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magicalbats · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 18: Spanking

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7590

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, over the knee spanking (my favorite cmdmdmd), paddling with a hairbrush

A/N: I really hope this one isn't too messy, I haven't been feeling super great and I am posting this at *checks clock* 4:26 in the morning skdnfksnf so please be gentle with me! 🙈

⭐

The Duke of Meropide was a truly infuriating scoundrel!

You’d been arguing with him in his office for almost an hour now and it felt like all you’d done is go around in endless circles. One moment he would in all seriousness shoot down a suggestion or a point you’ve made, and the next he would abruptly ask you about tea or cookies with equal sincerity. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and you were quickly reaching the end of your patience with him. Had the topic of reform and rehabilitation of ex inmates not been so very important to you, you’re sure you would have stormed out of his office a long time ago.

“For the final time, my lord, I care for neither your white tea nor your black tea.” You intone as mildly as you can manage given the state of your nerves. “Please, just listen to me for a moment. That is all I ask.”

Perfectly casual, Wriothesley reclines back into his tall chair and brings his hands together over the bend of a propped up knee. “I have been listening. Quite attentively too. However, I just don’t see how your proposal is going to work and I think you might be barking up the wrong tree, miss. My apologies for saying so.”

“No offense taken.” You clench your jaw so tight it hurts. “But why do you think it isn’t going to work? Have I not explained the steps to successful rehabilitation enough for your liking?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly thorough. Excessive, even.”

Spine snapping straight at that, you pin him with a furious look you don’t even try to conceal but he just waves it off without missing a beat.

“The problem is, I don’t think you understand how the Fortress of Meropide functions. It is you who hasn’t been listening to me, I’m afraid.” He continues on, as stony and impassive as ever. “As I already said, the inmates are free to leave once their sentences are served in full. It’s just that the vast majority of them do not wish to return to the surface world and choose to stay here of their own volition. There’s nothing I nor you can do to change that.”

“But — but that’s because there weren’t any systems in place to help them!” You stammer, desperately rifling through your stacks of paperwork and statistics in search of the findings collected on job and housing placement welfare. Finally locating it with a triumphant puff of air, you jump to your feet and shove it at him over the desk even when he tries to once again wave it off. “The proof is right here, your grace. It should take only a moment of your time to read and understand the data presented in this report for someone as no doubt well informed as you are.”

Stilling, Wriothesley steadily meets your look of challenge with a cool stare of his own. A beat passes and then, heaving a rather terse sigh, he reaches out to reluctantly accept the sheet from you. “I’ll look at it but I’m telling you, miss. These graphs and numbers don’t mean anything in the real world.”

“We’ll see about that.” You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, impertinently standing over him while he reads even when you know you’re really pushing your luck here. He was a duke, a by all accounts certificate wielding lord in the flesh and blood, and you, a lowly commoner, had no right to try and force his hand like this. Still, you hold your ground though, confident that you knew what you were talking about when you had the data to back it up. It was he who didn’t understand how the real world worked after spending so much time underneath the ocean in this rust bucket of bolts he called a fortress.

His eyes steadily move over the page, taking in everything at an agreeable enough pace to placate you into silence, and Wriothesley eventually gives his head a curt nod when he reaches the bottom. “I see. It’s just as I thought.”

You have but the blink of an eye to feel the first dawnings of hope start to crest over your heart and then, unceremonious as can be, he reaches over to neatly deposit the paper into the trash bin.

“It’s garbage.”

“Wh - wait just a minute - what do you mean it’s garbage?” You stammer, spit and sputter in white-hot affront so potent you start to feel your cheeks becoming warm. It takes every single ounce of self control you possess not to round on the desk and throttle the life right out of him! “If you didn’t understand the information all you had to do was ask, your grace and I would have gladly taken the time to - -“

“I understood it perfectly, miss, and I am once again telling you that it is your understanding of the situation that is inherently flawed, not mine. You simply can’t make the prisoners do something they don’t want. I trust that you do understand that much, at least?”

“It is not a matter of making them!” You seethe, hands clenching into tight fists at your sides. “It’s giving them a viable option between spending the rest of their lives trapped under the sea or being able to rejoin their friends and family on the surface. I expected you to have at least a little bit of sympathy for the people under your care!”

Heaving another soft sigh, Wriothesley unfolds his legs and sits forward to brace his elbows on the desk in the most impolite slouch you’ve ever seen from someone who was supposedly a part of the aristocracy. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I think I care about them a shade more than you do. We’re talking about people who have made a new place for themselves down here and it would be remiss of me to start kicking them out just so you can get your brownie points. This is their home.”

You jerk as if he’d physically struck you. “Now you listen here - -“

“No. I have listened to you enough for one afternoon, miss.” He cuts across you like the crack of a whip without either raising his voice nor sharpening his tone, but the low rumble in it is still enough to stop you in your tracks.

Eyes widening slightly, you watch him stand from his chair and sedately step around the desk to come loom over you with his imposingly massive frame that leaves you pitifully craning your neck back when he stops in front of you.

“It’s time for you to listen to me now. I’m sure you had good intentions in coming here with this little scheme you cooked up but I’m telling you it isn’t going to work. The inmates who choose to stay here like the simplicity of life in Meropide and the stability it provides them. So long as they work hard and stay out of trouble they’ll have no problems earning a living for themselves but can the same be said about the overworld? What’s going to happen when they get fired from the jobs you place them in after running late one too many times? Or what about when they fall asleep during their shift from exhaustion? Do you know what happens when either of those things occur down here? They simply don’t get their regular number of coupons for the day but they can always come back and do better the next. Will they have that same security up on the surface?”

“T - that’s why rehabilitation is so important.” You rush to say. “We can teach them to reintegrate into society so that they won’t have to worry about things like that - -“

“Everyone worries about things like that, little miss. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

Your eyes flash at him dangerously. “Do not call me that! In fact, I believe I’ve had quite enough of you at this point! I want to speak to someone else! Preferably a person with something more substantial than rocks for brains!”

Wriothesley scowls at that, narrowing his own eyes back at you in warning. “You can want it all you like but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get it. I’m the only person you need to speak to right now … and I would suggest you reconsider how you’re speaking to me.”

“Hah! Or what?” Riding high on adrenaline and jittery nerves, you impulsively reach out to jab a finger at the center of his big, beefy chest. “You can’t throw me into a cell just because you don’t like the tone of my voice! Is that the kind of operation you're running down here? Maybe when I get back up to the surface I should contact The Steambird about the tyrannical power trip his grace is on!”

He snorts a brief laugh as if the very notion was a ludicrous one, though you couldn’t tell if it was your assertion or the thought that you might go to the papers that he found humorous. “That’s funny, but I don’t need to throw you in prison just to put you in your place, miss. I’m giving you one final warning to knock it off and calm down.”

You take an aggressive step closer to him, head tilted all the way back now so you could see his face past the bulky mass across his pectorals. “Enlighten me then, my lord. What are you going to do to me if I don’t bend the knee?”

“I think I might start by taking you over my knee first.”

Giving a startled jerk, you go stock still and just stare at him for the span of a single heartbeat. The ice suddenly gripping your veins is instantly replaced by a hot, raging inferno that seems to make your blood boil and, seeing red, you viciously bring your heel down on the top of his boot, grinding it in for good measure. “I’d like to see you try it, you ba - -“

His hand shoots up and, much to your squawking surprise, he grabs around the meat of your upper arm to tug you into him, making you stumble and half fall against the bend of his elbow. Before you even have a chance to draw a full breath to berate him with his other hand cracks across the meat of your ass with a deafening whap! The sharp pain is immediate and splintering, rocking you against him with the abrupt impact as your mouth warbles open in equal parts hurt and shock. He gives your arm a tight yank to keep you pressed in against his side when you try to scuttle away, nudging you insistently until you realize you have no choice but to look up at him except … except you’re not sure if you do so with impotent rage darkening your face or if it’s a tearfully remorseful expression he sees looking back at him.

Perhaps it was a frustrating combination of the two?

Wriothesley regards you in contemplative silence for a long moment, his own facial expression not giving much of anything away while the blinding sting across your backside gradually settles into a constant burning throb, but you don’t know what else to do other than stand there and wait for him to say something. You couldn’t believe he’d struck you like that — like a child! You’d only just met the duke today so for him to be putting his hands on you like that was beyond ridiculous, and completely inappropriate. But for as mad as you were, even for as much as your body trembles with frantic, clawing anger, you didn’t quite trust yourself to speak just yet … he would hear about it soon enough. In great detail and at even greater length, once you’d recovered enough to not need to worry your voice would crack and waver over your words. Very soon indeed.

“I told you what was going to happen,” He says at last, perfectly calm and even toned as ever considering he’d just hit you. “Didn’t I, little miss?”

Glaring daggers at him, you give your body a furious wrench against his hold but he keeps you in place easily enough. His hand was just so big it seemed to nearly encompass the total width of your bicep, allotting him the perfect hold on you that would only cause pain and discomfort if you were to truly struggle which left you with very little in the way of options. Grudgingly, you go still again and petulantly turn your head so you wouldn’t have to look at him any longer. You needed to focus on calming yourself before anything else. Acting rash now was only going to get you hurt.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” You finally manage to hiss. “But you've got a lot of nerve to put your hands on me like this.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” He volleys right back, not missing a beat, and you irritably twitch when you realize he’s thrown your own words back at you. He’d be in for a rude awakening soon enough, if you had any say in the matter.

“Enjoy your fun while you can, your grace. I was only bluffing earlier but now I think I really will go to The Steambird and tell them everything that’s transpired here today! What do you think about that, hm?” Impulsively, you whip your head back around to pin him with a biting look of challenge, but he just lifts his brows up at you as if in surprise.

“I think you are indeed a mouthy little brat in need of a good spanking to correct that attitude of yours. What are you going to do at The Steambird then? Take your pants down to show them your red bottom and let them take pictures for the morning paper?” Clicking his tongue, Wriothesley shakes his head as if in disappointment. “You’re not thinking this through all the way, but I suspect that’s a problem you regularly struggle with. Come, let’s get you sorted out.”

You suck in a horrified, raking breath when he shifts as if to move back towards his chair and quickly dig your heels into the ground to stop it. “W - wait! You can’t do this!” You wail, and a foolish pitter patter of hope skips across your chest when he actually pauses to look at you again. Maybe you could still talk your way out of this. It might cost you some of your pride, but that seemed a reasonable sacrifice given the situation. “Ah, what I meant to say is … I’m sorry?”

A sudden, clipped bark of laughter bursts out of him. “No you’re not.”

“I am, really! I’m very sorry for, um, stepping on your boot like that. I’ll have it cleaned and polished if you’d like. Just please let me go. Please?”

“I don’t think so.”

Wriothesley starts to pull you into motion again and you reel back against his hold even when it makes his thick, blocky fingers sink into the meat of your arm. “Wait! I promise I’m sorry, I really, really am! I didn’t mean it! I swear!”

Breathing out a patient sigh through his nose, he gently (surprisingly so) tugs you around to stand in front of him even when you stumble and drag your feet in a blithe attempt to avoid compliance. “You’re only sorry right now because you’re in trouble. I’m going to give you something to think about and a chance to reflect on your actions, and then you’ll really be sorry. Is that clear enough for you, miss?”

“You can’t do this …”

“Oh, but I can. Take a look around you and tell me where you’re standing. This is my fortress which means I get to make the rules here. If I decide bratty girls who like to run their mouths even after being told to calm down — repeatedly, might I add — need a spanking to get them in order then that is exactly what’s going to happen. And do let me remind you that I gave you plenty of chances to heed my warnings but you didn’t. You can thank your own attitude for getting you into this predicament.”

You try very hard to keep your expression in check but you’re pretty sure you fail rather miserably at it, and a flash of that vulnerable fear still manages to creep into your face. “I am not a child!” You insist, shuddering violently. “You can’t treat me like one! That’s not fair!”

“Oh, I’d say what’s not fair is barging in here like you own the place and not listening to a word I say. You’ve certainly acted like a child so I think I’m perfectly in my right to treat you like one now.”

Not giving you a chance to think of something else to say and further stall, Wriothesley suddenly swoops down and curls his arm around your thighs so he can yank you right up off your feet. You choke in surprise as much as at the sudden rush of movement, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it when he straightens up with you clutched across his front. Stinging hot tears flood your eyes all at once and you seethe, kicking and flailing, as he effortlessly carries you back around to the desk. It’s like you barely weigh anything in his arms which neither shudder or strain to hold you no matter how wildly you try to fight him. Even when he takes his seat again he still manages to much too easily manhandle you into place across his lap like you weren’t even struggling with every single ounce of strength you possessed.

