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writingsbychlo · 5 months

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BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy

summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.

word count; 8928

notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?

Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction.

Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat.

“Good day?”

“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”

“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations.

A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”

Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.”

He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there.

“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.

“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?”

The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official.

You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment.

It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games.

Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”

Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time.

Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either.

“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”

Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”

“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics.

You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.

“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side.

“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised.

The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you.

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”

The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.

The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over.

You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.

“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”

“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you.

A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.

Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.

The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room.

Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests.

Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled.

The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one.

You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it.

“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.”

She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately.

“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had.

“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of.

He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white.

You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness.

“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her.

“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”

Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you.

Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;

“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”

Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you.

“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return.

“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye.

“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go.

“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath.

“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”

He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.

The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you.

He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.

Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass.

He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course.

As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate.

Men did love a little attention, after all.

Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.

You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.

“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.

As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”

“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down.

“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar.

“It is, I think.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere.

When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”

You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”

“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”

“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.

“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”

“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.

“The theatre, then?”

Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”

“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”

“And you, Elliot.”

Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed.

You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.

You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch.

As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone.

To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through.

He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat.

His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low.

Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover.

Until, Theo spoke up.

“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.

“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.

“When?”

“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you.

“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”

“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”

“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”

“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”

Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”

“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”

“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”

“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.

You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth.

“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”

You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from.

You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair.

“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”

Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend.

“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.

Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after.

Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know.

It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”

“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”

Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one.

“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”

“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”

Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk.

You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return.

“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”

“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”

He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”

“That is up to your cousin.”

“Touché.”

You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing.

He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night.

As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”

“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”

“He’s not even here to listen!”

“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”

A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.

“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered.

Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”

“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”

It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you.

“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment.

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”

You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.”

You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them.

“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”

Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…”

Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away.

“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.

Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip.

You’d spoken to Draco’s parents.

They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment.

It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”

“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.”

Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”

The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”

Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps.

It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”

“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”

His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…

“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.

“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”

He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”

“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”

“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.

When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye.

“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”

“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”

Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you.

“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features.

“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all.

“‘We’?”

“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news.

“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”

“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more.

“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”

“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted.

“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.

“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”

“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes.

“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”

You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats.

Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left.

“Where are we going, Dray?”

“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice.

Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food.

The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face.

“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”

“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”

He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile.

“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”

“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow.

“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”

His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”

“You never gave me any other indication!”

“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”

The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side.

Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.

“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”

“Yes. I told her days ago.”

“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”

As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”

“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”

“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”

“Blaise.”

“The bracelet?”

“Theo and the Notts.”

At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”

“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”

“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Dray.”

He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy/reader #draco malfoy/you #harry potter #slytherin boys #tom felton #draco malfoy x y/n

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nabtime · 6 months

Text

Sir Waylon of Gotham

Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity well-to-doers. Didn't much like their attitude. Or the way they looked at 'im. Lookin' down their noses, all pinched-faced and holier-than-thou, like he was the scum of the earth for the way he looked. And while Waylon wouldn't deny that he was scum, it sure weren't for lookin' the way he did. He'd earned that title fair 'n square, through hard work 'n strikin' fear inta the people of Gotham.

And he did that by bitin' they's arms off, not 'cause he was a li'l scaly.

Point was, Waylon didn't talk much with fancy people. Yeah, he talked to the Bat Brood and they could half be considered fancy on account of mostly bein' Waynes under the mask, but they didn't count. Not really. 'Specially their newest petite couyon that liked to swing about in his sewers like the chit owned the place. He didn't know how the kid was added to the family- coulda been adopted, coulda been one a' the other one's partner, coulda been another blood son a popped up outta nowhere 'gain.

Waylon didn't ask and the chit never said. No, all Phantom ever wanted to talk 'bout was how Waylon was doin. Idjit was far too concerned about Waylon's well-bein' when he shoulda been mindin' his own damn business. Kid said it was part a his business. That heroes had to check in on the reformed, make sure they were well and happy so they didn't have a need to get back inta villainy. Waylon wanted to call bullshit on 'im but he just didn't have the heart when the kid looked so earnest 'bout it.

And maybe the kid was swingin' in all the time just to check in on an Old Croc. Maybe even the kid didn't mind bein' 'round 'im an 'is big, scary teeth. Sure it were more likely he needed an escape an' the sewers were a place most Bats didn't venture less they had to, but iffin that were true- kid didn't have to find and talk to him every time.

All this was to say that he'd gotten used to seein' Danny 'round the sewers, and even seein' Jay when the older kid was sent to bring the other back topside.

Who he had not gotten used to seein' in the sewers, though, was a pretty thing all done up in medieval dress and glowin' green. Nor was he used to the hulking Knight done up in glowin' black armor standin' next ta her.

And, again, Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity people, let alone Ghost Royalty or some such, but he was still a man with manners. An' they were in his sewers (well, an' Grundy's, but the big lug weren't here, so's point was moot) so he was haven'ta be the one to greet 'em.

He growl echoed off the stone and muck as he approached the two beings that were floating midair, just above the water. They both looked lost until he fully rose from the grime and addressed them.

"Youins need somethin? Ya lookin fer Danny?"

And, well, Waylon said he had manners. Never said he was gonna use 'em.

"Oh!" said the sweet thing in flowing gown, her voice just as soft as she looked. "Yes! You must be the good Sir Waylon of Gotham that the King speaks so fondly of. I am Princess Dorathea and this is my personal guard, Fright Knight."

Sir Waylon? Now that's not somethin' he's ever heard afore. Him? Deservin' of a title like Sir? Ain't no way. He weren't 'bout to say nothin', but it sure did make him feel all flustery that a noble Lady like her would think so highly of a monster like him.

"Nah I wouldn' say he's 'xactly fond a me, but the name is Waylon, yeah, uh- My Lady."

And she smiled at 'im, sweet as anythin', like he weren't made a sharp edges an spilled blood. The big Knight aside her was actin like that too, posture relaxed as he just let her get closer. Closer an most people ever dared. 'Cept Phantom an some a the Bats. Was it a ghost thing? No fear a death, so whats scary about a big man with sharp teeth anymore?

"Would Sir Phantom be near-abouts?" she asked. "I require his counsel on matters of import."

"Sorry, cher- uh, My Lady," he grumbled, "ain't gotta clue where he's at. Somewhere's topside, prolly."

Her shoulders slumped just the slightest, obviously disappointed in his answer. And try as he might to want to give her a better one, he only knew where the kid was when he wanted to hang around underground. Waylon avoided the streets at all costs these days, not wantin' to risk trouble again. He'd spent enough of his days wastin' away in Arkham and Blackgate, thanks.

The Lady turned thoughtful though and graced him with a tilt of her head and a smile. "Perhaps you would deign to assist me instead, Sir Waylon?"

"Well nah, I'd love ta, My Lady. Supposin' its somethin' I can help ya with."

"Yes," she said, circling around him in a graceful glide, "so long as you are willing, you will suit just fine."

"Ya still haven't told me what ya need help with, ah- My Lady."

Waylon couldn't see the Knight's expression but he could almost feel the amusement pourin' off a him. And he wondered just what the hell he'd agreed to that a guy like that'd find it funny.

"My brother is making moves to take back the Kingdom. He has amassed a small, but skilled contingent of rebels and intends to usurp me at the upcoming Yule Celebration."

"So ya need muscle ta help stop 'im?"

"Oh no," she said, sweet but full of venom- like arsenic. Her grin was now full of teeth, teeth much to sharp for a proper Lady like her, and her eyes turned to glowing reptilian points. "I can take care of him myself. I intended to ask Sir Phantom along as contingency."

She looked him up and down and the Knight standing guard behind her was projectin' a certain smugness as he did the same.

"You, however, Sir Waylon," she said, and the tone near sent a shiver down his spine. "Will do well as both warrior and suitor."

"What say you?"

#nap shitposts in the afterlife #naps fics #dp x dc #dpxdc #i leave the ending up to your imagination or someone elses potential continuation #i just had the funny idea that they'd all be good together. yes that includes Fright Knight.#have fun with the ship and ship name byyyeeee

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princessaxoxo · 8 months

Text

Dad's Best Friend

August Walker x reader

Summary: August is your dad's best friend, and the two of you share a special afternoon.

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, unprotected sex (p in v), cussing, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, pet names (princess, my girl, baby, good girl), Age Gap

Wordcount: 1.8k+

A/N: Reader is in her mid 20s and august is in his 40s.

You attended your father's 46th birthday celebration; this year, he went above and beyond. Instead of hosting the celebration at his home as he usually did, he chose to rent a banquet hall. The reason? You did not know.

Nonetheless, the décor and the extravagantly dressed attendees were stunning. Ladies, including you in the most exquisite dresses, and men dressed in their best suits

As you moved around the room, you introduced yourself to everyone and thanked them on your father's behalf.

That is when you noticed him, August. You did not think he might be here, but he definitely would be given that your father and him have been close friends for a long time.

In the past, even with other people around, you did not dare to approach him. You were not as nervous anymore because you were older and had more life experience.

"Hey August, remember me?" you said as you entered his field of vision. "No, I am sorry; I don't," he said after giving you a quick glance. "Alexander's daughter, I know I do not look the same," you said with a smile as you looked at him. August's eyes nearly bulged out of his head in shock at what he was seeing.

Although he thought you were attractive the last time he saw you, he decided not to pursue you because you were the daughter of his close friend.

"Oh yes, I apologize. How are you doing?"

Compared to the earlier conversations you had that same night, this one between the two of you seemed to flow naturally.

August began to perceive you differently; you were not the same apprehensive college student he first met three years ago. That is what frightened him, because he did not care about the consequences of what he wanted to do to you and with you.

He eyed your movements more than he should’ve. Whether or not you noticed was irrelevant to him. How you occasionally licked your lips following each wine sip

He needed to leave your presence because of the unholy thoughts that started to run through his mind. "Please excuse me; I have to use the restroom." He smiled at you with his lips pursed.

You were upset in some ways and dreaded the conversation's end. However, you also departed to spend the rest of the evening with your parents.

When the cake was brought out for your father, everyone gathered. August put his arm around your father and shouted, "Happy birthday!" clearly drunk.

When your father went to blow out the candles, August looked at you with a lustful glare that made you squeeze your thighs together.

He noticed that, and it made his ego soar knowing he was making you feel that way.

You arrived at your parent's house the following morning. "Hello?" As there was nobody in sight when you went to look around, you made the decision to sit and wait for them.

After 30 minutes, you heard the door open. "Mom? Dad?” you called out.

"Unfortunately, no, I came by to say goodbye to your father," August said as he appeared.

“Oh, my parents' are out. I’m not sure when they’ll be back.” You looked to the couch and said, “If you like, you could sit and wait with me.”

He didn’t second-guess his choice.

He took a seat and began to man spread.

On a chair your parents had in the living room, you sat across from him.

Until he spoke, the two of you sat in quiet comfort. “If I have not already said so, you looked stunning last night.”

“Thank you; what I wore last night wasn’t my first choice, nor was the dress my favorite.” August stayed quiet for a moment, taking you in. He rubbed his jaw. "Well, still, you looked stunning. I'm sure you look stunning in anything you wear"

What he said shocked you, you hadn't expected to hear that from him.

You eyed him just as he did with you, and you realized that you hadn't seen someone look so good with a beard; you wanted to know how it would feel against your pussy while giving you head.

You were 99% sure it would feel like heaven.

Acting on instinct, you walked over to the couch and climbed onto his lap. He leaned his head back to look up at you with a smirk. “And what are you doing, princess?” You grabbed his jaw and kissed him. His lips were soft, moving elegantly against yours.

You felt his hardened cock underneath his slacks, and you started to rub yourself against his cock.

He grabbed the back of your neck, turning the soft kiss into a harsh one.

Holding onto you tightly, he turned you on your back. He started to kiss down your neck, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

"Let's get your shirt off." He threw your shirt off and started kissing between your breasts. You leaned up for a moment to unclasp your bra. As soon as it was off, he grabbed each one, kissing and sucking your nipples and moaning around them.

"Fuck, you have the most perfect tits."

Moans were filling up the silence in the house.

You helped him undo your pants, and he smacked your thighs for you to open them wider.

"You're drenched for me already, princess." He moved your panties over and slid two of his fingers between your folds before removing them and tasting you.

He held a smirk on his face as he lowered himself. He ripped your panties, and you felt his breath over your bare pussy. "Please August"

"Tell me what you want, princess, and I'll give it to you."

You looked at him with pleading eyes and said, "Please lick my pussy; I need it."

He opened up your folds with his fingers and started sucking on your clit, he removed his mouth, and you whined. You leaned up to look at him; he spat down on your pussy and started to rub your clit. "Oh, shit" you moaned loudly.

You watched as he relentlessly sucked and licked your pussy repeatedly.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Your pussy tasted so sweet. "Does my girl want my fingers?" You couldn't get your words out; you nodded quickly.

"Give me your words."

"Yes, I want your fingers."

He plunged his fingers into you, and he watched as you threw your head back.

You could feel yourself on the verge of an orgasm. "I- I'm going to come." You held on to his hair as you grinded your pussy on his face.

Your moans became louder, and your thighs started to shake. He held a tight grip on them. Your eyes were shut tightly, and you saw spots behind them as you came on his face.

You were right; his beard felt fantastic against your pussy.

You watched him take off his shirt and then his slacks. He pulled out his enlarged cock, which was bigger than you anticipated.

"Open your mouth." You did as told; he looked at you, then his cock. "You know what to do, baby."

You kissed his head and then licked around his tip before fully taking his cock into your mouth. You began to hallow your cheeks as he pushed his cock down your throat. "God, baby, your mouth is a talent."

Tears started to brim in your eyes. "My girl looks gorgeous with my cock down her throat. Shit, I'm going to fucking cum." He spurted down your throat, and you proudly swallowed his load.

"I need to feel your pussy around my cock; I can't wait a moment longer."

He tapped his cock on your pussy, and moved between your folds. Your wetness spread over him before he delved into you. Your mouth parted with a moan. "Oh god, August."

"That's right, baby. Taking my dick so well. You're such a good girl for me."

He slowly built up a pace that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. "Your pussy belongs to me now, do you understand?" He grunted out, "I've been thinking of this since last night, wondering how you feel around my cock."

He gave your face a little slap and grabbed your jaw. "Answer me."

"Yes, my pussy belongs to you."

Both of your moans were mixing together with the sound of slapping skin, and he was in awe at how your tits were bouncing up and down. He leaned down and licked around one of your nipples while pinching the other one.

He moved his lips upward and began to massage his tongue with yours. You moaned into the intense kiss you were sharing.

He grabbed one of your legs, lifting it onto his shoulder, kissing the side of your ankle, and holding onto your hips. This position allowed him to reach deeper. "August, baby, I'm going to come."

"Yeah, going to come all over my cock? Just like a good girl, I know you are."

He pulled you closer to him and increased his pace; your nails were scratching on his back. His grunts were sounds of pleasure and pain.

"Look at me; I want to see your pretty face while you come all over, my cock princess."

Your brows furrowed, and you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach while your thighs began to shake.

"Oh, oh yes."

August was close to your face, your lips brushing against one another.

"I'm going to fill up your sweet pussy; make you full of me, baby."

"Yes, please"

He kissed you hard before he moaned out, filling you with his cum. August thrusted inside you a few more times to get every drop of him into you.

August removed his cock, and at the same time, you heard a car pulling into the driveway.

"Shit!"

In a hurry, you and August got dressed.

Your parents walked through the door. "y/n, where are you, sweetie?"

"I'm in the living room." You smiled at her once you saw her. She looked over at August, not expecting to see him. "August, what are you doing here?" He responded kindly to her, "I was coming to say goodbye to my best man, of course."

Your mother told him where your father was, and afterward, she walked to you. "Are you okay? you're flustered."

"Yes, of course I'm okay. Just excited to spend my last night with both you and Dad."

Your mother, being the sweetest person on the planet, of course, believed your lie.

"y/n come say bye to August."

You walked to him, standing in front of the door. "It was so nice seeing you again. It was a pleasure." The smile you held was genuine.

"No, trust me, the pleasure was all mine." August brought you in for a hug and whispered in your ear.

"You will keep my cum in you for the rest of the day. If you don't, I will find out. I'll be seeing you love." He gave you a kiss on your cheek before bidding your parents goodbye for the last time.

#henry cavill #first post #henry cavill smut #smutty #henry cavill x reader #august walker #august #august walker x reader #august walker smut #august walker x you #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction

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cheesecakethots · 2 months

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You’re tucked in the furthest side of the bed, facing away from the door when Shigaraki enters the room. You hear something soft drop, his coat, maybe, and then he starts approaching you.

The main benefit of him and the others joining the PLF is that he’s busier, and you have more time to be alone. Sure, there’s more security here, more people and less chance for you to run away, but you gave up on that a while ago.

The last time you’d tried escaping, he’d put a hand around your throat, and used the other to disintegrate the already torn clothing you had on your body. Then, he-

He calls your name. His voice is quiet, cautious.

You silently wish the sheets would eat you alive, and sit up, meeting his gaze. You don’t think the redness of his eyes matches the softness of the look he gives you, nor the small smile on his chapped lips.

Tomura can’t help but think you look cute, but you always look cute. His fingers twitch, and he thinks about holding you close and kissing the sleepiness from your face.

Instead he seats himself on the edge of the bed, slowly, as though approaching a startled animal. “Are you alright? How has your day been?”

You shrug, eyes drifting to stare down at your lap. He hates it when you’re like this.

“Hey, can you say something to me?”

“… Like what?” Your voice is hoarse and your throat is dry. You wish he’d leave you alone, wish he’d let you go back to sleep. Wish you wouldn’t wake up from it.

He recalls a time where you were the one who was chatty, having a nervous habit of talking about anything you could. He’s not sure if you did it to distract him or yourself. It didn’t take long for you to grow quiet.

He smiles at you, but he doesn’t look very happy. “Anything.”

You stare at him, and the smile falls a little.

“Is- Is there anything you want me to get for you? Anything on your mind? Anything you want to eat for dinner later?”

You shake your head, and he leans in a little closer to you, causing your body to shift uncomfortably.

“We can go out, if you’d like,” he suggests, tone low and almost soothing. “You used to ask about going to a dessert place, we can do that now. Or, if you want to stay in I’ll have someone bring us desserts. If not dessert, savoury food… I’ll have the chef make us your favourite- or, you your favourite. I won’t sit and eat with you if you don’t want me to. I don’t mind what, just- just tell me what you want.”

You eat less and less every day, and it scares him. You scare him. He knows it’s his own fault, though, that your silence and sadness and fear is something he himself moulded into you.

He used to find it funny when you cried, or worse, found your tears and protests would make his pants tighten around him, and his hands twitch with need. Tomura’s not sure when that stopped, but now the sight of your tears makes him feel sick, makes him wish to tear his own skin off, to claw his eyes out, to crawl into a ball and wither away.

He hopes the idea of dessert or whatever else will put some sort of spark back in your eyes, maybe it’ll make you look less lifeless and defeated.

“I’m… not hungry,” you say, slowly.

He’s getting frustrated, but not at you. Never at you, not anymore.

“We don’t have to eat. Do you want to go out? You used to ask to go out to the park, there’s a park nearby, it shouldn’t be too far of a walk.”

You don’t seem to like that suggestion, as you bury your head in your arms, bringing your knees up to your chest and shaking your head.

Tomura understands why. You used to get punished a lot for asking to go outside. The last time you had properly gone out, aside from when everyone was all on the run, had been when you’d ran away. He doesn’t want to remember what he did that day, and he’s sure you don’t either.

You had reassured him as he was dragging you back that you were going to come back, that you just wanted to go out for a bit to sit in the park. You were probably telling the truth, but it didn’t save you.

“… Cry, if you want to. You can scream at me. Hit… Hit me. It’s alright. I won’t be upset.”

