip tightened, keeping you firmly in place. he wanted to taste everything. and he did. it was rare that he’d make you squirt, but every time he did, he wanted every drop on his tongue. his gaze was heavy as he looked up at you from between your legs. “so fuckin’ hot, baby.”

koko

he was up to his neck in paperwork and you were desperate for his attention. pestering him nonstop until he relented and sat you on his lap with your legs spread. lucky for you he was always good at multitasking. or maybe, unlucky you.

with one hand working, the other held a vibrator to your clit. despite all your mewls and squirming, his hand never budged. your clit ached with the stimulation, having already cum twice and another orgasm budding already as the last one died. you begged him to give you a rest, but your pleas fell on deaf ears.

your orgasm burst out of you with a cry, spraying his working hand the papers on the desk. he clicked his tongue, standing and bending you over his desk. “look,” he said, pushing your face into the wet papers, “you’ve ruined my work.”

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fragileruns · 6 months

Note

Hii, I saw your last post and I thought why not send a request? Here is my idea: single dad!Spencer/Reader. Spencer brings his daughter to the BAU during a paperwork day, his daughter meets Reader for the first time. Reader is not used to being around children, so they (you can keep it gender neutral if you want to) are a bit awkward aand shy. But of course Spencer's daughter wants to be their friend because Spencer always tells his daughter how amazing Reader is. I'll leave the rest up to your imagination, thank you for reading and writing this, I'm sure it will turn out better than I imagined <33

i’m so sorry this is actually awful because i’m also terrible with kids and have no idea how situations go about with them haha - hopefully it’s somewhat what you wanted, though!

spencer reid x bau!reader. featuring his daughter, derek, brief mention of emily, y/n & spencer being flustered over their situationships, reader is mentioned to have a bunny, i think that’s it? it’s just fluff

You thought you had to be imagining things when you heard a voice - one that could only belong to a little kid - ask “Which one’s Y/N?”

You weren’t, and one glance around the room confirmed that. You saw Spencer bent down, messing with a little girl’s hair, who you could only assume was his daughter. Once he looked up to point over at you and gave you an almost apologetic smile, your eyes widened and you realized too late what was happening.

“Be nice, okay? Don’t be too crazy.” You could hear him tell you, and your nerves were fighting with you as you tried to plan for what was going to happen. What are you supposed to say to a little kid? You hardly knew what to say to people your age.

“‘M always nice, Dad,” The little girl sighed with a slight huff as he still held onto her and he only chuckled, placing a kiss to the top of her head before he let her go. Immediately, she was rushing over to you with a grin.

“Y/N!” She sounded so excited that you almost questioned if you were some sort of child tv show star. Why would she even be looking for you? You’ve never met.

“Hi, Max. Right?” You smiled down at her, and she nodded eagerly. You could hear Spencer’s footsteps approaching, and you were thankful that at least if you were a total bore to her, he could save her.

“Daddy told me that you, um, that you got a new bunny. Can I see it?”

You nodded and went to grab your phone to show her the pictures you got, and you almost wanted to laugh at the innocence of the interaction. You didn’t expect a child to be so eager just to see pictures of your new pet.

You also didn’t expect for you to be a topic of conversation in the Reid household, and Spencer seemed to fluster at the idea of you knowing as much.

“She just - she really likes bunnies, so when you were showing pictures the other day, I wanted to - yeah. I just told her,” He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, and you smiled up at him before turning back to his daughter.

“You can come see him one day, maybe. If your dad’s okay with bringing you over.”

You and Spencer both seemed surprised at your invitation, and you weren’t entirely sure where it had come from. Spencer had never been to your house before. It seemed too intimate, almost, for the weird type of situationship you two found yourself in.

Max gasped with excitement and turned up to her father, “Please? Can we go today, Dad? Please please please?”

“I don’t think they meant today, sweetheart. Maybe some other day though, okay?” He tried to calm the little girl, before turning back to you. “If you’re really okay with that.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” You grinned, placing your phone back on your desk now that Max was done swiping through the pictures.

Derek walked by then, and as soon as he came up to your desk and noticed the little girl standing there, he made a dramatic gasp. “Max? Since when did you get to be a giant?”

She giggled and quickly ran for his legs, tackling into them with a tight hug, “Hi, Uncle Derek.”

You were thankful for the reprieve, worried that now you didn’t have the prospect of seeing a bunny in your conversation, you’d have nothing else to say to her.

“Daddy’s gonna take me to see Y/N’s bunny.” She said, the child in her shining through at the need to tell every little thing, but you didn’t mind. You sort of liked that you had something to make her so excited.

Derek looked up at the two of you with a grin, and you both knew what was coming. He had been too eager to tease the two of you about being ‘lovebirds’ even when you vehemently denied it. This was only more fuel.

“You sure you’re invited to go with him?” Derek had questioned, but Max didn’t understand the implication.

“‘Course I am, Uncle Derek. It’s a bunny.”

“Yeah, Derek. It’s a bunny.” You spoke up, eyes narrowed at him in a way that told him not to push it further, but the chuckle that left him told you he wasn’t done.

“Hey, kiddo, why don’t we go see Aunt Emily? Let your dad and Y/N keep planning their date.”

“It’s not-” Spencer had started but Derek looked at him with an innocent expression.

“Playdate, obviously. For Max and the bunny.” Spencer’s cheeks were flushed pink, and yours were too, as Derek broke into a grin.

“Yeah, Dad. Obviously.” Max mimicked before eagerly following after Derek to find Emily, leaving you and Spencer avoiding eye contact with equally red cheeks.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer x reader #spencer reid x bau!reader

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theblueflower05 · 1 year

Text

The Sweetest Sylaung

A/N: So I def didn’t mean to write a novel long Neteyam smut story but here we are. Debating on making this a mini series. Also the anon that requested a “curvy” reader insert- here ya go!(she’s also an Augustine- buttttt you can only see that if you squint lol)

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: This is smut. Pure smut. Please don’t read if it is not your jam. You are in charge of cultivating your own online experience, you’ve been warned!

Pairing: Aged Up! Neteyam x Human!Curvy!Reader

Summary: After an “accidental” romp in the forest, you do your best to avoid Neteyam. It’s for everyone’s good, or so you’ve convinced yourself.

“I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans. That’s my man”- Willow, Taylor Swift

The kaleidoscope of colors explode under your eyes in endless patterns and shapes as you look over the sample of Pandora flora under the heavy duty microscope. This particular piece of the Moons terra had never been discovered before, only blooming at what you estimated to be every ten or so years, under the right monsoon like conditions

At least that’s what you had discovered so far.

The flower, which sprouted into a berry, and then dissipated into a moss like cluster of microorganisms all within its short life cycle had turned into your passion project. You we’re doing your thesis on it, the last step in getting your Masters.

You’d gone through schooling on a computer screen, guided by the greatest minds on Earth that had relocated to Pandora. Scientists of all fields who you’d grown up around. None of them had been surprised when you’d picked up botany. Xenobotany to be exact.

It was in your blood.

The desk your at shakes violently- disturbing your precision like focus. Breaking you straight out of your zone.

“Ugh” you groan, frustrated, raising your head, eyes narrowing at the culprits.

Spider, Lo’ak and Kiri freeze like deers in the headlights of your fury. Spiders arm raised, a wad of paper balled up in his hand, aimed to shoot. He lowers it slowly as the weight of your your heavy gaze zero’s in.

“Sorry, cu-”

“I told you guys, if you cant behave to get the fuck out” You seethe. Your nerves are paper thin anyway. Too much screen time frying your brain something fierce as you focused in on your studies. “Is that not what I said, verbatim?”

“You need to chill. You’ve been so high strung lately. Come hang out with us” Lo’ak suggests smooth and unhelpful. As usual. “When was the last time you left the lab?”

You roll your eyes and bite your tongue, trying not to say anything to scalding to the surprisingly sensitive Sully brother. “No thanks. I’ve gotta focus”

“Maybe Lo’aks right” Kiri starts, her face screwing up as she speaks “Eywa that sounds wrong. Nevermind, My brother is never right- but you should come hang out with us. Let’s go swimming- the watering hole is over flowing from the storms”

The deep sigh through your nose isn't calming, even though you pretend it is. You know they mean well, in the most annoying way. That you’d been buried in books and paperwork in the lab for the past couple months.

Hiding from the outside world within the thick walls of Hell’s Gate.

“Can’t. This is important, Kir- but why don’t you guys head down there? Its closer to Home Tree and its almost curfew anyway” two birds, one stone. Its a smart suggestion- but Kiri’s face falls, shoulders sagging and ears lowing. That look had always gotten you-

“I cant today, but maybe tomorrow? The samples are too fresh and I don't want to put them on ice…But I think Max made those Yovo cookie things” That’s only half of the truth, but luckily Kiri’s always been understanding.

She grabs your elbow in her long fingers and tugs you along.

The mess hall had seen better days, but the large open space still tends to be the meeting ground for the humans that were allowed to stay and inhabit the moon. With twelve foot tall ceilings and airtight exits and windows that lead out to the Avatar Program training yards. Its a common room of sorts, a place where everyone gathers. For meals, for mismatched Holidays. But mostly for gossip.

I mean, what else is there to do?

Like currently, you’re deeply engrossed in the story that Doctor Martinez’s, Xeno-Zoologist is recounting. All dramatics and dirty intimate details “It’s true, they’re gonna bring it before Mo’at and everything”

He’s talking about Trevino and Eital’i.

Everyone had heard the whispers, seen the not so subtle signs. The main Radio Tower operator had turned during the resistance, had fought beside Jake and had been allowed to stay on Pandora- better stuck on a foreign planet then thrown in a familiar jail cell. Trevino’s a cool guy, really.

A cool guy who had been sleeping with a Na’vi woman, apparently. The two had kept it under wraps, really private. No one could pin down how or when it happened,,,but to go to the clan’s Tsahik seeking a mating blessing? That’s major.

“You’re lying” you accuse in a gasp as the table breaks into whispers, all wide eyes and shaking heads. “They’re going to mate?...How?”

“It’s not like it hasn't happened before” Another scientist chimes in casually. Like it’s a known thing.

Which it kind of is.

Taboo, yes. But not unheard of, more like untalked about.

Humans and the Na’vi of the forest had lived in close quarters since the overthrow of the RDA. Jake, the standing Olo’eyktan, just had a little too much homosapien in him. Yeah, he’d survived the soul transfer and fully inhabited his blue body- but he never quite grew out of his human roots.

It had been hard, lots of politicking and good grace shown on both parts, but somehow, like all biomes in the vast perma green forest, all had learned to live in harmony. Most Omitikaya kept their distance. Very hesitant about the human presence. They had every right to be scared, hostile. Scarred by man and its weapons and its destruction.

Others had been raised in close proximity to Grace’s school. Had become accustomed to the nearly two decade long human presence on Pandora. Curious and accepting.

You’d heard about interspecies hookups.

Locker room talks that left your ears burning and your heart racing. It usually came from members of the Avatar Program- It tends to set a precedent, when the quote on quote “royal family” of the Omiticaya is a Jarhead and a native woman.

Na’vi are gorgeous, tall and lean but humanoid enough to be familiar…you’re not exactly sure what they see in humans but you know damn well what you guys see in them.

“How do you think that works? The…physicality of it all I mean. Trevino doesn't have an Avatar. How do they fuck-”

You’re not the only one zoning out from the conversation and it’s lewd turn.

You watch Kiri watch Spider and your heart aches for her. What they have is secret, delicate and forbidden. As a woman with high standing in the clan, you knew that her feelings for the boy wouldn't go anywhere. Couldn't.

When they we’re kids, it was cute. Now that they 're both technically adults, it was just plain stupid.

You tell her of the fact, often.

Kiri tells you to stop projecting.

———

The Sully Kid’s are always late. It’s like no matter how hard they try, they cant make curfew. You throw on an Exopack, hurrying them to the fence.

“Yeah, yeah okay mom. Take it easy” Lo’ak shrugs huffily as you yank hard on his arm. “I’m going, Y/N!”

“Not fast enough you strumbeast’s ass! You’re gonna get me into trouble, who do you think your dad’s gonna blame when you guys end up back at Home Tree super late again? Norm chewed me out for that shit last time!” You man handle the much taller than you alien.

Kiri and Spider a few leagues in front of you, already at the mouth of the giant fence. They’re awkward, not in their usual synched steps. You wonder how much of that conversation earlier had gone to their heads?

You’re bickering with Lo’ak, an extremely normal occurrence. He can be a real douche. and had been kind of insufferable lately. You think its nerves about his impending Iknamaya.

So engrossed with getting them on their way home that you don't even notice him until it’s too late.

Neteyam is a skilled hunter, through and through. The youngest in the clan to ever make a kill. Swift and quiet. Beloved.

But around you he feels out of his element. Clunky and awkward, no matter how hard he tries to play it off its like you can see right through him. Its scary and thrilling, sets his stomach alive with butterflies everytime. This is no different.

Showing up to Hell’s Gate to retrieve his siblings was something he had done since he was a child.

He’d used to bleed hours away playing with them at the scientists fortress, but as he had gotten older and his responsibilities had grown heavier- he had little time for it. Still, when ever his parents would send him out on a one man search party to bring them home, he’d jump at the chance.