In shockingly quick order you find yourself spread across his legs, on your tummy, but still you hiss and twist until his hand abruptly strikes across your upturned ass again. You jump so hard you nearly collapse right then and there but the thick, burly arm now curled over your trembling body keeps you firmly in place when you lurch. Wheezing frantically, you try to push yourself upright but it’s no use, and his palm swats you over your pants again, rapidly draining you of the energy to keep up the effort any longer when it hurt so bad it seemed to rob you of the ability to even think straight. Mewling at the deep hurt, you jerk forward at the next strike and let out a pitiful, broken little sob.

“I warned you to stop.” He reminds you again, falling into an easy steady rhythm. Whap, whap, whap, whap. One cheek and then the next, each hit somehow worse than the last as the burning sting grows and spreads across your defenseless backside. Even your desperate squirming was not enough to dissuade him from finding his mark as he peppers your sit spots in quick, agonizing succession. “I gave you so many chances too, but you just wouldn’t listen. Why is that, huh? Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners?”

“Please stop — oww! T - that hurts, you damn brute — oww!”

“Keep it up and I’m just going to keep adding more. When you can’t sit right for the next week you’ll think back on this, I promise you that.”

Clenching your teeth, you fiercely try to keep the tears at bay so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you cry but the intense, constant crack of his hand on your ass soon wins out and they start to track wet lines down your burning face. You sniffle sadly and weakly kick your legs out behind you, making an attempt to curl them up and shield your already sore behind, but he just roughly tugs you further across his lap. Abruptly finding yourself slipping forward to half dangle over the side of the chair, you gasp and mindlessly stiffen up across his lap to stop your balance from tipping. That quickly proves to be a mistake though when the tense way you’re now holding your body just seems to make it hurt even worse, and you plaintively shake your head with a wordless shriek.

“Please stop it, your — ah! Your grace! I’m begging, I can’t — oww!”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you kept acting up.”

Whap, whap, whap, whap

“Ow, ow, owowow, ow! You’re … you’re doing it too hard! Stop it!”

Wriothesley chuckles somewhere far above you, the low timber of his voice blanketing over your muddied senses to make you shiver. “Actually, I don’t think I’m going hard enough yet. Not for the way you were behaving. Not to worry though, all in due time. This is just the warm up, after all.”

You go stock still across his legs, your heart skipping a long, harrowing beat. A warm up - -

“Yeow! Sto - ah - ahhhp! Please!”

Whap, whap, whap, whap

Hanging your head low, you openly sob and kick at the air now, clutching his thick boot with one hand while the other hangs onto the chair leg in a death grip to somewhat steady yourself. The sharp stabs of pain seem to chip away at your consciousness bit by bit, each slap of his massive hand taking with it a little piece of you each time it recedes. You’re so dazed by the constant onslaught that you almost don’t notice when he abruptly pauses and grabs under your arms.

Then you’re suddenly being hauled up and forced to stand on legs that immediately threaten to give out under you but Wriothesley just guides you around to stand between his legs. Furiously trying to wipe the evidence of tears from your face with a sleeve, you blearily watch as he brings his hands up to unbutton the front of your pants which he unceremoniously tugs down your legs to leave them bunched around your ankles. You can’t help but gasp, your cheeks burning even hotter at having your panties suddenly exposed to him, but you don’t get the chance to so much as suck in a shuddering breath let alone actually voice your protests.

Just like that, he’s dragging you back down over his lap and you twist against his hold with renewed fervor, clawing viciously at any part of him you can reach. His palm mercilessly swatting you across the back of your underwear freezes you in place though, and you let out a high pitched, keening sound at this new level of hell he’s introduced you to. It’s so much worse without your slacks in the way and just the thin layer of cotton to protect you from the full brunt of his punishing slaps. You’re so caught up in trying to process the extent of it when he shifts over top of you that you don’t even think to shriek at him to stop — but then his unoccupied hand fists the material of your panties and yanks them up to pull firm against your screaming backside. You outright squawk and choke at the sensation only to realize what he’s doing a split second later when he swats your ass again and the hurt suddenly feels like it’s skin to skin.

Howling in distress, you jerk and writhe against his legs but Wriothesley’s hold on your underwear effectively stops you from crawling away. You simply can’t escape it and the space between your ears is soon once again filled with the sharp swat! of his hand lighting you up. It was easily the worst thing you’d ever experienced, even putting aside the inherent humiliation of being spanked over his knee with your pants around your ankles.

“Waaa - aahhaaaaaa! Your grace, I - I’m sorry … owwww!”

“Are you now?” He murmurs, punctuating the soft tone of his voice with two blistering slaps, one to each cheek to leave you withering in his hold. “And what are you sorry for, little miss? Come on, speak up.”

That was incredibly difficult to do when he wasn’t letting up on your ass for even a moment but, hoping against hope that placating him might make this end quicker, you suck in a haggard, gasping breath to steady yourself. “I’m sorry for - eek! I’m sorry for all the rude things I said to you earlier! Oww! I - I shouldn’t have come in here and - ahh! Ahh! I shouldn’t have disrespected you in your fortress, your grace! I promise I’m sorry!”

“And what else?”

What else? What else even was there!

You desperately try to think, to figure it out, but your head is swimming so fast you start to think you might pass out. Loosing a broken moan, you agonizingly kick back and try to find purchase on the floor, only succeeding in half sliding off his knee. He easily readjusts his hold and rather meanly pulls harder on your panties though, making you squeal when they dig into your cunt and it essentially forces you to straighten your legs instead of slouching away from the continuous barrage of his hand. You choke on some kind of mindless animal sound and try to shove yourself forward in your desperation but he just spanks you even harder for the trouble.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

“I don’t know!” You cry out, dancing on the tips of your toes as if that would somehow alleviate some of the deep, throbbing ache encompassing your rear end. “I don’t know your grace, I don’t know but I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

You just barely manage to catch the sound of him clicking his tongue over your wailing. “How can you be sorry for something if you don’t even know what it is? You’re really not taking this seriously, are you?”

“I am!”

He stops so abruptly you lurch, gasping, as if he’d followed through on delivering the next blow. Shuddering uncontrollably, you warily twist to look over your shoulder with big, wet eyes to watch him fold your panties down over your ass to join your slacks around your ankles. Realizing what he’s doing your fight or flight instincts seem to kick in like never before, and you hysterically wrench against his hold. To your stumbling surprise you actually manage to slip free for a split second, for the span of but a single heartbeat, and then he’s reaching up before you can get your trembling legs to cooperate and he roughly tucks you down across his thigh again. This time with that heavy, corded steel arm locked around your waist.

“Wait, wait, wait - -“

Smack!

Your ass promptly erupts in splinters, every single nerve ending in your behind vibrating numbly at the impact. It punches the air right out of your lungs, leaves you gasping for even a sliver of air, but he doesn’t give you a chance to fully process the hurt. Smack, smack, smack, smack! The crack of his hand across your bare skin sounds deafening now and you shake uncontrollably as you cry out in unrestrained agony. Back and forth between each burning red, swollen cheek, he pays equal attention to both sides until it feels like the tingling flesh is quite literally on fire. You writhe against the blinding hurt and sob so hard the shudders wrack through you from head to toe even as you weakly try to push up and squeeze through his arm. It’s no use though. Wriothesley’s hold is as good as iron and all you can do is wrench at each blistering crack without any way to escape it.

“Well?” He expectantly prompts, but you’re a little too far gone in the swimming daze to properly respond now, just noising a series of incomprehensible whines and mewls with every strike. Quickly picking up that you were slipping under now, he breathes out a stilted sigh. “If there is but one thing you take away from this,” He intones, still bringing his palm down again and again, and again. “Let it be to pick your opponents more wisely in the future. You don’t just get to walk in here and start calling the shots, do you understand me?”

You croak out something that might be a yes, incomprehensibly slurred between all the tears and snot running down your face, and the sad little hiccups making your throat constrict. That seems to be good enough for him though, and he just presses on.

“I was nice enough to invite you to come to Meropide,” smack, smack, smack, smack “Even though I could have turned you down right from the start. I already knew your little pet project wasn’t going to pan out,” smack, smack, smack, smack “But I figured I’d at least hear you out first and this is how you decided to repay me? Despite what you probably think, I don’t like having to punish people,” smack, smack, smack, smack “But I’m not about to let some upstart little brat come in here and try to tell me what my inmates need. You don’t know the first thing about this place no matter what all your worthless charts tell you.”

Smack, smack, smack! Smack!

You flinch, weakly rocking forward when the next slap never comes. Groaning thickly, you squirm and dance on your feet, trying to shake off some of the discomfort even though it’s useless, but still he just sits there. You’re distantly aware of him breathing a bit heavier than before, either worked up from the act itself or the physical exertion of delivering a sound spanking, and you just whine low in your throat at the resounding throb throughout your body. It seems to claw through you and set every single nerve to trembling vibration, leaving you quaking violently in his hold.

Finally, what feels like an eternity later, Wriothesley draws a steadying inhale. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Y - yes …” You croak out with no shortage of effort, but his blocky fingers just dig into your hip to give you a brief jostle

“Wanna’ try that again?”

Your already strained heartbeat somehow manages to become even more wild at the panic that rushes in to smother over you. What did he want? Would he spank you again if you didn’t figure out the answer?

“Yes, sir?”

“That’s better.” He relents, giving your shuddering thigh an amicable pat. Silence descends over the office for a drawn out beat and then he suddenly leans forward, half dragging you with him while he opens one of the drawers on the desk to rummage around. “I don’t think you’re really sorry, not yet. But you will be soon. I know I have that damn hairbrush Sigewinne gave me somewhere.”

A hairbrush?

Your blood turns to ice at the implication, and the fresh wave of fear that abruptly grips you in a chokehold seems to clear some of the fog from your head. You could think just a little bit clearer now and you did not like where your thoughts were going, not one bit. Surely he wouldn’t actually take it that far after already abusing your ass so much with his hand.

“Your g - grace?”

Ignoring or just not hearing the weak little mouse squeak, Wriothesley settles back into his chair again, grabbing a pinching handful of your inner thigh to drag it over his knee once more. He doesn’t quite force your body across his lap but he does make sure you’re stretched out in a rather inelegant sprawl that leaves your legs embarrassingly spread and you start to shake in earnest now. You hadn’t thought it was possible for the human body to vibrate at such a high frequency but that's exactly what seems to be happening as the crushing reality of the situation gradually settles over you like a shroud.

And then, the press of something solid and flat touches your burning ass, and you practically jolt right up off his legs altogether.

Your skin crawls with it making you feel truly sick and nauseous even as you frantically try to twist your neck around to see. He’s got you at such an awkward angle though that you can’t make out much of anything and your panic rapidly starts to ratchet up into damn near a full on attack until he gently taps the object against your behind to pull your attention back into the moment.

“I’m going to give you twenty spanks with this brush, little miss. I want you to count them, and don’t forget to show me some respect while you do it.”

“I - I - I can’t, sir, I can’t, I can’t take anymore, p - please, it’s too much - -“

“Hush. I’ve got you,” He coos, unexpectedly gentle and soft, but it doesn’t do much to ease your heaving gasps or the erratic pounding of your heart. Still, you find yourself grudgingly getting pulled into that tender croon and you make a conscious effort to calm down even as you sway unsteadily over his thigh. “You’re alright. You’ll just get yourself all worked up over nothing acting like that. Deep breaths. That’s it. Now take another for me. Good girl. See? You can listen when you want to. It’s not so bad, is it?”

He offers the pudge around your hip a reassuring, possibly even approving squeeze when your breathing starts to slow to a normal, wheezing pant rather than the thin lungfulls you’d been sucking in just moments ago. You decidedly disliked him a great deal, perhaps more so than you’d ever disliked any one single person in all your life, but you were at least glad he was able to keep you grounded. Never mind the fact he was the cause of it to begin with, you were just thankful it didn’t feel like you were going throw up and pass out anymore.

And still the throbbing burn across your ass keeps pulling tiny little whimpers from your dry throat. It really was too much.

“Is it necessary?” You finally manage to rattle out.