You don’t want to do that. You don’t really want to do anything. You wish he’d leave you alone, though. Wish you’d keep shrinking and shrinking until he stopped noticing you at all.

He reaches a hand towards your face, and you flinch, eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“I’m not going to hurt you. It’s… It’s alright. Please don’t be afraid.”

He knows it’s stupid to say. You’re always afraid when he’s around.

#ok technically this is unfinished but i promised i would post something #tw yandere #yandere #tw.yandere #yanderecore #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #tw implied noncon #tw abuse #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia

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yanfeisty · 2 months

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⠀⠀⠀꒰͡ ⠀ ִ ♡ kisses headcanons. ׅ ׄ ⠀ ͡꒱

Their way of kissing are so special that it’s more than a simple romantic gesture from first glance, and you should know it as their lover, especially when you are the reason of what makes them special in the first place. This includes Argenti, Blade, Childe and Alhaitham from Honkai Star Rail and Genshin. Content warnings: small mention of death in Blade's part.⠀⠀Have a great time with your husbandos!⠀⠀ ︵ ⠀⠀ ̼

⠀‣ Argenti

How often: Nearly every day, if he doesn’t then he is away. How can he resist the need to embrace you, when his heart beats at a fast pace and he's at a loss for words each time his eyes lay on you, the only way he can communicate is by locking your lips and moving them together. Moreover, since it is his duty as a knight of beauty to make every creature know their true beauty and value, what a better way to show it to you than a kiss, one that makes you feel like the most treasured creature in the cosmos.

Types of kisses: The one that is like a promise. It’s such a typical gesture of him to bow to you with a kneel on the ground and sometimes, a hand on his heart as a sign of his devotion to always be your knight. While his other hand envelopes yours, approaches it to his lips, and delicately brush the back of your hand with his thumb like it is made of glass, before leaving a small peck on it.

The lovey dovey one, where he reaches for your hand but this time he grabs it to pull you close to him, and leaves a trail of kisses from your wrist to your face in a quick pace, you don’t even have time to speak before he reaches your mouth and shush your words. It always catches you off guard because you can’t see his heart skipping a beat whenever he remembers why he loves you so much.

The gentle and most frequent one. His fingers find themselves under your chin, deviating your eyes from whatever you were focusing on to his sparkly light green ones, “May I have this kiss?” He will always ask first the permission like a gentleman, because he would hate to force his love upon you. It’s neither too light nor overly passionate, just enough to make you flustered by the delicacy of his lips.

Kissing in public: He has no problem to do it in public, it became a natural habit of his to kiss you, and there’s nothing that’s going to stop him from it, not even the eyes of other people watching you like they're watching a romantic movie, although you’re being hidden by his voluminous hair. It doesn’t help that he stands out of the crowd with his unique and charming look. However, he’ll understand your discomfort if you tell him. “Forgive me, my love. I do not see the crowd when I’m being mesmerized by your beauty.”

Extra: It’s also the way he holds you, one of his hand holding your face while the other envelopes your waist to get you closer, it feels neither oppressing nor dominating, but comforting like he'll always be with you. He also smells like roses, which adds to the experience, you’ll definitely have his scent on you after being this close to him.

⠀‣ Blade

How often: Rarely, Blade doesn't display much emotion nor does he feel a lot of them, so don't expect to get a lot of affection from him. Though sometimes, when the burden becomes too much to bear and a wave of agitation hits him, he finds some comfort in you. Despair and violence used to be his only solutions to deal with it, but you somehow make him feel a bit better, he is not sure why, but your lips do pacify his illness a little.

Types of kisses: The desperate one, where you can feel all his emotion he puts in it, maybe his lips will taste bitter because of the feeling of revenge or sloppy when he is distressed. It's not perfect but it's no less true. He shouldn't be able to rely on someone this badly and show his moments of weakness, and yet, he is unable remove his lips from yours until he can’t breathe anymore and forgets the pain.

The shut up one. You’re talking too much. This irritates him. He just wants to silence those unnecessary ramblings of yours before he goes crazy. So, he forcefully brings your mouth to his for it to stop moving. “Will you shut up now, or do I need to do it for you?”

Kissing in public: It would be showing his weaker self, you’re the only one allowed to see it. He doesn't like when you try to kiss him, because he would rather not be the subject of teasing from his colleagues, even if he knows it's already the case and he can't stop it. It's so weird for everyone, especially for those who know him to see this cold and scary heart letting someone this close to him, and having his cheeks showing a small hint of embarrassment because of them.

Extra: Kissing his scars, it somehow heals them, not that he feels any physical pain, but when he sees his body full of stitches it reminds him how he should be dead, but you deviate this thought from him to a more pleasant one. His body is like a walking corpse, pale and cold, and yet, by feeling your lips on his brings some... warmth. Feeling life surging through his veins doesn’t feel so bad for once. “Please... Don't stop.”

⠀‣ Childe

How often: Since he's often sent on missions, he makes the most of the time he spends with you. Plenty of kisses you'll receive a kiss as a reminder that his heart will always be with you, no matter the distance.

Types of kisses: The kissing ambush, you’re just so adorable sometimes, he can’t help but squish your face with his palms and peck it without stopping. You’re stucked between his hands who hold you dearly, and you aren’t able to say a word because he’ll cut it off with a kiss. “Haha… Don't look at me like that, love. You're the one being too cute here.”

The eskimo kiss. The freezing cold of Snezhnaya isn't merciful, especially for those who aren't used to it. Childe is always here to warm you up when you need it, and one of his greatest technique is to rub your nose together. The skin contact and his melodious laugh which lets out a hot breath brings heat to your face, and erases completely the cold from your skin.“Perhaps it worked a little too well, your cheeks are burning.”

Kissing in public: He isn't one to be ashamed to show that he loves and cares for his loved ones, and you're no exception. However, when it comes to more 'passionate' kisses compared to the light ones or if you feel shy, he'll always find a good place to hide in when you'll be left alone, and it would be lying to say he doesn't like the risk of getting caught by someone, to the point you can feel that his actions are too bold for the place you’re in.

Extra: When inflicted by minor or deadly injuries, he claims that the only way to heal them is with a kiss, and he won't take any medicine before he gets one. You might be irritated by his stubbornness and childish behavior when he is on the edge of dying, but for him who had plenty of injuries before that his body became indifferent to them, he can’t miss the opportunity to tease you when your face is painted with concern, which honestly melts his heart at the sight of it.

⠀‣ Alhaitham

How often: Alhaitham is more affection than someone might think, just not publicly. It's frequently that you'll share small affectionate moments together, he doesn’t kiss a lot though, he prefers other skin contact like having your body on his or him having a hand on you, it feels relaxing and honestly he can’t think of a better situation than have you close to him.

Types of kisses: The goodnight one. It's regularly that you're reading together, very close to each other. The most comfortable position is when you put your head on his torso, and you both hold each side of the book. And each time, the relaxing atmosphere plus the lullaby made by his heartbeat doesn’t fail to drive you slowly to sleep. When Alhaitham notices it that you fell asleep when you still haven’t turn page, he'll plant a small kiss on the top of your head before stroking it as a way to say goodnight. It’s a habit that he’ll never get tired of.

The one he uses to silence you. Alhaitham doesn't like meaningless noises, he may tolerate your voice more than he does with any person, but not when it says things that are straight up wrong or disturb his peace. Without any warning, he'll pin you against the closest wall. The action makes you stumble over whatever you were saying, it doesn't help that your breathing gets reduced as he approaches. You finally stop trying to when your lips are seal by his before, he leaves you stunned without any words.

The lazy one. Alhaitham likes a comfortable lifestyle, and you can feel it in his kisses. He doesn't do much effort, his hand is loosely holding the back of your head while his lips brush yours gently, and eventually lean into it. “It's not essential work anyway, you can stay here until you regain the energy needed for it”. Always the same excuse for him not move and still keep you in his arms, but it’s always working.

Kissing in public: He doesn't necessarily want to have your relationship become a subject of chatter that is mixed with opinions he didn’t ask for. Not that he cares about what people think, but it can create rumors or even problems that he'll be forced to resolve, and also make him become the center of attention, which isn’t something he desires. He prefers doing it at home because it’s a more comfortable place anyway.

Extra: It's such a weird coincidence that Alhaitham suddenly wants to kiss you each time Kaveh enters the room. Kaveh who's first flustered because he feels like an intruder, and quickly shuts the door. Then he becomes frustrated when he notices that Alhaitham does it purposefully to annoy him, he shouts things like “Oh my God, have some decency and get a room!”, now Alhaitham could riposte by telling him to get his own house first… but honestly he prefers to save his breath when he’s kissing you.

‘𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓔𝐍�� Please don’t copy/translate and don’t reblog with yand3r3 tags, also if you’re a yand3r3 blog/reblog account, or you’ll be blocked. Besides that, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated.

Taglist:⠀@avensuersa <3

#honkai star rail x reader #argenti x reader #blade x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #alhaitham x reader

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

moment's silence

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 7 — The night I lost a bet. [“You know what this means, don’t you?”] [6.6k]

— Summary: Joel has no idea why Bill gifts him with the book. Had he rambled about you that much? It seemed impossible—to be fair, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. Besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

Either way, the book means you lost the bet. Joel cares for very little since Outbreak day, but this—oh, this he took it to heart. You'd lost, and he intended on collecting his prize.

— A/n: Canon-divergence; Reader and Tess met Joel at the same time, and all three became a tight-knit unit. | 🏷️ Tags & warnings⚠️: explicit mature content, minors DNI; age gap, mentions of canon-typical violence, confessions, touch starved, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), slow & deep sex, but also rough sex?, dirty talk, little spoon Joel.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | read on ao3

All he can think about when he sees the bookshelf is your words, even if they were spoken on a whim years ago.

"There's no fucking way you can find a classic in good conditions anymore—not even Joel 'I can find anything' Miller is immune to decay and years of nature taking over. They're all gone, Joel. I just have to accept it. I bet there's not a single one that hasn't been wrecked by either people's ignorance or fucking mold eating every single page."

He remembered those words as clear as the day's first rays of light.

Not because of them, precisely. Because of what came after. He had blurted, "Bet what?" out of sheer instinct, only for you to reply with:

"Anything."

Maybe you were being metaphorical at the time, but Joel took it seriously. He outreached his hand for you to shake. "I'll take that bet."

If he never found a book, nothing would change.

If he won, on the other hand. Well—there's something Joel's been wanting from you for a long, long time.

That's why when he enters Bill's house for the first time, Joel stops dead in his tracks on the corridor leading to the kitchen.

You'd been to the house before with him and Tess.

Just like him, you had stood outside the whole time while Tess and Frank went about their rambles and deals. You, Joel, and Bill were all cut out from the same cloth—death stares etched onto your faces as if you were marble, grumbled conversation that came up here and there between long sips of wine.

Neither you nor Joel had been inside yet.

It's the third time he visits, first one without you, and he sees it—

Bookshelf.

One of Bill's doors is open on the way to the kitchen revealing what used to be an office but now looks more like a symbiosis of an atelier and library. It's — nice, Joel guesses.

It's not his thing.

Books — those are your thing.

Joel has no idea what connects you to the pages, but he knows it runs deeper than just academic pleasure, or snobbiness (an assumption made by many who met you).

It's as if whatever elements existed within paper, inked with words that strung together beautiful stories — it moved you.

Joel was entranced by the way you were able to quote several passages.

Few things remained that were worthy of admiration, or interest. He easily placed your small and precious book collection high above on his list.

That, and your ability to bring those stories to life somehow.

"Are you a reader?" Bill's voice is expected — Joel heard his steps approaching and stopping behind him when he did.

He scanned all the shelves, so he looks back to answer Bill. "Not really. Tess never mentioned who's the little Librarian between us? Our reader's absent today."

"If my, uh... —

If mine... if they brought strangers into our situation... I wouldn't be happy either."

"Oh. Well. They seem to listen to you as well as mine listens to me."

"I hope she feels better soon." Bill says the words and they sound so real. Spoken freely, not through gritted teeth or accompanied by his usual stiff shoulders.

Joel's hands rested on his hips. "Yeah." He hated this part — with Bill and Frank it was harder to not talk about things. He was pretty sure Bill didn't even like him, just like Joel didn't like him that much, but they saw each other. Understood one another. "Yeah, me too."

"The medicine you gave — it helped." That came out through gritted teeth. Joel held back from smiling at the unspoken admission—you sold me real shit. It's saving my partner. Thanks. "Frank's talking about — lavender. Herb garden and all. God."

Joel snickers and they exchange a look. "Good luck with that."

"I'll definitely need it." Bill's hands pat his sides, and Joel recognizes his motion before bolting out of a conversation. "Feel free to look at them," he waves a hand in direction of the shelf before leaving Joel there alone.

He does look.

One by one, Joel checks the titles because if you were here, that's what you'd do, and "when in doubt, always do what you must".

He hated that your words stuck to his brain so easily.

They were sticky like honey, which also resembled your voice. Or maybe that was only the way he heard it — Joel enjoyed listening to you talk.

"When in doubt, always do what you must" came after he left behind some supplies in order to help during a run, and you'd gotten mad at him for the first time.

It was then that Joel noticed how fucking tough you were.

Complete the mission. Help when you can. Do what you must.

If he was here already, he might as well read all the titles. Who knew how long he'd last? If he'd be here again, or if you would?

When his eyes land on Frankenstein, Joel knows he hit the jackpot.

That's when the memory of your bet sparks behind his eyelids, and he's cursed with the way you smiled that day.

Anything.

There was something Joel wanted, badly.

He cut out his own permission to want anything that strayed from finding Tommy again, getting clues to somehow discover a way to find his brother, get him back, but you planted the seed in his subconscious by simply existing — he was powerless to stop it.

One second, you and Tess walked into his life.

The next, he had on one side a best friend who cursed as much as him and on the other a menace who popped into his subconscious state, giving him dreams for the first time in years.

You two brought back a sense of humanity into his day-to-day life.

In return, Joel tried his best to do good for both of you.

Keep you safe however he could. Slip extra ration cards into your stack so you could more.

Small things like that — things that he later realized were only the seeds for the want that blossomed.

Joel wanted you out of the smuggling business.

He wanted you to be safe.

It was fucking ridiculous.

Your hand never missed the trigger timing — if there was anyone around the neighborhoods he lived more skilled in knives than you, he'd eat his own hand, and you were clever.

Quick, sharp, rational.

Despite all of that, he hated the sight of your back whenever a deal had them going outside.

Every time he saw a pistol or any other weapon in your hands, he wanted to throw it away as hard as he could.

And here he was, facing Frankenstein.

Anything.

Fuck. Joel hated how he hesitated.

If it belonged to anyone else, his hands would've already made the book meet the secret parts of his backpack, but he couldn't do this to contacts so good like Frank and Bill.

He couldn't fuck up this one.

Shit.

(Maybe he did like the two men, after all. Just a little.)

Joel has no idea why Bill gifts him the book.

One minute they're sitting alone drinking scotch while Tess and Frank finish up the trade and the next, they're talking about old hobbies they regretted not paying more attention to. Conversing like two normal people. Like Tess and Frank do, only without all the niceness and excitement.

At one point, Bill asks, "Did you see anything you liked?"

It takes a second for Joel to realize he's talking about the room and the shelf. Joel shakes his head. "Wasn't a big fan of readin'." A lie, he thinks. "Even that's a stretch. I — probably should've done it more now that I think about it."

Bill's answer is a hum. "Yeah. Lots of things I wish I should've done. Properly. Piano's one of them."

Joel eyes the item in the room. He recalls you and Tess talking about how Frank was lucky to know an instrument. "Frank's good at it, though?"

"He was rustier when he arrived, but yeah — he's doing good now."

Joel admires that. Some things are probably talent, he figures. "Practice's everything. 's why I feel bad for people whose thing was, like, artsy. Y'know?" He lists you and Frank as examples. "They ain't got means to do what they really love now."

That's when Bill shares that Frank paints. Piano and drawn, painted art — that was nice. Frank probably missed a lot of things.

If what you said was true and artists withered without their art like some plants did without sun or water, then he must be sad nowadays.

The new information sparks up a memory. The abandoned art supply on Canbose with 5th Street — was it possible there were some there?

Joel kept the doubts to himself so as to not spark any hopes of things he'd fail to deliver, but the real surprise is that he and Bill have their first conversation there.

It's a nice one.

Joel loathes that his brain comes up with the knowing looks both you and Tess would give him and Bill if either of you saw the way the two men can converse so easily once the guns are gone.

Bill's — he's okay.

Rough around the edges, sure, but in polished, sturdy ways.

He's also a little box of Pandora.

The last thing Joel could expect was being called aside by Bill before he leaves with Tess, only to find him hiding behind the door waiting for him with a furtive air in his stance, as if there could be any secrets that they'd keep from theirs.

Bill extends the copy of Frankenstein without meeting Joel's eyes. "Here." He all but shoves it into Joel's hands, and then nods. "It's the one you kept touching."

There's no reason to play bargain or pretend this is a gift he's too humble to accept.

He does as he's told, thanks Bill with a long nod, and walks out.

It does beat at his mind on the walk back to the QZ, though—had he rambled about you that much?

It seemed impossible—to be fair, he always managed to keep the conversation away from himself, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. Besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

Either way, the book means you lost the bet.

Joel cares for very little since Outbreak day, but this—oh, this he took it to heart. You'd lost, and he intended on collecting his prize.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTWO DAYS LATER

The smell of your apartment envelops him every time.

Everything's open.

You keep plants hung in several places on your wall, and they're all so tall and green. Big, imponent, and your habit of walking through the place and touching one of them, sometimes going as far as plucking a leaf or petal out of them—the air suddenly turned into myrrh, lavender, eucalyptus.

Joel wished he smelled nothing other than here.

"Heard you were feelin' better," Joel says as soon as he has eyes on you.

There's more color on your cheeks. When you smile, Joel sees it reach your eyes even if it remains small in your lips. "Still feel like shit, though."

Tongue sharp as ever, then.

He chuckles and walks in as you move aside in invitation, gaze checking through the apartment as he takes off his shoes.

Joel always pays attention to everything that surrounds you.

While you ask about the trades you missed, he takes note of the spotless state of everything around him. Stainless windows, shiny floor, a sharp citrus scent lingering even around you.

Stress cleaning — check.

"Did you finish the food I gave ya?"

"Of course," you answer. Joel's happy to hear that — you ate very little on the first day you got sick, and he gave you some of his food to make sure you ate.

The two of you take a sit in the kitchen, and as you talk about work, he analyzes you better.

You had your most comfortable clothes on. They came from a box he found not long ago that was your size exactly; the shirt has wet stains on your chest, and your wet hair tells him you felt good enough today for the first time in a while.

Good enough to gather the patience to wash your hair in the sink.

"Don't mind Inoctus, you know he says that shit about the Fireflies all the time. I ain't gonna argue with him again," Joel waves a hand, and then gets to the part he wanted to talk about. "Never mind him, though — did Tess tell you about what Bill and Frank found for us? What Frank fixed?"

"No, not yet."

Excellent. "We've got some good news. Oh — and before I forget. D'you think that art supply on Canbose still has some supplies left?"

"The one that intersects with the 5th?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I don't see why it wouldn't have," you shrug your shoulders. "It's close enough to the QZ for it not be completely raided and I don't see who would prioritize stealing art supplies in the middle of everything." It made sense to Joel, and he felt a rare sense of giddiness tingling. "Why?"

He leans back on the chair. "Frank's a painter."

"No way."

Joel grins — you understood him. "Yes, way."

"Fucking hell. Is there anything he doesn't do?"

He laughs. "I know. I felt the same way."

"He plays the piano, he should be obliged by law to stick to that cool thing."