At the hope of seeing you.

You’re arguing with his little brother, trying not to laugh at something he said and Neteyam knows. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous but he just cant help it. Cant help the acidic twist of his insides.

Especially when he chirps out his family's familiar call, letting his presence be known.

And watches that pretty smile fall right off of your face.

“You’re late, as usual” His voice has a stern edge. It’s annoying, the role he has to play. Kiri is a woman grown, Lo’ak just weeks away from being the same. He doesnt blame them for the way their feathers bristle, almost viscerally.

“Ah, big brother you didn't have to come all this way to get us” Kiri reassures, patting Neteyam on the chest good naturedly. “We we’re just about to be on our way”

Neteyam notices the way you try to look anywhere else but him. It stings because he cant stop looking at you, cant pry his eyes away from your form.

“You all should start heading back before dad notices” Neteyam starts. His father had been busy as of late, harvest season abundant and fruitful this year because of the heavy rain season “I’ll catch up, I need to speak with Norm”

“What? Dad cant use the coms now, he has to send his messenger” Lo’ak’s nose scrunches a little, always questioning. On a normal day it wouldn't affect Neteyam so much, just a normal jab from his snot nosed little brother.

Not today. Not when he’s stretched so thin. Not when you refuse to look at him but are staring at the side of Lo’ak fat head. It feels wrong, makes his skin heat up to the point that it feels itchy and tight.

“That's none of your concern. Head back to Home Tree. Now” He doesn't normally throw his weight around. But he feels the need to puff up big in front of you “Those are orders. Get out of here”

Lo’ak’s less offended and more surprised. One of his oh so human eyebrows cocks, a sly remark in his throat before he scoffs. “Aye, Aye Captain Kiss Ass. C’mon Kiri let's go. See you later Spider, Y/N”

He deuces up Spider, gives Y/N a pat on her small shoulder and glares harshly at his brother before he disappears into the thick brush of the jungle.

Kiri wraps her arms around you in a strong hug, muttering about ‘swimming’ and ‘promises’. The small impish smile she shoots Spider gives YOU butterflies so you don't blame the way he swoons, before she’s off behind her younger brother.

“I can go find Norm for you, bro. I think he’s still out in his Avv, but Max can radio him back in” Spider is none the wiser. Doesn't notice the heavy tension that simmers on a low bubble. Oblivious, as usual.

“Yeah, sure” Neteyam replies, barely sparing the human boy a glance. He’d feel bad for it later, when he could form coherent thought. When his brain wasn't on Y/N issued override.

Spider chatters, good natured. He never got to see the Olo’eyktan in training anymore. He missed his homie.

“Well, I should be heading back. You guys have a good rest of your night-” You’re already turning on your heels when you make the announcement, eager to get back inside. Back behind the safe walls of the lab- far away from Neteyam.

“No”

Neteyam who stares at you with all too knowing eyes. He looks straight through you like he can see through your clothes, through your thinly veiled escapism attempts. He reaches out, wraps his long fingers around the top of your arm and tugs you back to him. Gentle, but very firm.

He doesn't have to say it- it’s written all over his face. Not this time. He’s not going to let you run away from him.

“Netey-” You start in a whine, tugging on his hold. He doesnt relent, if anything his fingers tighten as his eyes narrow. Dangerous, desperate.

“Just talk to me” it’s a barely concealed plea, his tail twitches anxiously behind him “I'm just asking for five minutes. Please Y/N”

Spiders oblivious, yes. Stupid? No. He doesnt know exactly what's going on between the two of you but has clued into the fact that it’s heavy and he wants no part of it.

The excuse he makes is shit- he’ll just go find Norm. Yeah… he’s so out of there.

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss as you watch Spiders awkward, quick retreating form. Eyes flickering over the empty for now training yards “So much for keeping it lowkey, huh? Could you be anymore obvious?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Neteyam is almost shaking with disbelief “What the fuck is wrong with you? You havent talked to me in over a month. Everytime I make any kind of attempt you bolt. I dont-” He sighs, pinching the wide bridge of his nose with the hand that isnt holding onto you.

He looks tortured. Tired. Run a little ragged.

Beautiful.

“I don't know what I did? If this is about that day in the forest-”

You sigh at his words, once again pulling on his hold. Shaking your head desperately because you can't.

You can't talk about it. Fuck, you’ve been trying not to even think about it.

And failing as you replay the event over and over again the darkness of your bunk. Hyper fixating on the way that his lips had felt against yours. Oh the way that his big hands had worked your body over

“Don’t” you whisper “Please don’t”

You’d never been one to beg for pity, for mercy but that’s what you do now. Beg him to let you out of his tight clutches. Metaphorically and physically.

“You’re all I can think about” It's a gutted admittance, but Neteyam makes it all the same “That night- I can’t sleep. I can barely eat- I’m falling behind on my duties because I keep coming back here. Standing outside this fence and waiting for you. I know you could hear me over the coms, right?”

And you could, a few weeks or so ago.

When he’d begged you to come out. To come speak to him. His voice so appealing that you’d almost caved. You’d had to turn off your receiver. Had sat with your head in your hands for hours as you fought the urge to crawl to him, knees raw and your bloody heart on a platter only he could divulge in.

He shuffles closer, all lean strong muscle. Firm, unmovable. “You heard me”

“Of course I did”

“And you still left me out here” He scoffs, head shaking slightly as his adams apple bobs, his ears are pinned to the sides of his head in obvious distress “I could never do that shit to you.”

“One of us needs to be the adult in this situation” Your voice is as strong as you can make it. Trying to speak reason on to both of you “We can pretend it never happened and go back to the way that things were before. You’re my friend, Tey”

You reach up, stroking at his wrist. Trying to soften him enough for him to let this go. Let you go.

He’s trying to control his breathing, all that training for all of those years for what? One fragile human girl to make him completely unspool? To lose any and all composure he’d worked so hard to gain.

He was always the adult, in all situations. Had been born with a neck cramping crown on his head. Shrouded in pressurized glory.

“If this is me being childish, so be it. Where has pretending gotten you, huh? Look at you, yawntutsyìp. you look so tired. When was the last time you slept? Kiri says you spend days in the lab without resting”

His hands, both of them, come up to cup your face. Huge and calloused. Yet he holds you like you're something precious. A small animal, a rare gem. His whole entire world since he was just a boy.

Neteyam thumbs at the cool glass of your mask, tenderly. The bags under your eyes are sunken and bruised. “Don’t shut me out”

Your body, in its entirety, clenches at his words. Velvet and sincere. He’s a fucking dream. Your head leans into his hands, neck sagging of its own accord as any and all words of protest leave your weak mind.

He makes you so easy.

“Let me in…I dont want there to be this distance between us anymore” He hisses around the word distance. Hating even having to say it “I want to be inside of you again”

Your plump lower lip gets skewered between your teeth, eyes screwed shut as you remember the last time. Your first ever time being full…you’d dreamt of it every night since it had happened.

If it wasn't for the blasted mask and your need for Earth’s oxygen he’d kiss you. Right here right now. He didn't really give a shit who saw or what they had to say.

Instead pulls you into his chest, lets you wind your arms around his lean middle and bury your chest in his diaphragm. Its as close as he can get you, for now. Makes you cling to him the way that he’d clung to every thought of you for the last weeks.

You wish it was lungfuls of his skin that you were taking as you try to bring yourself down from this abrupt shaky high. You dont get it, how your relationship couldve flipped this hard in such a short time.

He had always just been Neteyam. A shameless flirt yes- but that’s all it was.

“Would you like that?” He questions, hands working through your hair. Fingers light and soothing on your scalp. Massaging the thoughts right out of your head.

“Hmm?”

“If I was inside you again?” He presses on. You can feel the tickle of his long, thin, tail as it wraps around the back of your calf and you groan, digging your nails into his back.

“You’re such an asshole. Stoppppp it” You’re embarrassed and turned on and already feel stupid enough, he doesn't need to rub it in. His chest shakes as he chuckles.

“I’m serious. Tell me you want it-”

“Neteyam! Hey!”

The two of you break apart in an instant. You jump away from him as though struck by lightning. Instantly putting enough distance between you and the Na’vi that maybe, just maybe an onlooker might think that the embrace was friendly.

It’s Norm, having heard that the eldest Sully was looking for him he’d come eagerly.

The smile you plaster on is forced and honestly, Neteyam doesnt fair any better. He’s obviously flustered, just glad that his erection isn't tenting his tweng.

“Spider told me you and your dad are looking for me. I’m not intruding on uh anything, am I?” Norm looks between the two of you.

Your arms are folded tightly over your chest and Neteyam is rubbing at the back of his neck, strong jaw flexing as his teeth grind.

Oh yeah, Norm had definitely interrupted something.

Knows for sure as you scurry away. As Neteyam, always so level headed, has to string together words. Stumbling a little bit as he tries to remember the message that Jake had relayed.

It’s not any of his business, he thinks at the time. He sure didnt want to be the one to shine the light on whatever the hell was going on here. Turning a blind eye to the mysteries of Pandora is the only way to survive the harshest terrain known to man.

———

You dont know that though-

No, you’re spiraling more a little bit as you prepare yourself for bed. Brushing through your thick hair and staring out into space as your mind assaults you with all of the gnarly ‘What If’s’

Norm had seen and he had to know right? Oh god, what if he told Jake?

You balk. Lowering the brush as your eyes bulge out of your head.

What if he told Neytiri?

That's actually a super horrific thought. Like nightmarish. You have a lot of respect for the future Tsahik...

…And a very healthy does of fear. She didnt like humans and made it known. She tolerated them only for her husband's benefit. What if she found out that her eldest son, her golden boy, had fucked one?

You’re freak out is interrupted by static, by the beeping of your com receiver on your night stand.

“Y/N?” its Neteyams muffled voice through the device. You’d ignored it once. You should ignore it again…

“Yeah?” you wonder if he picks up on how shaky you sound through the receiver.

“Tomorrow night meet me at the East Gate. Like when we we’re kids” he’s not really asking. Not demanding either. You could ignore him again, but he has to try.

The line goes silent, quiet for minutes on end.

“Y/N?”

You’re so stupid. “What time?”

You can hear the grin he’s sporting as he replies “0100”

“Got it, over. Good night, Neteyam. Go to sleep”

———

The East Bay is on the other side of the large fortress-like building. It's not that it's forbidden, or anything. but it is deserted. It’s where the military personnel had inhabited, and since most if not all of them had gotten the hard boot off Pandora it was empty as a ghost town in these maze like halls.

When you we’re younger; you’d caught Spider sneaking Kiri and Lo’ak in through the rarely used entrance. You’d demanded the know how, if he didnt want you to rat on him for it. It was a rare occurrence, but the Sully children had all been snuck into Hell’s Gate this way over the years.

You type in the codes, disabling the alarm system in order to usher Neteyam into the pressurized, air lock. You’d toted one of the Avatar Exopacks along for him, they’re heavier then hell but he’d need it.

“Hi” you smile, suddenly shy as the tall Na’vi man stands before you.

That's what he was now. A man, not only in the eyes of his people but as a whole. Broad and muscular, strong. Verile. The next leader of his people. You know that he’s highly desired in his clan. Women fawn over him. Vie for his attention.

It doesnt feel real that he wants to give it to you.

You’re nothing special. Not tall and stunning like the Omaticaya women. Even by Earth’s standards you're short, curvy. Not particularly pretty. Insecurity gnaws at you, as it so often does.

“C’mere” Neteyam urges, boldly yanking you by your waist. Pulling you flush against his body. Grabby and insistent, he wants to feel your bare skin. All plush and soft, hes been dying to taste it since the last time.

Kicking himself over and over for not savoring every bit of your body that you gave to him. He won't make the same mistake again.

He’s not gonna lie, the concrete and metal of the walls inside of Hell’s Gate have always made him a little claustrophobic. But he can't do this outside-

His lips capture yours, demanding and needy from the jump. Big, over powering, he swallows your little chirp of surprise. Devours any and all breath from your lungs. Its messy and so good. You hadn't gotten to kiss him last time.

His mouth tastes amazing, his tongue rough in texture just like you remembered. It grates your lips as you suck on it-

“Hey, slow down a little bit” You giggle as Neteyam paws at your ass, lifting you off the ground until you squirm hard, making him release you “Not here, we can't do this here there’s cameras everywhere”

“I don't care” Neteyam pecks all over your face, trying to recapture your mouth as you avoid him “Let them watch, most of those pervs would like it”

And they would know that you’re his. The thought is beyond heady.

You gasp as his sharp canines ghost over the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling on your pulse point “Please- Neteyam”

You firmly push him away, hand on his chest and maybe if you hadn't cut him off cold turkey he would've given you space. Could've pulled away for a moment to let you say your piece. Instead the idea of letting you pull away even an inch is unbearable to him.

No. instead he tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He hauls loads heavier then you every day, your protests mean little to him. With his free hand he scoops up the Avv Exo Tank,

“Where to, yawntutsyìp?”

Where too is an old conference room. Its as good as any, and Neteyam yanks a couple cushions off the old couch to act as a brace for your head as he lowers you to the floor, flat on your back.

You’re so pretty like this, he tells you of the fact.