“The brush? In my eyes it is, yes. This will show me whether or not you’ve been paying attention this whole time, if you can be respectful towards me throughout this last leg even though you’ll probably want to curse me to high heaven and back. If you can tell me you’re really sorry when we’re done then it will be over. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

Groaning in defeat, you hang your head low and just take a moment to think. Your options were regretfully limited but … you wanted to trust him at his word and, more importantly, you just wanted to have it done and over with already. The pain crawling across your backside was immeasurable, gradually receding to a dull, distant, but no less teeth clattering ache that reminded you it was there with every thrumming pulse, and he was right to say you wanted to curse him for it. You would have given anything to do just that but Wriothesley had made it clear what he expected of you. Obedience, compliance, respect.

Perhaps you should have expected no less from the reclusive Duke of Meropide but you certainly would not be making this mistake again.

“Yes, sir.” You whisper into the stillness at last, a sort of numb surprise curling over you at the lack of bite in your own voice. You’d expected to hear bitter tears, anger, defensive pride, not … such a soft, almost shaky little note of submission.

The very idea that his unjust treatment of you had somehow accomplished exactly what it was meant to chills you almost as much as it brings you a strange sense of comfort which he only further enforces by warmly caressing his unoccupied palm over the curve of your bare waist.

“Good. Then let’s get started.”

An expectant pause and then — whap!

You violently lurch, dizzy and disoriented from the sudden intensity of the impact. It was so different from his hand, so hard and unforgiving that it made your stomach feel like it was about to burst right up out of your throat. Reeling and weakly gasping in the aftermath, you futilely arch against the sting, kicking your legs out, but there’s no escaping it or shaking it off. The pain seems to engulf you all at once, making you choke on a haggard, gutted little sound. Like you couldn’t even scream around it and only whimper in breathless, mind numbing agony.

“O - one, sir.” You finally manage to rattle out to his humming satisfaction.

Whap! On the other sore cheek.

“Oh! Oh, oh, oooohhhh, n - nnghhnhn!! Two, sir …”

Whap! Back to the first. Whap! The second again.

You can’t quite formulate the words now, just laying there spread out on Wriothesley’s lap while your legs uncontrollably shake and you suck in quick, faltering thin gasps of air in an attempt to reorient yourself. It was like the sharp, oppressively heavy stroke of the wooden brush was knocking your brain around and making it hard just to remember how to breathe. Sniffling back a rush of fresh tears, however, you force your mind to stay focused in the here and now rather than drifting off to some faraway place where you currently weren’t getting your ass beat. And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Why he was making you count like this, to keep you firmly planted and present to ensure your attention didn’t start to slip at the first chance and you remained attentive for this final part of your trial. The sadistic bastard.

“Four, sir …”

Whap! Whap!

“O - oooh, gods … s - six, sir.”

Whap! Whap!

You have to take a moment to collect yourself, to breathe through the sickening pain that encompasses your backside, and he waits patiently until you eventually lift your head again. “Eight, sir.”

Whap!

“Eeekk! Ahh, ah … nine — ahhn, sir!”

Dazed and more than just a little lost in the hazy delirium swimming around your head, you slowly start to find and grasp at a tiny fraction of your inner strength. Your voice comes quicker, albeit thinner, as you hold your breath tightly over the course of the next few swats of the brush, finally seeing an end in sight just over the horizon. A few more and then you would be done. You could leave this place and never see the duke again for as long as you lived.

“Fifteen, sir!” You hear yourself blurt out, nearly sobbing in relief only to choke on it when the next swing cracks down on the opposite cheek a second later. Seething viciously, you shake for a moment before gritting out the next number. And the next.

You’re practically hysterical when you finally get to nineteen, all but blubbering across his lap, but you take the last strike like a champ, squealing a cursory, “Twenty, sir!” And then immediately giving in to the urge to dance on your toes, trying in vain to chase away some of the skin crawling ache by moving around. He leans back into the chair, just giving you a moment to process it on your own terms, before eventually loosening his arm around your middle so he can help you up. You move gingerly and wheeze through the process of getting your jelly filled legs underneath you but, at last, you find yourself standing between the wide spread of his knees and you cautiously reach back to rub your sore bottom.

You regret it immediately, hissing at the intense heat coming off the abused skin as much as the stabs of pain just brushing your fingertips against the tender area causes. But before you can truly process the full brunt of it, he takes your wrist in hand and tugs it away from your behind so he can hold it between the two of you instead.

“You’re welcome to try but it isn’t going to do much to take away any of the pain. You’ll have that reminder in the back of your mind for the next few days, any time you sit or your clothes rub against it.” A pause while he studies you with that frustratingly impassive expression, taking in your wet face, the clumps of your eyelashes where they’re sticking together, the distant look in your eyes. He takes it all in and then offers you a small, brief smile. “Are you sorry now?”

You almost choose petulant silence but, not wanting to tempt fate any further, you slowly nod your head. “Yes, sir. I’m very sorry for how I acted towards you today, and for not listening when you told me to stop. I won’t do it again.”

“Good girl.” Giving your fingers a quick squeeze, he reaches down to take hold of your hips in both of his massive hands and carefully guide you back a step so he can rise to his feet as well. “Alright, go stand in the corner. Face the wall and keep your cute bottom uncovered.”

Immediately planting your feet into the floor when he tries to nudge you in the general direction of the wall, you send him a flustered look of warning. “You said that would be the end of it.”

“It was, and you did so well for someone whom I suspect hasn’t been spanked nearly enough in her lifetime. But,” Wriothesley quickly holds up a hand to stop you when you draw a sharp, scathing breath to snap at him with. “It’s usually customary to give you a chance to further reflect on your punishment while the sting settles the rest of the way in. Besides, I need to run down to the infirmary to get a cream for your butt and you can’t very well sit down right now, can you?”

“You are infuriating!” You practically spit at him, fists clenching with the urge to reach out and punch him square in the solar plexus. “What exactly do you think this is, your grace? A fun little afternoon we’ve shared together over tea and gossip? I don’t want your stupid cream! I want to leave this place and never be forced to look upon you ever again, do you hear me?”

“Oh, I hear you loud and clear.” Wriothesley murmurs with an accompanying quirk of his brow to go along with it. “Gotta’ say though, I wasn’t expecting you to bounce right back to your earlier attitude so fast. Usually brats like you need a bit more time to recoup some of their charge after getting it all out of their system like that.”

You reel back in abject shock. “Brats like me? You have some nerve acting like I’m the problem when you just - -“

He reaches up quicker than you can react and abruptly pulls you into the front of him, one hand lifting to cradle your head against the firm, muscular wall of his body while the other curls around your back so you can’t escape. Your skin positively crawls at the contact, lips pulling back in a vicious snarl, but then … he just gently rocks you back and forth, softly petting your hair while he does it, and you go stock still in your surprise. You didn’t understand it. What he was doing or why he was doing it, and you understood even less why it almost made you feel a bit — funny inside. Tingly, almost.

“There, there,” Wriothesley murmurs, just holding you tightly enough to prevent escape but still soft enough not to smother. “Is this what you need instead? I didn’t take you for the sort but I have no problem giving it to you as long as it gets rid of that grumpy frown for a little while. You’re way cuter when you don’t look so damn mad …”

You stand there for a long beat unsure of how to react. Knowing you should kick up a fit, fight him tooth and nail, drag his name through the mud for how he’s treated you here today and yet — somehow the heat of his body, the heady scent of his muted cologne seems to drain the fight from your body. It leaves you feeling empty and hollow, and a sudden rush of emotions quickly floods in to replace it all. You don’t really understand it, nor are you entirely sure you want to, but you were a little too tired to keep up the pretense any longer. Not while there was a veritable storm whipping up inside your chest.

Eyes watering with a new, inexplicable sheen of tears, you slowly bring your hands up to clutch at his waistcoat. Maybe it would be okay if you entertained this for just another moment longer … maybe you could attack him when his guard was down after you’d finished fighting back the sobs suddenly threatening to wrack through your body. He’d chipped away at you, wiped the slate clean, so to speak, and now he was filling you back up with a comforting warmth you wouldn’t have expected from him given his icy demeanor.

You still weren’t particularly fond of his methods but at least there was some amount of peace to be found in his embrace, and you may or may not have liked it just a teeny tiny bit. Not that you’d ever admit that to Wriothesley, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. You could certainly keep the secret.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #self insert bullshit

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dollsuguru · 1 month

Note

Hello! You can totally ignore if this isn’t up your alley but you could write something about suguru watching reader from afar while they grieve him for leaving? Either it’s super sad or twisted cause he feels happy that you love him enough to grieve him

I also could send in nsfw requests if you want those too

“the choiceless grief that drove him underground.”

contents: f!reader, mentions of guilt, stalking, & mass murder. both characters express grief in different ways. bit of callous/twisted suguru, a nod to his dacryphilia as well. mainly angsty but i guess at the core of it… it’s sweet? w.c: ~ 1.4k

a/n: rem, i owe you my life & then some! :’) thank you SO much for the concept idea! <3 i love delving into the twisted/not-so pretty parts of suguru so i hope you enjoy! :D

the premise of the situation is quite… haunting.

to mourn a friend, (‘a lover’ — his voice gently admonishes from the back of your mind), who isn’t dead.

he still roams around the aether — akin to a ghost. and here you are, grieving a corporeal phantom of your past.

both you and suguru have a penchant for nostalgia, him moreso than you. it’s why he’s here now at the foothills of mount mushiro, camouflaging himself into the shadows of the night, depleting his own cursed energy so there’s not a single trace of him left. he stands there in a vantage point hidden behind massive japanese oak trees, a lonely specter peering wistfully at his dearly beloved.

ex-beloved, rather, he should say.

it was of his own volition anyways.

your lack of cursed energy leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he remembers why he despises you so. the healed x-shaped scar on his chest burns and he wants to give you a matching one on your heart, as a reminder. you’re worse than a curse, he forces himself to seethe. heavenly restriction, huh? nothing heavenly about you…

a sick part of suguru wants to finally see you shatter — to watch someone as powerful as you break down and wail with such unbridled anguish, to hear your sorrowful screams pierce through the night sky like a gunshot wound to the head. something about imagining the way your tears would stick to your lashes makes his heart beat unbearably fast from within his ribcage. from sadness or intrigue, he doesn’t quite know…

he just selfishly craves to be the cause of it. to have you drown in tears of melancholy & be sundered by it like a tsunami of eerie desolation — to be plagued with devotion and corruption. just like him.

he wants you to get on your hands and knees and prostrate yourself to him — to lower yourself at his feet.

beneath him.

where you should be.

to apologize for being you. to apologize for coming into his life. to apologize for making him fall in love. to apologize for being his greatest curse. his greatest regret.

(regret for loving you or regret for leaving you… he’s not sure, yet. he’ll decide when he’s of more sound mind.)

yet all he gets is… just you… sitting there. expressionless.

suguru huffs quietly, his low-lidded gaze is heavy with fatigue and slight boredom. his soft exhales turn into smoky vapor in front of him, evaporating within seconds. he tediously redirects his amber irises back at you, observing you like a science experiment, scrutinizing your every move… only if you had done something, of course.

he notes that your stony face betrays no emotions, your body is rigid as if in living rigor-mortis. he surmises that the only thing that differentiates you from the zen statues around you is the gentle wisps of your hair across your face courtesy of the cold wind, crisp due to the night air.

before he realizes it, suguru’s fingers involuntarily twitch.

muscle memory.

(the same fingers have brushed against the plush of your cheek, caressed your hair & gently moved the strands away from your face. soft finger-pads outlined your lips gently, the shape of your cupid’s bow committed to memory. suguru figured the name was quite apt… he found himself wholly enraptured & in love.

hit by eros’ arrow the very moment he laid eyes on you — his lighthouse. his demise.)

a slight sniffle breaks suguru out of his reverie. he snaps his head back up at you, pierced brows furrowed and bright ochre eyes wide. he ignores the pang in his chest, his shock overtaking his senses leaving him paralyzed.

are you…?

your reddened eyes flit towards the foliage where suguru hides behind, and you softly rasp out a tired sigh. your lack of words are far more frigid than the midnight air, causing an ice cold shiver to run through suguru’s spine.

forcing the constriction in his throat back down, he exhales shakily, in a state of utter shock.

right.

heightened senses. superhuman physical capabilities. you always knew where suguru was before he ever knew where you were. a relationship of mutual indulgence — you pretend you don’t see him, and he pretends that you don’t know where he is at all times. as if you haven’t memorized his scent, his mannerisms, his soul. as if you couldn’t recognize him through physical vibrations alone.

just pretend you don’t see me now… indulge me one last time… please.

muscle memory.

you look away.

you focus your gaze towards the skyline of bountiful forest green trees, impeccable eyesight zeroing in on a tree with a heart carved around both his and your initials upon the espresso bark. the same tree where you had rested your head on suguru’s lap while he read his favorite books to you. the same tree where you had both shared your first kiss. the same tree where you had found out from a dear friend that suguru had murdered a whole village — some bullshit about him wanting to create a world with no curses. no non-sorcerers. no you.

you once playfully joked to suguru that you loved him more than he loved you. you remember the way his fists clenched at his sides, the furrow in his brow coupled with the immediate narrowing of his eyes, along with the slight snarl in his lip and voice pierced your soul as he resolutely scolded you — no one could ever love as deeply, as passionately, as genuinely as he loves you.

loved, rather, you should say.

what a fuckin’ liar.