Joel likes it when you're feeling a little petty — the scrunch on your nose is adorable. He wants to pinch it between his fingers, even if he never did. "Anyway..." He shares the other updates about the trip to their house without you, then talks about the people who contacted him — the ones that gave him any trouble are your expertise, and Joel loves the set on your brows when you're listening.

He has no idea how someone who looks so precious can have such a wicked mind.

"She looks so — I don't know. Not this ingenious. Mean. How the fuck does someone who's always hummin' songs under her breath can intimate grown-ass man?"

"You're the only fucker who thinks she looks like an angel, Joel."

"Nah, we both know that's a lie."

"No, you're just delusional. If anyone thinks she looks angelic you better bet they're comparing her to Lucifer."

Was he? Delusional.

Tess always made him feel like he was faced with a Truth Mirror whenever he opened his big mouth around her.

After a couple of hours, you've already cooked some things — with the little help he could offer — for the both of you, taken notes of the people you need to talk to.

Joel realizes that time passes only when you.

Outside of your presence, it's all a snowball. Stale.

"Ah, shit." You get up in a rush.

"What?"

"Almost lost the time for my pills again," you mutter under your breath.

"You really need a watch." From where he sits at your kitchen table he can see your profile — the roll of your eyes. He huffs in disbelief, ignoring the feeling of his mouth tugging in the corners.

After you take your med, you sit on the couch and find his gaze from across the room. "Clean the table for me?"

Joel never says no to you.

Not for lack of want — fucking god must know how many times he's craved saying it, enunciating each letter with gusto. No.

It never came out.

He cleans the table thinking about how much he's delaying it.

The book's inside his duffel bag that remained next to your door all this time, but it weighs on his back somehow.

He did more than just clean the table as he tried pushing down the little mean jabs his mind took at itself.

You can't force her to stay outta business.

She ain't never listened to a soul in her life—who are you to tell her what to do?

Once every while, you would venture into Joel's personal space and place a finger where his brows pinched together. The first time it happened, the effect had been immediate—Joel was so shocked by the act that his whole face relaxed; not his body, though. His body froze, and he had stood there in a perfect portrayal of a statue.

You do that when he sits on the couch.

Your presence is so damn familiar to him that even lost in his own mind, he finds his way through the maze. He sits by your side, leans back, and drops his head on the couch.

When he feels your finger touching his frown, Joel opens his eyes.

"What's bothering you?" Your finger leaves, and he misses it.

Joel turns his head to the side. "Nothin'." He likes the way the color's back to your cheeks. A week on anti-inflammatory meds made you a little gray, and nothing about you was dull.

"You're a shit liar," you say.

He scoffs. "No, I'm not."

"You really are, though," you argue, fighting a smile. "And just so you know, your accent gets thicker the harder you try."

At that, he frowns. "No, it doesn't—" and fuck, he hears it. How the fuck did you notice that? His frown deepens, and you chuckle at him. "You pay attention to the strangest fuckin' things." It's said in the same gruff way he says most things, but there's enough admiration underneath it that you hear it for what it is.

"And thank god for that — it's what's kept me alive. Us alive," you snort, giving yourself the credit you're due for once.

In the end, he blurts it out. "I found it."

"Found what?" you ask, truly confused at the abrupt change.

"Something you told me I couldn't."

"That's... oddly vague," you reply. "I name a lot of things you can't find. You seem to think you have superpowers."

"No powers. Just talent." He shrugs, and gets up to retrieve the book. "What's the one thing you told me there was 'no fucking way' I could find?"

The second it takes for your brain to connect the dots is the time Joel needs to find the copy in his bag.

Joel sees your eyes dropping to it when he turns around. Widening. Freezing that way. Your lips parting only a couple of inches as your jaw slowly drops.

He sits with more satisfaction on your couch than he's sat anywhere in a long time.

The book falls with a soft thud between your bodies.

All the space he puts between you two is replaced by it —

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asks.

When you look up, Joel's caught off guard.

The moisture in your eyes shines under the light coming from your kitchen. Joel's throat becomes restricted by an invisible force, and his eyes sting in response to the sight.

"What the fuck, Joel?" your hands pick up the book with a reverence that makes his skin tingle. "Where... how —" both times you start, then stop. "My god." He just watches. You turn the book around, eyeing every millimeter. "This is real," you mutter. He's aware you're not even talking to him at this point. "Have you—" you look up at him, and he feels special enough, "have you opened it? Are the pages—it's whole?"

The way you breathe out the word.

A reverence. So sacred.

Joel might as well consider the bet paid if he wasn't so far gone on what he wants.

Kind of.

"It's whole," he confirms.

Joel almost opens up his mouth to make a teasing remark. Ask if you'd like to be left alone with it, maybe. Instead, he lets you examine it to your heart's will, which takes a while.

He's always comfortable in the silence with you.

That's when he started realizing the trouble he was in.

When he came over just to sit at the same table as you. Have dinner in silence while you cleaned your guns. Sometimes, he'd imagine a bottle of scotch would make the two of you end up in whispered conversations under the dim, yellowish lights of your place, but it never happened.

Joel's too much of a coward to let his guard down with you.

He wouldn't be able to do what he did with the others — a sweet release in the dark; an impersonal match of bodies, mingled in sweat and joined in more ways than it should seem possible, but never looking each other in the eye.

You looked him straight into his soul when you spoke to him. Every time.

"This means... you won the bet," you say.

Joel blinks out of his thoughts. "Sure does."

"So." You put the book down gently on your lap, then gaze at him, eyes piercing into his. "What d'you want?"

Tough question. Joel felt the tingle that never left his skin covering him from head to toe. His throat constricts around the words — his body starts to heat up. He shakes his head, and is overwhelmed by how the air seems to charge between you both. He licks his lips, and says.

Like a coward, his eyes fall on Frankenstein before he speaks.

"Can't have what I want." The naked truth. What's the point of lying to you, anyway? You're a shit liar. "So I'll ask for a close second," he adds quickly. Something magnetic pulls at him, and he looks up — a mistake. Fucking mistake—you never looked at him this way. Is that red on your cheeks? "I — uh; I want a voucher. A veto power."

You blink, utterly confused. "What?"

"A veto power over you." It's the closest he could think of on his way here. Some kind of power, since Joel has no right to demand anything from you. "On a decision. I—If you said you're comin' on a mission, for example. I could say 'no. Veto.' and that'd be it. No arguments. I want a veto card over you. Just one."

You stare at him for a few seconds, and Joel can almost see the engines in your brain turning.

Joel sometimes feels you're more than just yourself. The eyes on your head see far beyond what's in front of them, and he feels naked quite often when in front of you.

"Just tell me what you want," you say.

Can't have what I want, he told you. He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."

"How would you know?"

"I just do," he argues.

"Maybe you're wrong."

"I'm not!" The storm swirls and lifts him from the couch. Joel turns his back to you, overcome by the reality of it all. "I know I'm not. There isn't—what I want is impossible. There's no such thing anymore. It ain't like the books, or finding fucking chocolate or—it ain't. I wanted you safe. How fuckin' stupid is that—" he chokes on air, gasping around the words. "There's no safe anymore." Softer, and lower, it comes out again. "There's no safe."

Most of the time, Joel's control is kept on a tight leash. His hands have a vicious grip around it because if he loosens it, it'll run off.

His hands are shaking now. He should turn back to face you, to see if he's just said too much or fucked it up somehow, but—you get up. He hears the squeaking of the couch and your steps approaching.

Then, as slowly as you approached him when you first met, he feels it:

Your hands slide around his middle. Your palms spread across his back and contour his waist, and you're hugging him—you hug him from behind, and Joel's chest expands with the air that your presence brings.

"Joel." You hug tighter. He can feel your upper body pressed against his back, and his hands come up to rest on top of yours, shaking as they are. He wants to speak up, but you beat him to it. "I thought I was going crazy, Joel."

Crazy? He is going crazy. You're wrapped around him and the world is yet to implode; Joel feels a knot in his throat that wasn't there before. "Why?"

It hits him — the answer.

Before you're able to say it hits him in the chest, because your hands grip him by the ribcages but not with force; all your fingers need to do is apply gentle pressure on him and Joel feels that you want him to move, so he lets you.

You spin him inside your hold, and Joel goes willingly.

When he's turned and facing you, the answer is there, all over your face.

Your hands stay on his back, but your eyes are searching on every inch of his face for any sign, for anything to deter you from what you want to do.

Joel sees it. He is delusional.

"I want the impossible too," you say. It comes out in a soft whisper, and Joel mentally curses all the moments of silence between you two where he felt the air as palpable as you inside his arms right now. When you looked at him, almost through him, and he turned a blind eye to it in fear that it was exactly what he wanted and craved for. "Is it — too much?"

He's incapable of answering.

His hands come up to your face, and he fits his palm on the set of your jar, where his thumb can touch your cheeks.

You melt to the touch, eyes closing along the way.

All those times you two shared a laugh and a look, and the silence hung in the air as your eyes were unable to leave each other — this. It could've been this.

"Tell me to stop and I will," is all he can say before he dives.

Joel meets you underwater.

The same way you're drowning in his hands with all of your weight supported on his body, Joel submerges as his mouth meets your kiss.

It's a waiting game — you were waiting for the moment he'd realize, he thinks.

Joel may be out of touch with reality itself, but some things can pierce through different dimensions.

Raw things never fail to elicit the strongest form of feeling and your desire pulls him under—real, demanding.

Although he remembers being a vocal partner in bed, he has no words or taunting remarks for you—he'd rather kiss.

Your mouth parts so eagerly for him that Joel wants to shut up.

He has you shutting up, moaning in his mouth as his tongue slides on yours. His fingers grip tighter on your hair. Your arms cling to him, then both of them let go to wrap around his shoulders instead, and Joel feels the despair as you climb up higher, as you press your body harder against him.

He understands it. Empathizes, even — he's feeling it on him the same way.

Your desperate, wet kisses rekindle connections long lost in his brain.

Joel remembers the desperate and insane horniness of youth when hormones mix with inexperience and everything feels new and like a raw, open nerve.

This tastes like those moments.

It'd been so long since Joel was touched and your hands start a mapping of his body that start to get him drunk.

It hits him that it's you. He's kissing you, and you're kissing back with so much force that he has no air, there's no air in his lungs—

He pulls back, gasping, and feels your nails digging into his scalp. The moan scratches the back of his throat and Joel only notices his eyes are still closed when your forehead touches his and your breath starts mingling with his.

Opening his eyes is a blessing. And a curse, most likely.

Seeing your mouth swollen and puffy makes him greedy.

Then — "Are you stopping?" you ask. Hoarse voice. Breathless. "I didn't tell you to stop," you add, whining.

Joel picks you up in one motion, and the laughter that bubbles out of your chest reminds him that you're light — you're the ghost that pops up in his dreams shining with the pink hue of sundown and you're the hope of his mornings, the scent of coffee and pages and herbs that make him feel like this earth could still have a sense of home even if he denies that fact, gritting his teeth at the fact the world still goes on.

He pins you against the nearest wall. One without a shelf, or furniture.

With you pressed against the wall, he has better support. He can trace your thighs with his palm, can get his hands underneath your cotton shorts, your blouse.

"Are you trying to kill me?" you ask him. Your head hits the wall behind you, and Joel looks up to see you watching him as he maps you. You visibly swallow when your gazes meet, and Joel wants to say so fucking much, but nothing comes out at first.

All he wants is to make the pink on your lips become permanent.

He wants to rip every item of clothing on you with his hands, and wants to —

"Joel," you lean forward, capturing his lips in a kiss and stealing all the images he had of you pinned on your own wooden floor, cheeks pressed against it as he took you from behind.

When your tongue meets his, Joel feels something snapping.

He growls into the kiss, both of his hands groping your asscheeks as he desperately grinds his hips against your body.

This kiss is even better than the first, even if it kills all of his oxygen faster.

Joel never kissed like this. Not this messy, this wet and sloppy mess of need, and dry humping, and swallowing your moans only to have them be echoed back to you when you grind your hips down in the perfect way—

When he pulls back for air this time, Joel grips your head by the hair, making a fistful at your nape.

"This is not just now, is it?" he asks. His own voice sounds like sandpaper and pure lust, and he's not even beginning.

"No, no," you shake your head. "I need you, Joel."

"Fuckin' hell," he has more to say, but now he needs you naked. "'m gonna take off your clothes. Then I'm gonna eat your pussy 'cause I've thought about it too many fuckin' times." Your jaw falls open at him, and Joel smiles despite himself. "Yeah. You gonna let me, baby? Hm?"

Your only answer is to nod desperately, grinding against him as your eyes close.

Joel's in heaven. "Did I win what I want?" he asks.

"What?"

"My veto," he pulls you away from the wall and starts carrying you to your bedroom. "I still want it. Can't have the impossible but I can have a veto."

You laugh as he kicks your door open. "You want a fucking veto? Joel, all you have to do is hold me by the chin and say 'no' or 'yes' and I'd do it. It's that simple. Always have been. " You grab his face between your hands and pierce him with those All Seeing Eyes. "I'll give you your veto, if that's what you want." You kiss his lips, sighing softly. "'m sorry I can't promise you I'll be safe, but I can promise I'll try."

Joel knows he's about to do something that can't be taken back when he lies you down.

He nods just so you know he understood, but the knot's formed again and if he speaks, Joel will cry — the words wouldn't come out anyway, even if he wants to say them.

Joel's unsure if they haven't been burned out of his tongue.

He takes off your clothes one by one. Ironic for someone who wanted them ripped to pieces not a minute ago, but to have you laid in front of him soothes the desperation somehow.

His plans get interrupted, though, because once you're naked and all of his brain is mushed into nothing but skin skin you you touch touch touch, you stop him from kneeling down at the edge of the bed with a touch and one request, "You too?" your gaze is so open and vulnerable that his hands go to his shirt. "No — lemme. Please."

Joel does, and you do the same to him, taking his clothes off one by one.

When you drop to his knees in front of him, Joel is powerless.

He's too stunned to say or do anything but look.

Even his hands that itch to touch only manage to do so when they're flying for some support so his knees don't buckle and he falls — you grab his cock by the base with one hand, look up until his eyes are locked on yours, and then licks a wet stripe from his balls to the tip.

Then you do it again, and again, until Joel's coated in saliva, and you can suck around the tip, swallowing him down in one go.

He grips your hair for life support, cursing under his breath.

Joel's vocal about how much you're fucking killing him.

You go at it slowly, which is even more torture, but he gets it. He remembers you talking about not being with a person for the longest time. How it made no difference for you to have the physical or not because the attraction wasn't there unless there something underneath it — for someone who's out of practice, you must have the knowledge.

Your tongue runs on the sensitive skin between the dick and his balls, your mouth suctions when it's taking him down and when you start bobbing your head, using your hand to cover the parts your mouth can't reach, Joel has to physically pull you back.

"Stop, stop —" his hand on your hair pulls you back, and Joel curses again when you whine at having to let go. "'m gonna fuck you, baby, it's okay, 's okay," he gets you up by the neck, and is kissing you right after.

That's how he falls in bed with you — with his cock leaking pre-cum, his back already coated in sweat and your mouth tasting like him.

Joel eases the fall with his hand, not wanting to crush you with his weight. He wants to eat you out — Joel wants to bury his face in you, but when he makes a move to go down, your legs clamp around his waist and your head starts shaking.

You pull back from his kiss, "No — later, you can do that later, just — please," you guide your hand between your bodies to hold him and guide his cock to your entrance. "Waited too long, Joel."

I need you, Joel.

"Wait, wait — " it'll be over too fast if he sees you all the time. Joel has an idea. "A position that's better for you first. I wanna see you too, but I want you to feel good. Turn around for me."

"You want me on all fours?"

"No," he shakes his head. "Just turn around."

You obey him, and Joel grabs one of your pillows to push under your waist. You rest your cheek on the one under your head, and he positions himself first before crowding your space with his head on the crook of your neck.

He dips his fingers in first, spreading your wetness all over you before lining up.

It's sinful how good the position is.

He fills you up, bottoming all the way out. Joel's thick, but not too long, and he knows this angle is as good for you as it is for him. "Feels good?" he asks in your ear.

Your only response is his name.

"Is that a yes?" he pulls all the way out, and slams it back in, wanting to feel the drag. Wanting to feel your walls clamping around him. How you open up to accommodate all of him. "'Cause you feel like — fuckin' heaven, baby — louder, say it louder —"

"Feels amazing, Joel," you cry.

He knows it does. Joel hasn't felt anything remotely close to pleasure in a long time, so this might be too much, he might be in danger of growing an addiction, but he's past caring.

He drags it out.

Joel wanted to fuck you senseless a while ago, but now all he wants is to stay buried in the tight and warm haven of your cunt until you're both too spent to move a muscle. "'m gonna stay — all fuckin' night — inside you, baby — hm, whaddaya think?"

"Yes, please—"

"God, I love — that's all you can say to me."

"Don't stop," you cry out louder.

"I won't." He couldn't.

He doesn't want to. He doesn't.

Joel thrusts into you slow, measured and deep, until the heat in his groin is climbing like your nails digging at his sides. He loses count of how many times he sucks on your shoulders, how many bite marks you must have on your neck, of how many single-worded compliments he spills in your ears as he fucks the words out of you.

When you beg to cum, Joel flips you over and hoists your leg higher so he can go in deeper, and he fucks you the way you've been begging him to — crying around his fingers for harder, and faster, Joel, please, please, I'm not gonna break —

He gives it to you like both of you have been dying to receive, and when your legs start shaking around him and his name drops from your lips in a scream, Joel pulls out, coating your stomach in the hot strings of his cum.

He doesn't collapse on top of you, which is a miracle.

He does lay strategically next to you in order to avoid his own mess until he's able to feel his legs again.

Your fingers thread his hair during that time.

The spasms of your legs make him smile, and the little hums that leave you without you even realizing make Joel float on his bliss.

When he comes back to himself, he gets up to get a warm towel. He cleans you both, just enough so sleeping is okay. He pulls up the duvet and puts you underneath it before climbing under as well.

When he lays, Joel expects you to turn around;

Instead, you wrap around him in octopus style, and whisper, "Turn around."

He obeys, and is rewarded by you spooning him.

Joel thinks he might be dreaming.

"Are you gonna be here tomorrow?" you ask after a while.

Your bodies are as tangled as they can be. Your hands caress the hairs on his chest and your breath is on his neck, and still, you are stared he'll leave.

"D'you want scrambled eggs or you prefer the toast?" he replies.

There's a kiss on his neck. Another on his shoulder. He grabs one of your hand to pull it to his lips, and kisses it.

"Scrambled."

"'kay. Where d'you keep your sugar? I can never find it."

"I'll show you tomorrow," you kiss his shoulder, and squeeze his body. "Joel?"

"Yeah, baby?"

He can feel your smile because your lips are on his skin. He's gonna use that more, he thinks. "I might wake up rubbing myself all over you," you whisper.

He laughs. "Fine by me."

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @sanzusmile —@yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 💖

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox (which you can also use to talk to me about all the appeals of Joel Miller with his hair slicked back, you know... or what you thought of this one.. just saying... <3

#usernexusnyx #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #nightskychallenge #joel miller fanfiction

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harringtonstilinski · 3 months

Text

Call It What You Want - Steve Harrington

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,080 Warnings: fluff, squint hard for angst, ignore the fact that eddie has risen from the dead, lol Requested: no | yes; i hope it meets your expectations, @stevesxyellowxsweater!! came from this prompt list Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! So, this hellsite decided to delete/eat the original fic of this. If you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

Steve Harrington. Your childhood best friend turned… acquaintance? Hell, you don’t even know anymore. You two used to be inseparable before he became King Steve, then your friendship went to shit… or at least you think it did.

When he started spending less and less time with you over the course of high school, your mind couldn’t help but go to the worst case scenarios. He didn’t want to be your friend anymore, he didn’t like you as a friend anymore, he was in the popular crowd while you weren’t so that made him not like you, Tommy H. and Carol, and many more.