With your hair a mess behind you, your face free of that damned mask. Grinning up at him as you rub your thighs together. He wishes he had that camera that his dad liked to take pictures on. He wants this moment of you framed, immortalized.

“I hate sky people clothes” He mutters as he tugs on the hem of your t-shirt. It hides you, hides all that skin he craves.

“You want me to take it off?” You offer eagerly, raising up enough to start peeling the piece of clothing off. You’re bare underneath, completely. Your breasts jiggle as they’re freed, nipples peaked in the cool air-conditioned air.

“Don’t ever put it on again” He demands, taking it from your hands and tossing it across the room. He’s dead serious, but by the way you're giggling you obviously think its a joke.

He can’t help it, he dives in face first. Rubbing against your soft breasts, obsessed with the way they feel. Heavy, pillowy. He drags his tongue across all of your bare skin. From your clavicle to your nipple. You always smell so pretty, but its got nothing on the way you taste. It explodes bright and savory on his tastebuds.

You let him explore, until your spit soaked and shaking. Your panties sticky as your hips search for any kind of friction. “I need you”

“You have me, my love. All of me” your eyes water at his words. At the sincerity. At how much you want them to be true.

You grab one of his hands and drag it down your chest. Past your soft, rounded belly and into your shorts. He grunts as you guide him to where you’re wet and pulsing. Rythmetically clenching around nothing.

He circles your clit, feather light. More of a tease then anything and you want to sob. You’d thought of nothing but this, touched yourself imagining him. “Tey-”

He smiles around a mouthful of nipple,tugging on with his teeth. “I missed you so much”

“Then be nice to me” you plead, trying to shove yourself down on his fingers.

“We’re being nice now? Were you nice to me when you ignored me?” he can't help it, hurt bleeds into his voice. It had been so fucking painful, knowing that you hadnt wanted to see him. To be with him.

“I’m sorry” you whine, grabbing his face, pulling it from your bosom. “I’m so sorry. I was so scared- I’m still scared but I need you”

He lets you cup his cheeks, lets you plant kisses all over him. The bridge of his nose, his eyelids, his cheekbones. You dote on him, gentle and caring and he gorges himself on your love.

“You cant ever do that again, okay?” He shivers as you kiss his ear, running your tongue along the hyper sensitive flesh “If you’re scared you come to me, not run from me. Do you understand?”

You nod, eager. “I promise, Neteyam”

It’s all he needs to hear, that you’re his. That you won't deprive him of your presence ever again. He doesn't know what he’ll do. He’s a little scared of the man he becomes when it comes to you, you’re not the only one frightened by the gravity of your feelings.

“You asked if I wanted you inside me again? Yes. So much. I never knew I could be that full” it’s like you know just what to say. You light him up from the inside. His fingers begin circling your sopping clit again, this time with intent.

It’s blurry, the fact that your lightheaded making it hard to think. To track what he’s doing to you because somehow Neteyam seems to be everywhere at once. His big body all encompassing as he takes you.

“No-no marks, baby” You try to remind him and his blazing eyes zero in on you in a glare “you know we cant…not where they can see”

You’re right, and he hates it. He’ll just have to mark you where only you can see. Where you can look at your self and be reminded that you belong to someone. That you belong to him.

He doesn't have the patience, cant stop his hands from shaking- the tear of your shorts and panties echos around the room as he removes any barriers between him and the heat at the apex of your thighs.

You cant help the thrill it sends down your spine. He’d…ripped your panties off. You thought shit like this only existed in bad Earth made Porn that you’d found on one of the labs computers.

“Sorry, sorry” his apology is far from sincere though and you can't help but giggle, patting his braids fondly.

The fingerfucking is rough, your wines and moans spilling from you as he hits spots inside of you that make you want to curl up. It’s too good. Too much-

You screech, back bowing as he bends to kiss you, loud and sloppy, right on your wet clit. His big head burrows between your thigs as he delves on your cunt, his long rough textured tongue lapping at the fat puffy lips. The texture difference has both of you groaning.

It’s heartbreakingly good, the kind of good that you’ll never be able to forget. That you’ll crave and need for the rest of your life. Addictive, as he dedicates himself to making you feel pleasure.

Neteyam eats pussy the same way he does everything else in his life, exceeding any expectations. His instincts sharp as he hones in on how to make you lose your mind.

He keeps telling you how good you taste, breaking away for heaving breaths before he reburries himself. The only sounds in the room are the beyond wet sloshing of his tongue lashing and the pathetic noises your making.

He’s eating you alive, you don’t know how you’re supposed to survive this.

His fingers, two and then three fuck in and out of you. Corkscrewing as he loosens your tightness up for him.

“O-ooh” you whine high and reedy as you feel your tummy tightening, the pressure building in a way that makes you feel like you cant breathe. You cant your hips, shoving them down at that perfect angle “Oh, sh-shhhhit. I’m gonna, I’m-”

He doubles down and you’re a goner.

The orgasm is devastating. Sofuckinggood you think you might see stars for a minute there. You can't even scream, you keep letting out these little cries that are more like wheezes. A desprate attempt to get some kind of air back in your lungs-

Which reminds you.

Even though you’re in a daze you wiggle away from him, he hisses at you about it but you swat the top of his head as you reach for the Exo Pack.

You shove the mask in his face, between your legs.

”Breathe, Neteyam” you demand him to gulp down the Pandoran air. Yeah, he could go longer in your environment than you in his but still. Death by giving head isn’t the way you’d like him to go out.

He takes long breaths and you try not to be embarrassed by how soaked his chin is.

When he pulls away his eyes are a little more focused “Thank you, sweet girl. Always thinking about me, huh?”

You nod, dropping the mask. Closer this time for easier access. His eyes quickly zero back in on your swollen pussy, on how wet he got you. On how pretty it looks. His mouth is watering all over again-

When you try to close your thighs, the burning of your cheeks getting to be too much he hisses again. It’s not a sound he often makes and it’s a revelation, he’s so sexy. Almost feral.

“Who said I’m done?”

You’re never going to be able to get over this man “I already came?...”

“Yes? So?” he rolls his eyes, lowering his head, nuzzling at the damp juncture of your inner thigh “You’re still so tight, here feel”

His fingers slip back in you and you mewl, baring down as he scissors the long digits.

“We have to get you loose enough to take me, I don’t want to hurt you” He explains it like you need convincing. Like he has to convince you to let him eat you out. You just re-spread your thighs, relaxing back onto the cool floor as you let him do as he pleases.

It takes two more orgasms that you scream and shake through until he deems that you’re ready. By the time that he begins to slide his cock into you you’re a blubbering, oversensitive mess. You’re crying rivers of tears as you cling to him.

“Hold my hand? Please ” You request and he smiles, kissing your tear streaked cheek as he interlaces his longer fingers with yours.

Humans and Na’vi can fuck, but we’rnt designed to. His dick is overwhelimgly big and will really injure you if the two of you aren't careful about this.

You both gasp sharply as his tip breaches you.

It hurts, it’s agonizing. It’s the kind of pleasure pain that you didnt even know could exist. Everytime you think you can adjust, he pushes in another inch. But oh, how you missed it. Being so full it feels like you’re going to burst. You’re pussy flutters as it fights to take him and you focus in on his face.

It’s all scrunched up in heavy concentration. His lips speared between his sharp teeth in a way that has them almost bleeding.

You can't have that. You tug him into a kiss, soothing the abused flesh with your tongue.

“I-I dont want to hurt you” He whimpers as his forehead rests against yours.

“It’s okay, you’re okay” You hum to him, grasping at his hand even tighter “I love what you do to me. I love how you feel”

When he bottoms out you think he must be in your ribs. Hes still, letting your body get used to him. Trying to be kind. You want to tell him that there’s no getting used to his size. That he could fuck you every day for the rest of your lives and he would still feel just as massive.

“Please” you wail instead “please”

The first gentle snap of his pelvis has you both reeling. Your thighs lock around his thin hips, urging him. You can take it. It only takes a little urging for him to lose himself. The harsh stretch of it has you shaking as your over sensitive pussy tightens. You’re coming again, less intense the the previous orgasms, thankfully.

Neteyam had been so focused on making you feel good that he’d neglected his hard, weeping cock. His balls are so full that he knows he’s not going to be able to draw this out.

You know you have to look stupid, mouth hanging open as you raggedly gasp for breath, letting out punched out sounds as Neteyam pounds into you. You cant look away from his face though.

It’s mesmerizing, all of it. The sounds he lets out. The way that his braids sway with the rhythm of his pleasure seeking body. His broad shoulders, bulging biceps and forearms- you are so fucked.

You’re so in love.

“Please Y/N” He wheezes as you squeeze around him, letting go of your hand so he can wrap both of his arms around your lower back “I can’t hold it. W-where should I?”

Oh. Oh, he’s the sweetest man. He always has been.

You peck his lips, not minding that he’s too lost in his own pleasure to really kiss you back

“Come inside me. Come inside me. Come inside me” it’s a heated chant, broken and breathy by the erratic rhythm of his hips and he buries his head in your neck, wailing in the skin there.

Just for a moment, lost in the haze of sex, you can tell he forgets his own strength. Thrusts into you so hard that you scream out in pain, the mushroom tip of his long cock batters your cervix relentlessly. Its a sharp, startling sensation that you’ve never known but you ride it out for him. Desperately trying to keep your whimpers of discomfort at bay.

When he comes, his whole body goes still and ram rod straight. He hugs you tightly to him. You wish you could see his face. Next time, hopefully.

He’s Neteyam, the mighty warrior. The dutiful son. The next clan leader but as he shakes and twitches and basks in the afterglow you can't help but want to baby him. But stroke his back softly, rubbing the residual tension out of his tired muscles.

He’s your big ol’ pussy cat, you’d always teased. He purrs like one every time you’re affectionate with him.

You can’t help but run your hands along his sensitive spine. Let the length of his tail run through the loop of your fingers. He grins and flicks it from side to side. He’d always thought your fascination with it was amusing.

“Are you okay?” he mutters, still hidden in your hair as he starts to come back to himself and you hum, moving up to pat his braids.

“Mmhmm” you’re maybe not as capable of making words as you though you were. He chuckles and hugs you. Holds you in his big arms in a way that makes you feel untouchable.

The two of you lie in that room for as long as you can, until he has to start heading back to Home Tree, it’s almost morning and his parents are early risers. They’ll look for him if hes not in his tent…

It's hard. Letting him go. Even though you know he’ll be back. You keep pulling him back in for kisses, holding onto his muscular arms until he laughs and peels you off of him.

“I’ll be back my love. I’ll always return for you”

You frown but agree, pushing him away to get re-dressed- “How am I supposed to go back like this! Neteyam I don't have any pants!”

He’d shredded your shorts and panties. Literal tatters of cloth are all that’s left.

Neteyam cracks up, almost keeling over. Thinking he’s oh so funny. It lightens the situation and makes letting him go- watching him disappear back in the forest a little easier.

You end up having to pull your fortunately oversized t-shirt down as far as it can go as you make a mad dash across the facility, back to your dorm. You fall asleep grinning, thinking about how the panties had been a necessary sacrifice.

———

Norms on late night watch, keeping a bored, admittedly not sharp enough eye on the security camera’s feeds. With the rainy season, came an influx of Slinths’. It made sense to have a lookout, and somehow he’d gotten saddled with an overnight shift.

He’d definitely fallen asleep for a few hours. Not that he’d tell anyone of that fact.

There is nothing that could prepare him for what he see’s on the screen, over in the desolate East Bay. First, he thinks that he’s hallucinating, his sleep bogged eyes playing tricks on him.

He rubs them hard with his knuckles, not believing the image that is large and clear on the security footage.

It’s Neteyam. Inside the facility which almost never happened. And he’s bending down, his lips locked with Y/N’s . Kissing her hard and long before she punch’s in the code, and opens the air locked door to let him back out into the shadowy eclipse.

Norm’s learned a lot living on this strange moon- Pandora was mysterious. Full of things his brilliant mind would never understand. So he does what he does’ most of the time.

Minds his own business.

So I’ve had this idea cooking for months, but didn’t have the bandwidth to get it written down. The ideas wouldn’t translate to page and I still kind of feel like they didn’t butttttt whatever. This is pure self indulgence. I am so much more in love with Neteyam now. He is SUCH a good guy. Ugh.

Also, please remember that my requests are OPEN! Send in all that good shit. Come blue alien brain rot with me!

#neteyam x reader #neteyam smut #avatar neteyam #aged up neteyam #neteyam x you #avatar smut

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macsimagines · 7 months

Note

I’m so sorry that you’re getting hate. and I’ll make sure to reblog your works more to make sure you feel the appreciation you deserve!

but, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask for a request! Headcannons with Izana, Mikey, and Kisaki that have a photo of their darling on there desk, but when their secretary comes in to the office to hand them paperwork but knock down the photo in the process on purpose. the secretary obviously has a distaste for you being their lover so how would they react to it?

I love a jealous bitch. You just make things a little more interesting for Darling and their man. also this borders on a hyper specific scenario and i hate those so please if you have a fic idea try writing it yourself

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, NSFW, JEALOUSY, TOXIC BEHAVIOR, MURDER MENTION, NSFW

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa

Let that bitch secretary of his stick around because he knows she makes you insecure. No joke, he really does let her act out how she wants because he wants to keep you in check.