…

in a blink of an eye, you disappear.

like a ghost.

you leave suguru alone to his own futile devices. he figures it’s fair, to indulge you one last time too, allowing you the ‘last laugh’, though he knows there’s no victors in this sick game that’s being played. he’s walked away from you before, it’s only fitting you do the same to him now.

his feet drag him to where you were hunched over before, his brain unable to catch up to what his body is doing. something glints in the moonlight, there in your stead, atop the plush green grass.

he crouches down, picking up the small photograph. the faded polaroid feels far heavier in his hand than he would think. a delicious shiver runs down suguru’s spine when he realizes his fingertips are touching where yours have touched. the bitterness that found its way in his mouth in the beginning washes away, leaving only a sickly sweet flavor that surrounds his mouth like pillowy cotton candy.

it’s one he hasn’t seen. you must’ve kept this with you all this time, he muses.

a photo, a candid, of him.

the pink sakura petals offered up a beautiful backdrop after a mission you two took in kyoto. back then, his smile was genuine & unbelievably wide — pearly whites on display, his pierced cherry red lips matched the camellia red blush that painted his cheeks — no doubt from your flirtatious comments of his beauty. his eyes were squinted, a photo you took of him while mid-laugh. he pushed his bangs aside while speaking to you, wanting to give you his full attention. the promise ring on his finger glinted in the sunlight along with the silver hairpin you gifted him moments before you took the photo, its amethyst gem dangling above his bun. a beacon of light.

a sign of devotion, of unending love. a promise.

suguru’s heart feels a bit heavier than he would like it to, yet the soft smile that graces his features is the most genuine form of adoration he’s exhibited since his defection. inundated with grief, you still held on to him.

an anchor of your past. a plague of your present. a welcoming calamity of your future.

“you still love me too, huh?” he softly whispers into the night, a sad smile on his face.

he gazes up at the moon. it looks quite beautiful tonight. he silently hopes you’re staring at it too.

thinking of him the same way he’s thinking of you.

#geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #if it’s in a jjk au TRUST my readers will ALWAYS have heavenly restriction… it’s just so delicious coupled w suguru’s character arc #my writings #personal

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the-californicationist · 2 months

Note

Hey 🫵🫶🏻! I love your John Price fics A LOT and I wanted to thank you for that<3 I wanted your opinion! How do you like Price's new skin?!

I'm just thinking about that!!! On a camouflage/infiltration mission and he fucks reader in this outfit!

Me right now looking at this photo:

Cold Shoulder

I wasn't sure how this one was gonna go, but I hope this is close to what you imagined! <3 <3 love this outfit. TW: fem reader, dub con?

"There you are," he growled, lowering his gun when he realized it was you.

You were holed up in a small alcove of a cave on the west side of the mountain. It was snowing, and you were doing your best to keep warm, but it was getting more difficult by the minute. And now, you had your angry captain yelling at you.

"You could've been killed, Sparrow. What the fuck were you thinking? This is a full klick away from the RV."

He closed in on you. Price was still fully geared up, and his snow hood shaded his eyes, making them all the more menacing. He was wearing his shining skull mask, but the sharp teeth below it were scarier than the gleaming bones.

Price grabbed you by the arms and pulled you up to face him,

"Answer me, soldier."

His eyes searched yours, looking for the truth. You swallowed your spit, thick and suffocating, trying to comply,

"I don't know, sir."

"You don't know? You don't know how many men I fuckin' killed to get up here to find you. I thought..." His anger cracked like glass, sudden and violent, "I thought I lost you."

"What do you care... sir?"

The words tumbled out of you before you could catch them. It was hard to call him by his title when you were basically calling him out. But, you managed to tack it on to the end.

The problem was, you hadn't wanted to be saved by your captain. You had wanted to handle your ex-fil on your own. After all, it was he who had told you that you two should stop what you were doing. All the sneaking around and finding comfort in each other in the middle of the night. He had said it needed to stop. So, why was he so concerned about you now? You seethed,

"I could've gotten out of here on my own if you hadn't disconnected my sat-tab! I was closing in on their camp. Soap and his explosion blew my cover and I --"

"That explosion saved your bloody life, little bird. You jeopardized the mission, and you're not using your head. I know you're upset with me, but..."

"Upset? You told me you loved me, John!"

A cold, snowy silence stretched out between you. Even though he was so close to you, you could barely hear his heavy breaths. You could smell him. He was spice and tobacco and oak moss. His sweat and soap tangled with all of his other scents, reminding you of all of the times you had breathed him in.

Suddenly, striking like a viper, he grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you toward his face. You thought he would kiss you, but he didn't. He held you just close enough and said,

"Turn around, Corporal."

"What?" You were confused, but you were at his mercy.

Price turned you around himself, shoving you down on all fours in the stony floor of the cave. The rocks were wet beneath your hands. You heard the zipper of his pants, and you turned to look at him, shocked. He snarled, right in your ear, as he leaned over you,

"Won't listen. Gonna have to make you behave."

He started to pull down your pants, dragging them over your thick ass cheeks, revealing your pussy to him. He took off his glove with his teeth and began to play in you, telling you,

"Can't have you riskin' your life like that, little bird. I do love you. Can't seem to fuckin' help it. Tried to stay away. Can't. I can't."

Then, you felt it. His cock was at your warm entrance, pressing into you in that familiar way but at an unfamiliar pace.

Usually, he treated you like his soft little princess despite the fact that you were a seasoned soldier. He would eat you for hours, sometimes, making you dripping and pliant enough to take his heavy girth.

But, not now. Now, he was on a mission to make you remember how precious you really were. You needed to learn, and he was ready to teach you.

You screamed as he pressed your walls apart. It wasn't pain, but it was intense. He went slowly, but he didn't relent. As he began to pump himself in and out of your body, he lay his hand down hard across your ass, smacking you and letting the skin burn beneath his palm,

"Tha's it, birdie. Sing for me. Loud. Let me hear you."

Price's huge rod was fucking you so deep at this angle, and he wanted more. So, he pushed your shoulders down, forcing your chest into the snow. Your cheek hurt from the ice.

"So wet for me. Almost like you wanted me to find you," he teased.

What could you tell him? That he was right?

All you did to respond was pulse around him, gripping him hard inside of your body, making him stutter in his rhythm.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your ponytail in his hand, arching your back up towards him, barking commands at you,

"Say you're sorry! Tell me you're sorry for riskin' your fuckin' life up here on this goddamn mountain. Say it!"

"I'm sorry..." You managed.

"Sorry, what?" He bit down hard on your neck, marking you with his teeth.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Good girl. See? You're so good. So good for me. Mmmf. Fuck!"

He pounded into you mercilessly, and his other hand began to play with your clit, smearing your wet juices all over your lower lips and skin, dragging it up over your mons and onto your belly.

"Fuck, you're so wet, Sparrow. I'm gonna come in you."

"Yes, sir."

"Fuck!"

You felt his hot come pool in your body, radiating through your skin, wet on wet on wet. Your ass cheeks stung, your body ached, and yet, you were so satisfied. You'd never seen Price get so worked up, but you wanted more. He had created a monster.

He fastened his pants and sat with you in his lap, breathing heavy in the darkness of his hood.

"Sparrow, I love you. I can't lose you. I won't. Don't do that to me."

"I love you, too, John."

You nuzzled against his neck, smelling his familiar scent, waiting for the next time you could misbehave.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #call of duty #x female reader #john price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #captain price x female reader #captain johnathan price #captain john price smut

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austinshotbutlers · 1 year

Text

The Wedding Date - Part Four

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner × Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: Your sister's wedding is approaching fast and the thought of showing your boyfriend off to you family and your ex-boyfriend seems like a very appealing idea. The only problem is... you don't have a boyfriend. Luckily your stony faced, serious, sexy boss has agreed to be your fake boyfriend for the weekend. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.9K

TW: Smut (Hotch is a boob man at the start, semi-public sex? (they have a quickie in a bathroom), unprotected sex, vaginal fingering), swear words, violence.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! Part four is finally here! I’m sorry it took so long and this part is also the longest one so far. I apologise for any mistakes, I don’t know how well I proofread it! But I hope you enjoy it, it’s fluffy, smutty and also a little bit angsty. Please let me know what you’d like to see in part 5!

Being woken up by the bright sun shining through the gap in the curtains was not ideal when dealing with a hangover. Your head pounded as you buried it in the pillow, trying to remember just how much you had to drink at the party. You smiled to yourself as you replayed the events of last night in your brain; you couldn’t believe you and Aaron had sex. You couldn’t believe the two of you had admitted your love for one another.

You sat up slowly, expecting to see Aaron still asleep but there was no sign of him. You laid back against the headboard, chewing lightly on your thumbnail with a look of pure satisfaction on your face. You hadn’t slept with anyone in a long time and it had been an even longer time since anyone had left you feeling so satisfied, so loved. No man had ever made love to you the way Aaron did last night and it was just incredible.

Then, your bedroom door opened gently and Aaron walked in, carrying a tray of food and drink. He looked up and smiled when he saw you were awake.

“Morning.” He smiled, as he walked in and placed the tray down on your bedside cabinet. “I thought you might be hungover so I took the liberty to bring you Advil, water, black coffee, plain toast and a banana. Whatever might do the trick.”

Your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness and you immediately reached out for the pack of Advil and water. “Thank you so much.” You smiled, popping the Advil in your mouth and taking a huge sip of water.

Aaron sat down on the bed beside you and leaned forward for a kiss which you happily reciprocated, placing a soft kiss on his slightly chapped lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling Aaron in deeper and he adjusted your bodies so that you were back lying down. You both leaned in for another kiss but you bumped heads in eagerness and laughed but Aaron quickly captured your lips again.

“I’m still naked from last night.” You giggled and Aaron groaned into your ear.

“God you make me feel like a horny teenager again.” He murmured and you laughed, placing light kisses behind his ear. Aaron pulled the duvet down to reveal your breasts and you shuddered at the sudden loss of warmth the fabric was providing. Aaron spread kisses from you neck down to the valley of your breasts and you took a deep breath as his mouth fell to your right.

“Oh!” You managed to moan out as Aaron closed his mouth around your nipple, his tongue swirling while his other hand massaged your left. “That feels so good.” You mumble breathlessly, running your hand through his hair. The pleasure from Aaron’s tongue flicking and sucking on your nipple while his other hand kneaded your left breast made your brain foggy with rapture as the building pleasure settled in your lower abdomen.

Suddenly, your bedroom door creaked open and you could hear you mom chatting away as she was about to enter. You shoved Aaron off, who fell back against the mattress, and you frantically pulled the duvet back up to cover yourself.

“Oh my god mom! Have you ever heard of knocking!” You groaned frustratedly. “It’s like being 15 all over again.”

“Sorry, I forgot! It’s all the excitement of the rehearsal dinner tonight!” She said cheerily which told you she didn’t see anything, much to your relief. “How were the parties last night?” She asked as she wondered into your room, opening the curtains and the sun blinding you.

“Jesus mom.” You hissed and squinted your eyes. “Well the bachelorette was fun, you should have seen Sarah dancing.” You laughed.

“Well I heard you at 3 this morning.” Your mom said and you and Aaron threw each other a panicked look. Had your mom really heard you two have sex last night? “You slammed the front door so loud,” she went on to say. “I’m surprised you didn’t wake up your dad and Aaron as well.” And the two of you relaxed. “So! Tonight, we need to be heading to Thomas’ Parents’ house at around 4, guests will be arriving from 5 and I expect you not to drink so much tonight please Y/N. I do not want you hungover on your sister’s wedding day.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re making it sound like I have a problem but whatever, it all sounds good.” You said trying to get your mom to leave the two of you.