Everything came to a head during both of your Senior year. You had asked him to hang out a couple of days after he and Nancy broke up, just wanting to cheer up your best friend. When he ditched you for a whole ass month, you decided to quit trying.

It was now summer of ‘86, just a couple of months after the earthquake. You were volunteering at the high school gym, or makeshift shelter, when you spotten him, folding clothes.

You tried to avert your eyes when he looked up and over, feeling eyes on his figure, but you couldn’t. Lost in those hazel eyes that you were once your favorite things to look at.

He pulled his lips together in a tight smile, nodding his head once at you before looking back down at the shirt in his hands, finishing the fold he started on it.

“Why don’t you just, I don’t know, talk to him?” Robin said, effectively scaring you.

After jumping ten feet from your skin, you placed a hand over your heart, bending at the waist ever so slightly, resting your free hand on the table in front of you. “Holy shit, don’t do that again.”

“Look, I know it’s been years since you guys have talked, but–”

“If you tell me it’ll benefit us both in the long run again, I’m gonna take these suspenders and snap them on your tits,” you interrupted, eyebrow raised.

Robin held her hands up, looking down slightly as she said, “Okay, fair enough. But seriously, though? Just saying hey and catching up wouldn’t hurt anyone. Especially Dustin.”

You looked over at your little brother, watching as he continued to hand people cups of water and blankets, his leg having long been healed from his fall back into the Upside Down. Sighing, you whispered, “I know,” before looking back at Robin. “I know he’s already lost Eddie. He can’t lose Steve, too.”

“Even though it feels that way,” your brother said, setting his tray down next to you.

Wrapping your arm around his shoulders, you sighed. “You haven’t.”

“He’s always going on dates.”

Brows furrowed, you replied, “He’s always gone on dates. His asshole of a father always told him that if he wasn’t settled down by a certain age then he was considered a failure in his eyes. Which he isn’t… nor will he ever be.”

Dustin and Robin looked at each other behind your head, both of them raising their eyebrows in unison at your words, realization hitting them both. You had a crush on Steve.

And of course, your shithead of a little brother looked back at you with a devilish smile after watching Steve take a few steps towards you. “Well, here’s your chance to get that date you’ve always wanted.”

Looking at him confused, you asked, “What are you–” before being interrupted by both him and Robin saying, “Bye!,” walking away as Steve approached the table.

You looked from Dustin to Robin as the two of them walked away, mouth ajar before bringing your bottom lip between your teeth and looking in front of you. A small smile appeared on your face, seeing that playful smile that Steve always gave.

“Hey, loser,” he said.

Releasing your lip, you scrunched your eyebrows, greeting him with, “Buttface.”

A chuckle came from his mouth, his head bending forward as his chin became parallel with his collarbone. When he brought his head back up, you saw nothing but amusement in his eyes as he said, “Buttface? Really?”

Crossing your arms, you retorted, “Well, you are. You fucking ditched me.”

All amusement left his eyes at your words, fear and anxiety crashing into yours. “Oh, my god. Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say it. I just slipped out–”

“It’s okay,” he said, stopping your words. Nodding, he added, “I mean, I did deserve it. I was an asshole and I’m majorly sorry for that.”

Smiling a little to yourself, you tilted your head and quietly asked, “Did just say majorly? What is this? 1982?”

He looked at you confused, but laughed nonetheless. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Going back to messing around with the items in front of you at the table, you said, “You were always one for trends. Still are, apparently.”

“What do you mean?”

Gesturing to his clothes, you eyed his outfit before locking eyes with him again. “Need I say more?”

“What about the hair?”

“Still on trend with that. It’s your best attribute. I predict, though, in about… twenty or so years, you’re gonna cut it short.”

Leaning his hands on the table, he asked, “Will I still look good?” “Of course,” you chuckled. “You always have. Even when we were kids and your parents made you get those… oh, what are they called?” You thought for a moment before gasping. “Oh, my god! It was a bowl–”

“You finish that sentence and I’ll make sure everyone sees your haircut from the late 70’s.”

With wide eyes, you said, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t try me, princess.”

You narrowed your eyes at the nickname he used to call you when the two of you were kids. You loved it until you reached high school when Carol started calling you princess to get under your skin.

He started using it in a derogatory way after that just to please his friends, which pissed you off to no end. Steve would end up going home after school or hanging out with Tommy H and Carol, regretting the words he’d said to you.

That’s when you both made the conscious decisions, separately, to stop hanging out. When you two walked across the stage at graduation, you cheered and clapped for each other, spotting each other in the crowd and giving each other a small smile.

Realizing what he’d called you, his eyes went wide with shock. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

Waving him off, you looked down. “It’s okay, Steve. I’m over it.”

“Clearly not with the way you just looked at me.”

“And how was that?” you asked, looking from the blanket you were moving into Steve’s eyes.

With a small smile, he replied, “Like you wanted to kill me.”

“Oh, my god. Just ask her out!” Dustin said, walking behind Steve.

Your eyes went wide, not believing that just happened, but… Steve apparently believed it because not five seconds after Dustin had disappeared, he asked, “Would you? Go on a date with me?”

Flabbergasted, you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, your brain going a million miles an hour as you tried to come up with an answer as an arm came around your shoulders, ultimately halting your train of thought.

“Of course she’d love to, dingus,” Robin said. You could hear the smile behind her words… and see it as you turned your head to face her.

“Robin,” you quietly hissed.

“Oh, shush,” she whispered. “You know you want to.”

You knew, deep down in your heart you knew you wanted to go on that date with one Steve Harrington. You had always wished that he would ask you, but alas… he never did. Always asking out the popular girls, the girls on the cheerleading team or dance team. And it always broke your heart.

This time, though, was different. It was you he was asking, not some other girl that only wanted to get into his pants… or he into theirs.

Sighing, you closed your eyes for a moment before gathering your thoughts and nodding your head. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Yeah, okay, what?” Robin said, the smile evident on her face.

“Yes, Steve, I’ll go on a date with you.”

~~~

Two weeks had gone by before you were standing in front of your vanity mirror, looking over your outfit.

“Hey, female - holy shit.”

You turned and spotted Eddie standing at your doorway, a cassette tape in his hands that he nearly dropped. Chuckling, you said, “Hey, Eddie. What’cha got there?”

“Uhh,” he said, looking from you to the cassette. Looking up with a devilish smile on his face, he played with it, before tilting his head and scrunching his nose. “Maybe it’s that album you’ve been looking for.”

Scrunching your brows in thought, you wracked your brain trying to think of what album he could be talking about until it hit you with a gasp. “Def Leppard’s Pyromania?”

Pointing at you with the cassette, Eddie smiled and said, “The very one.”

Squealing happily, you ran and jumped into your best friend's arms, hugging him tightly around his neck before releasing him, hands cupping his cheeks. “Thank you, Ed.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He gave you another quick hug before adding, “Oh, by the way. You look beautiful. You’re gonna knock Harrington’s socks off.”

Chuckling, you said, “Thanks, Eddie.” At the sound of Steve’s laugh, your body tensed the slightest bit, your best friend noticing.

“Hey,” Eddie said, voice gentle. “It’s gonna be okay. Don’t worry. If he tries anything, just let me know and I’ll kick his ass.”

“In what? D&D?”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes going the tiniest bit wide before he nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, you got me there.”

You laughed as you turned to put the cassette on your vanity, giving yourself one more look over before exiting your room, purse on your shoulder. When you spotted Steve standing at the door with Dustin, laughing, your heart leapt into your throat. Steve looked damn good, and you knew tonight wouldn’t end without the two of you making things official… after talking everything out.

When Dustin looked at you, his smile never faded. “Well, here she is. The lady of the hour.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, giving him a side hug as Steve chuckled.

He opened the door for you, escorting you out, Dustin, your mom and Eddie wishing the two of you a good night.

“Ten bucks they end up together,” Dustin says.

“I’ll up you ten and say they’ll do more than just ‘get together’,” Eddie replied.

With a disgusted look on his face, Dustin looked up to his mentor, saying, “That’s my sister, you gross ass.”

~~~

The car ride to the movies was silent, but comfortable. The film choice for the night was The Karate Kid Part II. Your main reason for seeing it?; Ralph Macchio.

Max had told you if you didn’t see it that she’d hunt you down and murder you in your sleep. An empty threat from the redhead, but nevertheless, you told that you’d see it, a smile spreading across her face at your words.

Once the movie was over and you voiced that you were starving, Steve drove the two of you to Benny’s, home of the best burgers and fries in Hawkins. As soon as you two walked into the diner, the waitress smiled to herself, already getting her notepad and pen out, writing down yours and Steve’s orders.

She waited on the two of you during your Freshman and Sophomore years of high school before Steve became King Steve. Gloria, the waitress, had always wondered where you were when Steve would come in with Tommy H and Carol. Steve had explained that the two of you weren’t really hanging out anymore, which made her sad, so seeing the both of you at the diner together, made her smile.

The both of you took your normal booth in the middle along the wall of windows. You turned your head to the right, looking out at the cars passing by on the road. Sighing, you felt content before looking back at Steve, whose eyes had been on you the whole time.

Steve was immensely happy that you had decided to go on this date with him. He always felt bad at the treatment you got from him, and always wanted to make it up to you in the best way possible. This was the best thing he thought of. Doing what you’d always used to do; movie and then burgers at Benny’s.

“What?” you asked, reaching up to touch your cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

Chuckling, Steve looked down at the table before looking around the diner, eyeing Gloria, giving her a nod, a small smile on his face as he did, your eyes watching his movements.

Turning your head to look towards Gloria, your face lit up with happiness, the seasoned waitress walking over with her tray resting on her hand, bringing the two of your food.

“Oh, my goodness,” she smiled. “Look at how grown you two have gotten. I was wondering when you two were gonna come walking back in here together.”

Your face flushed as Steve’s eyes widening the slightest bit at her words. She always rooted for the two of you. After Gloria had set your drinks in front of you, she smiled and said that she’d be right back with a special treat for you and Steve.

Shrugging, you picked up your burger after topping it with your condiments and veggies of choice that were on your plate, you took the first bite, eyes practically rolling into the back of your head. “Oh, my god. I forgot how good these burgers were.”

With furrowed brows, Steve picked up a fry and asked, “When was the last time you were here?” before popping it into his mouth.

“The last time we both were here,” you said, after swallowing your bite, going back in for another.

Steve hummed to himself, taking a bite of his cheeseburger, having topped it with his toppings of choice.

About half way through your meal, Gloria set your favorite milkshakes in front of you, a big smile spreading on your face after she walked away. Using the spoon that was in the cup, you brought a spoonful of the thick milkshake to your mouth, quietly moaning with an eye roll at the flavors hitting your taste buds.

Pointing to the shake with the spoon, you said with a mouthful, “The best damn shakes in Hawkins.”

“The best damn shakes in all of Indiana!” Steve exclaimed, holding his own spoon out with some of his shake on it.

Scooping another spoonful, you ‘clinked’ your spoons together, laughing at the silliness of it all. You had missed it, though, and so had Steve. Once your laughter had died down and you were finished with your meals, Steve had tried to pay, Gloria insisting that it was on the house, courtesy of Benny himself.

The drive back to your house was quiet again, but comfortable. Steve had his hands on the steering wheel and gear shift, respectfully, while yours was in your lap. All the words you wanted to say were a mess in your head, every thought that was tumbling around in your head caused you to lose track of time… and where you were.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back, your head turning towards Steve. “I’m sorry, what?”

He chuckled, his hand never leaving your shoulder. “I said, we’re here and asked if you were okay.”

“Oh,” you said, sheepishly. “Yeah. Got lost in thought, I guess.”

“What were you thinking about?”

Shaking your head, you looked down and whispered, “It’s nothing.”

Putting his hand on yours and gaining your attention, Steve said, “Hey. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

All you could do for the next ten seconds was look into those hazel eyes you used to get lost in before you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes and sighing. Steve sighed and closed his eyes, as well, bringing his hand from yours to cup your cheek.

“I’ve missed you, Stevie,” you whispered. You felt him stiffen just slightly, your opening and head lifting from his for just a moment before he brought your forehead back to his. “I’m sorry. I know you hate being called that.”

This time, it was Steve who lifted his head to look at you, his hand never moving from your cheek. “You’re the only one that gets to call me that, ya’know? Always have been, always will.”

A small smile spread on your lips, Steve’s hand moving slightly back towards your neck, his thumb rubbing at the top of your jawline near your ear. “Don’t hate me for this,” he whispered.

“What are you–” you started, but your words were cut off by Steve’s lips on yours. You were a little shocked, to say the least, but you kissed him back regardless. It wasn’t a hungry kiss. It was more of one that was testing the waters

With lips slowly moving in sync, you couldn’t help but feel happy that his lips were actually on yours. You hated to admit it to yourself, but you’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have Steve’s lips on yours, and now that they are… you couldn’t get enough.

You wanted to keep kissing him until your lips were red, swollen, numb, the whole nine yards. All you wanted was Steve, and now… you think you have him.

When you both pulled away, breathless, you rested your foreheads against each other’s, simultaneously. As you caught your breath, you smiled, a soft chuckle making its way from your lips.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, a smile on his face as well.

Rolling your head to the right a little, you bit your bottom lip before lifting your head and looking at those hazel eyes you’ve always loved. “I just can’t believe that happened.”

Moving his hand back to your cheek, Steve smiled that smile you hadn’t seen in years. “Well, you better believe it… because I plan on doing that more.”

“I’m counting on it, Stevie.”

Steve chuckled while shaking his head, bringing your lips back to his with a smile on both of your faces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! let me know what you thought about! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes:

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Steve Harrington Taglist: @madaboutjoe

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on March 22, 2024

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #joe keery x reader #steve harrington

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writing0305 · 6 months

Text

Something new.

Paring: Billy Butcher x F!Reader.

Summary: Billy has taken a liking to you since the day you joined the boys. You were just as taken with him. But neither of you acted on these feelings until Billy found you and Hughie on the couch, drunk and giggling while sitting far too close.

Warning: Heavy swearing. That's all, I think???

But despite that Butcher liked that you would go to the extremes, after a while he wouldn’t allow you to to the extremes anymore. He grew oddly protective over you. He wouldn’t allow you to take the big risks and whenever a mission grew risky, he’d either pull you out or stick you with him, so he could protect you.

The leader of the boys was oddly taken with you the second you joined the boys. Your brother had been killed by Homelander and you shared the same burning anger and need for vengeance as Butcher did. That’s one of the reasons he was so taken with you. Because you couldn’t draw the line either. You didn’t know when enough was enough either.

Everyone quickly got used to this new soft side Butcher showed you and you only. They didn’t care to question it, because he would absolutely rip into them for it. But it was often a topic of discussion around the boys.

You didn’t mind all the attention Butcher gave you. Because you were head over fucking heels in love with the man almost from the moment you met. Butcher was undeniably attractive and even his gruffness with others made you swoon because he was never like that with you. It was such a special feeling, knowing someone who hated fucking everyone, had a soft spot just for you.

But neither you nor Butcher ever acted on your feelings towards one another. Neither of you even acknowledges them out loud. Butcher wasn't sure if he’d ever act on them, still scarred from losing Becca. But one night changed his attitude and put an urgency on him to make you his.

You were in the basement of a laundromat, your new hideout with the boys after you became extremely wanted people by the police, the government, special forces, and Vaught. It was late and MM, Kamiko, and Frenchy had gone off to bed. You were sitting on the couch with Hughie, sharing a bottle of wine.

Butcher could hear your whispered voices and soft giggles as he stepped down into the dark basement. Only the screen of the TV gave a little light and he could see how unintentionally close you and Hughie sat together.

He flipped on the lights, quirking an eyebrow as both you and Hughie turned your heads to look at him. "What. the. fuck. is going on in er?" He questioned as he took slow strides towards you, his gaze flicking between you and Hughie.

Hughie offered Butcher a drunken smile. “Just having a chat.” He slurred as his head lulled to the side. “Did you know Y/n has…Y/n has never been on a rollercoaster?” he asked, letting out a soft burb followed by a giggle.

“Yeah,” Butcher replied with a curt nod of his head as he stared at Hughie before turning to you. “How much you gave him luv?” He questioned as he quirked an eyebrow, nodding towards Hughie.

You stifled a laugh as you shook your head. “Two glasses of wine.” You mused before turning to Hughie who still giggled. “Let’s get you to bed.” You said, slinking his arm around your shoulder. You grunted as you got up from the couch, pulling Hughie with you.

Butcher’s gaze silently watched you as you helped Hughie to the bedroom he shared with Frenchy The basement was small but at least there were three separate bedrooms. One for Hughie and Frenchy, MM and Butcher, and one for you and Kamiko. There was very little privacy in the basement.

You returned after managing to get Hughie in his bed and Butcher was still standing rooted to his spot, his fist clenched by his side. “You want a glass?” You asked as you went to sit down on the couch, grabbing the half-full wine bottle and holding it up.

“Nah,” he replied with a shake of his head as he slowly approached the couch, sitting down with a soft huff. "So, what's going on between you and Hughie recently?” He asked as he turned to you with quirked eyebrows. “You guys seem to have gotten close all of a sudden." He muttered.

“Nothing’s going on between us.” You muttered softly with a shake of your head as you glanced at Butcher before taking a sip of wine straight from the bottle.

“Yeah?” He hummed softly as his eyebrows remained quirked. “Is that why you two were in er giggling like school girls with a crush?” He asked as he wiggled a finger around the sitting area of the basement. You could barely call it a living room.

You scoffed in amusement as you threw your head back against the couch, a smile playing on your lips. “We weren’t that bad.” You muttered as you shook your head.

“I could hear the bloody giggles from down the fuckin road.” He muttered and only then could you hear the bitterness in his voice.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your head tilted to look over at him. “What’s your problem?” You asked softly as you stared at him, confused by his attitude.

Butcher silently stared at you for a second before sighing, pursing his lips tightly. “You know, I’ll take that drink now luv.” He said as he held his hand out, motioning for you to hand him the bottle of wine.

You handed him the bottle, silently watching him as he took a few big gulps from the crimson liquid. “Butcher…what’s going on?” You asked him softly as you scooted a little closer, pulling your feet up onto the couch and pressing your knees against your chest.

Butcher sighed deeply at your question, his jaw clenching. “Your mother ain’t never taught you not to poke the fuckin hornets nest?” he questioned in a low voice as he shot you a side-eyed look before taking another gulp of the wine.

“Why are you being a cunt?” You asked as you raised your eyebrows, your head tilting to the side as your lips pulled into a thin line.

Butcher’s head snapped towards you. “Oi, where the fuck did you learn that?” he questioned as his eyes squinted at you.

You gave him a blank look as you slowly shook your head. “You.” You muttered as you stared at him.

He silently stared at you for a second before pouting out his lips. “Oh…right.” He uttered softly before taking another gulp of the wine.

You huffed softly as you reached out and took the bottle from him, putting it down on the crappy wooden coffee table in front of you. “So…why are you being a cunt?” You asked as you raised your eyebrows.

He huffed as well, staring ahead of himself as his jaw slightly clenched. “I ain’t bein' a cunt.” he muttered in a low voice.

“You are.” You argued as you nodded your head. You shifted a little closer, eyebrows furrowing and lips tugging into a frown. “Why to me?” You asked softly. Butcher was never like this with you. Never with you.

Butcher sighed softly, realizing you were right. He turned to face you, a frown tugging at his lips. “I ain’t mean to be one to you, luv.” He said softly as he shook his head, reaching out to pat your thigh in apology.

“Then tell me what’s going on?” You asked softly as your head tilted to the side again, your bottom lip slightly jutting out into a pout.

Butcher sighed deeply, reaching out for the wine and taking a few more gulps again. “You tell me what’s going on between you and Hughie.” He demanded as he pointed a finger toward you and then toward the door of Hughie’s shared bedroom.