Izana will allow her to flirt with him in front of you, maybe even give you some attitude and practically lets her roam around his office flaunting her goods because he wants you to feel bothered and belittled.

He's basically saying; "Look at what I can have and feel blessed I still choose you." without ever saying it.

But he knows he's pushing it and never lets her do anything further than those few things. In fact he treats very coldly if he's alone with her. He only goes out of his way to be nice when you're watching.

Truth is, he can't stand her. Hates her perfume, hates the way she looks, hates the way she speaks. She's only good for one things and that's keeping you in line he doesn't need or want her for anything else.

Then one day, she got cocky, one day she really fucked up. "Oops, knocked over your wife's picture. But it's fine sir, you don't really want to be looking at her when you have me right~?"

After that you never see her at the office again. Her replacement is actually a man hired by Kakucho, who went out of his way to find a proper replacement because he pitied you.

"My old secretary? She got too comfortable. I don't need an annoying woman like that. Now come over here and thank me for my kindness."

Yandere!Manjiro Sano (AKA Mikey)

Hates that bitch but can't get rid of her. Apparently everyone in the office has had a taste and his underlings convince him that's good for morale. Also she does her work well enough and he can ignore her.

He kidnapped you, robbed you of all your autonomy. He didn't go through all that trouble to just have some cheap whore when he already has you.

But then you keep trying to hold out on him, you're not breaking even though he loves you and on the bad advice of probably Sanzu he tries to use her to make you jealous.

Lets her flirt and even flirts back in front of you, just because he wants to know you still care. At one point you loved him, maybe its still there?

But you're a brick wall, maybe even amused by his antics. And he just goes back to despising her, because she's not you. Not your hair, not your smile, not your smell. She's fucking wrong wrong wrong wrong.

The unfortunate thing is that she's gotten ballsy. She thinks she has a shot, even though he was just trying to use her to get at you. This bitch actually defiled your picture by pushing it out of the way and Mikey...

He sees red. He doesn't like hitting women, maybe that was just the little bit of honor left in him, but he can kill this pig with his bare hands and not even flinch.

Mikey doesn't hear her screams, her begs or even her sorrys when its all said and done. Just a bloody pummled mess on the floor.

Maybe she can be good for something because he calls you into his office and makes you watch his men clean up her corpse and get rid of it. Just as a reminder of how much he loves. And what he's still capable of.

Yandere!Kisaki Tetta

He hates her. You're his whole world and perfect Darling. He showers you every day in affection that he only gives to you and she thinks she has a place?

Kisaki had hired her as a favor to business partner. His eldest daughter. And to keep good morale and images with this other company he gave her a job.

Don't worry, he was going to bleed that company dry and toss her out on her ass when he was done ruining her family's name. She was just a pawn, but you are everything.

But all that doesn't make her obvious attempts at winning him over any easier. Her father probably had sent her to seduce him and probably take your place as his new wife.

The thought makes him want to puke. As if that ugly cow has anything on you, the reason he lives and breaths and conquers the very business world.

You don't even know about the games this Secretary is playing because he doesn't need you to worry you're perfect pretty head about it. This is his problem and he will handle it when the time comes.

But that happens sooner than later when she DEFILES your image by accidentally knocking your photo into the trash. "Oh, I'm so sorry, sir. I was only putting it where I thought it belonged~"

Well Kisaki was a patient man, but if it was time for action... Her father's company is destroyed, her family name ruined with scandal and defamation, and her corpse was somewhere floating all alone in the ocean.

And you were at home with Kisaki suddenly planning a surprise vacation. "You deserve it, Honey. I just want to spend some time with you."

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere manjiro sano #yandere mikey sano #yandere izana kurokawa #yandere izana #yandere kisaki tetta

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slutt4lovee · 5 months

Text

selfish boy - pt. 2 (b.b. & s.r.)

𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒 - 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

pairing: bucky barnes x steve rogers x fem!reader

word count: 8016

warnings: SMUT, MMF threesome, poly relationship, sub!reader/bucky, dom!steve, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m+f), praise (as always), overstimulation, a smidge of praise, fingering, handjobs, bi!bucky, bi!steve, mentions of reader being used (idk what that kink is called). petnames used for reader: honey, princess, sweetheart, and i think baby.

summary: after being apart from your boys for so long they've missed you a lot but you have way too much work to do.

When the people at your work had caught wind of you and Steve dating, they stopped sending you out together so that there was never a conflict of interest on a mission. You were simultaneously thankful and pissed off about it. On the one hand, you could remain blissfully ignorant to Steve’s idiotic heroics, but on the other, you almost never got to see him. If you were home he was most likely gone and vice versa, so you really didn’t blame Steve for messing around with Bucky—hell, you’d thought about it yourself more than once.

You used to do most of your missions with Bucky—who wasn’t allowed to work with Steve either. But now your bosses have started to notice some…suspicious behaviors amongst you, Steve, and Bucky. They noticed all the lingering touches, the longing stares, the incredibly fucking obvious flirting amongst the three of you. And in an excess of caution, they stopped sending Bucky with you too.

You wouldn’t have minded so much if it didn’t mean that now you hardly saw either of them.

This was the first time that the three of you had been home at the same time in weeks, maybe even months.

You had only just gotten back from a two week long mission a few days ago and both of them were gone before you left. Steve got back from his ‘extended trip’ not but about a day or two before you and Bucky got back from his just after you left. All that to say, this is the first time you’ve physically seen the pair of them in a while and of fucking course, you were drowning in paperwork.

It fucking sucked. A lot.

All you wanted was to spend time with them, you wanted to devote your complete attention to them and you just couldn’t. You had ‘responsibilities’ and stupid shit like that.

The closest you could get to spending time with them was sitting on the floor, doing paperwork at your coffee table while Steve and Bucky get to snuggle up on the couch together. You hated it. Not just because you were feeling left out but because they were insanely distracting.

Always touching each other (and you) whenever they could, watching their stupid movies too loud because they don’t believe in proper hearing protection. And talking, so much fucking talking about everything. As much as you loved it usually, you were really trying to get your work done and they were just not helping.

You could hear them whispering to each other, Bucky’s little soft laughter and something akin to scolding from Steve. You huff out an aggravated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you stare at the blank form on your computer screen. You just wanted to finish your work and they were making it impossible.

“Honey,” Steve sighs and you can hear him moving behind you but you don't look. You need to focus. “You’re so stressed.”

“Take a break,” Bucky chimes in and before you can even formulate a denial there’s warm hands on your shoulders, squeezing and kneading at your tense muscles.

“Steve…” You try to say it like a warning but it comes out more like an encouragement. “I’m busy.”

“Been busy all day, take a break.” Steve tells you, more of a command than a suggestion this time.

Since the whole thing with Bucky went down, dynamics between you and Steve have…changed, to say the least. Before, you were always the dominant one and you didn’t want it any other way. But then you saw the way Steve was with Bucky and let's just say…you were curious.

At first you weren’t the biggest fan of it, but after a little experimentation you found it wasn’t so bad. You’re still the dominant one about 98% of the time but sometimes, Steve will catch you in the right headspace and you’ll just melt like putty in his hands.

This is one of those times.

“Got so much work to do,” You try to protest but you’re already leaning back into his touch, making soft little sounds as his thumbs press into the tight muscles of your shoulders.

“Do it later,” This time the coaxing comes from Bucky and you feel the cold metal of his hand pulling yours from your laptop so he can shut it for you.

“Come on,” Steve practically coos, thumbs sliding up to rub at the back of your neck. “Bucky’s missed you so much baby, you’re not gonna neglect him any longer, are you?” Fuck, Steve is manipulative.

“I’m not…” You sigh out, tilting your head back into Steve’s touch as your eyes flutter shut. “M’not trying to.”

“No, I know baby,” Steve soothes, thumbs rubbing circles at the tense muscles at the base of your skull. He leans down and you feel his lips pressing against the side of your head, just above your ear. “I know you’re not trying to but you’ve been home for days and you’ve barely given him any attention. You know he gets needy.” Steve whispers, lips quirking into a little smirk at the little whiny noise Bucky makes at his words.

“I know, I’m just…I’m busy,” You whine, turning your head to look back at Steve.

“I know princess, you are so busy,” Bucky murmurs, running his fingers along your jaw to turn your attention to him. “I just missed you.”

“Missed you too, Buck.” You whisper, eyes going all soft as his hand cradles your jaw.

You’re aware that you’ve been neglecting them a little and you hated it. You weren’t meaning to, you want nothing more that to give them every ounce of your attention but you really are just so fucking busy. The boys probably had just as much paperwork as you but they just ignored it in favor of spending time together. They were valuable assets, they had powers and skills you didn’t, they didn’t have to work as hard as you did to keep their spots on the team. They had the luxury of pushing off their work for each other, you didn’t.

“C’mon pretty baby,” Steve sighs, sliding his hands under your shoulders and pulling you up onto the couch before you can protest. “You’re thinking too much.”

“Yeah, gotta shut off the pretty head of yours.” Bucky agrees, letting his hand fall from your face as Steve tugs you up into his lap.

“Menaces,” You huff out, rolling your eyes affectionately as Steve positions you on his lap with your thighs spread over his. “Both of you.”

Steve shushes you, pressing his lips to your temple as his hands run down your sides. You let your head fall back onto his shoulder, gaze flicking down to meet Bucky’s where he kneels between yours and Steve’s legs. He smirks back up at you, a knowing look in his eyes as he watches you practically melt against Steve.

You know you shouldn’t, you should tell them to fuck off and get back to your work but they were just so fucking convincing. Not that it really took much effort to convince you anyway. You never could deny them anything, not for long at least.

Steve’s hands slip between your legs, pressing his palms against the soft flesh of your inner thighs to spread your legs a little more. Your legs drape on either side of his, forced open by his hands and his thighs and honestly, you aren’t complaining even if it hurts a little.

You had a habit of walking around in a t-shirt, usually about three sizes too big, and your underwear and nothing else and Steve plans to take full advantage of your attire. He nudges your shirt up until it's bunched up around your hips and Bucky gets a clear shot between your legs, already practically drooling at the sight.

Steve mutters something against your neck but you don't hear it, too lost in the way Bucky’s looking up at you from between your legs. He doesn’t touch but you can tell he wants to, you’d let him if you were the one in charge right now. But you’re not, Steve is, and Steve has a track record of being just a bit meaner than you are.

“Are you even listening?” Steve chuckles, nipping at the little spot where your neck and shoulder meet to try and get your attention.

“Not really,” You answer honestly, shifting your hips a little to lean back against Steve’s chest.

“Still thinking too much, huh princess?” Bucky asks, teasing and cocky in the way he always is, the way you love. He smirks and tilts his head, meeting your gaze with an impossibly arrogant look in his eyes for someone kneeling on the ground.

“She never stops thinking,” Steve mutters and you can’t see it but you think he shares a little smirk with Bucky.

They’re talking about you like you’re not even here and…you hate to admit it but it’s kind of hot. Steve’s hands squeeze at your inner thighs, running his thumb over the soft skin as he chuckles against your neck.

“Make her stop,” Bucky suggests, looking over your shoulder at Steve, a little manipulative pout on his lips that always gets him what he wants.

“Patience,” Steve huffs out a soft laugh but concedes to Bucky’s suggestion. It had been his plan anyway.

Before your brain can even catch up to the conversation, Steve’s hand is slipping higher between your legs. His hand is so big it covers your entire cunt as he cups you through your panties. Your hips jerk a little, thighs tensing and trying to press together around his legs.

“Yeah?” Steve chuckles, voice soft and condescending in your ear.

He doesn’t move his hand for a while, just keeps it pressed firmly against your cunt, smirking at the way you push your hips against his touch. He likes to take his time with you, likes to toy with you and get you all needy and whiny for him and then maybe he’ll give you what you want. (but probably not)

He lets you grind against his hand for a while, kisses practically every inch of your neck as he watches your hips jerk against his hand. It’s not enough pressure, he knows that, you know that, fuck, Bucky probably knows it too, but they just like to watch you work yourself up. And you…well you just like the way it feels.

Your head falls back on Steve’s shoulder, huffing out a shaky breath as your hands clutch at both of his wrists. Everytime you push your hips forward to get more pressure he moves his hand away until you’re back in the position he put you in. It’s maddening, insanely frustrating to work yourself up over and over only to be left hanging once it finally starts to feel like something. And yet you just keep doing it.

“Steve,” You whine, nails digging into the skin of his wrists to try and keep his hand where you want it. But he’s stronger, so much fucking stronger than you, you can’t force him to do shit.

“Shh, be still,” He whispers against your neck, running his tongue over your pulse point just to watch the way your hips jerk in response. “Bucky’s watchin’’ you honey, don’t you want to give him a good show?”

That gets your attention more than you’d like to admit. You lift your head up, fluttering your eyes open only to be met with Bucky’s, staring up at you from between your legs. You groan at the sight, gripping a little tighter at Steve’s wrists as your hips twitch against his hand.

Bucky looks fucking hot. Eyes half lidded, lips puffy and raw from his constant biting at his lip. His cheeks are flushed red and fuck, he looks like he wants to eat you alive and you fucking love it.