“Make sure you wear a nice dress and Aaron, I hope to see you in a suit again.” You mom winked to him and Aaron awkwardly chuckled.

“Of course Mrs Y/L/N.” He smiled politely.

“Great! I shall leave you two now. I can tell when my company is not wanted.” She joked and quickly walked out of your room, closing the door behind her.

“Well…” you sighed. “That killed the mood a bit didn’t it?”

“Just a little.” Aaron said, turning back to look at you.

You started to laugh. “The way we both looked at each other when my mom said she heard me come home last night.” You tried to catch your breath. “We really thought we had been caught! It’s like being a teenager again when I used to sneak my boyfriends in through the window in the bathroom and always being so scared my parents were gonna hear us.”

Aaron laughed. “You were quite the rebellious teen.”

“Weren’t we all? At least I didn’t have a punk phase like Emily did.” You giggled. “What were you like as a teenager?”

“While you may not have had a punk phase in high school, I hate to say that mine was in college.” Aaron said.

“Shut up! There is absolutely no way you were a punk. I couldn’t even imagine what you would have looked like.” You’re practically in hysterics now, trying to picture Aaron in college.

“When you come to my apartment, I’ll have to show you the photos.” He said, amused at how entertained you were by the thought of his, very awful attempt, at a punk phase.

***

“I miss you too buddy.” Aaron smiled into the phone “But I’ll be home in 3 days and you can tell me all about your museum trip with aunt Jessica as soon as I get back. I can’t wait to hear what you saw.”

You smiled from your place at the dressing table, listening to Aaron talk to Jack as you put mascara on your lashes.

“I love you too.” Aaron said. “Be good for Jessica. Yes I love you too Jack.” He chuckled. “Bye buddy.” And he hung up the phone.

“How is he?” You asked, turning to face Aaron.

“He’s good. He went to the museum today and bought a giant shark teddy.” He said.

“He’ll have to show it to me when I next see him.” You smiled , going back to finishing your makeup and Aaron’s heart swelled because Jack loved you. Whenever he would come to the BAU, he would always make a beeline for your desk knowing you would have a chocolate for him in your drawer and make him laugh with some silly story that he would then go home and tell Aaron about 15 times.

“He would love that.” Aaron smiled.

You stood up and turned to show Aaron your dress. “How do I look?”

Aaron felt like he’d stopped breathing as he took in the gorgeous dark green dress you had on. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating every curve and falling just above your knee.

“You look gorgeous.” He breathed out and walked over to you. “So, so gorgeous.” He whispered, leaning in and placing soft kisses behind your ear.

“If you keep that up, we’re going to be late to the dinner.” You mumbled breathlessly as Aaron continued to kiss your neck.

“I don’t care.” He said lowly against your skin.

“Neither do I but my mom will go pure psycho on us and the rest of the team will be coming to claim our dead bodies.” You joked and Aaron chuckled. “But I promise we can continue this later tonight.”

“Deal.” Aaron smirked as he pulled away, standing up straight to look at you. You reached up to tighten and straighten the silky red tie he was wearing and smoothed down his shirt.

“You look very handsome Agent Hotchner.” And you reached up to give him a peck on the lips. “We better get going before my mom starts hassling us.”

Aaron reached for his suit jacket and swiftly put it on before the two of you exited your bedroom and made your way down the stairs. Your mom came into view and she gasped when she saw you.

“Oh sweetheart! You look beautiful.” She smiled.

“Thanks mom.” You said smiling back.

Aaron placed his hand on your lower back and you both made your way to the car.

“So Aaron,” you dad started as he drove. “Have you enjoyed your time in LA?”

“Yes, very much Sir,” Aaron said. “It’s nice to be here for leisure and not dealing with a case.”

“Do you enjoy working for the BA…. Whatever it is?” Your mom asked.

“I do enjoy working at the BAU, my son thinks I’m a superhero.” Aaron chuckled.

“Oh you have a son?” Your mom questioned obnoxiously.

“Yes, his name is Jack. He’s almost 8 now.” He said with a smile and you placed your hand on Aaron’s thigh to apologise for your mom’s abruptness.

“Would you want anymore children?” She continued.

“Mom!” You called our frustratedly. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s fine Y/N,” Aaron smiled to you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. “I suppose I am open to more children but only if it feels right.”

The rest of the car ride went in a silence, your mom and dad occasionally exchanging a few words and sentences but you soon arrived at the house of you sister’s future in-laws. You took in the extravagant building.

“At least we know Sarah is going to be rich for the rest of her life.” You joked to Aaron and he chuckled.

“Oh shush!” Your mom reprimanded you and she knocked a few times on the door before Sarah excitedly ran to open it.

“Can you believe I’m getting married tomorrow!” She said excitedly.

You all made your way into the lavish home and were greeted by Thomas and his parents.

“Luke is here, he’s just in the dining room.” Thomas smiled as he shook your dad’s hand.

Anger flared in Aaron’s chest at the mention of Luke as their conversation from last night replayed in his head. You noticed Aaron tense up and placed your hand on his back, rubbing softly to help him relax.

***

The large party sat around the dining table as the second course had just been finished, chatter and laughter filling the room.

“Sarah and Y/N never used to get on! They hated each other growing up.” Your mom was telling the table.

“That’s because Y/N couldn’t stand the fact that I was more popular than her.” Sarah interjected. “She was far more interested in her boring criminology books.”

“We all know you were only popular because mom had to beg the coach to let you on the cheer squad.” You laughed and Sarah threw you a glare.

“Well at least you two girls get on together now.” Your dad said, trying to calm the conversation.

“Get on? No. Tolerate? Yes.” You said laughing and a few chuckles came from around the room.

Aaron looked around the large table at the guests and his eyes settled on Luke who was downing another drink, much to his girlfriend’s dismay. She was muttering something to him and he replied angrily. Always the gentleman.

“Do you want more wine?” Your voice drew Aaron from his thoughts and he turned to you.

“Please.” He smiled, holding out his glass as your poured. “Thank you.”

Aaron pulled his chair in closer so that he could rest his hand on your thigh and the small action sent instant waves of calmness through your body.

“So, Aaron and Y/N. Why don’t you tell us what it’s like working for the FBI.” Thomas said, everyone’s eyes falling onto the two of you.

“It’s hard work but we love it.” You said, looking up at Aaron with a smile.

“Tell us about the serial killers.” Thomas pleaded.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate dinner talk honey.” Sarah said.

“I’d like to hear about it.” Your dad interjected.

“Maybe we should leave this talk until after the wedding.” Thomas’ mother said unimpressed.

You and Aaron looked at each other as everyone spoke over one another and laughed.

“We profile more than just serial killers.” You said.

“Have you ever shot anyone?” Thomas asked eagerly.

Aaron opened his mouth to respond but your mom’s desperate tone cut him off. “Why don’t we go back to talking about the wedding!”

You turned to Aaron and rolled your eyes before the excited chatter of the wedding filled the room again.

Eventually, the guests dispersed from the table, mingling around the grand house with one another. Your mom was excitedly chatting away with Sarah, Thomas and Thomas’ mom while your dad was talking to a couple of your great aunts. Luke was solemnly stood in the corner, sipping slowly at a large tumbler of whiskey. Aaron had his hand placed at the small of your back, holding you close as your cousin spoke.

“You should have seen your mom’s face when Thomas asked if you had ever shot anyone!” Liv laughed. “She looked absolutely horrified.”

“Well, you know better than anyone my mom hates my job.” You replied with an eye roll. “She never wanted me to take my job at the BAU.”

“I’m glad you did take it.” Aaron said, rubbing a circle on your back. “Or we never would have met.”

“Blah!” Liv said. “You guys are so in love it makes me sick. Where can I get myself an Aaron?” She joked.

“Join the FBI.” You replied with a laugh.

“I’m going to go and get another drink and consider your proposal.” Liv chuckled and walked off to the kitchen.

You looked up at Aaron with a smile and leaned in for a kiss which he happily reciprocated, placing a gentle peck on your lips. You leaned in for another but Aaron pulled away.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.” He mumbled into your ear. “You look so breathtaking in this dress.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled shyly into Aaron’s neck. “Keep talking like that and I won’t be able to control myself.” You replied and looked around the room. Everyone was occupied or engaged in conversation, all centred around Sarah and Thomas. “I don’t think anyone would notice if we disappeared.” You said and the implications in your tone told Aaron exactly what you were thinking.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his hands sliding to yours hips and you nodded eagerly.

The two of you quickly made your way down the long hall to the ostentatious bathroom and checked if anyone was around before you both stepped into the room, locking the door behind you. In an instant, Aaron’s lips were on yours, catching them in a hungry kiss and you stepped back, the back of your legs hitting the the bathroom counter. Aaron swiftly lifted you up and effortlessly placed you softly onto the counter. You parted your legs so Aaron could stand between them, letting him be closer to you as he kissed your jaw and you pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders.

“I never took you as a quickie in the bathroom kind of guy.” You joked breathlessly.

“Neither did I.” He said as lips trailed down to your collarbone. “But you can be quite persuasive Agent Y/L/N.”

You pushed your clothed centre into Aaron’s crotch and he groaned into your ear as you slid your body closer to his from your position on the counter. You could feel him getting harder as each second passed and your kiss grew rougher and more passionate.

“This dress is just so beautiful.” Aaron mumbled. “You are so beautiful.”

You kissed him again hard on the lips and began to unbuckle his belt.

“Eager?” He jokingly muttered as you unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them.

“We don’t have long until they realise we’ve disappeared.” You said. “And I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Aaron pulled you closer to him and hastily hiked the skirt of your dress up. You could feel how hard he was through his pants and leaned into his ear.

“I need you.” You mumbled desperately.

He reached for his wallet out his back pocket and quickly ruffled through before muttering frustratedly.

“Fuck! I don’t have anything.” He said gruffly.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled as you pulled him back to you by his tie. “I’m on birth control.”

“Are you sure?” He asked. “It’s not always 100% effective…”

You cut him off with a kiss before reaching for his boxers, slipping your hand beneath the waistband and pulling his cock free. Aaron groaned as you took him in your hand and reached down to your panties, pushing the fabric to the side and sliding his fingers inside your slick folds.

“So wet already.” Aaron grumbled and you gasped as he began to pump his index and middle fingers in and out of you slowly.

“Please Aaron.” You pleaded and helped line his length up to your entrance.

Aaron pushed his cock inside you slowly and your hands grabbed onto the edge of the counter tightly. Once he was completely inside of you, he stilled and gave a moment for your body to adjust.

“You ok?” Aaron mumbled and you nodded.

“Yes!” You exhaled.

Aaron began slow thrusts, rocking back and forth, driving into you over and over again. Each thrust felt like ecstasy to him as your walls clenched around his length. It was enough to send him into overdrive. You moaned out quietly and bit your lips to stifle any noises.

“Feel so good.” Aaron grumbled into your neck as his pace picked up and his grip on your hips tightened.

“Aaron!” You moaned at the building pressure between your legs, your grip on the edge of the counter so tight as Aaron’s thrusts grew faster and harder. He placed soft kisses on your neck as he continued to fuck you against the counter and you felt as though you were about to crumble from the pleasure. “Fuck! Right there…” you gasped out as he hit the perfect spot and he positioned himself to make sure he continued hitting the right spot.

“Where do you want me to?…” Aaron began to ask but was cut off by a moan from himself as his own pleasure neared its climax.

“Inside.” You managed to mumble. “Aaron! I’m going to…” all brain function was clouded as your orgasm took over your body.

Aaron buried his head into your shoulder, his thrusts growing sloppy as his own climax neared. A soft moan from your lips was all he needed and he was tumbling over the edge and you gasped at the sudden hot sensation as he filled you up. Aaron continued rocking his hips as he rode out his orgasm. Then, the two of you froze as the doorknob began to aggressively twist as someone attempted to enter the bathroom.

“Occupied!” You managed to call out and you heard a gruff mumble reply from the other side of the door. “Quick, we should get cleaned up.” You whispered and Aaron nodded, pulling out of you slowly and reaching for several tissues from the countertop.

Once you were both cleaned up and looking much more presentable than you were a mere 5 minutes prior, you unlocked the door and quickly exited.

“Remember the quick fucks we used to have?” A voice mumbled from behind you as you and Aaron began to walk down the hall. You turned to see Luke standing against the wall, taking a large swig from his glass.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, taken aback by his abruptness.