“Me and Hughie?” You repeated in confusion before slowly shaking your head. “We’re just friends.” You insisted with a dismissive shrug of your shoulders.

He hummed as he nodded his head, raising his eyebrows at you. ”Oh are you now?” He questioned as he finished the last of the wine before tossing the bottle aside on the floor.

“The kid’s head over heels for Starlight.”You replied as a small smile tugged at your lips. What you would give to have the pure love Hughie and Annie shared. “No way in hell he’d ever be interested in me.” You scoffed with a shake of your head. You didn’t mind it though, your interests were elsewhere.

“Then he’s a dumb fuckin' cunt.” Butcher muttered softly as he shifted in his seat, leaning back on the couch with his head thrown back.

Your head shot towards him, eyebrows furrowing. “What?” You questioned softly, his words surprising and confusing you at the same time.

Butcher slowly turned his head to face you, offering you a small smile. “Anyone not interested in you luv, is a dumb cunt.” He repeated his words firmly as he kept eye contact with you.

You silently stared at him as his gaze diverted to the wall in front of him. You pursed your lips, your gaze remaining on him for a long while, not uttering a word for a while. You shifted in your seat, your head tilting to the side. “You?” You asked softly as you raised your eyebrows.

Butcher was silent for a second before his gaze met yours and he slowly shook your head. “Nah, I ain’t no dumb cunt.” He replied.

Your heart skipped a slight beat as you stared at him. You gulped as you slowly nodded your head. “You’re not.” You muttered in regonizition. You were silent for another second before your head tilted to the side again. “So…it’s jealousy then?” You asked curiously.

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you in confusion for your comment. “What?” He questioned.

“Me and Hughie.” You replied softly as you nodded your head in the direction of Hughie’s shared room. “Are…you jealous?” You asked as an amused smile tugged at your lips.

Butcher stared at you before scoffing. “No.” He muttered with a shake of his head as his gaze diverted to the wall again and his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

You pursed your lips to hide your smile as you stared at him. Even after shifting closer to him so many times, there was still a lot of space between the two of you. You rolled your tongue over your teeth before letting your smile slip, the wine in your system kicking in and making you braver than usual. “Why don’t you come here and prove you’re not a dumb cunt?” You suggested.

Butcher’s head snapped towards you, his gaze darting around your face to see any sign of you pulling his leg. When he found none he let out a soft huff. “Fuckin hell.” he uttered before nearly launching towards you, grabbing onto your hair and tilting your head back as his lips pressed against yours in a hard and rough kiss. It was the start to something new between you and Butcher.

#the boys #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #billy butcher imagine

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aphroditestempleimagines · 8 months

Text

That fool

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Reader - 18+

Words: 3943

Warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk reader, Geto is a teddy bear gojo is the mean one change my mind, sex (i promise geto is NOT a dick), fingering, bit of oral sex (fem!receiving), LOTS OF ANGST, name calling (princess) but just a bit

Summary: Your engagement to the heir to the Gojo clan has been arranged since you were young. Yet you can't help but realize that Satoru himself does not seem to care, neither about duty nor about you. As you try to drown your sorrow, you bump into your old, now criminal, friend.

Colour: Hot, Forbidden and very angsty

His love series - part 1

Author's note: idk why i wrote this when i'm a gojo simp, i'm in class and i'm bored. Also I'm gonna attempt a mixed pov.

"Is that what you wanted to discuss with me?", the man asked.

"You must understand", Geto responded, "It is the only way to truly eradicate evil from this world"

"It is aggressive and extreme and I will not be a part of it"

The man stood up. The short glass of whiskey fell down as he bumped the table.

"You yourself stood up against the monkey who hurt your son", Geto maintained his calm composure despite the man's reaction to his proposition.

"That was...different", the man uttered behind his teeth.

Geto smiled at the guy's clenched fists. He picked himself up and threw his arm over the man's shoulder. "All I'm saying is", he said firmly, "We keep losing our people to protect a lesser species who is, not just not thankful, but oppressive and prejudiced against us". He leaned in, anger brimming from his eyes. "How is that fair?"

The man lowered his head. Geto raised his gaze for just a second, out of habit. His eyes fell on your figure, lone and ridden with sadness, as you sat at the bar at the other end of the room. His first instinct was to run away; he would have, if you had not raised your hand to order another drink, directly from the young bartender. He leaned back to his potential associate, giving him a warm smile.

"You don't have to decide right away", he told him, "As long as we both keep this meeting confidential you can think on your answer for however long you'd like"

The man's fingers had not stopped fidgeting until Geto gave that small reasurement. A smile of relief adorned his face, yet some stress still remained in his eyes as he nodded and stumbled out of the establishment.

Geto focused his sights on you; your reddened eyes, your slumped form, your unquenchable thirst for liquor. Normally, he would not dream of talking to you again, not after he left Jujutsu High. He had to put everything behind him to move on with his goal. And though he remembered that fateful day he ran away from the crudity of the sorcerers' world as one of the brightest in his life, the thought of your tears and the memory of Gojo's calls were a constant anguish to him even to this day. And there they were, those tears he had feared, even though unspilled they remained so evident behind your tired eyes.

He approached. His legs brought him to you faster than his mind could object. His heart thanked them for it, but still broke a little at the sight of your startled face.

"Fancy meeting you here princess", he pretended to smile. It was quite easy since a part of him rejoiced at the reunion, even though in such saddening circumstances.

"What...ar you doin 'ere?", you slurred your words. You had not realized how heavy your head was until you tried to lift it up. You clutched your forehead. Your heart tightened. The stool was falling backwards. Your hands reached for the counter but it was no use; you could not reach it anymore. Your back hit something hard but it was not the floor. Geto's hands were on your arms as your head rested on his kimono-clothed chest.

"I think you've had enough", he said.

"Let me go!", you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, forgetting for a second that he was the only pillar keeping you from falling. Fortunately, his hold was quite strong. He released you only after he restored the stool to its proper position.

Geto's gaze scanned the room; it was full of them monkeys. He often said there were two kinds of them: money-collecting monkeys and curse-collecting monkeys. But when faced with a lonely drunken soul there came a third kind, the most vile of them all.

"That's it", he said as the hungry gazes collected on your form, "I'm taking you home. Where do you live?"

"I'm not telling you where I live, Geto"

"Is it still at the apartment in Shinjuku?"

Your face turned red. You had gotten that house during the last year of school so it would be quicker to attend emergencies in Tokyo. He and everyone else had helped you move in and you had not moved out since then. "y...yes", you whispered.

Geto was quick to guide your hand around his waist, throwing his around your form. "Just grab on to me", he said plainly, almost in annoyance, "Tell me if you can't walk anymore".

"I can do this by myself", you objected.

"You don't have to", he said, his gaze focused on the darkness surrounding you.

You did not speak as you walked, nor did you speak as you boarded the train from Roppongi Station. He held you close as you walked through the crowded tunnels to change lines in Shinjuku. His outdated attire did not draw nearly as much attention as your hazed gaze and reddened cheeks. You covered your face with your hand and buried your nose in Geto's robes.

"We're almost there", his grip tightened reassuringly around you.

You finally reached your apartment building. Your hands fumbled around inside your purse until they gripped the keys. He helped you open the lock and soon you were in the safety and comfort of your home. Geto stood at the doorway, not moving a step in as you took out your shoes and fell onto the couch. Everything was exactly the same as it was back then. Apart from a few minor items that were replaced after the times wore them down, nothing else had changed. He had not been there since that year. That year that had been the worst of his life. He could still remember Haibara helping out to set up the table, just as he could recall your beautiful smile as you and Shoko chatted while hanging all of the paintings that decorated the walls. Both images made his heart ache. He had not felt any remorse about his decision in years, yet there he was, being pulled in two different directions like he was in those days. And all it took, was one visit.

"Why are you just standing there?", your voice disperced his thoughts. You were rubbing your eyes with your hand. "Just come in", you told him.

He almost did not. He almost ran away back to the temple he had sought refuge in. Perhaps he should have. You were safe now. The only danger to you was he himself. Yet his curiosity won him over. He took off his sandals and went to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water, and him a bottle of sake. He sat on the couch next to you as you gratefully gulped down the refreshment you craved. You left the glass on the table and fell back on the pillows of the couch. He was overcome with the temptation - no, the need - to caress your heavy head as your messy locks fell upon your face. It took all his restraint not to.

"I can't do this anymore", you said. He had not asked a question, but he guessed you were drunk enough to wallow in your own pity.

"Exorcising?", he asked.

"No", you responded, "I know you probably wanted a different answer but...it's what I know how to do. So I'll do it"

Those words poured blood in Geto's clenched fists. That was exactly what Haibara used to say. He knew Gojo was far too strong, and perhaps even far too selfish, to share the same fate as he. But you? You, Shoko, Nanami were among the people he wanted to protect from the foolishness of the life as a jujutsu sorcerer.

"I never thought I would want him to love me. I know he never will", you continued murmuring.

You did not have to explain. This was about Gojo. Ever since High School he knew the two of you were arranged by his clan to be married one day. Gojo took no interest in the idea back then. He thought himself far too young for it. But after all these years was he continuing the same immaturity?

He could not be mad at him. He would never truly be mad at Gojo. He often wondered if he was ever mad at him but the opposite was never going to be true. And yet your tears felt as if they were his own. Your broken heart crumbled onto his hands and he fully knew that if he was the one to hold it initially he would not had dared cause such damage.

"I know at the end of the day it does not matter", you said, "But...it feels like...he's fine by himself. I can never stand at his side and neither would he ever want me to. And I just feel so...alone"

Geto knew that feeling well. He poured himself another glass of sake and gobbled it down.

"No one would care if I disappeared"

"I would", Geto stated. The words slipped his mouth. He looked at you. You had lifted your gaze. It fell troubled onto his face. He cupped your cheek and leaned towards you. His thumb brushed away your tears. "I would", he said again with even more determination. If he could not take the words back he would make sure you understood them. He would make sure you never felt the way he did back then.

You grabbed his kimono and pulled him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and desperate but at the same time everything you needed. He hesitated to put his hand on your waist, but he was already reciprocating the kiss. He felt your tears wet his calloused hand and he knew he was nothing more than a replacement. He did not know what you were to him exactly, what you were definitely seared onto his heart. And as he devoured your cherry lips he got even more drunk on the nectar of your kiss; he would have never guessed he could have such an alternative to the curses he forced himself to swallow.

"You're not thinking straight", he breathed against your face as you climbed on top of him.

"I know", you responded, "I simply don't care"

He held you close and kissed you again. His hands traveled up and down your form. The last notes of your perfume enveloped him. He thought of your smile, one of the few things that gave him true joy during his dark days. You both loved Satoru but Satoru was determined to prove he was better off alone. Would he hurt him if he slept with you? A part of him wanted to, wanted to get revenge for staying true to the jujutsu world, for making you cry, for everything. And a part of him could not. But he could not push you away either. He could not be the cause of more tears. He could not be the reason you did not find your smile again. And most of all, he could not cool down the feverish heat that overwhelmed him as your body pressed against his.

"Suguru...", you murmured above his lips.

That was it. He could not take it anymore. He flipped your bodies so that your back hit the couch cushions. He nibbled your neck as his hand hiked up your black dress until it was scrunched over your hips. His thumb pressed on your bud over your panties and traced small rough circles. He tried to pull the neckline of your dress down but he just could not stretch it down enough. In a swift move, he reached for the hem around your waist, pulled the dress over your head and threw it on the floor.

Your body trembled at the sudden chill. You reached for his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss, your hands undoing his long black hair. His locks fell on the sides like a curtain.

He was kissing your chest. His fingers pulled your underwear to the side and glided over your clit. Your hands got tangled in his hair as he pressed one of them past your lower lips.

"Always the idiot", Geto murmured as he kissed you between your breasts, "He'll never change".

Your body trembled as he dexterously thrusted his digits inside you. Your hands blindly searched for the tie of his belt. Geto used his free hand to pull open his robes until he could shake them off his shoulders and let them hang from his waist. You traced the faded scar on his firm chest. He placed his hand over yours and brought your palm to his lips for a gentle kiss. He kept your hand close to his cheek, relishing its touch with closed eyes.

"Don't ever say things like that about yourself again", he said firmly, "You're the best our world has to offer"

A few tears escaped your eyes. Geto noticed and kissed them away before adding a peck on the bridge of your nose. He moved his fingers more meticulously as you climbed in ecstasy. Your heaving breath exploded against his face, his eyes blazingly observing your heated expression. The spring of the coil was being twisted more and more by the minute. He gave you a quick kiss, hiked your leg over his bare shoulder and pressed his mouth against your clit. You moaned his name out loud before you came on his fingers. A subtle smile formed on your lips, pure and simple. Suguru could relish that smile for all eternity.

He climbed back up until he towered over your body. Your arms wrapped around his torso as he kissed you deeply. You were so beautiful; even more than he could remember.

"Suguru", your name left his lips again.

"I never realised how much I missed hearing you say my name"

Your hands reached for his belt again. "I want you"

"Not as much as I do", he aided you in undoing it. He threw his robes next to your dress. He gave you small kisses as his dressed length pressed on your entrance. "Tell me if it hurts".

You fisted his hair as he entered you. You did not stop him until he had bottomed out. He continued kissing you reassuringly, one hand massaging your tailbone, the other holding your leg around his hips. He was kissing your neck now, waiting for you to catch your breath.

"Don't be nice to me", you told him, "I don't want you to be nice to me"

He laughed. "Yes, you do", he lightly nipped at your collarbone, "And you always get what you want"

Soon the room was filled with your sounds of pleasure as Suguru's hips met yours in a passionate dance, tuned to an intoxicated melody. His cheeks had grown hot; yours had too.

"You're so beautiful", he breathed. There was a battle going on in his mind. He had loved a lot of people. He kept a list in his mind of those he wanted to protect, those he wanted for sure to be in his new world. You, Gojo, Nanami, Shoko...He loved all of them equally; or almost. You and Gojo were always a little higher on the ranks. But this? This was a new you he was seeing for the very first time and he was intoxicated. All the have-nots and could have been in his head were suddenly turning into a plausible reality. If only he could keep you with him. If only he could have you by his side, every day he woke up. He had chosen to leave so he would not burden any of his friends with the cruelty of his mission, but the prospect of the happiness he would gain by just gazing upon your face every day was too tempting to pass.

Yet there was another thought trying to force its way into his mind. 'If I could become Satoru Gojo for a moment, the dream would be achievable'. He was hurting him by being with you. He had taken one of the many things bestowed upon that man that he ungratefully scorned. And as much as it pained him to cause Gojo anguish, a part of him thought of it as well-deserved for his foolishness. Maybe he would finally mature and appreciate everything he had been given.

"Suguru!", your moan pulled him back into reality.

He held your sweated cheek. "Come for me, princess", he said and lowered his voice and lips close to your ear, "If you want to use your legs tomorrow that is"

Your hands gripped his hair again. Your walls clenched around his length. He grunted as he felt them squeeze him. "Two can play this game, princess", his hand rubbed fiercely on your bud.

Your breathing turned irregular. Your vision turned hazy. All there was was him and nothing else. Your thoughts were overcome with the knot in your stomach, threatening to break any minute.

Your head fell back as you came with a loud moan of his name. He followed soon after. You could feel his tired breath explode on the skin of your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder. You brushed his hair with your fingers. He planted soft kisses under your hairline. He sat up for a moment to put on his boxers, burning the condom into nothingness with a spell. He pulled your tired body against his as he lay on the couch, his arms wrapping around you.

"Y/n", he called your name softly.

"Hm?", your ear was pressed on his bare chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

He cupped your cheek to guide your gaze to him. He wore a genuine smile for the first time in years as he caressed your face. You could not help but return it. He planted a kiss on your forehead, his hand diving under your locks.

"No one deserves your tears", his low voice whispered next to your ear, "But if you have to spill them, let them be mine"

He picked up his robe and threw it over your bodies like a blanket as you drifted off to sleep.

*****************************************************************************

When morning came, Geto woke up alone. Y/n's warmth still lingered over his body as he blindly searched for her with his sleepy eyes. His ears finally focused on the sound of running water. He smiled. They had not taken a shower last night so it was only logical she would do it first thing in the morning. He sat up on the couch, pulling his robe properly around his body. His gaze ran around the small apartment. Memories of your life were carefully placed all over the walls, the counters, the tables. He walked up to a dresser at the back of the room, probably storing all the linen needed in the living room-dining room fusion. Two photographs were placed on it; one with your class and Nanami's class, happily drinking together at Shoko's birthday party. The other one was with you and Gojo; smiles much subtler as you posed for an engagement picture.

Gojo's glasses were different than the ones Geto remembered. It must have been a more recent picture. He smiled as he admired your beautiful face, all dolled up for the photo. Then his eyes fell on Satoru again. His face turned serious. He missed him, that was sure. But he had grown accustomed to hating him, knowing he was probably hated back. He had grown accustomed to blaming him, knowing he was being blamed back.

He looked more carefully at his glasses. He could just see the shiny blue of his eyes underneath. His own eyes opened wide. Gojo's gaze was on you. The smile he wore was not fake at all; Geto would have recognized it. It was clear as day he had feelings for you. Yet you were not lying about your broken heart either. His eyes watered. He had thought he would be happy hurting Gojo's pride, but his heart was too much. He left the picture on the dresser and walked to your bedroom. He knocked on the door. Your voice called him in. One look at you and he lost all the words he wanted to say. He wanted to stay with you. But doing that would hurt Gojo. And if he chose to leave and spare Gojo from further pain, he would strike your heart at a moment when it was already bleeding.

"Last night", you drew his attention, "It was a mistake"

Those words were a knife through his chest. You kept your back turned on him as you lazily dried your hair with a towel.

"I wasn't thinking straight"

"You said you didn't care"

"I was wrong", you told him.

Suguru walked towards you. "You were not. I...I missed you"

"Don't lie to me. You just wanted to get back at Gojo for once", you spat. You cursed your lips the moment the words left your mouth. Suguru remained silent. "You won't even deny it?", you asked, "Geto"

"Suguru", he corrected. You sat there in silece for a moment. "Y/n", he finally spoke, "Look at me"

You shook your head.

"Please", he said again, "Look at me"

You slowly turned to face him. He had known he had guessed it right. The tears were back to flowing from your eyes, and this time he was the cause. He had made the wrong choice. All he had wanted was to bring you to smile.

"What brought this on?", he asked calmly.

His face was as it had been in your school days; calm, composed...kind. You could not help but answer him, even though it would be an unpleasant thing to do so. You reached for the small radio next to your bed and turned it back on to the station you had been listening to. You waited for a while before the newsman returned after the break and continued with more details on the newest strange mass attack on humans that took place in Tokyo the night before.

"That was your friends, right?", you said, your lips trembling even though you knew the answer.

"Yes", he said, "There was a cult forming with knowledge of our kind. I had to eliminate them"

"Do you hear yourself?", you cried as you shot up on your feet, "What did these people even do?"

"It's not what they did, it's what they most likely would have done"

"Get out", you spat. Your voice cracked as you repeated those words again and again.

Suguru did not move. "I will", he said, "But I want you to know, I've never said a single lie to you. And I never will"

You were covering your face with your hands as you cried and so you neither heard nor saw him approach. You startled as he placed a soft kiss on your head.

"I'm sorry", he whispered, "It was never my intention to cause you pain".

"That hardly matters"

"I know", he said. "I know", he repeated it one more time as he touched his forehead to yours.

He turned to leave but stopped right before your door. "If you see Satoru", he said, "Slap him for me. Then kiss him for you".

"What?"

"He's so immature, you need to slap him back to his senses. Or he'll be too late again"

And with that, Suguru returned to the shadows of Tokyo, far away from the light he had found in the small apartment with you.