Steve notices your reaction and can’t help the little proud smirk on his lips at the two of you. His hand leaves your thigh for a second, grasping your right hand and holding it out for Bucky who understands immediately because Steve’s trained him well. Bucky shifts closer, ducking his head into your hand as your fingers thread into his hair. He blinks up at you and Steve, lips parting at you gently tug his head to the side until his face is pressed against the inside of Steve’s thigh.

“Good girl,” Steve chuckles, smiling proudly at how well you handle Bucky before he’s reaching forward and running his fingers over Bucky’s jaw. He doesn’t have to tell Bucky to stay like that, he already knows.

Steve pulls your hand away from Bucky’s hair and tugs you back against his chest. He barely even gives you a second to get settled before he’s pressing his hand firmly against your cunt, running his fingers over the now damp fabric of your panties. Your breath catches and your head falls back immediately, nails digging into the flesh of his wrist as he rubs slow circles over your underwear.

He does that for a while, just long enough to have to panting and bucking your hips against his hand again. And Bucky’s watching the whole thing from between your legs, looking up at you like he wants to tear you apart and it’s only making you more impatient and needy. Which, you suspect, might be what they wanted.

Just as you open your mouth to say something, Steve slips his fingers to the side, tracing a very very gentle line up the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You spread your legs a little impatiently, shifting your hips against his with a breathy whine to try and get him to hurry up. Steve just huffs out a condescending little laugh against the skin of your neck before his fingers hook under your panties and he shifts them to the side. Doesn’t even bother trying to take them off, pulls them to the side just enough to get what he wants and fuck if that’s not one of the hottest things he’s ever done.

He runs his fingers over your slit once or twice before he’s pressing the pad of his middle finger against your clit. He doesn’t tease this time, he rubs his fingers over your clit like it’s muscle memory. The perfect pressure, speed, pattern, everything and the little whiny noises you’re making only seem to encourage him further.

He whispers something against your neck and presses a slow kiss to your skin but you’re not paying any fucking attention. Your head is tilted back against his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open as you huff out little breathless whines and noises pretty enough to drive the two of them fucking insane.

Steve’s fingers slide a little lower and before you can even react to the loss of stimulation, he’s pushing two fingers into your cunt and pressing his palm against your clit.

“Oh fuck,” You groan out, tightening your grip on his wrist as your hips immediately jerk forward against his touch.

It feels fucking amazing. He pushes his fingers deep into your cunt, stretching you just enough to make your breathing stutter as you grind your clit against his hand. You’re half tempted to ask him to stay like this forever but he pulls his hand away before you can even formulate a single word.

Your head falls forward and you’re fully prepared to beg and plead and whine for him the way he loves. But then you open your eyes and you see him pushing those same fingers into Bucky’s mouth and you’re whining for a completely different reason now. Whining because that’s so so fucking hot and because Bucky moans around Steve’s fingers like he’s been dying to taste you.

“Good boy,” Steve praises, hooking his chin over your shoulder to watch the way Bucky cleans every last drop of you off of his fingers. Bucky’s eyes are all soft, filled with want and need and pleading as he looks up at Steve and god, it makes your cunt clench around nothing just seeing him like that.

“Please,” Bucky grits out all soft and pleading and your entire body fucking throbs at the sound of his voice.

“Go ahead baby,” Steve coos, nodding against your neck as he threads his fingers in Bucky’s hair. “Get you a taste pretty boy, you’ve earned it.” He murmurs, guiding Bucky’s head between your legs until you can feel his breath fanning over your cunt.

He doesn’t wait for your permission like last time, just dives right in as if Steve’s permission was all he needed. Like it wasn’t even your cunt but theirs to use as they please and good God that makes your head go all fuzzy.

Bucky’s hands rest in the crease of your thighs, spreading you open as he buries his face in your cunt. He makes a sound like a starved man getting his first taste of food as the tip of his tongue slides over your slit before flicking hungrily at your puffy clit. Your breathing stutters and you choke on a sharp gasp as your back arches, rolling your hips against his mouth.

Bucky usually starts slow, he likes to take his time with you. Spends a bit just savoring your taste and the feel of you on his tongue. But not this time. This time he tastes you eagerly, hungrily, like he’s been drowning and your cunt is the first breath of fresh air he’s been awarded. It’s fast and messy and so so fucking glorious.

He groans against you, pushing your hips down against Steve’s as he presses his face further into your cunt, suckling hungrily at your clit while his tongue draws messy patterns that make your thighs clench. You’re so lost in the pleasure of it all that you don’t even realize Steve’s hands have moved until he’s guiding your shirt over your head.

Steve’s hand presses against the center of your chest until your body is flush with his and he hooks his chin back over your shoulder to watch. He peppers sweet little kisses all along your neck and shoulders, whispering soft praises into your skin that you’re too lost to hear.

Bucky’s left arm hooks around your leg, draping it over his shoulder at the same time that Steve’s thumb ghosts over your nipple and your brain fully short circuits at that. Your chest arches and you choke on a moan as your hips jerk against Bucky’s face—which he seems to like because he fucking moans into your cunt like he’s the one getting head.

“I think he likes this,” Steve whispers against your neck with that stupidly attractive condescending tone he’s so fond of.

A choked out “Fuck,” is the best thing you can offer in response as Steve rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Somebody grabs your wrist and your too fucked to even open your eyes and see whose it is. They guide your hand lower and lower until you feel Bucky’s hair and you don’t waste a second before threading your fingers into it and pulling. Steve laughs at you and Bucky squeezes at your thigh but you genuinely couldn’t care less because Bucky’s tongue just feels so fucking good. Warm and wet and so so so fucking soft against your clit and christ, your brain has turned to fucking soup.

Steve pinches your nipple harder than usual and you fucking whimper, which isn’t a thing that happens a lot but fuck. Everything just feels so fucking good.

“You gonna cum already baby?” Steve whispers against your shoulder and you can feel his smirk just as much as you can hear it.

You want to say no, want to wipe that smug little smirk off his face but you can’t? How could you when your cunt is literally throbbing and your humping your hips against Bucky’s mouth like a fucking slut? You could try, but with the way Bucky’s just shoved two, thick fingers into your cunt you’re struggling to even remember your name let alone the words you would need to say.

And so you nod, pathetically, whimpering out little broken pleas and half words that make no fucking sense.

“C’mon princess,” Bucky chokes out, pulling back from your cunt just long enough to nip at the squishy skin of your inner thighs before he presses his mouth back against you. Curls his fingers up just right as your hips buck desperately against his tongue.

Steve groans against your neck, hooking his arm around your waist to at least attempt to keep you somewhat still. He squeezes your breast, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers as Bucky keeps pressing his up into that soft squishy spot in your cunt and god, you feel like you’re about to fucking burst. You’re wound up so fucking tight that you’re almost scared to let go. Every single one of your muscles tense, your back arches, your head presses back against Steve’s shoulder and you almost feel like you want to cry that’s how fucking good it all feels.

It feels like fire is coursing through your veins burning hotter and hotter with each passing second. Hot sticky pleasure builds in your stomach, sending little jolts of fucking ecstasy up your spine and down your thighs with every press of Bucky’s fingers into your cunt.

“Go on baby,” Steve whispers all soft and sweet against your ear. “You can do it. You’re gonna cum on his pretty face and then we’re gonna fuck you so stupid you won’t remember your stupid paperwork, yeah?”

Bucky moans against your cunt and that’s all it takes. Your entire body tenses, back arching and fingers clutching at Bucky’s hair as you completely fall apart against his tongue. Your hips still but he doesn’t let up, if anything he starts flicking his tongue faster, suckling at your swollen clit as he thrusts his fingers into you harder and faster.

Your stammering out fucking gibberish, gasping out shaky little whines as you try desperately to squeeze your legs shut despite the full grown super soldier between them. Your hips jerk, jolting clumsily against Bucky’s mouth as your little gasps and whines turn to choked out sobs.

Steve is whispering soothing praise against your ear but all you can hear is your own pounding heart and the blood rushing in your veins. Your chest heaves as you fall back against Steve’s chest, panting like a goddamn dog as your whole body goes limp. You don’t even have to push Bucky away because he slows to a stop on his own, like he just knew you’d had enough.

“Fuck,” Bucky grits out and you can only just barely hear him over the pounding in your ears. You flutter your eyes open, blink a few times to clear your blurry vision, and then you see him, kneeling between your legs. His face slick with your juices, lips wet and swollen, eyes half lidded as he stares down at your cunt. “Fuck, look at you.” He whispers, voice rough and rumbling as his left hand hooks over your hips and he presses his fucking metal thumb against your clit.

“Makes such a pretty mess, doesn’t she?” Steve chuckles and he sounds oddly proud as Bucky strokes his metal thumb slowly over your puffy, oversensitive clit, both of them ignoring the way you whimper and try to squeeze your legs shut.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, nodding his head as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “Yeah…fuck.”

“Don’t be selfish baby,” Steve scolds and before you can even register, he’s leaning down and grasping the back of Bucky’s head, pulling him into a kiss. It’s sloppy, all tongue and teeth and spit and you’re just stuck in between them, watching the whole thing and it really, really shouldn’t make your cunt throb the way it does.

You blame the little needy whine that leaves your throat on the way Bucky’s thumb is still rubbing soft little circles on your clit. Totally not because watching Steve and Bucky make out like this makes your whole body feel all hot and fluttery.

Steve’s hand comes up to the back of your head and he shifts beneath you, turning his head and pressing his lips to yours without a second's intermission. He kisses you the same way he had just kissed Bucky, hot and messy, tongue pushing into your mouth like it’s his. You can taste a little bit of yourself on his tongue and the fact that you know it’s left over from Bucky’s mouth sends a chill of pleasure down your spine.

You whine into his mouth as Bucky’s hands leave your body leaving you empty and wanting. Steve turns so that he’s sitting sideways on the couch, lifting you with ease until you’re facing him fully, straddling one of his thighs.

Before you can even get settled, two pairs of hands are on your body, pushing and pulling until you’re positioned how they want you. You move easily, pliant and willing as Bucky guides your hips up and back and Steve pushes your head down until you’re face down ass up between his legs. Bucky tugs at your panties, pulling them down your thighs and then grasping at your legs, one at a time to tug them the rest of the way down. They don’t even say anything, just move you around like you’re nothing but a toy for them to use and your only a little ashamed to admit that that is fucking hot.

“Look at you, honey,” Steve mutters, somehow condescendingly proud as his thumbs stroke at your cheek. “Being so good for us, aren’t you?” He means it honestly but that stupid condescension makes it sound like teasing and somehow, you think, maybe that makes it hotter.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Bucky sighs and you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself but you really, really don’t care. Especially not when he pushes three of his fingers into your cunt and spreads them just to watch the way you stretch around him.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles, smirking as he tilts your head up until you’re looking up at him. “You’re gonna let me borrow your pretty mouth while he fucks you stupid, hm?” It’s a question but he says it like a demand and good lord, you fucking love that.

“Think she’s already fucked stupid, Stevie,” Bucky chuckles, spreading his fingers inside of you to stretch you out a little more. “Aren’t you, princess?”

You nod your head dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you press your hips back against Bucky’s hand. Steve notices the way your fucking yourself on Bucky’s fingers and he clicks his tongue, gently slapping his hand against your cheek to get your attention back on him.

“Needy baby,” He scolds, smirking at the increasingly desperate look in your eyes as you force them open. “Get to work, sweetheart, my cock isn’t going to suck itself, is it?”

God. You fucking love when he’s like this, all mean and bossy. He doesn’t swear a lot, or really at all, but he does when he’s like this and it drives you (and Bucky) fucking insane to hear him being so incredibly vulgar.

You whine, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you shift back, pressing your elbows into the couch on either side of Steve’s hips. Your hands shake, trembling as they stumble over his jeans. He makes no move to help you, just huffs out a little laugh and strokes his fingers through your hair, watching your fingers fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans for a few times before you finally get it. He lifts his hips off the couch, an amused smile on his face as he watches you tug his bottoms off just enough to get at his cock.

“There you go,” He sighs, shifting a little as you wrap your hand around his cock and give him a few slow strokes.

He doesn’t rush you like you thought he would, lets you take your time stroking him and running your tongue over his length until you’ve gathered enough brain power to take him into your mouth. He lets out a low groan, gathering your hair into his fist and shifting so that he can watch you better.

Bucky’s fingers pull out of your cunt once more and you can hear him shifting around behind you as he shoves his sweats down his thighs. He grasps your hip with his metal hand, keeping you at least somewhat still as he guides the tip of his cock between your folds.

“Shit,” Bucky groans under his breath as he presses his cock against your entrance.

This he chooses to be slow about, pushes just the tip into your cunt and then just stops. You whine around Steve’s cock, squeezing your eyes shit and trying, uselessly, to push your hips back against his. He holds your hips with both hands now, giving you a little squeeze as he holds you still.

“Hush princess, focus on Stevie, lemme take my time.” He tells you, running his hands over the small of your back as he slowly pushes into you.

You try to listen, try to focus on Steve and the taste of him, the way his cock throbs against your tongue, but it’s so fucking hard to focus on anything other than the way Bucky’s cock is stretching you open so so fucking slowly.

“I don’t think she can, Buck.” Steve huffs out and there’s a little fucked up part of you that desperately wants to prove him wrong.