“Don’t act dumb Y/N, we all know you two just fucked in the bathroom. We used to do it all the time.” Luke slurred as he walked towards you and Aaron. “I told you she was a good fuck didn’t I?”

“I don’t want any trouble Luke,” Aaron said sternly as he stepped in front of you, shielding you from Luke in a protective manner.

“Come on Aaron, admit it! You’re only with Y/N for the sex. God knows that’s the only reason I stayed with her for five years.”

Anger grew inside Aaron and he stepped forward to Luke. “Just go back to the party and stop bothering Y/N. I warned you last night to leave her alone.”

Luke stepped away and threw his hands up defensively. “Hey whatever! We’re cool man. I mean, I can’t say I envy you being stuck with the needy slut.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate, his fist formed a ball and without a second thought, he threw a punch to Luke’s jaw and he fell to the floor from the impact. Everything happened so fast and you barely had time to process the situation but you were back at Aaron’s side in an instant and he wrapped his arms around you. Luke slowly stumbled upright as he found his feet, clinging onto his nose as bright red blood spilled over his suit.

“What the fuck! I think you broke my fucking nose!” Luke shouted.

All the commotion had drawn people’s attention from the party as they all made their way to the hallway to see what had happened.

“Oh my god! What have you done?” Sarah shrieked as she looked at the scene before her.

“Broke my fucking nose!” Luke responded angrily.

“It’s not broken.” Aaron rolled his eyes.

“You had to make this about you didn’t you?!” Sarah fumed, turning to you.

“Wh…what?” You fumbled in shock.

“You couldn’t stand the fact that this week was about me and you had to create a scene!”

You started to laugh at her preposterous suggestion. “Are you serious?”

“Girls! Let’s leave this argument until after the wedding.” Your mom said as she tried to intervene.

“You just can’t get over that I’m getting married first so you had to ruin it.” Sarah continued.

“No Sarah! I just couldn’t stand the fact that your let that,” you aggressively pointed at Luke who was now being fussed over by his girlfriend and Thomas. “Asshole to be a part of it.”

“He dumped you two years ago! Get over it.” Sarah replied angrily.

“Trust me Sarah, I’m fucking over it! And you know what? I’m over this wedding as well.” You exclaimed.

“Y/N!” Your mom hissed.

“She’s a fucking psycho mom!” Sarah said. “No wonder she catches them for a living.

Aaron’s grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer to him, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Why don’t we all calm down and go back to the party?” You dad suggested as he tried to calm the situation.

“I think me and Aaron should go.” You muttered.

“Yes. I think you should.” Sarah said venomously.

“I’ll drive you home.” Your dad offered but you shook your head.

“We’ll just get a cab.” You replied and took Aaron’s hand in yours.

***

“I’m sorry.” Aaron said as the two of you walked into the deserted house.

“For what?” You asked, turning around to face him.

“I escalated the situation. I should have never punched Luke but I couldn’t stand listening to how he spoke about you.” He loosened his tie as he spoke.

“Don’t apologise.” You said sternly, walking over to him and intertwining your hands with his. “I’m lucky to have you defending my honour.” Your tried to joke and Aaron smiled.

“But you’re sister…” He began but you cut him off.

“Needs to realise that not everything is going to be perfectly smooth.” You rolled your eyes. “We’ll know in the morning if I’m still maid of honour. But, it’s going to be hilarious seeing Luke tomorrow standing at the end of the aisle with a broken nose.”

Aaron groaned and rolled his eyes. “I did not break it! It was just a light punch.”

“A light punch? You nearly killed him!” You laughed and Aaron sighed defeatedly despite the small smile on his lips. “But I must admit, it was very sexy.”

Aaron chuckled sheepishly and placed his hands on your hips, still in awe of your appearance and your dress. You leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Let’s go upstairs and pretend everything today didn’t happen.” You muttered against Aaron’s lips.

“Everything?” He quizzed, pulling away and raising an eyebrow which caused your to giggle.

“Ok, not everything.” You laughed and the two of you began to trek up the stairs to your bedroom.

When you entered your room, you immediately kicked off your heels and began to unzip your dress. Aaron followed closely behind, taking off his jacket and tie before sitting down on the bed to untie his shoes.

Soon, you and Aaron were sat in bed together, he had his arm wrapped around your shoulders while you nestled into his side. It felt so natural, so domestic. You could still smell Aaron’s cologne on his neck and it smelt like heaven, sending ripples of relaxation through your body.

“I could spend all day in your arms.” You mumbled into his chest.

“I’d love nothing better than to lay in bed with you all day.”Aaron replied.

“What will the team say when they find out about this?” You asked.

“They will definitely tease us. Dave would claim he’d always known we would get together.” Aaron scoffed. “He actually…” he paused, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. “He actually tried to get me to ask you out.”

“Really?” You asked surprise, sitting up straight so that you were facing him.

He chuckled nervously. “Yes. His voice kept circling my head that night I agreed to do this with you. I could hear Dave’s words repeating over and over.”

“What did he say to you?” You asked eagerly.

“He said ‘If you don’t tell Y/N how you feel, I’ll do it for you’ and I couldn’t stand the thought of you finding out how I felt about you from David Rossi of all people.” Aaron laughed.

You suddenly gasped. “Oh my god! Rossi is the reason you bought me those earrings for my birthday isn’t he?”

Heat rose to Aaron’s cheeks before he nodded slowly. “Dave saw you show a picture of them to Garcia and JJ and told me to get them for you. I rarely listen to Dave’s advice when it comes to relationships but this was the one time I listened to a suggestion from him.”

You leaned forward and kissed Aaron passionately, wrapping your arms round his neck. His hand instinctively went to your hips as he held you in place. You pulled away and looked deeply into his eyes.

“I love you.” You said breathlessly.

Aaron smiled brightly. “I love you too.” He said before leaning in to kiss you again.

***

“Did you go to that party with a plan to ruin your sister’s wedding?” Your mom shrieked as she burst into your room. You and Aaron jolted apart at her sudden entrance, her shrill voice piercing your ears.

“Mom, oh my god.” You sighed. “You made us jump!”

“You were very rude to your sister at her rehearsal dinner.” You mom continued, a sour look on her face. “She is downstairs so upset with what happened. You’re lucky she still wants you to be her maid of honour tomorrow.”

“I think you’re both being over dramatic. Luke got what he deserved.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s not my fault Sarah started an unnecessary argument.”

“Luke has got a potential broken nose! We don’t know of he’ll be able to go to the wedding tomorrow.”

“Would that really be so terrible?” You asked.

“Enough! Tomorrow is Sarah’s day, let the past with Luke go and try and behave for the wedding tomorrow.”

“Jesus mom, I’m not 5 anymore.” You huffed at her ridiculous words.

“In Y/N’s defence,” Aaron spoke from his position next to you on the bed. “Luke has said some disgusting things about Y/N this weekend. I don’t usually go round throwing punches but I couldn’t stand there and let him call my girlfriend, your daughter a slut.”

Your mom was taken aback by what Aaron said. She struggled to find the words she wanted to speak.

“Just make sure you apologise to Sarah in the morning, she’s staying here tonight. The night before her wedding and all that.” Your mom muttered and then swiftly exited your room, shutting the door behind her.

“Christ tomorrow is going to be painful.” You groaned, throwing your head back against the pillow.

***

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sesesimmi · 5 months

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kissingmyeyez · 2 years

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Concept Tony and Bucky go on instagram live and perform a duet of 7 things by Miley Cyrus and dedicate it to Steve! Everyone and their mom tags him in it, he keeps getting notification after notification until he throws his phone against the wall and cracks it!

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bulkyphrase · 3 months

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Identity Porn Rec List

Some of my favorite fics that deal with the difficulties and complications of having a secret identity.

Identity porn is a mainstay of Stony fic, but there are also some gems from Stucky, SamSteve, and whatever the ship name for Steve/Matt Murdock is.

given you a number, taken away your name by janonny (@awesomelifechoices) (Stony, General Audiences, 4,520 words)

Summary: As Tony behaves more erratically, S.H.I.E.L.D. sends in Steve as an undercover agent in S.I. to be Natasha’s back-up. Except Steve is really, really not cut out for this undercover business. - Before the lift’s doors closed, Stark suddenly grinned and said, “Call me Tony. Have a better rest of the day, big guy.” Awkwardly, Steve lifted his free hand and waved as the doors slid shut between them. What...what was he doing? Why was he waving? Steve hurriedly put his hand down and turned around sharply.

How to Woo the Winter Soldier by writeonclara (@writeonclara) (Stucky, General Audiences, 21,570 words)

Summary: “I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said. “What,” Natasha said. “What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier. “Steve, no,” Clint groaned. Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier. Also available as a podfic read by Akaihyou (@akaihyou)

I (created from fantasies) exist solely for you by Mizzy (@mizzy2k) (Stony, Teen And Up Audiences, 62,917 words)

Summary: Six years ago, without the Avengers Initiative there to save the day, scientist Dr. Eric Selvig sacrificed himself to save the world, the almighty demi-god Thor was lost to a terrible storm, and vigilante Iron Man – spotted with a nuclear weapon trying to take advantage of the situation – was forever labelled an enemy of SHIELD. This is a comic book office AU, where Steve is defrosted a year too late, Thor has forgotten who he is, and no one knows Tony is Iron Man. Also includes: office pranks, inappropriate post-it notes, and superheroes who like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. Also available as a podfic read by badfinch (@read-by-badfinch)

More below the cut!

Love Is A Masquerade by Mizzy (@mizzy2k) (Stony, Mature, 12,010 words)

Summary: *loudspeaker noise* Please present your tickets here for your trip on the Steve/Tony Fantasy Trope Land express. On your left we have Masquerade Balls and Identity Porn; on the right we have Steve's Thirst for Iron Man's Thighs and Dramatic Balcony Kissing. Please keep your arms and legs within the ride at all times, thank you. Also featuring Classic Iron Man armor, Identity-Porn-Without-Porn, and Boys-In-Tights. You will need to leave your expectations for plot at the entrance to the fic; be kind and please pick up your trash before you go. Look, it's unrepentant fluff and crack, don't look at me like that, you're the one still reading this summary. [aka] When the Avengers are invited to attend Tony Stark's Annual Masquerade Ball, Steve's hoping Iron Man will be there--after all, he can wear a mask and keep his identity secret. So when Steve recognizes Iron Man's distinctive thighs, Steve is SO sure he's found Iron Man's pilot... He's right, but not in a way Steve would ever have guessed... Also available as a podfic read by paraka (@paraka)

Masked and Anonymous by panickyintheuk (@shiningredandgold) (Stony, Explicit, 4,236 words)

Summary: "When Mr. Stark opened the door, he had his shirt untucked, and no shoes on. It was evening, and it was his own apartment, and Steve was dropping by unannounced, so that was all really fair enough, but it was also the least put-together Steve had ever seen him." Steve drops in on Avengers benefactor Mr. Stark, but it seems that Mr. Stark was expecting him.

Not Just Anybody (Help) by kototyph (Samsteve, Teen And Up Audiences, 9,349 words)

Summary: Sam meets a homeless veteran with a famous name.

Straight on till Morning by Sineala (@sineala) (Stony, Explicit, 109,848 words)

Summary: Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive. But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything. Also available as a podfic read by M_Samro (@msamro)

Super Villain Dating Tips - Or How Steve Won Over Tony Through The Art of Kidnapping by forgetmenotjimmy (Stony, General Audiences, 46,265 words)

Summary: Steve isn't evil, he's just trying to do the right thing whilst hiding from an insane General who's out for his blood - literally - but when he is forced to kidnap Tony to help him escape the cops, his plans to take down the Secret Division that experimented on him, well, they get put on the back burner. How does a villain date a hero? More kidnapping of course!

The Blind Leading by SkyisGray (Stucky, Explicit, 43,034 words)

Summary: Steve is specifically told not to fraternize with the independently contracted Winter Soldier.

The Corruption of Captain America by the Villain Tony Stark by ladililn (@ladililn) (Stony, Explicit, 50,344 words (WIP))

Summary: Iron Man paused. “Oh my god. You thought I was a robot.” “No, I—” Steve felt his face flushing. “I…considered the possibility,” he admitted. “You thought I was a robot who’s been hitting on you.” “Is that really so crazy?” Steve felt an inexplicable need to defend himself. “In the forties, I fought a Nazi with a skull for a head.”