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samodivaa · 10 months

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┊Kills and Kisses┊

WS!Bucky Barnes x Asset!Reader He comes back to save you from Hydra, he can’t leave you behind. You are linked deeply through the wounds of the past you share - hanging by a string, loosely holding each other from collapsing.

Warnings - angst, violence, sexual tension, soft!Soldat Words - 3300

He has a very particular set of skills. Skills that he has acquired over the decades at Hydra. Skills that make him a nightmare for the people who are his mission. Soldat’s heart is bursting with such intense emotions—for the first time since he was entrapped that he doesn’t care about the pain after the fight with Steve anymore. More important than pain is this impulse that's rising within. There is something violent, boiling up from within—he needs to save you, he can’t leave you behind.

As Steve lies unconscious, he wastes no more time—he heads back to the base.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ „Ah, Soldat, you are finally back“ The handler turns to face him calmly. Even with Soldat taking a lot of time to come back, he doubts he should feel particularly concerned. He stars at him as he approaches. He has concluded that generally speaking he is neither permitted nor inclined to hurt his own handler. The Asset stares at the handler as though he is considering something. Then his eyes grow flinty, and he steps back for a moment. He freezes and is silent for a surprisingly long time. An indecipherable expression ripples across his face before he blinks and laughs faintly. It occurs to him that if he is to try to kill him it is probably the perfect moment. Soldat’s lips press into a hard line and the other man sees his jaw clenching. There is so much under his controlled mind. A slumbering rage is stirring, rippling just beneath the surface. The Soldier is on the borderline, caught between the tides of pain and rapture—the idea of killing them all and being free. Soldat finally looks up at him.

“I came back fo-”

He glances over at his handler with a cold expression. He continues to study his face for several moments before a slow smile curls across his lips. The other man wishes he could be so calm without feeling like he is frozen. Soldat looks around to make sure no one else is nearby, then lowers his voice. „I came back for her“ He is so precisely contained, but his eyes are a storm; they look like they contain the power of the sea as he slides his throat, watching the body drop to the floor. He is trying to calm his now-rapid heartbeat. He knows where they hold her. Soldat walks down a long, dark corridor, knowing the maze of this Hell too well—it Is always dimly-lit, industrial, cold. You two share such a fate—monstrous and empty, a whirling wheel for decades—fades to nothing, shadowed and veiled, plaguing your whole existence.

He is close to the two heavy double doors, sealed shut, and his breath catches in his throat as he crosses them in quick steps, presses the button to open them, and when he sees the doctors touching you, he feels a gut-wrenching anger. You swallow down a lump in your throat. You don’t know what to say, why is he here? Your eyes widen, frozen and staring helplessly—fear and shock flashing through as you keep your eyes on his soulless ones—pupils dilated due to adrenalin. With a little gasp, he blinks slowly before settling on your face as blood dips from the knife on the floor. You shift in your seated pose on the bed, you feel ever-so-slightly off-balance, with a nervous, anticipatory energy for what is going to happen.

The doctors look at him in shock, obviously having never seen an Asset disobey to such an extent. "He killed someone" one of them gasps, somehow managing to keep his outburst to a strained whisper „We will leave, let us leave, please“

Soldat laughs and his eyes finally leave your face to settle on the man talking “No, no one is leaving“ he says in a dismissive voice. Fear bubble up inside the three men. Fear for their life. Tears gather up in their eyes. The fraction of hope vanishes. Soldat waves his hands dismissively, the knife dancing across his fingers. He shifts the weight in his still posture—before they could exhale, the sharp blade strikes one of the men’s necks and they all watch the body drop lifeless, blood sweeping down his neck. The remaining men’s eyes are wide with fear, mouths agape and breathing heavy. Your brows knit together, eyes narrow. Soldat can tell you are doing some form of mental math, edging ever closer to his true intent. Finally, you say, slowly „Как така се освободи?“ (how did you free yourself) Your mind is twisting itself up with rationalisation. Trying to make yourself adapt and think freely. To make you survive in this unexpected denouement. You draw another breath and try to recall anything from the past. A blur of a face is in front of you, staring. You blink a couple of times, trying to make your vision clear up. Your vision slowly starts to gain its focus, blinking until it clears. “Hey” Soldat sighs, touching your face with one hand and raking his fingers up through his tousled and now bloody hair with the other “It is okay, we will be okay.” His lips try to form a smile and he reaches over to ruffle your hair fondly. “What is wrong?” he says as you swats him away from his touch “Talk to me, please“ You focus your attention right back onto the man in front of you, pushing both the worries and memories to the wayside for the moment. His eyes glint as he smiles, a triumphant tone to his honey-sweet voice. Fear explodes inside, dangerous, fire rushing over your skin. The gleam of metal makes you slide your gaze away. It always looks like an ornamentation, a deadly one. His eyes remind you of the ocean: clear as spring water tumbling over mossy rocks, dark as a cloud shadow. Soldat leans closer, his mouth next to your ear, whispering with a despaired groan trapped between his teeth „Say something, anything…do you remember me?“ Your jaw is between his metal fingertips, griping tightly „I will get you out of here“ Winter swallows the lump in his throat, eyes never leaving yours.

Physically and mentally the dread begins to fade as you force your mind to adapt. You don’t feel nauseated, your heart doesn’t pound painfully anymore.

„I want to kiss you“ The dark glint in his eyes and the wicked curl of his lips shows what he has in mind as he hears you say it. His beautiful features offering themselves to your gaze as you trail though them, you are annoyed at how attractive Winter looks—with his dark, messy locks covering part of his bloody face—putting your mind into a darker cloud of both irritation and lust.

He feels his combat pants get tighter as he feels something growing. It feels weird, almost like his first memory of getting an erection as a child. „Kiss me then“ His own words sends a shiver down his spine along with a lightning bolt to his cock. He looks at you with his big doe eyes and stays silent. For a moment, he'd almost thought he could see the faint light glinting off your eyes as you blink rapidly. Soldat suddenly gives you a tender kiss which quickly grows in passion and intensity. He removes his hand from your chin, tugging at your hair and gaining enjoyment out of it. He is the one to pull away, his face seems to be filled with longing, a yearning of sorts. You sigh, unconsciously pursing your glossy lips together to form an innocent, tempting pout, you want more, but now it’s not the right time. There is a device connected to your thumb, a pulse oximeter. It displays your heartbeat—it starts beeping, the shortness of breath and excitement on full display and he watches you remove it, your eyes full of embarrassment and you blush a furious red so he decides to speak. „Let’s form a plan, let’s get out of here“ His voice is soft, but it hits you with a force of a hammer, resounding within your ears like a bell, ringing clearly. His gaze—sharp and intense, appraising you and making you realize he looks at you with so much concern, with protectiveness. You don’t know what to quite make of it. He always leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, though covered up you may be. Between the certainty of light and darkness there’s a play of shadows, a question. Between the machine and the human-self there’s an encounter called distance. What do we do now? You don’t notice that Soldat slowly moves away for a bit. His large hands spread a map next to you, tilting it left and right, thinking. You know what he’s searching for. You can feel it, like there’s a hook embedded in your chest, tugging towards freedom as well. So many countries and yet, right there—you choose point and say „Bulgaria“ „Hm?“ Soldat stars at you, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. „Let’s go and live there“ „Why Bulgaria exactly?“ He asks groggily. „I can’t remember yet, but it sounds so familiar“ You have forgotten that word a long time ago, in the midst of all the brainwashing. But that word is the path you take to remember more. Step by step, you will remember, right?

„Yeah, okay. I will find clothes and bags, you can stay here“ His main priority now is survival and your safety. Nothing else. It is his instincts of a trained killer—kill or be killed. It looks like he is about to say something, but then he just drops his gaze and steps through the doorway. The moment you glance at him as he returns to the room, you can’t identify the person you are staring at. The outfit emphasizes every part of his body. His waist, his perfect thick thighs— „I found some for you, too“ You nearly topple out of your seat on the bed at the sound of his voice and swivel to stare at him with your mouth agape. It makes your eyes raise from his thighs, gaze slowly and seamlessly lifting to meet his. He throws the clothes on the bed, his face only inches away from your own once again. Soldat’s metal fingers come in contact with your cheek. The moment they touch your hot skin, you shiver a little, expecting more. „We need to go“ „They will go after us“ you let out a quiet sob, shaking your head from side to side. For several tense moments, you simply blink at one another. He knows what awaits—people will criticize, condemn, and chase them but it takes all his character and self-control to be understanding of the situation, his mission is to keep you safe, to reassure you to a certain extent. There is no escaping this change of life—what is even the meaning of life—you need to try to grasp infinity while being paralyzed by the truth of all that you both still don’t have names. Soldat’s eyebrows knit together, sadness taking over his perfect features „We will be okay, we will be“ And even if the uncertainty of this world becomes too overwhelming, you have each other. You are his only shade of color, a beam of light. Your hearts are not connected to each other through mutual understanding alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through the wounds of the past you share - hanging by a string, loosely holding each other from collapsing. As you reach out for the clothes, he turns around to give you privacy, feeling his heat rise to his cheeks. „I am ready“ you say after a minute. His eyes settle on you again, suddenly he is very conscious of his lack of words and he clears his throat „You look-good“ his lips part on a soft gasp. He regains his composure, working that same muscle in his jaw as he looks you up and down. You are simply wearing jeans with a plain shirt, but to his depraved mind is enough to leave him speechless, a strange smile quirks his lips almost involuntarily. You are wearing a small smile of your own, and there are tears in your eyes. You two look so normal. Human. For the first time in decades you have come across this. To experience something so surreal, so close to what you truly are, and still have no way to describe it. You finally meet a dream from eternity. Emotions too wild and organic to be domesticated into words. You can tell he is fighting his emotions, and the fact that he is close to tears threatens your own hold on yourself. You both head to the main exit, the sigh of gore – dead bodies and blood doesn’t scare you. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ The absolute delight—of you being well, the absolute horror of what it costs—blood in every corner of the rooms and corridors and still, there is still a garden made for his soul where he can sleep peacefully, far away from solitude. Remorse—it grows and grows and grows, but his loyalty and care are stronger, but it haunts him. Oh, secret cries of a sorrowful heart—you will keep this day a secret forever. And this is what you learn on the first day as a human being: that he was the antidote to your never ending Hell, that standing within his anger—the beauty and the mystery of his mind, you will re-dignify the worst-stung heart no matter the blood marking your freedom. Only his own heart knows a secret your mind can’t grasp. A poem that’ll always remain unwritten.

Someday you will ask him, ask him why he risked coming back? ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ The greenery stretches for miles. Earth and sun are in a dance older than your time. But now that you can see how they kiss each other in all the trees and flowers while clouds hop freely across the blue sky—this is heaven? Strange, how such a heaven on earth could exist while you spend so much time underground. „Hey, come on“ he calls you and you turn your head. Soldat is a few feet away, waiting for you to get in the car. „We will get new documents for the country, there is a guy that will also supply us with plane tickets. I-I made my handler call him befo-“ „There is no need to explain, Winter“ You open the door, the words are no sooner past his lips than you enter, his hands already gripping the wheel. You find your gaze travelling over Soldat’s elegant fingers as they move nervously, his knuckles turning white. The way he leans back in the seat, his long legs stretching out before you, tight black jeans leaving nothing to the imagination. His wide eyes stare into space, at nothing. Soldat is completely unsure how to broach this, if he even should have tried to broach such a tender topic. You already saw enough of what he has done. He feels your gaze, because he finally looks at you. Your eyes meet. Soldat gives a small smile before speaking. „It’s Bucky“ „Bucky? What is a Bucky?“ He laughs genuinely at your comment. The shell of the Asset starts to crack and there begins to be a consciousness of the subliminal and physiological underlying personality, you just catch a glimpse of It. „My real name, before Hydra“ he explains softly and fidgets in his seat, already feeling uncomfortable of needing to mention the word. „You had a life before?“ He feels something stubborn and angry enter your voice. The smile on his face instantly vanishes and his expression becomes distinctly cagey, avoiding you gaze. You press your thighs together and try not to pay any attention to the growing sense of emptiness inside. It is overwhelming—do you even have a name? Can you remember who you were, before Hydra told you who you have to be? ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Everything it is a blur after that conversation. You don’t feel physically, mentally, and emotionally ready for your new life. Your loyalty to the past becomes your most dangerous trait. The programing runs deep in the fabric of your mind, it’s hard to fight, because it is all you know. When you finally board the plane, he finds the courage to finally say something about it. „No, I still don’t want to talk, Bucky“ your voice is dripping acid. It is an act in self-preservation, he understands. He nods begrudgingly, but sits next to you. He knows that you fear to fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation. But Bucky—he is more than ready.

He thinks of Steve, such memories, are long remembered and sealed into his soul—him remembering those memories is what saved you both. Sorrow compresses his heart; he wants to see him again. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

As you step out of the airport, Bucky wastes no time, heading to a car which is parked nearby, driving in a direction unknown to you. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ The haunted mind catches fire—the dread and evil of his night terrors punishing him almost every night. He is not alone in this—It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. Breakfast is so delicious, but not free erection anymore. Bucky looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, though, with dark circles under his eyes and his face propped on his human hand as he tries to calm both his body and his mind. Is it healthy or is it just familiar to suppress the human side just becomes he is scared of it? It is your fault, too. He admits it freely mentally. Well, if someone is to come across him; he would deny it vociferously. But—to himself—he admits that he is lusting after you.

He pulls his textbook out of his bag on the floor and sets to write to distracts himself for a bit. You have been mysteriously absent this week and even though you have settled in a quiet village for now, he still worries about your safety. There is a conversation he is dreading, but all you do is avoid him like a contagious disease. Bucky hears you enter the house, but doesn’t lift his eyes as you pass him to go to your own room. He wants to tell that hiding your hurt only intensifies it. Problems grow in the dark and only become bigger. You need to take off your mask, to stop pretending you don’t need support and walk into this new chapter together. Then he hears sounds and immediately goes to your room. He follows the continues sobs to your bathroom.

You are huddled in the shower under the cold water, fully clothed—weeping and rocking on the floor and hugging your knees.

He stands in the doorway for a moment, not coming any closer. Speechless.

"Мила?" His voice is rasping, talking in the language he knows you find comfort the most.

Your crying abruptly ceases and your head shots up to look at him, locked on his face. | He immediately moves towards you reaching over and turning off the freezing water. Bucky then kneels down, rubbing your back with his human hand then running his hand through your wet hair.

"Погледни ме,моля те, погледи ме“ he pleas. (Look at me, please, look at me) He gathers you into his arms and pulls you into his lap.

Too many days and nights passed through the body and slowly you started to lose your mind. Where are your own memories? Where is that life you had before? You drift in the tides of the lost time and lost yourself wave after wave—uncovering nothing, not even an echo of the past.

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lex9923 · 2 months

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Tw// SA

This will be my one and only official statement on this situation, because frankly I’m done with all of this mental hopscotch happening.

I am a sexual assault victim. I was the same age as Caiti is now when it happened, and I was cornered with his hands down my pants touching my vagina and up my shirt touching my boobs, while I tried to get away and make it stop. I still to this day don’t know who my attacker was, but it will follow me for the rest of my life. It’s been five years since then, and my story has not changed once. Not ever. I hadn’t told people for a couple years cause I thought since I didn’t know who my attacker was, I wouldn’t be believed. As well as the fact that I came forward about a sexual harassment I faced at a job and was met with “well, boys will be boys”. Through it all, I am here, and I survived.

Watching the reaction to this situation from both of the main parties involved, those who weren’t there, those who were, and the fans had sent me spiraling. I’ve spent the past two weeks reliving that trauma from five years ago cause I thought I misinterpreted my assault as something else. I had not, and never have. It’s been incredibly invalidating watching the alleged “victim” change the story multiple times, make fake texts, omit important information, all while not even listening to the person she accused of a criminally offensive act.

Caiti is absolutely allowed to feel uncomfortable and regret what happened after the fact, but it is not, and will not ever be assault-unless George actually did touch her boobs, and then that will be a different discussion, but with her credibility disappearing, I’ll only believe it if he admits it himself. I’m trying to extend grace to her being young, sexually inexperienced, and caught up in online culture, but it’s hard the longer this gets dragged out. There are things you do when approaching a situation like this:

1. You absolutely need to provide evidence and proof of your claims. You can’t prove something that never happened, but you can prove something that did. It’s why it’s innocent until proven guilty. Expecting people to blindly believe you is delusional at worst and ignorant at best.

2. You must absolutely have your story 100% correct and factual to how you perceived what happened, before bringing forth any accusations. Using purposefully charged language and then changing the story to match the one you accused is not it. Nor is changing your story yet again when people are catching on to the inconsistencies.

3. Allow the accused person to defend themself. You can’t expect people to listen to all of your claims-most of them blindly doing so-and then get upset when people wait for both sides to say their piece, especially when you present no evidence at your initial statement. Again, you have to prove guilt. If you can’t prove it, the accused are allowed to defend themself.

4. You are in no way obligated to accept apologies, but acknowledging one was made-multiple times in fact- is the bare minimum. Trying to change your story one last time to make it seem even worse than what you both agreed upon, and then hiding behind “I’m not going to address this anymore” is manipulative at worst and cowardly at best.

I hope Caiti gets therapy, cause it’s clear she’s been severely affected by something, though I’m not sure she even knows what it is. I also hope she learns from this, and next time utilizes the “direct message” function every single app has. This could have been a dm, and the way it spiraled has been a shitshow and her intentions are coming off less and less pure the more this gets dragged out. I’m so sorry she was uncomfortable, and regretful, but until she shows any proof whatsoever of any assault happening, it will never be. I hope she heals, and I hope she gets better friends cause they have all failed her.

For George, I’m sorry this got blown so out of proportion and no one even privately talked to him about any uncomfortability being felt. I’m sorry his friends are performative. I’m hopeful that he was made aware of things he wasn’t before, and will do better next time. He is not irredeemable, and I believe growth is possible (the difference in his two responses proves as such). I hope this isn’t the last we see of him or his content, and I hope he can heal from this as well.

To my fellow SA survivors, I’m so incredibly sorry that our trauma has been thrown around like this. Our hurt and pain do not deserve to be mocked in this way, and I wish it would’ve never even happened. You’re stronger than what happened, regardless of how shitty this situation has been for us. And as a 24 year old, I like to consider myself a big sister of sorts, so I love all of you. We got through it then, we’ll do it again.

Speaking woman to woman, I’m sorry this has been so messed up. This will make it harder for us to come forward in the future and that is indescribably frustrating. However, that does not take away from the pain and hurt we went through, and I hope if you do have the strength to come forward, you are believed.

I’m done with this whole situation. It should not have come to this point, and if you stayed this far, I greatly appreciate you reading this. One last time. Caiti, I’m sorry you were so uncomfortable. Get therapy, better friends, and take a break from the internet. George, I hope you learn from this situation, and I’m sorry you were made out to be a criminally offensive person before giving your side or anyone ever speaking to you.

I hope you both heal.

I hope sexual assault victims having to relive trauma, and are affected by this continue to heal.

I love you all.

Lex

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waywardxwords · 8 months

Text

The Fix - Part 2

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Warnings: Child abduction, brief mention of domestic violence, language

Word Count: ~2.8k

Beau had met you at the entryway of the elementary school within minutes, concern etched across his face in the way of worry lines that likely matched yours.

“You alright, darlin’?” He asked gently as he approached with a tentative hand on your shoulder blade.

Under the weight of his hand, you felt the ultimate collapse. Everything tumbled out of you in a way you didn’t expect (nor did he, by the look on his face). But either way, he used that hand to pull you flush against his chest and wrapped his other arm around your waist. He held you as you sobbed into the lapel of his brown jacket. The material was cool from the bitter wind just outside the door.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he coaxed softly with his mouth close to your ear. “We’re gonna get her back.” You tried to nod and speak, but only shaky breaths came out. Beau pulled you to his side and stepped forward towards one of the agents. “Beau Arlen, Sheriff,” he put his hand out to greet the agent.