“Oh she can,” Bucky responds, squeezing at your hips as he pushes in a little more. “Can’t you sweetheart?” He chuckles and it’s so incredibly condescending and antagonistic but it fucking works.

Something in your brain just clicks and you shift your scattered attention back to Steve. Your dominant hand wraps around his cock with a little more purpose, squeezing at the base the way you know drives him crazy. You take him further into your mouth, alternating between bobbing your head and suckling at his tip while your hand strokes up and down.

“Fuuuck,” Steve draws out, letting his head fall back against the arm of the couch with a low moan.

You’ve spent a long time learning Steve’s body, what he likes, what he loves, what will make him cum in less than 5 minutes and even though you can hardly remember what color the sky is, you remember that.

“There she is,” Bucky grunts and you can hear the fucking smirk in his voice as he finally sinks his cock all the way into you.

“Fuck, that’s it, just like that honey,” Steve sighs out, lifting his head just enough to watch as you suck him off.

Bucky pulls his hips back and you match him, moving your head in time with his hips. He pushes back in, you go back down, taking as much of Steve’s cock into your mouth while your hand strokes the rest. Bucky squeezes your hip again, cursing under his breath as he draws his hips back again. He thrusts into you a little faster this time, fingers pressing into the front of your hips hard enough to bruise.

Steve wraps your hair around his fist with his right hand while his left runs over your cheek. Stroking his fingers across your face as he watches you and he looks so, so fucking proud that it makes your brain melt.

“That’s a good girl,” He coos, “Yeah, there you go, just keep your eyes on me while he fucks you, hm?”

God, you really fucking love when he’s like this.

You’ve always loved praise, even when you’re the one domming but there’s something infinitely hotter about getting praised like this. Getting told you’re making someone feel good is one thing but getting told you’re a good girl while you’ve got your mouth around Steve’s cock and your cunt stuffed full of Bucky’s is just so much better.

You whine and Steve smirks like he knows it’s because of what he said and not from Bucky’s fucking you.

“Fucks sake,” Bucky grits out, “Whatever you just did, she fucking loved it. Fucking squeezing the life out of my cock princess, shit.” He moans, grip tightening on your hips before he starts fucking you harder, thrusting into you faster, almost impatiently like you’ve broken his control.

“Oh yeah?” Steve chuckles, shaking his head like you’ve done something painfully endearing.

“Christ, fuck Steve—mmf—so fuckin’ tight…can’t…m’not gonna fuckin’ last,” Bucky moans, fucking into you so hard that you’re seeing fucking stars.

“That’s alright baby, she can take it.” Steve huffs out, his own hips bucking up into your mouth like his own control is faltering. “Can’t you?”

You do your best to nod up at Steve but it’s hard with the tight grip he’s got on your hair and even harder when Bucky reaches an arm around your waist and starts rubbing quick circles on your clit. You choke on a moan, body tensing up and you use the last little semblance of your brain to pull your mouth off Steve’s cock before you clench your jaw.

“Sorry,” You choke out, resting your head on Steve’s thigh and squeezing your eyes shut. You’re not even really sure why you’re apologizing, it’s not like you’re not giving Steve any attention, your hand is still working his cock in time with Bucky’s thrusts.

“Shh honey, s’okay,” Steve soothes, running his fingers across your cheek as you whimper into his thigh. “You’re okay, you can take it.” He whispers, moaning low in his chest as you grip him a little tighter.

Bucky bends forward, pulling you up so that your weight is resting on your hands instead on your elbows. His chest presses flush against your back and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His metal hand slides over the center of your chest and up the front of your throat before grasping your jaw and tilting your head up.

“Look,” He whimpers into your neck, squeezing your jaw in his metal hand until you open your eyes and find yourself staring back. “So pretty.” He gasps out, panting against the side of your neck as he starts fucking you even faster.

Doggy style is not yours or Bucky’s favorite, you both like to see the faces of the people you’re fucking, so fact that there’s a mirror directly across from the couch makes it so much fucking better.

He keeps one hand on your jaw and the other between your legs, rubbing harsh circles on your clit as he fucks the air out of your lungs. You watch his face in the mirror, tilting your head back against his shoulder and reaching your free hand up to thread into his hair.

You’ve, selfishly, forgotten about Steve entirely until he places his hand over yours and starts stroking his cock with your hand. He doesn’t match Bucky’s pace, he goes slow and soft and you know it’s because he’s trying not to cum yet, he doesn’t like making a mess like that.

Bucky’s babbling incoherently into your neck, muffling desperate little whimpers against your skin as he fucks you. His voice is all soft and high-pitched, the way he always gets when he’s about to cum and you fucking love it, god, you could probably cum just from hearing him like this.

He whines your name and pinches your clit and you are so, so fucking close to falling apart. You pull hard at his hair, arching your back as your entire fucking body tenses up. The sounds the two of you are making are so desperately pathetic, paired with the loud, vulgar sounds of your cunt around his cock and it sounds like your both being fucked stupid.

“Oh fuckfuckfuuuuck,” Bucky whimpers against your neck before tilting his head down to press his forehead against your shoulder.

He slows his thrusts, panting into your skin as he draws his hips all the way back before driving them forward just as slow. His fingers are still rubbing rough circles on your clit, slipping messily against your slick skin as he fucks you much softer and slower than he had been.

“Tilt your hips for him honey,” Steve tells you, bucking his hips against your hands.

You listen because you really don’t have the mental capacity not to. Angle your hips back towards his so that this time when his cock slides into you, it grazes against that spot. Your mouth hangs open and your brows pinch together as a broken little whimper falls from your lips.

“Good girl,” Steve coos, moaning low in his chest as he continues hacking himself off with your hand. “There you go baby, she’ll cum for you now, won’t she?” His voice comes out all soft and sweet and it makes Bucky fucking whimper.

“Yeah, fuck…yeah,” You gasp out, nodding your head a little as Bucky’s cock drags ever so slowly over your g-spot.

“Please,” Bucky whines into your shoulder, fingers stuttering against your clit as you clench around his cock.

“Rub your clit for me honey.” Steve coaxes, shifting up onto his knees and moving your hand from his cock to your cunt and Bucky’s hips still, pressing his cock deep within you.

You nod and press your fingers against your clit as Bucky drags his hand up to squeeze your hip. You start out slow at first, whimpering at the contrast of your soft, gentle fingers to Bucky’s rough, demanding ones. Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, pulling his face out of your shoulder with a soft hum.

“C’mon, you can do it Buck,” Steve whispers, running his fingers over Bucky’s cheeks as he cradles his face.

“Wanna cum,” Bucky whines, sniffling a little and just the thought that he might be crying makes you clench around him.

“I know,” Steve sighs, peppering little kisses across Bucky’s flushed face. “I know you do baby, just move a little faster for me, yeah? You wanna make her cum first, don’t you?”

“Mhmm,” He hums, all soft and needy as he gives Steve a little nod. He inhales a sharp, shuddering breath, whimpering as he draws his hips back and starts fucking you again.

“There you go, baby,” Steve praises, pressing a soft, soothing kiss to Bucky’s lips as he continues stroking his thumbs across Bucky’s cheeks. “Good boy.”

“Jesus,” You gasp out, a breathy moan falling from your lips at the combination of your fingers, Bucky’s cock, and Steve being stupidly soft with Bucky.

“Oh God,” Bucky whimpers, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he starts fucking you eagerly, hard and fast and so so fucking good.

“You,” Steve shifts his attention to you. “You be a good girl and cum for him, yeah?” He whispers, cradling your face in his hands the same way he had been holding Bucky’s.

You nod your head, moving your fingers a little faster against your clit. Something about the combination of Steve telling Bucky how to fuck you, Bucky’s cock driving hard and fast into your cunt, over your g-spot, and your own fingers on your clit is making you fucking delirious and you’re too far gone to even try to decipher what.

“He’s been waiting for this for a long time, honey. Be a good girl and let him have it, ok?” Steve tells you, pressing a similarly soft kiss to your lips before pulling back and settling back down on the couch to watch the two of you.

Bucky’s rambling nonsense into the crook of your neck, nipping and mouthing at your skin. He drives his hips into you a little harder, thrusts growing reckless and impatient as you clench around him.

Your whole body feels hot and sweaty, muscles growing weak and shaky as his cock continues slamming into your g-spot. Your head feels blissfully empty and you thrust your hips back against his, driving yourself closer and closer to the edge. Your clit is swollen and puffy and so incredibly sensitive but you need more, you press two fingers against your clit and rub harder, faster to match Bucky’s needy thrusts.

You’re clenching around him so tight that it almost hurts and his cock can barely move inside of you. He groans low in his throat, all deep and rumbly against your back as he bends you forward so that he can fuck you deeper. You brace a hand on Steve's shoulder, nails digging into his skin as an entirely too needy whine weasels its way out of your throat.

Bucky’s holding back, already on the knife’s edge of his climax. He wants, needs to cum but more than that, he needs you to cum and he knows you’re close too. He can feel it in the way your cunt is squeezing around his cock, throbbing and pulsing with each thrust of his hips and its driving him fucking insane. He whimpers and tosses his head back, gripping your hips in both hands and dragging you back on his cock with each thrust.

Steve curses under his breath and when you look down you see him stroking his own cock as he watches you and that’s it. You fall brutally over the edge the second you see that.

You lose yourself, eyes rolling back in your head as your mouth hangs open with a desperate whimper. Your whole body tenses up, back arching, nails digging into Steve’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Your cunt squeezes around Bucky’s cock and pulses as he thrusts into you with short, shallow thrust before he fucking spills inside of you. His cock throbs and twitches inside of you and you can just barely hear his pathetic whimpering over the sound of your own pulse hammering in your ears.

Before you’re even able to try to come down from your climax, Bucky is pulling out of you and Steve is yanking you into his lap. Pushing his cock up into you before you even have a chance to whine at the loss of Bucky’s.

“Oh fuck me, Jesus,” Steve grits out, grasping at your hips as he bucks up into you.

He fucks you with a fierceness that leaves you standing at the precipice of your second climax, ready to fall into your third at a moments notice. You fall weakly into his chest, whimpering breathlessly into his skin as he fucks you to tears.

You’re sobbing and breathless, still wound up impossibly tight from your last climax. The wet sticky sounds your cunt is making and the sobbing whimpers leaving your mouth mix with Steve’s choked out moans and it sounds so incredibly fucking vulgar.

You’re lost in a sea of pleasure and painful overstimulation, standing on the edge of another climax before you’ve even come down from the last one. Your cunt pulses around Steve’s cock and your hips writhe against his, stuck somewhere between wanting more and less at the same time.

God, you want to cum again, you really fucking do but fuck it’s just too fucking much. It hurts, every brutal thrust of Steve’s cock draws a cry from your lips and you’re half tempted to tell him to stop but it's a good kind of hurt. Like pressing your fingers against a fresh bruise, it hurts but you want to do it again and again and again.

“Fucking hell,” Steve grits out, grasping the back of your neck to push you forward into his body so he can fuck you harder. “Sh-shhh honey, you’re okay.” He tries to soothe you, smoothing his hand over your back as you sob into his shoulder.

You gasp out his name, digging your nails into his skin as you clench around him. Your entire body writhes, squirming pathetically atop of him and you don’t know if you’re trying to get away or get more but he holds you in place either way.

“C’mon, you can give me one more,” He groans into your skin, mouthing at your shoulder as he holds you against him.

“It hurts,” You sob out, gasping for breath as he fucks up into your cunt so hard you think you might pass out.

“I know it does, but you can take it.” He tries to soothe you but all it does is work you up even more. “Be a good girl for me, you can gimme one more can’t you, honey?” He says it like a question but you know it’s not, he’s gonna get another orgasm out of you whether you give it willingly or not and that thought drives you crazy.

You nod your head pathetically, sobbing and whimpering into his skin with each brutal thrust of his hips. You slip one hand back between your legs and your entire body fucking jolts the second you touch your fingers to your clit. It only takes a few, gentle rubs against your puffy clit before you're falling completely and totally over the edge yet again.

It’s not a particularly satisfying climax, it’s fast and painful but theres a hint of relief that comes with it. It leaves you even more sensitive than the last and Steve has to use both hands to hold your hips still as he fucks up into you. He curses your name under his breath giving you a few final thrusts before he’s cuming into your cunt and fucking you full of his and Bucky’s cum.

You’re sobbing into his shoulder, going limp on top of him as your cunt tightens up around his cock so tight he can't move. He’s murmuring soft praise into your skin, and you feel both his and Bucky’s hands running over your back to try and soothe you.

You stay like that for a while, or at least it feels like a while to you but you’ve lost all concept of time so it really could’ve been just a few seconds. Bucky tucks himself into Steve’s side, rubbing slow circles on your back as you rest limply in Steve’s lap. Steve’s running his hands through your hair, whispering soft, soothing words into your skin as you slowly come down.

“You doing alright, princess?” Bucky whispers, dipping his head down to press a startlingly soft kiss to your shoulder.

You nod weakly, muttering out something alarmingly close to gibberish as you flutter your eyes open. Your brain feels like fucking mush, you can’t even formulate a clear enough thought to speak, like they’ve fucked the english language right out of your head.