Think of This as Solving Problems (That Should Never Have Occurred) by Sineala (@sineala) (Stony, Teen And Up Audiences, 35,216 words)

Summary: No one knows Tony is Iron Man. Then Tony gets amnesia, and literally no one knows Tony is Iron Man.

To Make Much of Time by Sineala (@sineala) (Stony, Teen And Up Audiences, 16,114 words)

Summary: When Iron Man rejects Steve's romantic advances, Steve is disappointed, but of course he understands -- Iron Man's secret identity is important. But when a portal opens and Tony Stark crashes into their midst from twelve years in the future, Steve starts to suspect that there are more secrets here than he can even begin to comprehend, and neither Iron Man nor Tony are providing any answers. Also available as a podfic read by paraka (@paraka)

What Lies Behind by kdm103020, xinsomniac1101x (@kdm103020, with art by @xinsomniac1101x) (Stony, Teen And Up Audiences, 63,364 words)

Summary: Four months after the Battle of New York, Steve Rogers still hasn't managed to find his footing. The new century is strange and upsetting, and he appears to have no purpose in it. But when SHIELD sends him to liaise with the director of Stark Industries, his life starts to change in ways he could never imagine. Or, the MCU-rooted AU, in which Steve and Tony both still maintain their secret identities.

with liberty and justice for all by ria_green (Matt Murdock/Steve Rogers, Teen And Up Audiences, 14,020 words)

Summary: Steve and Matt's relationship is basically a romantic comedy. Except for one minor complication - they're both hiding their superhero/vigilante identities from each other.

#steve rogers #marvel fic rec #stony

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theworldendswithsho · 2 months

Note

OKAY can you please hit me with some nanami wherein he is pinning for the reader? She’s insecure because the higher ups prefer her ex 💔

ALRIGHT here's my very first fanfiction in AGES! Sorry if its not great, I'm definitely rusty! I wasn't sure who to put in as the ex so I chose Kusakabe lol, hopefully that doesn't ruin it for ya. Enjoy!

warnings: very slight nsfw, mentions of sex, some angst

His Life's Work, Reimagined

Kento Nanami was a man dedicated to his life’s work. At least, that’s what he told himself after dropping out of life as a Tokyo businessman and returning to Jujutsu High as a teacher. He had nothing and no one else to dedicate himself to, after all. He was a sorcerer of immense talent, though he was humble and stoic. Though reserved and a bit stern at times, his students loved and respected him.

You, on the other hand, were having a hard time settling in as a teacher. Here you were, brand new to a job you loved, but you behaved so youthfully that your students had a hard time taking you seriously. Hell, you’d have a hard time taking you seriously. To make matters worse, you’re teaching alongside your ex-boyfriend, Atsuya Kusakabe. Before you’d landed the job at Jujutsu High, you had met him at a bar. You were there with a couple of friends from college, and he was there to have a drink after work with Nanami, the only teacher he really got along with at Jujutsu High. Nanami, being the responsible man he was, left after two drinks and got a taxi home. Your friends ran off with some guys they met at the bar, and there you were, alone, and there Kusakabe was, alone. A few drinks later, you went home together in the back of a taxi cab and the rest was history.

He was handsome, but he was a fucking coward. He ran away with his tail between his legs, afraid of committing to you the way you wanted. Everyone at work noticed a strange tension between you and Kusakabe, but no one said a word. Everyone, Principal Yaga included, seemed to respect him, and no matter how badly you hated him, you had to smile and nod whenever his praises were sung. Several times, you tried to speak with Principal Yaga about how to engage with the students, and he told you to speak with Kusakabe, that he was a master at engaging with his pupils. Needless to say, you never spoke with him, and your teaching skills haven’t gotten any better.

Word gets out about a Special Grade curse in Shinjuku, and a meeting is called for all of the Jujutsu High teachers. When you enter the room, you expect to be struggling to keep your piercing eyes off of Kusakabe, but when Nanami walks in, you find your eyes have a new target. He was stony-faced, but awfully handsome, and his body seemed well defined, despite being hidden underneath his suit. Briefly, Nanami looks over his glasses at you and you suddenly look down, feeling your face go red. Did he catch you? What must he be thinking right now?

Principal Yaga assigns Nanami to the mission, and tells him he can pick any other teacher to bring with him as his partner. You look up, and Nanami’s gaze is steady on you. “Y/N will come with me,” he says with unwavering confidence. Your mouth falls open, and then closes again, before you nod your head. The meeting is adjourned and the teachers file out one by one, leaving you and Nanami alone to walk out together.

“Hello, Y/N. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Kento Nanami,” he says cordially, extending a hand.

You take his hand and shake it. “I’m Y/N L/N, nice to meet you.”

~~~~~

You leave Jujutsu High late in the day. The mission goes off without a hitch. The curse is exorcized, and the city of Shinjuku is safe again (for now). You yawn, and Nanami looks up, noticing the bags under your eyes. He feels his heart tug upon seeing you look so exhausted. He quickly shakes his head, thinking to himself that he cannot let himself feel for a coworker. To do so would be unprofessional. And yet…

“You look tired. We should get you some coffee before we head back to campus,” he says, motioning with his chin in the direction of a cafe. You nod, and he straightens his tie before walking silently with you to the cafe.

It is there, over coffee, that he gives you advice on teaching. For someone so stoic, he was surprisingly caring and ready to engage in conversation. Sitting across from him at the small table and sipping your cappuccino while he had his black coffee, you began to realize he was even more handsome than you’d thought. His hair was neatly kept, his face was chiseled and strong, yet possessed a kind of grace that was uncharacteristic of such strength. His normally downturned lips would quirk upwards sometimes during conversation, or when he had a particularly delightful sip of his coffee.

You both stood up from the table after finishing your coffee, you stretching your arms over your head and Nanami straightening his suit jacket. He held the door for you as you left the cafe, and you made your way back to Jujutsu High without a problem. You found yourself thinking about him, and how truly mature and responsible he was. You felt your heart flutter, and then you squeezed your eyes shut. I can’t fall in love with another teacher again. If this goes badly, my job will be twice as hellish as it is now.

Little did you know, Nanami was in the dark of his room on campus thinking about you, too. Thinking about your dainty hands around your coffee cup, and then around your weapon, and then around him. Suddenly, he had a new reason to go teach every day, and it wasn’t that he was dedicated to his life’s work.

~~~~~

During a lunch break, you observe Nanami and Kusakabe sitting together and chatting. You feel your stomach clench nervously. How could I have forgotten they were friends? They were at the bar together that night, weren’t they? You noticed Kusakabe’s eyes flicker behind Nanami and land on you, and you squeeze your lunch box a little tighter. Nanami, whose back is currently to you, follows Kusakabe’s gaze, and his lips upturn slightly upon seeing you.

“L/N, come sit with us. We were just talking about the mission last evening,” Nanami says.

I offer a fake smile and apologize. “Sorry, I was just about to take my lunch back to my classroom. I’ve got some lesson planning to do,” you say, and with that, you scurry out of the faculty room and back to your classroom. Nanami’s slight smile drops, and Kusakabe shakes his head. “If she wants to keep her job here, she’ll have to be a little friendlier than that,” Kusakabe mutters. Nanami looks confusedly at Kusakabe, who then explains that you used to date. Nanami feels a pang of jealousy in his chest upon hearing Kusakabe joke, “She must still be in love with me or something.”

The next few days at lunch, Kusakabe continues talking with Nanami about you. He always makes snide comments about your abilities as a sorcerer and as a teacher, and of course, your relationship together. Nanami senses your presence in the lunch room, and though Kusakabe is speaking quietly, Nanami decides to speak up so you know he was talking about you.

“Actually, L/N’s a pretty good teacher. I think she just needed time to settle in, is all,” Nanami says loudly. Kusakabe’s face drops and he shushes Nanami. “Kento, she’s in the room. Don’t need her knowing I’m talking about her.” Nanami nods in false agreement, and turns to you and gives you a slight smile when Kusakabe looks away.

You feel pride swell in your chest knowing that Nanami thinks highly of you. Who cares what your ex says, right? Nanami believes in you. The feeling of pride ebbs away as your thoughts run wild, and you begin to wonder if Nanami was just trying to save face. How much have they said about me when I wasn’t there? Does Nanami think I’m easy for dating Kusakabe?