“Matt Donahue with the FBI,” the man shook his hand.

“What can you tell me?” Beau asked. He refused to break eye contact with the agent as he asserted his position of caring for the people in this town.

Matt’s gaze moved back over you—your tear-stained and reddened cheeks, disheveled hair. He knew you wanted answers, but he also knew he couldn’t provide any right now. “Sheriff, as you know, the case of Jackson Lyle is ongoing. There’s nothing I can share right now.”

“I understand the Lyle case is off limits,” Beau spoke confidently. “But now, a five-year-old girl is missing. That changes things. Where are you at with a search party? An Amber Alert go out yet? At this point, Montana, South Dakota, North Dakota, Wyoming and Idaho should all be on alert. Have you talked to border patrol? He could be headed to Canada, for all we know.”

“Sheriff, we are handling it,” the agent tried to assure. Something told you Beau didn’t trust the agents anymore than you did.

“Then why the hell haven’t I seen an Amber Alert? As you know, agent—the first twenty-four hours are crucial. The decisions made now could make or break this,” he lowered his voice but you still heard him.

“We are working on it, you have my word,” Matt sighed.

“Your word doesn’t mean a whole lot ‘round this town,” he said firmly. “With all due respect, of course.” He added with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t stick around to go back and forth any longer. He turned to you and wrapped his arm back around your waist again as he led you to the door. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” You stumbled over your words but didn’t fight him as you braced yourself for the cold. The air practically took away whatever breath you had left. His grip tightened as you walked towards his truck.

“We’re goin’ to the station. I have a plan,” his words were firm and his gaze didn’t waver from his truck. Your head whipped to look at him as he guided you.

“Beau, they said to leave it be,” you didn’t know what the right answer was, and while you didn’t agree with leaving it alone, you also didn’t want to be in any trouble with the FBI.

“Yeah, well, I say I’m the Sheriff and I can do as I please,” he opened the passenger door of his truck for you to step in.

“My car’s here,” you thumbed to the parking lot where your truck was still parked.

“I’ll have a deputy come by and pick it up,” he waved it off as he closed the door and headed to the driver’s side.

You took a shaky breath. As he pulled open the driver’s side door, you stared blankly straight ahead out the windshield. Every bit of you felt numb, completely wrecked by the events that had taken place.

“We’re gonna get her,” you realized Beau had been staring at you.

“How? You heard the agent, they’re running this show,” to say you felt defeated would be an understatement.

Beau slipped the key into the ignition and turned. As he pulled out of the parking space, his words were clear. “I’m doin’ a press conference,” he said firmly.

This wasn’t the first time you had found yourself in the local police department, but this was by far the worst. A steaming cup of coffee had been set in front of you, but you didn’t feel like drinking it. You blinked as your eyes focused on the opposite white wall in the tiny interrogation room.

The door opened, but you didn’t bother fixing your gaze. It wasn’t until he stepped into view and pulled up a chair that you adjusted your eyes.

“I know you’ve been through this a hundred times,” he started slowly with a sigh. “But I need you to tell me what she was wearing today, and any descriptions. If you have a recent picture, that would be great.” Beau’s words were gentle—more gentle than you’d heard them before. Even though it was always clear Beau felt bad about your circumstances, this seemed different.

“Do you have any children?” The words fell from your lips with little emotion, but there was a reason you asked and Beau knew that.

“I do. A daughter,” he cleared his throat. “And I know if I were sittin’ where you are, I’d be absolutely lost. Hell, I’ve been there before.”

Your eyes bolted to reach his gaze. “She went missing?” There was hope in your words as you realized she must have been found.

“Sure did,” he nodded. “And we got her back. Just like we’re gonna get Bailey back, you hear me?” He seemed hesitant for the first time that day as he reached out and held your hand in his across the table. “I’m going to get her back.” He said firmly.

You nodded once and broke eye contact. As you pushed the tears out of your eyes, you spoke. “She’s 43 inches tall. About 39 pounds. She had on denim jeans, with a daisy patch sewn on the pocket. A white daisy, with some green petals,” you closed your eyes as you pictured it. “Bluey sneakers…”

“Sorry, Bluey?” He asked, confused.

You smiled through the pain of the moment. “It’s a cartoon. A little blue dog,” you continued. “She had on a long-sleeve pink t-shirt, I think it says ‘GAP’ on it in a darker pink. And a lavender puffy coat. I braided her hair today—one braid down the back.” You looked back at him to make sure he had captured it all.

“You did good, sweetheart. You got a recent picture?” He asked.

“Of course,” you fumbled through your phone and found a picture you had taken just the night before. Your heart nearly crumbled at the memory of playing hide and seek just after dinner. You handed your iPhone over to him and nibbled on your bottom lip.

“I’m gonna send this to myself, alright?” You nodded at his question. “Jackson hasn’t tried to reach out to you, right? No family members? Anything?”

You shook your head ‘no’. “It’s been radio silence. I called the last number I have for him but it’s disconnected. I’ve tried his mom, sister, best friend…most didn’t answer, but his mom says she hasn’t heard from him.”

He nodded his head as he sent himself the photo of Bailey. “Alright, thanks for hanging with me, darlin’,” he gave your hand one last squeeze before he slid your phone back to you. Even in the haze of everything happening around you, your body couldn’t deny the feeling of warmth that simple squeeze cascaded through your veins.

“Now what?” You murmured as he stood from his seat.

“Now,” he started as he glanced at the door to the interrogation room. “I’m about to piss off the FBI and do a press conference.” He gave you a small smile.

Beau had decided not to include you in the press conference, even though it was a fairly common practice to showcase the family members. He had said it was too dangerous, but he also didn’t want you in any trouble with the FBI. “I’ll take the fall, don’t you worry,” he had said to you as he headed for the front of the Sheriff’s office. “What’re they gonna do, fire me?” He had almost chuckled, but you didn’t know if that was a possibility. You couldn’t imagine Beau would actually risk his career for this—for you, the ex-wife of a con man he had been trying to hunt down for the last three months—but then again, you didn’t know Beau Arlen.

You watched from the confines of Beau’s office where he had set you up with a television dialed in on the local news.

He stepped up to the podium and looked as confident as ever. “Now we have Sheriff Beau Arlen with an important press conference,” the news anchor stated. “Let’s listen in.”

“Afternoon, folks,” Beau greeted as he looked down at the notes in front of him. “We have a missing five-year-old girl tonight out of Big Sky and we’re askin’ for the public’s help in locating her. We’ll post this photo just after this conference, but she is five-years-old, approximately 43 inches tall and 39 pounds. She left home this morning wearing jeans with a daisy patch on the pocket, a light pink long-sleeved t-shirt that says ‘GAP’, a lavender puffy coat and sneakers with a little blue dog on them, called Bluey.”

Your heart raced against the confines of your chest as he spoke and more tears yet again flooded your eyes.

“She is in the presence of Jackson Lyle, who is considered to be armed and dangerous. If you have seen anything or heard anything, please contact the Sheriff’s office immediately,” he said. “We’ll be coordinating a search and rescue team in a few hours and are askin’ for the public’s help, and anyone who may want to volunteer. If interested, you can meet us at the Sheriff’s office at five o’clock.”

You felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The FBI had hardly attempted to coordinate with the public, but now the word was out and people could start looking for your daughter.

“Here’s the photo, and this will be posted across news pages and social media here shortly,” Beau finished. “I’ll take any questions now.”

“Sheriff, is this the same Jackson Lyle who has been on the run the last few months?” A reporter asked.

“It is,” Beau replied.

“What is the girl’s relation to Jackson Lyle?” Another reporter asked.

“Jackson Lyle is her biological father,” Beau stated simply. There were murmurs from reporters in front of the podium. “We aren’t going to discuss anything regarding Jackson Lyle further. Our goal is to get this little girl home as quickly as possible. If you see Bailey Lyle or Jackson Lyle, please call our office immediately. Thank you.” He stepped away from the podium and the screen cut back to the local news.

They didn’t miss a beat to show the photo Beau had shared—it felt surreal to see your baby girl on the local news. The tears fell from your eyes as they began to talk about the conference.

“For our viewers who may not remember, Jackson Lyle is the man who was arrested almost a year ago now for drug trafficking and domestic violence,” and there it was. The painful past that made you want to vomit. You reached for the remote and muted the screen, your eyes steadied on the photo of your daughter.

Almost instantly, you heard the door to Beau’s office open. Your gaze darted there and tried to focus on him, but it was a challenge through the tears.

His firm demeanor fell when he saw you. “You alright, darlin’?” You shook your head back and forth. “I know it’s a lot, and I’m real sorry for that.” A heavy sigh fell from his lips. “But we need to get you outta here. We’re gonna go out the back to avoid the press.” You stood to your feet and wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Aren’t we setting up the search party here?” You asked him, confused.

He paused and diverted his eyes to the floor below his boots. “I just need to get you somewhere first,” he hesitated, and you knew that he was trying to skirt around whatever it was he wanted to say.

“Beau…” you started, the pain in your voice strengthened so it was firm. “I’m joining the search party.”

“I just need you to get in my truck,” his tone was pleading. “I need you to trust me.” His eyes bore back into yours again and you thought if you stared hard enough, you might be able to see his soul.

Even though trusting people wasn’t really your thing, you nodded once and followed him through the door to the back exit of the building. His steps were long and quick, and for every stride he took, you took two. He threw open the driver’s door and you did the same to the passenger. As soon as you were in and your door was closed, he peeled out of the lot.

Your eyes studied the side of his face. The worry lines he had acquired over the years, the freckles that matched his green gaze, plus some he had probably gotten from spending his days in the sunshine. His hair swooped to the side of his forehead haphazardly and you realized this day had taken almost as much out of him as it had you.

“Beau, where are we going?” Your voice was soft but your tone was firm. You didn’t want to be mad at him—he seemed to be the only person taking initiative at finding Bailey.

He didn’t say anything, and that scared you. But you knew these roads better than anyone, and you knew the direction you were headed.

“Don’t you dare take me home, Beau,” you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I need you to listen to me,” he gripped the steering wheel tightly as he turned onto your private drive. “We need someone to stay at the house in case Bailey comes home. Havin’ you out there isn’t gonna change anything. I need you here. It’s the safest place for you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about being safe, Beau!” Your voice raised as the anger boiled in the pit of your stomach. “All I care about is finding my kid. Did you sit at home when your daughter was missing?! And don’t you dare lie to me.”

“This is my job,” he emphasized. “And in order to do my job right, I need you here.” He shifted the gear into park. You noticed the two deputies already parked just outside your home.

“You’re something else,” you scoffed, anger flowing freely. “How dare you.”

“You know what, sweetheart? I know you’re pissed. I hear you, and I’m sorry,” he sighed. “You can be mad at me all you want. Hate me, even, I don’t care. But I made you a promise that I’m gonna get your girl back, and I intend to keep it.”

Your door opened and you recognized the deputy on the other side, it was Deputy Mo Poppernak.

“Ma’am,” he greeted you with a nod. He was nervous, and you could tell Beau had prepared his team for this moment.

“You told me to trust you,” angry tears settled in your eyes and at this point, you didn’t think it was possible to have any tears left after how much you had cried that day. “I don’t trust anyone–you know that! How could you do this to me? He’s not bringing her back here, Beau. You have to know that. I need to be out there looking for her!” Your voice was broken and tired, but you begged anyway. There was no dignity left, and you didn’t care.

Beau reached across the center console area of his truck and grasped your hands in his. Slowly, so he enunciated every word, he said, “I’m going - to get - her back. You have my word.” He held your gaze for a moment before he looked just over your shoulder. “Get her outta here, Pops.”

You tirelessly struggled against Mo Poppernak’s hands as he tried to ‘help’ you out of the truck. “I’ve got it,” you grumbled. As soon as your feet were safely on the gravel, the deputy closed the door and Beau flipped it into reverse.

You prayed he knew what he was doing.

Surprise! I’m dropping this a day ahead of schedule, because tomorrow is super hectic for me and I just can’t wait any longer (Team No Chill, over here). Thank you for all of the feedback, likes and shares on the last part. I hope I am keeping you hooked! As always, I would love any feedback you may have for me, or just your thoughts and feelings as you read <3. I appreciate you! New installments posted on Wednesdays and Saturdays! (Minus today, where I’m posting a day early [depending on where you are in the world when you read it!]).

A preview of the next chapter:

There were multiple deputies coming and going from your home. Mo seemed to be the constant—he was the only one who actually came inside. He wanted to make sure you had water and he tried to get you to eat (tried being the key word). But you were glued to the television. The search had begun, but they weren’t showing much. You had only seen Beau once on your screen, but you assumed they were trying to be inconspicuous with where they searched, just in case Jackson was watching.

Matt, the FBI agent, had stopped by. You assured him you didn’t know anything about the press conference or the search. The anger you felt around Beau ditching you had mostly diminished. But now it was replaced by anxiety, fear and despair.

Mo had been gracious enough to close Bailey’s bedroom door when he spotted you staring from the doorway with tears falling down your face.

“She’s probably cold and tired,” you muttered as he approached.

“It’s going to be okay, ma’am. We’re going to find her,” his words were meant to be comforting, but you knew he couldn’t make you any promises.

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194 notes · View notes

arlestial · 9 months

Note

hello hello! i'm really fan of your work and i'ld like to know if you could make rin boyfriend headcanons please? thanks in advance! :) bisous de france and don't forget to take care of yourself <3!!

❝He looks up grinning like a devil❞

synopsis : Rin Itoshi thought he wasn’t ready for love, ever. Until he met you. And now; his heart isn’t really his anymore.

pairing : Itoshi Rin x genderneutral!reader •— Blue Lock

tw : none, just some fluff, some suggestive mentions - (just some kisses) but nothing really developed nor important here (kind of enemies to lovers at first, tho)

word count : 1850~ words

author-note : it’s been 8 months guys, and I’m deeply sorry for this - clearly not intentional - hiatus ! I’ve been busy with my studies and my mental health but it’s all better now <3 I’m going to answer to the few requests I have in my ask box as soon as I can. It’s longer than what I excepted 😭.. Thanks for your request, hope you like it anyway. Gros bisous à toi, et passe une super bonne journée ! (N’oublie pas de te reposer surtout)💗 take care of yourself ♡

RIN ITOSHI was an actor. Always playing the rude, cold guy. The emotionless, indifferent man who was in fact a broken little boy inside. He was a huge liar. Constantly putting a facade between him and other people. Maybe it was a shield, not to be hurt again. Maybe it was a weapon, not to be approached again. He was lonely. And he knew it very well, deep inside of his slewed heart. But wasn't solitude better than suffering? So he sticked around his old mentra. He had other things to attend to, to think of.

RIN ITOSHI despised you. No- he hated you, with all his guts. You were so annoying; always talking to his teammates, laughing with them as you brought water bottles so they could drink. Could you just do your job without talking for once ? When Ego announced you were going to replace Anri for a few weeks, because she was severely ill, he swore he was going to jump out of the window. It could’ve been anyone else - but no, Ego chose you, you out of all the qualified, useful, and actually smart people out there who wanted the job. Why ? He wasn’t the type to complain, he couldn’t care less, but just seeing you on the field made him feel a boiling anger deep in his stomach, and you felt it the first time you laid your eyes upon him.

"You got a staring problem, perhaps ?", you asked, raising an eyebrow at his staring. He looked so fucking irritating, his cold and condescending gaze fixed on you. Your tone betrayed your harsh thoughts.

"No. Just wondering why you look so boring and annoying even though I’ve never talked to you.", he answered, with a mocking tone - still, his face remained neutral, judgmental even. You scoffed.

"The feeling’s mutual."

Since that day, you two argued with each other constantly. His teammates never seemed to understand why; and Rin was too busy thinking about what comebacks he could said to your petty insults to actually explain them why you were so.. frustrating. He couldn’t understand it either. But seeing your shocked face, your scoffs and your protests, your upset behavior tainted by a sharp words just brought something new in him, something he couldn’t explain with proper words. Joy maybe ? It was fun to tease you. And it was also easy, too.

RIN ITOSHI, in all honesty, took a liking in this little game. He wouldn’t admit it, though. So, when the day came when you stopped answering his bittersweet notes and decided to ignore him, he felt strange. Weird. Why ? Wasn’t it the whole point ? Bore you until you stop to annoy him ? Why was he missing your plain, insignificant comebacks ? Your rude attitude towards him ? And now he was jealous. Jealous to see that his fellow teammates had all your attention. He wanted your attention all to himself. Because what Rin Itoshi wants, Rin Itoshi gets. And there was no way you were going to ignore him longer. He couldn’t bear it.

RIN ITOSHI decided - by his own chef - that it was enough. You were surprised, to say the least, to see Rin in front of you, completely silent, looking at you dead in the eye. You frowned, taking a step back. (Definitely not scared because he was creepy)

"Okay… I don’t think that staring is your only problem, I guess.. Can you-"

"Can you shut up, for once ? I need you for something.", he cut you before you could even finish, and you rolled your eyes. So ignoring him didn’t solve the whole thing.

"So now, you need help ?", you added, amused, "I thought you were a big boy that didn’t need the help of a "unqualified, dumb, assistant","

"I’ve changed my mind. Do you want to be the one to blame if we lose the next game ?"

You weren’t paid enough for this job. So you just sighed, accepting your defeat and your fate. Without further discussion, he dragged you to the gym. And that’s when the whole, well, quite unusual tradition took place at first.

RIN ITOSHI apologized. For his rude behavior, for his sharp words, while he was training in the gym - as you were watching his progression, of course. Every day, you were at the same hour at this exact spot in the gym, talking to Rin as he was training his already sculpted body. He was still teasing you, but this deep boiling anger in his stomach became, day by day, more.. pleasant. Until the day Isagi walked in, interrupting your little chat, and winked at him, murmuring in his ear to "make a move". That’s when he connected the dots. He had feelings for you.

Confessing his feelings was hard. Especially since Anri came back. You were supposed to leave in a few days, and Rin couldn’t help but feel the sting in his heart. Was he going to see you again ? He couldn’t let you go just like that. Not after what you’ve did to him. So the last day, after you had greeted all his teammates, you walked out the door of the Blue Lock’s building, a sigh leaving your lips. He wasn’t there. How foolish to think that maybe, your feelings were reciprocated. You walked away, until something - no, someone, grabbed your wrist. It was Rin. You turned to face him, surprised. You opened your mouth to say something-

"I like you. A lot. Fuck- No. I love you. Don’t go just yet. Please."

And how could you refuse this confession ? (You can’t anyway.)

RIN ITOSHI and you started dating after that. He was a little stiff at the beginning; the man wasn’t used to be loved nor taken care of. So you taught him. Light touches here and there; Rin was a quiet, shy, yet attentive lover. He wasn’t too fond of PDA : first, he didn’t want to include you in paparazzi issues, and second, he wasn’t completely comfortable in public in general. He would put his hand on the small of your back in a crowded street to show you the way, lock your pinkies together all the time, probably press a kiss on your hairline; but that’s all he would do in public.

"This way, love. Careful, we don’t want you to get lost, do we ?"

RIN ITOSHI, in private, is a touch-starved, self-deprived boy who needs your whole attention and affection. Please, cuddle him. Let him be the little spoon, and he would absolutely melt. He’s putty in your hands as soon as you reach for him. Lay down on the couch, with him resting on your chest, your heartbeat lulling him to sleep as you fingers play gently with his hair, softly scratching his scalp just like he likes it. If you stop, he will wake-up in no time; glaring at you with a slight pout on his lips.

"I didn’t know I asked you to stop."

"My hand hurts, Rin."

"Bold of you to assume that I care."