“Mm, told you we’d fuck you stupid, didn’t he?” Bucky teases, smiling fondly as he rests his head beside yours on Steve’s shoulder.

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve scolds, cupping your face in his hands and pulling you back to meet your eye. His thumbs stroke gently at your cheeks, wiping at your tears as he gives you the most utterly love-struck smile. “You sure you’re alright honey, went kinda rough on you didn’t we?”

“Sleepy,” Is the only word you can think of, earning a chuckle from both men as Steve guides your head back to his shoulder.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first then you can sleep, yeah?” Steve whispers and Bucky’s getting up from the couch before Steve even finishes his sentence.

“Mhmm,” You hum, wincing softly as Steve shifts, pulling out of you and flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back.

“Did such a good job, baby, let us take care of you.” Steve whispers, peppering loving kisses all over your face as Bucky returns, running a damp rag over your thighs.

You’re asleep before they even finish cleaning you up but you think you hear one of them say something about getting your paperwork done for you and God, you fucking love them.

295 notes · View notes

catscidr · 4 months

Note

Can I please request Dottore x clingy reader who loves giving him affection thank you! 💕

hell yeah baby that's what i'm TALKIN ABOUT ୧(☉□☉୨ ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: fluff, vague mentions of gore includes: gn!reader, dottore, webttore mentionned for like a second wc: 1k

6 minutes.

That was the longest amount of time Dottore had gone without being bugged by your presence. Well, "bugged” was a bit of a strong word- maybe more so inconvenienced by your endless whining for attention. It’s not that he hated it, it was quite the opposite really, but he actually needed to get work done before tomorrow and couldn’t afford to get distracted this time around. You called out after him for the millionth time today, trotting up to his side with an almost puppy-like expression, looking up at him expectantly.

Currently wrist deep in the guts of one of his poor victims, he swallowed down the urge to speak his mind honestly, instead choosing to glance over at you from the corner of his eyes. His glare (unfortunately) did nothing to deter your determination and willpower- with his attention now on you, you flash him a bright smile, wrapping your arms around his torso from his right side.

“Hey, why don’t you take a break?” you ask, tilting your head up to look at him properly. Dottore’s sharp, angular features never failed to make you swoon no matter how many times you looked at his unmasked face. You think it’s a blessing, but he argues that it’s a curse- especially now that you won’t leave him alone, making him pause his work.

“No,” he sighs for the nth time, bringing his attention back to the corpse on the metal table. “I have work to do. Why don’t you go bother Delta instead? He should be filing out some paperwork,” the doctor says, skillfully shrugging you off of him. You shake your head, resting your hands on his forearm to give him the space he needed.

“I don’t want to hang out with him though,” you say with a frown, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Come on, you’ve been working non-stop for ages now. Just a small break! An itty bitty one. Like thirty minutes. You can spare that much, can you?”

The Harbinger stares at the wall with a deadpan expression, weighing his options. On one hand, he could give in, listen to you and take a much needed break. But on the other hand, he could always just... lock you in his office. Not that he would leave you there for long, just enough for him to get this experiment over with. Plus it’s not like you’d be like a dog stuck in a hot car in the middle of summer without any a/c, he had a plush sofa he never used im his office alongside a mini fridge he also never used. The amenities were there for this exact scenario, anyways- so you’d be comfortable while waiting for him to be done. Although, the more he thought about it, the more his body began to feel heavy, exhaustion seeping through his limbs. Dottore grumbles some choice words under his breath and withdraws his arms out from the bloody mess that came from his current experiment and makes his way towards the sink. You follow after him, curious.

“‘Ttore?”

“I give up,” the doctor sighs, his shoulders slumping forward. He turns on the sink and discards his bloody surgical gloves, washing his calloused hands under the cold water to get rid of whatever gunk had gotten on his skin. “What do you want?” he asks in an indecipherable tone. You perk up noticeably, a smile making its way back to your face as you watch him dry his hands and turn around to give you his full attention.

“Just wanna spend time with you, honestly.” you say a little sheepishly. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not hungry.”

“Wanna take a walk? Get some fresh air?”

The offer seemed tempting. After spending hours smelling nothing but hospital-grade cleaning supplies, iron and death the doctor wouldn’t say no to a trip outside of his lab- that is to say if he were anyone but the second Harbinger.

Instead, he grabs his mask and lab coat from the coat rack and begins to walk away, making a gesture for you to follow after him. And you do so eagerly, catching up to him fairly quickly considering how long his strides were.

Your footsteps echo in the quiet hallways, the only sound bouncing off the ornate walls of the otherwise cold and barren palace. The both of you reach your destination, Dottore pushing the door open to reveal his (barely used) bedroom. Tossing his coat aside and placing his mask on his nightstand, he loosens his button-down shirt and sits on his bed, looking at you with a raised brow.

“Are you going to stand in the doorway all day?” he asks with the slightest bit of amusement, kicking off his shoes and repositioning himself to lay down on the bed properly. You snap out of it and shake your head, closing the door behind you, jumping in next to him happily. Your bodies fit with one another perfectly, his arms snaking themselves around your waist while you hold him around his shoulders, keeping one free hand to stroke his icy locks. He hums contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Happy?” he asks, voice muffled from how close his face is to your chest. Your nails gently scratch his scalp, drawing out a soft sigh from the doctor.

“Very,” you say, smile audible in your tone of voice. Dottore simply hums in response, basking in the comfort of the warmth of your body against him. Part of you felt the need to ask him how long he wanted to stay like this knowing that the doctor hated being away from his lab but, feeling a bit selfish, you allow yourself to revel in the small victory that came in the form of finally convincing Dottore to let you have him all to yourself for a portion of his day. The both of you drift off peacefully, knowing perfectly well that you’re going to repeat this dance once more in the morning when the Harbinger has to work.

#୧ ‧₊˚orderup!#dottore x reader #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore fluff #dottore x gn reader

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perpetuallyconfused10 · 8 months

Text

Drive My Car (1/2)

GIF by rqgnarok Part 2

WARNINGS: None. Just two idiots in love. And maybe Hotch is a little too soft.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Fuck.”

The voice is low enough that you think you’ve imagined him at first, but there he is, standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to his office with one hand pressed to his forehead and staring at the phone in his other like it’s burned him.

“Hotch? Are you alright?”

He turns to look at you, appearing about as startled as you imagine he ever can. “I’m fine,” he says. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

In his defense, you didn’t expect to be here this late either. The others had left the bullpen over an hour ago, having finished their paperwork much before you.

You hold up the culprit for your staying behind, a Use of Force report that had ended up taking a lot longer than planned. “Just finishing up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

The hand on his forehead moves to his hip, and he studies you for a few seconds. Then he sighs. “My car’s in the shop. Jessica was going to bring me home, but Jack’s gotten sick and she doesn’t want to move him from his bed. I’m going to call a cab.”

That explains why he’s leaving so early. You’ve never heard of him leaving before eight or nine.

“Poor kid. That’s never fun,” you say with a wince. “But you’d be lucky, Hotch. It’s seven on a Friday night. Everyone and their mother is calling a cab.”

“It’s quicker than the subway.”

His voice is flat, worried. You make the decision in a second. “Not quick enough. Let me drive you.”

Hotch’s brow furrows as he considers your offer, mentally calculating the distance from your apartment to his. “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me. I’m miles out of your way.”

He’s right. He is miles away, but that doesn’t deter you. As wonderful as Jessica is, from what you’ve heard, you know Jack idolizes Hotch. He’ll want to be with him now.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you say with a smile, knowing you’re about to play your ace. “I’m doing it for Jack, who is sick and should see his father.”

There’s no room to argue with you. Hotch picks up his briefcase and thanks you. With long strides, he leads the way out of the bullpen and towards the garage.

Ten minutes later, find yourself rushing to stack empty to-go-cups and loose papers, shoving them away as Hotch climbs into your car. “It’s no problem, really. Sorry about the mess.”

Hotch shakes his head. His lips are a little less downturned than usual, which in your mind almost constitutes a smile. “Consider it noted,” he says, “We’ll talk during your next performance review.”

Fighting a smile, you can’t help it. You hit his arm. “I take it back. I’m not sorry.”

“It really isn’t a mess,” he says. “And you really shouldn’t be sorry. You should see my car. You can’t move for Jack’s toys.”

You hum, hands gripping the wheel as your reverse out of the spot, “Be careful what you admit around me. You might be my boss, but I can always snitch on you to yours.”

An amused huff is the closest you get to making him laugh, but you take it. He shakes his head. “I’ve had too many uncomfortable conversations with Strauss to bother counting. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“Not if I have a hand in it.”

Neither of you says anything for a long while after that, and neither mind. What the protocol is for driving your boss home outside of work, you aren’t sure. If there is something in the FBI manual about it, you’re quite sure Hotch knows it – but asking him feels a little on-the-nose, and so you keep quiet and put the radio on.

You’re also sure that there isn’t anything in the FBI manual about what music is appropriate to listen to with your boss in your passenger seat. If there were, you’re certain the songs on at the moment – half of which you vaguely remember Morgan and Garcia dancing to on one of the team’s nights at the bar, and the other of which might be their next choices – don’t make the cut.

Feeling your face heat up, you clear your throat. “I think I have a couple Beatles albums in the glove box if you wanna look for one,” It isn’t so much a suggestion as it is a request — maybe even an order – and you know he senses that. With a nod, he reaches over to open it.

“You’ve got eclectic taste,” Hotch says after a moment, raising an eyebrow at you as he pulls out one of the CDs buried somewhere in the pile. “I didn’t take you for a Mozart fan.”

The corner of his mouth pulls itself into a smirk. It’s the kind reserved for non-working occasions, or, alternatively, occasions that don’t require the wearing of a suit jacket. Like now. Not that you’ve noticed the broad lines of his shoulders in his dress shirt, or the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks, more easily seen with the top two buttons undone. And if you have, that’s nobody’s business.

You shrug. “I’m not one, really. Reid likes it.”

For a long second, he looks at you. “You keep a CD in your car for Reid?”

“He doesn’t like the radio. It’s distracting. I don’t particularly like it, either.”

Hotch doesn’t let up, “That’s…very thoughtful of you.”

Keeping your eyes on the road is more of a task than you’d like.

“They’re only a couple dollars. I just buy them when I see them.”

He takes another look in the glove box, grabbing a beaten-down copy of The White Album and pushing it into the player. But before the opening to ‘Back in the USSR’ is even over, he’s pressed pause and shifted in his seat to look at you head-on. Silence stretches between the two of you again. The dull hum of the engine and the rain battering the windows sound, of a sudden, much louder.

“What? You’re making me nervous.”

He is. If becoming skilled in the art of dangerous driving weren’t a side-effect of working with the BAU, you might’ve crashed the car by now.

You chance a look over at him. His expression is set in a frown. Over your short tenure with the team, you’ve fallen witness to enough of what Morgan deems his ‘Hotchner frowns’ (trademark implied) to know that this one is different. There’s something softer about it, more considerate than displeased.

“Those other albums…Sinatra, Radiohead, Stevie Wonder…you’ve barely touched them. Not compared to the others.”

Damn profiler. The stubborn part of you — which was a larger part than you’d like to admit — wanted to ignore him. Even so, you know it’d never work. Hotch is just as stubborn as you are, and worse than that, he is far more patient.

“They’re not my favorites, no, but—” you relent.

Gently, Hotch cuts you off. “No, they’re not. They’re Rossi’s, Prentiss', and Morgan’s. I’m sure you’ve got records in there for JJ and Garcia. And–”

You look down again at your hands where they rest on the wheel. The skin of your knuckles pulls as you tighten your hands around it. In a sigh, you admit it. “—And for you too, yeah.”

He tilts his head. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “Why?”

Retreating into silence again, you turn the corner onto his street. But even off the clock, Hotch’s presence is commanding, his stare on you unassuming and exposing all at once.

You laugh. “Remind me never to end up in an interrogation with you again. You’re terrifying.”

“You haven’t learned enough from them if you’re still deflecting,” he says, ignoring your jibe. Instead he folds his hands in his lap.

You could double down, tell him jokingly to fuck off and then claim that swearing at him is entirely acceptable in non-working circumstances. What it is stopping you from giving him the answer he wants, you’re not sure. This isn’t the office. It’s not neutral ground. This is your car, your territory. Forced out of the context of work, Hotch is no longer just an abstract concept, your hardass of a boss — he’s a real person. Your friend. And something about that pulls at you.

“I had a little trouble adjusting, at first,” you say, stretching the words out until they become unfamiliar things. “More than I’d expected. I knew when I took the job what it’d be like. On paper, at least. But the first few cases…it was another thing to be doing it, you know?”

It’s the truth. The early days, right after you joined the team, were rough. They’d been a constant guessing game of when to speak up and when to keep quiet, when to shove down all of the stress and the fear and the self-loathing and when, if ever, to let yourself feel it.

Hotch stays quiet this time, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Was it too honest to admit that? His presence has gone to your head, like wine on a summer evening.

“I never let it affect my work–” you say in a rush, self-preservation instincts in full swing. You stop halfway, let the words wither in your throat.

One of Hotch’s hands twitches as if to reach for you, but retreats at the last seconds, remaining limp in his lap. He hums, his voice a low murmur. “I know that.”