You don’t know that Nanami thinks about you every morning when he combs his hair and puts on his cologne. You don’t know that he wishes he was waking up next to you in the morning, or cooking meals for you when he’s cooking for himself. You don’t know the way your name falls from his lips when his hands roam his body in the shower at night, after a long day of work.

~~~~~

You’re sitting at the your desk in your empty classroom, mulling over the lesson plans in your binder. You look up at the clock. Its 2:27, and Nanami is supposed to be here at 2:30. You feel your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone in an empty classroom with him, but wipe the sweat off on your skirt and resume mulling through your lesson plans. The door to your classroom is open, but there’s a knock. You look up, pleasantly surprised that Nanami is early, only to find Kusakabe leaning in the doorframe, looking at you with a smirk.

“What are you doing here?” You say, disgust clear in your voice.

“Now, now, Y/N… You’re really going to have to be nicer to me than that. I’ve got a meeting with Yaga and some of the other teachers today to discuss your performance… and your behavior.”

Your eyes widen. Was he seriously blackmailing you right now?

“What do you want?”

“I want those teaching the next generation of Jujutsu sorcerers to actually be worth their salt,” he retorts. “Your performance has been lackluster, to say the least. Nanami’s the only reason Yaga hasn’t put you on administrative leave, yet.”

Kusakabe saunters over from the door frame, putting his hands on your desk and leaning over you.

“Nanami speaks real highly of you, y’know. You fuckin’ him?” he says in a low voice, leaning in close to you.

In the uncomfortable silence following that statement, you hear Nanami clear his throat. You look towards the doorway, and Kusakabe whips around and stands up straight. “Oh hey, Ken-”

“Save it, Atsuya. There’s nothing going on with me and L/N. I’ve been mentoring her in her teaching skills and I have seen genuine improvement. She is more than worth her salt, and she is more than capable of teaching the next generation. I advise you leave so I can go over lesson plans with her. And be very sure Principal Yaga will be hearing about this at the faculty meeting later,” Nanami says, his voice stern and low, a near growl.

Kusakabe rolls his eyes and stalks out of the classroom.

The air in the room suddenly feels very hot as Nanami pulls a chair over to your desk and sits next to you, looking towards the binder full of lesson plans on the desk.

“Thank you, Nanami. For standing up for me.”

“Please, call me Kento,” he says in a honeyed voice, his eyes meeting yours and softening.

“Nan- I mean Kento,” you start, not yet used to the name change. “About what Kusakabe was saying… I know you said there’s nothing going on between us, but to be honest, I kind of wish there was.”

Your words hang in the air, and your face flushes. You expect Nanami to push his chair back, to tell you its unprofessional, to shake his head and pretend it didn’t happen. But instead, he smiles, a real genuine smile, and leans closer to you.

“I’ve been wishing there was something going on between us since I first met you at the mission briefing,” he practically whispers. His voice is steady, but it cannot conceal his longing for you. “Is this okay?” Kento asks, bringing his hand up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. You nod once, and that is all it takes for him to press his lips to yours.

#nanami x reader #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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bunnyreaper · 7 months

Text

speak now—pt 2

pairing - john price x f!reader wc - 3k warnings - wedding (left at the altar), exes to lovers, post-break up/getting back together, swearing/insults, wee bit of angst!! notes - this genuinely went off the rails but, here it is!! pt2!! read pt 1 here! have a request? drop it on me! or read this fic on ao3!

Bullets fly all around you, whipping past your ear in a cacophony of death. You're pinned down, too many rifles trained on your position just waiting for you to break cover—and none of the rest of the 141 are around to help you out.

It feels like one peek will have you staring death in the face, and your heartbeat roars accordingly. Yet still, you expected it to be worse, you didn't expect to be as calm as you are.

You close your eyes for a moment, just to think. Your fiancé's waiting for you at home, and you have to get back to him. You can't die here, have to think of a way out, John would be so mad if you died under his watch. The crash of metal and the sound of ragged breaths pull you out of your thoughts, the Captain himself slams beside you, rifle in hand.

"I'll cover you, run."

The last thing you want to do is leave John behind, but the look in his eyes is so commanding, so certain. You've always been able to trust him—always will, even after everything.

Maybe that's why you let him walk away, because you trusted he knew what was best for you—otherwise, why else would he leave you?

With an even calmer resolve, you focus, nodding at your captain one more time before you bolt for the building's exit, firing off bullets where you can.

The adrenaline coursing through you now is incomparable.

You have no training to deal with this, no guidance to help face it—especially when your guiding light is now a blinding problem.

You watch, frozen, heart beating out of control as John stands. Maybe he remembered he left the oven on, maybe he's going to hand you a tissue or something…

His eyes are fixed on you, they're your unknowing something blue, the one thing you couldn't do this day without. You search his gaze for answers and see the swirl of emotion within as he speaks.

"Y/N, don't do it."

The strain in his voice almost sounds painful, like the heartache is slowly strangling him from the inside. And yet, you're frozen.

John just stopped your wedding, and there's only one reason why. Looking into his eyes now, it's plain as day—he never stopped loving you, and in the final moments as you slipped through his fingers, he decided he couldn't let you go.

You feel your mouth open as if words are going to come, but nothing does.

Not from you, not from your fiancé, not from anyone else in the church.

For a moment, everything is still. Just you and him, a moment of understanding, of reconnection.

Simon's gruff whisper severs the moment clean in two, as he stands, looming over John. "Captain, with all due respect, sit the fuck down."

More voices flood in, your fiancé's voice going shrill and obnoxious, his mother all but screaming, whispers among the crowd.

Your fiancé moves first, the tension finally snapping as he lunges for John, a clumsy attempt at a punch dodged effortlessly by the captain. John pushes off the hands now grasping at his lapels with ease, and turns to face you once more.

Your stony, impassive expression makes his stomach drop.

"Outside, now." You hiss, before charging forward and pulling him by his arm past rows of scandalised faces—ignoring the commotion behind you.

You march to the room in which you just got ready—the room where your bridal makeup was perfected, and you had slipped into this beautiful dress, and you slam the door shut behind you both.

"John, what the fuck?" You seethe, not actually angry, but not exactly calm either. With all the feelings whirling around you, it's hard to settle on one emotion.

The man takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring, lips thinning. A tense cord pulls between the two of you, stretching and fraying. "I know you didn't want to marry him."

His eyes are filled with something severe, the sense of internal conviction it took for him to do something so monumental.

"You knew, did you? How did you know that?" The pitch of your voice climbs rapidly, a choking feeling building in your throat and crushing your windpipe. The tears are right there, just waiting to fall.

You're still in denial, still so completely overwhelmed that all you can do is process, in real time—and you know John will still be there by the end of it.

His chest rises and falls steady, resolutely calm in the storm, when he speaks, his voice is now steady. He's trying to soothe you by protecting a sense of serenity, that natural protective aura of him seeping through every pore. "I could see it in your eyes."

Your eyes, you were never good at hiding how you felt from John, or maybe he was just so adept at seeing through you. You look away, mumbling out works you don't really believe. "Maybe you were just seeing what you wanted to see."

Underneath it all, your plea is clear, convince me. Show me the truth, guide me to the light.

"I know you, love." His voice softens, and in the corner of your averted gaze you can see his posture shift—you notice the way he so clearly wants to reach out to you.

"Better than I know myself?"

Say yes, you whisper in your head.

"Better than he knows you, at least." John's words cut, but they're heavy with truth, and that tips you over the edge, the tears bursting from you.

"I hate you right now, John." You say, wracked with sobs, yet you throw yourself into his arms, clinging to him like he's your salvation. His arms wrap around your waist, his warmth seeping through the fine material of your gown.

He holds you close, tight, like he's not going to let you go again. The crush of him against you feels like home, the anger you felt ebbing away.

His face buries into your neck, his next words a mumble. "'m sure everyone out there feels the same right now."

His dry, self-deprecating humour is just his usual, as deep down, John doesn't actually care that he just made a room full of people hate him, if this is the resolution. He only cares if you do, if you still will, when the dust has settled.

You continue to cling to him as you sob, you'd sniffles breaking the silence of the room. "You ruined my wedding day."

"If you really wanted it, you'd be out there getting married, not here with me." He sighs, but his arms tighten protectively. "Tell me I did the right thing."

You pull away slightly, meeting his eyes and searching for the answers you desperately need. You've felt so lost, unmoored without John, and this situation has only added to the swirl of uncertainty. "But... you were the one who let me go."

A sad smile finds its way to his face, his eyes crinkled and pained. "Regretted it every day since, sweetheart."

"Why didn't... why didn't you say anything sooner?"

Why didn't you bring me back to you?

"Thought you'd be happy, wanted to be right, but I know what I saw up there." His hands caress your waist as he talks, his thumbs rubbing over your bodice in soothing sweeps. "Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong."

You know that if you did, he'd drop it, march you back out there, and send you off with a sad smile.

But he's not wrong. The only time he was ever wrong was sending you off in the first place, and he won't make the same mistake twice.

His eyes are fixed upon yours, waiting for an eternity for your answer.

"You... you're not wrong." With the words spoken aloud, a sense of peace washes over you, and you press yourself into John's chest for a moment, letting it all wash over you.

More tears come, and his hold is unwavering throughout. Soft touches and sweet whispers try to coax you through, coax you back to calmness once more.

"I'm so fucking confused, John, and it still hurts." You sniffle.

More than anything, you're wracked with a deep sense of guilt. Because while your fiancé is likely out there heartbroken and suffering, your heart actually feels more whole again than it has in the longest time.

And that makes you feel like a terrible, selfish person, something you've never thought of yourself as being—but then John hadn't thought of himself as the type of man to lose his self-control.

Here you both are, but you know everything will be fine since you're here together.

John's words remind you of such—a quiet whisper in your ear. "I know, sweet girl. We'll figure it out. Whatever comes next can be fixed a lot easier than a divorce, love."

You nod solemnly.

Your fiancé and his family can still enjoy the reception and the food, and he can go on your honeymoon and have a blast—you hope it won't all go to waste, at least. You'll move out of your shared flat and split the furniture, and at the end of it all you'll get to fall asleep in John's arms—something worth more than any fancy wedding day or 5-star set meal or holiday to Bali.

Worth more than the life you almost went and lived with the wrong man.

"I wish I didn't let it get this far, but I never thought... that you felt the same." You whisper.

"You still love me?" His sapphire eyes sparkle at the thought of you yearning for him all this time too.

"Never stopped, but I tried to understand. I tried to assume that you were right and I'd be happier with someone else, but..." The intensity of the moment makes your eyes flutter shut, as you take a moment to gather yourself. "It's not the same, it never has been."

"I wish I'd stepped in sooner, too. Could've saved you all this heartache." John admits, voice unusually subdued. One look in his eyes tells you he blames himself for this mess, that he's trying to pull you out of the pit of guilt and throw himself in instead.

"What am I gonna do?"

Tell me what to do.

"What we're gonna do is take a few deep breaths, but you need to make a choice." He wipes away the wet tracks still coating your cheeks, soft thumbs sweeping adoringly over you, his eyes still burning with intensity.

"You or him? It's not a choice at all, John." Your laugh is choked with a sense of disbelief. After all this, John would have to summon all his strength, and that of the rest of the task force, just to pry you away from him.

"I'm so happy to hear you say that." His smile is beaming, reflecting your own and shining with the euphoria he feels within. Everything is falling into place, the desperate leap he made was worth it, and both of you are thankful. "But you know what comes next."

"Yeah..." You nod, dread seeping in as you think of having to go tell a room full of your fiancé's friends and loved ones that the wedding won't be happening, and that you've wasted all this time and money for nothing.

"I'm happy to play the villain if it helps." There's a half-hearted smirk, and yet John's offer is serious. For you, he'd go throw himself on a metaphorical sword if it meant shielding you from the judgment and hatred.

"Hah. Think we're both the villains now." You sigh.

The banging of the door forces your attention firmly back to reality.

"Open the fuck up, John, you bastard!" Your fiancé's enraged voice calls out from the other side before he bursts through anyway.

John instinctively steps in front of you, his arm shielding you from the man's rage. They stare each other down, just as they did earlier.

"Sorry, sir, I tried to stop him." Kyle appears behind him, panting and panicked.

Your fiancé does not take kindly to that, his rage continuing to bubble over. "Tried to stop me? She's my fucking wife."

The word you'd looked forward to hearing now makes your stomach turn. You're not going to be his wife, you're not going to be his anything anymore.

It takes all your strength to look him in the eye, though the barrier of John between the two of you feels like a blanket of safety. "No, we're not going through with the wedding."

The words are out, no taking them back now.

"You've got to be kidding me, really?" His voice grows even louder, and a fit of anger seeps out of him that you've never seen before. "You led me on all this time just to fuck me off at the altar for your coffin-dodger ex?"

"Woah now, lad." It's Soap now that cuts in, trying to coax your fiancé away from the brewing tension.

John stands firm in front of you, unwavering, unafraid—though why would he be?

You don't have the same resolve in the face of a man you loved looking at you like you're shit on his shoe. "I'm sorry." You sob, the tears flowing once more.

"Sorry? For being a fucking whore?" The venom he unleashes makes everyone flinch. Kyle's mouth pops open in shock, Johnny grits his teeth. John's protective stance deepens.

"Don't talk to her like that." John snaps, nostrils flaring as his chest puffs up and his captain voice makes an appearance.

"You're welcome to her, mate." Your fiancé, ex-fiancé, laughs bitterly. "Thanks for doing me a favour, don't have to watch her make fucking goo-goo eyes at you for the rest of my life."

"I never meant for any of this to happen." Tears continue to roll down your cheeks, the emotion of the situation, of your guilt, of everything overwhelming you.

"Ignore him, love." John turns and whispers, his hand settling on your back in a comforting gesture, already falling back into the old routine of soothing and protecting you.

"Oh, you fucker—" The other man snarls, and is about to swing for John once again. In an instant, Simon is behind him, the behemoth soldier showing up just in time to pull him back through the door.

"That's enough."

There's more shouting as Simon wrestles him away with Kyle's help, leaving the rest of you standing in an awkward, stifling silence.

Johnny's concerned, confused look only adds to the tension in your chest. You worry you've disappointed him, ruined his perception of you.

As if sensing your distress, he's by your side in an instant, rubbing your shoulders and soothing you. "Everything will be a'right lass, promise."

You struggle to suck in breaths, unable to face the idea of going out into the ceremony room and having more abuse hurled at you. "Johnny, will you... handle things for me?"

"Aye, of course." He nods, taking his man of honour role very seriously.

When your breathing returns to normal under the gentle touches of both men, John turns to the younger man beside you. "Can we have a minute?"

Johnny simply nods before taking his leave.

The door clicks shut, and the room settles into silence once more—but strangely, a lot of the tension is gone.

A weight feels lifted from you, at least a little. It's over, even if there's still an aftermath to deal with.

For now, it's just you and John.

John pulls you close to him, his arms enclosing your waist as he holds you tenderly. His large arms cradle you once more, and the feeling of safety and comfort and just John rushes through you.

"Hard parts over, at least for now." He whispers. "'m not going anywhere ever again, love. We'll get through this together, yeah?"

John takes a moment to just hold you before he continues. "We'll invite him to our wedding he can ruin it... and then we'll have a do-over, call it even."

"Not funny, John." You say, yet snort a laugh anyway.

Our wedding—the words stick in your head.

Yours and John's wedding, where you get to wear the dress you want and do the things you want to do, and just have your boys there to witness your bond. The idea is far in the future, and yet it feels like something certain.

"Too soon, sorry, love." He mumbles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. "Johnny'll sort everything out, and you can get out of here."

You pull away, startled for the briefest of moments. "We can get out of here, together. I'm not leaving you trapped in a room full of people all gunning for you."

"Appreciate it, darling."

John's smile is soft and earnest, full of love as his eyes flicker down to your lips, and he stops holding back.

His hands cup your face firmly before he pulls you in, your lips melting together in a soul-searing kiss.

It's both desperate and tender—breathtaking in the way it joins you and sends relief flooding through both of you.

John's lips nip at yours, tasting you and re-familiarising themselves with your sweet plushness. You can both feel your deep hunger for the other, once that's been swirling inside you for years.

His hands slip from your face, trailing down your bare arms in the gentlest of caresses—the look in his eyes has you completely entranced as he speaks.

"Take my hand, we better run."

#captain price #john price #captain price x reader #john price x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #captain johnathan price #price x reader #john price fanfiction #captain john price #hope this hits the spot for those who wanted a part 2 #sorry for more of my NONSENSE #LOVE you all <3

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