You’ve come this far. Might as well finish this. “We’d come home from a case, and sometimes I’d drive Reid back so he didn’t have to get the subway. We’d drive back to our apartments with the radio on. But the news…”

Hotch sighs, “...Another robbery, another murder. Another thing out of our reach.”

There’s no judgment in his eyes, none of the sharp analysis profiling demands. It hits you again that you aren’t talking with the man that conducts your performance reviews, but the man who rolls his eyes at Reid and Morgan’s bickering, the father who’d drop anything to make his son happy.

A smile feels a little out of your reach as you remember those early months, so you settle for a nod. “I picked up a CD or two after the first couple weeks. Then I found out Reid liked classical music, so I looked for some. And it made sense, if I was giving Morgan or Prentiss or Garcia a ride too. I guess it got a little out of control.”

Hotch shakes his head. “That’s not out of control. It’s kind,” he starts, then stops for a second, his features rearranging themselves into a frown once more. “You know you don't have to do nice things for people to get them to like you, don’t you?”

Eyes widening, you almost think you’ve heard him wrong. “What?”

He tilts his head, his gaze on you soft as you put the car into park in front of his apartment complex. “Maybe you don’t do it anymore, but towards the beginning…I got the feeling you thought you’d have to move mountains to get the team to like you. And you didn’t.”

He’s right. You really had felt alone, for the first few months. You’d done everything you could to make yourself tolerable: memorized Garcia’s miles-long Starbucks order, lied about where you lived to Reid so he didn’t feel guilty about taking a lift from you, nodded along when Morgan told you about his housing projects even though you hadn’t a clue about property development. You’d done it all. And it had worked.

Maybe you hadn’t needed to do it. But over time, obligation had morphed into affection, and you liked to. Hence the music.

“Hotch…”

You’re glad he speaks before you can get any further, because you really have no idea what to say. “I mean it,” he says quietly. “Anyone with sense would do that all on their own.”

“Thank you,” you say, swallowing. “I hope Jack feels better soon.”

“I’ll tell him you said hi. He’ll appreciate it.” he says, checking his watch. “I’d better go check on him. Thank you for driving me back. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod. “Tomorrow.”

He climbs out of the car, head bowed against the rain, and you wait for him to get inside before you pull away. You’re not mad about the Beatles. The White Album wouldn’t be your pick of their records. But the drive is long, long enough to let yourself think, and you leave it playing until you’re home.

#hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #thomas gibson #aaron hotch fanfiction #how the fuck does tumblr work #soft hotch #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x reader #ssa aaron hotchner

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spacecowboyhotch · 4 months

Text

In Plain Sight, Ch 1: Docile Pyre

summary: nathan tries his best to wade through the sea of feelings you’ve brought up in him. he’s kinda shitty to you while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, nathan is a pining asshole, reader is so competent and cool

wc: 2,200

AN: BE NICE TO ME PLEASE GOD. i don’t know where this came from. on christmas eve morning, nathan bateman himself walked into my apartment and made me write this. who am i to argue with a man who looks like oscar issac?

in plain sight masterlist | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan learned quickly that his usual backhanded compliments and intelligent snarkiness don’t work for you. You don’t care enough to let him get under your skin, don’t care enough to be baited into an argument. It gets under his skin.

You make him sick. Sick in a way he’d never felt before. He thought he was the epitome of unbothered and unchanged until he met you. He feels like a fucking teenage boy, wiping his sweaty palms and reminding himself that he’s in control. He’s the boss. So why does his heart flutter when you look him in the eyes so intently as he gives you task after task to do?

You never complain. You never say much at all. He wishes that you would say something. That you would lash out or fight back— give him something. He wants to see you.

But you’re prim and perfect. All “yes sir” and “no sir”. Mr. Bateman this and Mr. Bateman that. No one calls him Mr. Bateman. It’s fucking silly, the way it affects him when you do. You handle each task he gives you with ease— even when he has you calling the most difficult of his colleagues. In meetings, they mention how charming you are, sweet and charismatic. Nathan doesn’t even get that. For someone who’s all about AI, blank stares, and obedient droids, your likeness to them is driving him crazy. He knows that you’re a person with emotions, desires, and opinions. So he picks and picks and picks, hoping that one day you’ll break.

Why won’t you show him? Why does he care so much? Why is he completely enamored with you anyway?

Being around you starts to confuse him. Nathan hates that feeling. He likes to be the smartest in the room— he needs it or he starts to feel small. Like he’s that little boy he was all those years ago, staring up into the angry eyes of his parents as they spew insults at him. But, he can’t seem to find a balance when he’s around you, he hates the feelings you invoke but can’t seem to work himself out of the tangled mess in his heart. Before you, he was sure that he didn’t have one anymore.

“Can you work overtime tonight? I need all of this sorted and filed,” He gestures to stack upon stack of paperwork in the corner of his lab.

“I just need to make a call, sir.”

Nathan knows that you have a life outside of him and this job— any normal person would. But, he’s not normal, is he? It reminds him that despite these harbored feelings, he’s not compatible with you. You deserve someone normal. Maybe that’s who you need to call, maybe you already have someone. Jealousy courses through his veins.

He raises a brow at you, his voice cool, “A call? You have something more important to do than your job?”

You give him no information. Just a polite smile as you head towards the door, “I’ll just be a moment, sir.”

Nathan pretends to tinker around with his synthetic brains and limbs and skin until you’re finished filing. He thought it’d take longer, but you finish in a couple of hours. He’s always impressed with you and your performance but it goes sour the moment you reach for your bag.

“If that’s all Mr. Bateman, I’ll see you at 9 a.m.”

“Wait,” He says, trying to prolong your time together, trying to see if you’ll give him any sort of reaction if he gives you more work. But no. You turn to him with ease, a polite and expectant look on your face. He gives up. “I’ll send you a grocery list. You can be here at 10 a.m.”

“10 a.m.,” You repeat with a soft nod.

Then Nathan’s all alone again. He heads into his bedroom, opening one of the closets. He needs to get lost for a while. He needs you off his mind.

—

Nathan tries. He really tries not to watch you so closely. He tries to distance himself from you. He stops giving you the tasks he used to give you just to hopefully piss you off. His attempts are useless though. The only thing that could keep him from watching you is firing you. He doesn’t have control, he feels powerless in the face of your docile stare.

He starts to notice things. That your hair is a little out of place. That your clothes aren’t as crisp and clean as usual. He sees the bags under your eyes. He sees you sleeping during your lunch break instead of eating. Your work doesn’t suffer and neither does your attitude but the subtle light in your eyes gets dimmer and dimmer as time wanes on.

Nathan had wanted to see you, sure, but he didn’t want to see you like this. Something’s wrong. He’s not sure has the courage to ask you about it. He feels guilty when he has to ask you to work late on a Thursday afternoon. It feels like it’s festering inside him and he almost forgoes asking. It gets what he’s wanted for months and months on end. You finally crack.

“Hey, I need you to work late tonight,” He murmurs, more gently than he’s spoken to anyone…ever. Fuck, you make him soft. It’s disgusting. It’s unfair. It’s blasphemy.

You continue to type when you respond, “I can’t, sir.”

Nathan freezes, unsure if he’s just heard you correctly. “Excuse me?”

You inhale a soft breath, your gaze airing on slightly apologetic, “I said that I can’t. I can’t work late tonight, Mr. Bateman, I’m sorry.”

“And why not?”

“I’m not sure that that’s any of your business. Sir,” You add respectfully.

“Any of my business?” He repeats, incredulous.

“Yes, sir.”

He stares at you for a handful of seconds, weighing his options. The tasks he wants to give you could wait until more— he’s simply impatient. But, he’s got buy-in now with your disagreement and secrecy. He could push…and he does. “I didn’t ask, I ordered. I need you here for a few more hours.”

It works. For the first time since you started working for him a little under a year ago, you finally show him something. You’re angry, he can tell by the way your brows knit together and your mouth twists. It thrills him.

You stew for a few beats, no doubt deciding if you should voice your rebuttal or go on as usual. Nathan watches you eagerly, hoping of course for the latter. It doesn’t come. Instead—

You close your eyes, growing statuesque. Nathan can only tell you’re still breathing because of how close he is, and how intensely he’s watching you. You open your eyes after a moment and say easily, “Then I need to make a call. It’ll just be a moment, sir.

You work diligently that night, finishing up in just half the time he suggested. He’s almost tempted to give you more, but he knows that would just make things worse. Despite your cool collected manner, the air in the room feels heavier, the energy shifted. He knows he’s fucked up. And if he wasn’t sure, he is when you get up to leave without your usual goodbye or so much of a glance at him.

It’s only after you’ve gone that Nathan takes a good look at his calendar. It’s New Year's Eve. He’d made you stay late on New Year's Eve. That guilt from before rears its ugly head, more gut-wrenching than before. He makes his way to the kitchen to drink it away. It’s replaced with alcohol, hot jealousy, and a hint of sadness. You’d had plans for New Year's Eve. You weren’t going to be lonely like him, if you still made it to those.

Fuck and who were they with? Some guy? Some woman? Did it matter? Not really. The only thing that mattered is that you opened up to them. You show them who you are. Nathan sits hunched over on the couch, bottle in hand staring into the fire.

No, I’m not sorry, he thinks drunkenly to himself. If keeping you late kept you with him and away from whoever was in your life then he wasn’t sorry. He was selfish and unkind, but not sorry. Assholes like him don’t get to be sorry. He’d be a monster that would keep you as long as he could in any way that he could.

—

When you come in on the second, you look exhausted despite the day off. It almost sets him off, but he’d spent most of yesterday thinking about you. The drinking had taken away his guilt, his jealousy, or that unworthy feeling he’s been running from all his life. You…well you make him want to face. Dig to the root of it and cast it out of himself, but he knows he’s not strong enough. The most he can do right is an apology.

Nathan comes to sit on the edge of your desk, blocking the screen so you have to look up at him. “Hey.”

You look up at him with those soft, tired eyes. “Yes?”

He shifts, scratching the bare patch atop his head awkwardly, “I uh— the other night, it was shitty of me to make you work late on New Year’s Eve.”

“I made it work, sir.”

Fuck him, you’re making this hard. His silly little anger about your disposition isn’t justified, he realized that when he sobered up yesterday but he feels ready to explode with it. Spending New Year’s Day alone had never bothered him until yesterday. He had never himself alone, given his bots, until you. You’re screwing with his head, making it all fucky.

“Mr. Bateman?”

A small shiver runs down his spine. He nods, clapping his hands together before hopping off your desk. He needs space and air. “It won’t happen again. On any holiday.”

You fix him with a polite smile, nodding, “Sure.”

Nathan avoids you as much as he can for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s his only option now. He knows that there’s no point in fighting this. Once he feels a certain way it might as well be set in stone. It’s hard to accept that. Even if it wasn’t, he doesn’t want to.

He runs into you on his way out, and before he can think better of it, he’s talking, “Hey, wait up one second.”

“I can stay late, it’s not a problem,” You say mechanically.

“No, I’m not— fuck I’m not asking you to stay late again. I’m an asshole but Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Did I make a mistake then, sir?”

He can’t help himself— he laughs. It dissolves into a maniacal giggle, his hands rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck’s sake. No, sweetheart, you didn’t make a mistake. What I meant to say earlier was I shouldn’t have made you work late on New Year’s Eve. I shouldn’t make you work so late any day, I don’t know your life, I don’t know you.”

“Alright.”

“And what I mean by that is— you know that this is me saying sorry? Right?”

“Yes, Mr. Bateman, I understand what you’re saying completely.”

“Great. Well?”

You tilt your head at him— it’s almost unsettling. “Well?”

“Usually someone apologizes, says it won’t happen again, and then the other thanks them. Accepts the apology. All that jazz. That’s how it works in the movies at least if I’m not mistaken,” He grins, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Yes, sir, I know how apologies work.”

He nods his head at you expectantly, “Then it’s your turn.”

You do that thing again from the other night, where you go so still you could be made from stone. He watches you with curious eyes, and when your gaze meets his, he can see it— the fire. He’s cracked you again. This time he hopes for a better result.

Shoulders squared, clutching your bag tightly over your shoulder you say, “With all due respect and complete honesty, Mr. Bateman, I don’t accept. I don’t care to. While I appreciate your attempt, none of what you said was a true apology. That almost means that well, there was nothing for me to accept. I’ll see you at 7 a.m., sir.”

Nathan watches you leave, his mouth slightly agape. You had just, so politely and succinctly told him off. He feels like his world has been turned upside down like he’s been bitten by a snake he was told wasn’t poisonous. And he wants to be bitten again. Again and again, he wants to stoke that fire in you until it’s an uncontrollable rage. A forest fire with no end in sight. He wants to be engulfed in it, willing and ready to suffer the burns of handling you. Where he’d been prepared to give up on you after apologizing— okay with sacrificing you to someone who might actually have a chance at deserving you— he refuses to now.

This feels like a challenge. You want him to be better? He’ll do it. He’d do anything for you. And he will.

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @faretheeoscar, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @kotaropuppy

#im impatient and posting this todayyyyy #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman fanfiction #ex machina fanfiction #nathan bateman #ex machina #in plain sight #not sfw #arson writes

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