"Please ? Just for 5 minutes.", he added in a whisper after some seconds, practically begging for your touch. His sudden change of attitude caused you to chuckle.

RIN ITOSHI absolutely dies for your kisses. He lives for them, okay ? Your plush lips pressed against his, with you sitting on his lap as his hands traveled to the back of your thighs, holding you in place. One arm around his neck, the other hand supporting yourself by grabbing his shoulder, he swears he could spent hours just making out with you. His tongue buried down your throat, bodies grinding and pressed against each other’s as you both let your eager lips devour your love.

RIN ITOSHI who kisses your insecurities away (literally). He knows exactly what it feels like to have insecurities and to be misunderstood about them, so don’t worry (he’s definitely an overthinker too.) You’re not going to be insecure on his watch. He would reassure you all the time, taking his precious time whispering sweet nothings in your ear, hyping you up. He wants you to be the most comfortable possible around him. Communication is the main key in your relationship. He took some time to finally let down his walls, so he intends you to do the same : without any pressure, of course. You can trust him, he can trust you. You both rely on each other’s back, and you can always count on him for anything. He’s not a man of many words, but for you, he would make an effort.

"Shh, darling. Come on, look at me, please,", he gently tilted your chin up for you to look at him, "dry those tears, my love. I’ve never met someone as strong, as beautiful and as courageous as you. If only you could see yourself with my eyes.. Don’t listen to them. They’re just jealous of you. Honestly, they should be jealous of me. After all, what did I do to deserve an angel like you ?"

RIN ITOSHI was an actor. Always playing the rude, cold guy. The emotionless, indifferent man who was in fact a broken little boy inside. He was a huge liar. And perhaps you could heal the broken inner-child that still suffer in silence today. But with certainty, with you, behind closed doors, maybe- maybe, for you, he could grow into a whole different person.

"I think that.. I think that I like the person I am when I’m with you. Does it make sense ? Yeah. You bring a side of me that I don’t want to let go. I think it’s a soulmate thing, don’t you think so ?"

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #blue lock rin #blue lock rin itoshi #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk rin #bllk rin itoshi #rin itoshi #rin #rin x yn #rin x y/n #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x gn reader #gn reader

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shadowlali · 8 months

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alejandro vargas but he became a pastor after he retired from the military and reader who is a newcomer to their church and and and (EXPLODES)

sin

COD - priest!Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader

[18+] wc: ~ 4.4k masterlist

warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, no use of Y/N nor too many details on reader’s appearance (Alejandro is taller than reader and reader can sit in his lap), pet names (mi niña, hermosa), masturbation (m!), fingering, unprotected sex a/n: this is written all in Alejandro’s POV

Alejandro speaks to the crowd, taking in all the familiar faces. He keeps his voice calm as he repeats the passage he’s memorized by now. His eyes land on the back corner and he stumbles over his words as he notices you, someone he’s never seen before. You have your head slightly bowed and eyes closed as you listen to his words. You’re wearing a light pink dress with enough of a v-neck to show your soft skin and the rosary that hangs between your breasts.

He quickly continues talking and tries to shake away whatever emotion begins to claw at his skin. Temptation. Lust. The emotions he was told would truly test him and his character as a priest. He never truly listened before, or cared. Alejandro’s head was filled with too much trauma to pay attention to women. They come into the church and bring him gifts or flirt, but he always redirects their attention to prayer. They’re nice to look at, and definitely eager, but he’s never been interested enough to break his promise.

Before he knows it, his service finishes and people begin to file out of the building. Many stay behind to thank him and add more money to the donation plates. He sweeps his eyes through the crowd and doesn’t see you anymore. Disappointment and guilt washes over him. Disappointment at not finding out who you are and guilt for wanting to see your pretty face up close. She’s not an object to be lusted after, he tells himself.

The last of the church goers file out and he’s left alone. Alejandro walks back to the podium with the intention of picking up his book and walking into his office when he hears soft footsteps approaching. He turns and finds you walking down the aisle towards him. His mouth dries at the sight of you, sunlight cascading through the stained-glass windows and illuminating your body in soft light. Like an angel in a pink dress–No he reminds himself.

You stop about a meter away and introduce yourself. He breathes in slow and deep, your perfume too delicious to ignore. You’re new in town and missing your family so you decided to visit church, you tell him. It reminds you of home and you’re feeling a bit lonely. He listens as you speak, focusing on the sound of your voice and the way it draws him in. You like how beautiful the church is and how connected you feel to the words in the bible.

“Solitude and loneliness is something we all feel at some point. But I hope Las Almas can provide you with community, mi niña,” Alejandro says. [My girl]

“That’s what I want, community,” you say with a soft smile,” I was wondering if there were any bible study or worship groups that meet?”

“None yet.” He notices the sad look on your face that you quickly try to hide with a smile.

“I see, well I’m sure I’ll find my place here in Las Almas soon. Thank you, Padre.” [Father]

You turn and begin to walk away. Alejandro’s lungs seize as he realizes that the conversation has now ended. He knows first hand what solitude feels like. Priests take an oath to serve and dedicate the rest of their lives to God. It’s a sacrifice, one that leaves them lonely.

“Espera,” he practically yells out,” I–we don’t have one but, if you want to, we–you and I can meet in the afternoons.” [Wait]

You turn at the sound of his voice, your smile growing bigger with each word he says.

“I—yes, Padre. Me encanta la idea.” [I love the idea]

So you two decide on a weekday, one where you won’t be too busy. It’s also a day he knows not many people attend church, which means you two will be alone–no. He busies himself with work the rest of the afternoon and the days that follow. Alejandro tries not to think about you. He focuses on the other members who come in for guidance, on a few baptisms and communions.

At night, he does his prayers and squeezes his eyes shut while forcing the memory of your eyes and your citrus scent out of his head. He pushes you to the farthest corner of his brain, but as his mind relaxes and his dreams begin, he sees you. On your knees while you wait to swallow his dick. On top of him while you sink down his length. Bent over his desk while he takes you from behind.

A much better man, a good priest would ignore the temptation. He would remember his oath and fight the urge to fuck his own hand. But Alejandro never said he’s a good priest. He wakes in the middle of the night, cock aching and body sweating. He thinks of you while he pumps his length slowly. Alejandro imagines it's your much softer and smaller hand that strokes him. He thinks of your voice and skin. With a suppressed moan, he finishes. Ropes and ropes of come paint his stomach while he wishes you were here with him.

- - -

He cleans and organizes and then cleans and organizes his office all over again. You’re going to arrive soon and Alejandro finds himself nervous. The doors of the church are locked and the only source of light are the lighted candles in the front. He waits on a pew with the bible in his hand, reading but not actually paying attention to the words. His body is poised to jump up the moment he hears you knock on the side door.

The minutes go by, closer and closer to the time you two agreed upon. And then he hears it, a knock on the door and a soft, Padre? He slams the bible shut and fixes his collar before quickly walking towards the door. You greet him with a pretty smile and a kiss on his cheek that he can feel scorching his skin even under his beard. The mary janes make you a bit taller than last time to where you fit right underneath his nose.

Alejandro leads you to his office and motions for you to sit on his small couch. The sun has now mostly set, a yellow lamp illuminating the small room. You're sweet and polite, asking him about his day. He can tell you’re an avid listener by the way you respond at the appropriate moments and keep your body angled towards him. He sits across from you in an armchair and watches as you pull out a quilted pink bible from your bag. He notices you rub your upper shoulder a bit and then drop your hand back down to your lap.

Alejandro tries not to stare too much while you situate yourself. The dress you have on is similar to the one you wore during Mass with a row of buttons leading to a v-neck that shows the same gold and pearl rosary. The image of you wearing nothing but the rosary while he makes you ride him briefly flashes in his mind. He discreetly adjusts his hardening length between his thighs and uses his own bible to cover himself.

“How has Las Almas been so far?”

“Good, great actually,” you respond, ”it’s similar to home. The people here are so… welcoming and nice and just so warm.”

“That’s great to hear, mi niña–”

“I actually found out something about you, Padre,” you say in a teasing tone.

Alejandro’s mind races with a hundred negative thoughts. What could have you found out about him?

“I had no idea you were in the military. I thought maybe you just liked weightlifting.”

His body relaxes and he lets out a chuckle, ”Sí, I was in the military for most of my life.”

You tilt your head slightly and he knows the question you’re going to ask before it even leaves your lips,” Why priesthood? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He’s ready to tell you the answer he’s told everyone since he joined, I felt like it was my calling. However, Alejandro pauses. A few more moments pass and he’s left wondering if he can be truly honest with you. You wait patiently for his answer, your curious look void of any judgment.

“I… saw and did things that will… stay with me forever. I don’t regret any of it,” he quickly says,” but I want to–I want time to think about what I’ve done. Sometimes I think about praying for forgiveness too, from all the bloodshed.”

You lean forward and place a hand on top of his. He feels warmth spread up his arm as you give him a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for sharing, Padre. I can’t imagine what you went through… yet you continue to help the people. That’s incredibly generous of you.”

Alejandro doesn’t feel the need to tell you to keep what he said to yourself. He’s not sure how, but he knows you won’t repeat his confession. He smiles and you pull your hand back and once again reach up to rub your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asks while motioning to your shoulder.

“Sí, recogí una caja pesada” you respond, ”and I think I pulled a muscle but I’ll be fine.” [I picked up a heavy box]

Before he knows what he’s doing, Alejandro stands up and walks towards the shelf holding the anointing oils. “Do you want me to take a look? I had medic training in the military.”

“Oh, no it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose–”

“You won’t, trust me.”

Alejandro thinks he imagines the shy look on your face as you stand up and sit at the foot rest placed between his spread thighs. He’s back in his arm chair with your back facing him, trying his best not to react as he feels your body between his legs. You move your hair to the other side and move down the sleeves of your dress just enough to where he sees the imprint left by your bra strap. He catches a glimpse of a pink, lacey strap before you push it under your sleeve. He opens the glass bottle and pours a bit in his hand, places it on the side table and begins to heat the oil in his palms.

He can smell your perfume, the same citrus scent from last time. There’s also something else, an unmistakable sweetness found in your skin.”¿Lista?” he asks. [Ready?]

You give a nod and he brings two large fingers to press and mold the skin. There isn’t a ton of skin showing, only the part where your neck dips into your shoulder. It’s more than enough for him. He feels the warmth on your skin and holds in a moan as he notices goosebumps rise with each probe into your muscles. You tilt your head more down and lean back, almost pressing against his erection. You become more comfortable as he massages you, and he hears the unmistakable sound of a small moan leaving your lips.

His pants tighten as his cock grows harder but he keeps massaging and cooing in your ear, relájate, lo estás haciendo muy bien. Your moans rise only a bit in volume and he can see the fluttering of your pulse on your neck. The scent of your skin and the strong scent of the oil fogs his brain. He brings his fingers and ghosts over your pulse before sliding back down to your shoulder, leaving behind a shiny trail of oil. [Relax, you’re doing really well]

“Again please,” you whimper.

He stills, his heart beating in his chest at your words. You enjoy this just as much as he does, he thinks. Your body tenses, thinking you went too far and you begin to sit up again but Alejandro does just as you ask. Once again he runs light fingertips to your pulse and back down to your shoulder. He knows this is a bad idea, that he’s doing something that a normal, good priest wouldn’t do. He knows, hopes, what this will lead to but he doesn’t want you to pull away again.

Alejandro finds the courage to explore more of your skin, trailing the edges of the v-neck and back up with harder strokes on your neck. He can see your thighs squeeze together and feel the purrs in your throat. He wipes the rest of the oil on your neck before lightly squeezing it, with enough pressure to get your attention.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

You try to nod, not having much room to do so, ”yes.”

With his other hand that was gripping the arm rest, he slowly brings it up to your front and leads you to sit on him. Your firm ass lands right on his bulge and it's his turn to let out a groan from his chest. You twist and moan in his lap, trying to find a position that can no doubt relieve your own ache between your pretty thighs. With you in his lap, he begins to unbutton the front of your dress.

Little by little, your pink lacy bra comes into view. You lean your head back on his shoulder and move your hips in small circles. The rosary winks and glitters in the low light and Alejandro runs his oily fingers underneath the necklace to touch the skin at your sternum. His movements are slow and precise. There’s no reason to rush what he’s doing. He wants to take his time with you, hear the sounds you make, see what you look like when left bare. The dress is unbuttoned underneath the swell of your breasts and you push it down your arms and wiggle out until it lands on a heap at the foot rest. You kick off your shoes and socks next.

He turns his head slightly and presses his mouth on yours. Your lips are soft and pliant, letting him take the lead while he swallows the noises that leave your mouth. Your tongue gently prods his bottom lip, seeking entry. He opens his mouth and feels the press of your warm tongue on his. He moves a hand to keep your hips still, too close to coming from the way you kiss him and the movement of your hips.

Alejandro uses one hand to grip your neck while his other hand slides over your tits, down your tummy, and back up to your hardened nipples. The bra is basically see through, the shape and color of your nipples visible to his eyes. When he pinches your nipples through the lace, you whine louder and grip his wrist. He keeps pinching and pulling at your nipples, using the lace as stimulation.

He lets go of your neck and briefly pushes you forward a bit to unhook your bra. Once you fling it off, he uses both hands to massage your chest, rubbing up to your sternum and neck then back down to cup and pinch your nipples. Alejandro picks up the anointing oil again and pours more in his hand. Not wasting another second, he quickly rubs it into his palms and places his hands on your tits again.

“Bella,” he groans.

His hands move across your tits and soft tummy, lathering your body in oil. Your body glows and sparkles even in the low light from the lamp. He skims his fingers down your tummy, pressing and massaging the skin. With lubricated fingers, he teases the top seam of your pink panties. He pushes two fingers underneath the scrap of lace and feels the wetness that covers your cunt.

Alejandro skims the tip of his finger over your swollen clit causing you to twitch and nip at his bottom lip. He chuckles into your mouth and runs his finger over your clit again, loving how your breathing picks up. He continues his descent and slowly plunges his middle finger into your slick entrance. You both hiss, Alejandro wondering how he’s going to fit in your little hole the way your walls flutter and tighten around him. He cups your entire pussy and uses his palm to apply slight pressure to your clit.

“So wet and pretty, aren’t you?”

He pumps his finger slowly a few times, not able to move much since his hand is still in the confines of your panties. Alejandro adds his ring finger, shushing you when you hiss again. Up until now, you had left your hands at your sides, letting Alejandro explore your body. You raise one arm up and cup the back of Alejandro’s head, dragging your fingers through his hair. You continue to eat at each other’s mouths while Alejandro slowly pumps his fingers inside of you. His aching cock now forgotten, your grind down on his hand and spread your slick all on it.

He slips his fingers out and nips your bottom lip at your protest. “Quítatelos,” he says while hooking his thumb in the side of your panties and slightly pushing them down. [Take them off]

You use both hands to quickly wiggle out of your panties. Alejandro continues to stay fully clothed, wanting to focus his attention on you and the wet stains you leave on his pants. At this point, barely any words have been spoken aside from his coos of encouragement.

“Spread your thighs, mi niña,” he says as he helps you place a thigh over the armrest.

You look like a pretty angel in his eyes. Your thighs are spread, one foot placed on the foot rest while your other thigh hangs over the armrest. He pushes his hand into your stomach to have you lean as much into him, wanting a better angle to see your pretty pussy. Alejandro moves his slick fingers back down, pausing to rub your clit in a light circle then plunges two fingers into your heat again.

“Alejandro–”

“Padre,” he corrects you, bringing up his hand to squeeze your neck once more.

“Padre, así– por favor así,” you cry out. [Just like that– please, just like that]

He works his fingers faster and feels as you wet his hand the moment he curves into your g-spot. You’re loud, your cries bouncing off the old walls in the office. There’s no one in the church, yet even if there was, he wouldn’t care. Alejandro encourages you, whispering in your ear how pretty you sound and how perfect you wrap around his fingers. He uses his palm to press and rub on your clit.

“I’m com– oh fu– Padre, oh God,” you stutter out.

He plunges and plunges his fingers while you come apart in his lap. You bring both of your hands up to your neck, encouraging him to squeeze you tighter. You walls pulse and squeeze him and you twist your hips in jerky movements. Alejandro manages to see the gush of your slick wet his hand. He doesn’t mind if the rest of the night is spent giving your orgasm after orgasm. His balls are heavy and his cock is pained but he wants you to have as much pleasure as possible.

You push his hand away with the little energy you have left and melt into his lap. His fingers glisten with your creamy juices and he quickly sucks them in his mouth. Alejandro groans at your sweet taste and the remnants of the anointing oil, laving his tongue over his two fingers. You bring a shaky hand up to his wrist and pull his fingers out of his mouth. Your mouth is warm and wet while you lap and suck his fingers. It sends shocks directly to his dick as he imagines your mouth around his length.

You slowly sink down to your knees, pushing the foot rest away and situating yourself between Alejandro’s big thighs. He stops you as you reach for his belt buckle, knowing he’ll come the moment you wrap your lips around him.

“No, mi niña. I won’t last.”

You glance back up, eyes shiny and glazed from the orgasm you just had. He sees the moment an idea pops into your head, your lips forming a devilish smile. You stand on shaky legs and grab his hand, pulling him up. Walking backwards, you lead him to his desk and push the office chair away. You let go of his hand and push away the few books that scatter his desk, bending over and presenting your firm ass and glistening pussy to him.

You look back over your shoulder with innocent eyes, ”Will you please fuck me, Padre?”

He smiles at the way you drag out the last word, mocking him from earlier. Alejandro keeps eye contact while he unbuckles his belt and frees his cock. You glance back down and gasp slightly. He’s slightly curved and impossibly hard. The tip is painfully red and pre-come drips slightly from his tip. You begin to turn your body and reach a hand to touch him but Alejandro moves behind you and presses a hand on your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your tits press on his desk. He lightly presses his shoe to your bare ankle and you spread your legs further apart.

“Malo,” you mutter.

His head snaps up while he pushes his pants and briefs below his heavy balls. “I’m mean?”

Alejandro doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s sinking his length all the way in. His hips are flush against yours and his tip nudges your cervix. You tense and claw at his desk before he grabs both hands and pins your wrists behind your back.

“I’m mean?” he repeats.

You don’t say anything, mouth open but no noise or air coming out.

“Breath, mi niña,” Alejandro says.

He waits until he hears a few shaky breaths come in and out of your mouth. Once you're okay, Alejandro begins to pound into your drooling cunt, using your hands as leverage. Your walls are swollen and wet, barely able to accommodate his length. You don’t stop him, moaning loudly and chanting more, more, more.

“Is this mean?” Alejandro repeats again, watching as his cock thrusts in and out of your fluttering cunt.

“Yes,” you scream, ”so fucking mean.”

He lands a loud slap to your ass. “Don’t curse.”

Alejandro’s eyes stay where you two are joined. He watches as your inner walls grip him every time he pulls out. Your sticky arousal paints his cock and drips down your inner thighs. You begin to push your hips back into him, meeting each of his thrusts. You ass jiggles and recoils with each slam of his hips.

Alejandro slows down his thrusts, pulling out fully until it's just his tip notched at your entrance then sinking to rub your cervix. He does this a few times, calming his breathing or trying to while your pussy massages and suffocates his cock. His mouth hangs open and sweat drips down his chest while his body tenses.

If he could stay buried in your heat for the rest of eternity, he would. Alejandro tries to hold off his orgasm. He feels a pull in his balls while he speeds up his fucking. The noises coming from the both of you are raw and obscene. Alejandro groans and pants from deep with his chest. He loves the whimpers from your mouth and the unmistakable wet sound of your fucking.

“I–I’m going to, I need you to fin–finish inside, inside,” you stammer out.

You begin to squeeze around his length and Alejandro goes momentarily blind. He feels the gush of your come wet his cock, your pussy becoming a slippery mess. He pumps his hips faster while you come, jackhammering you into his desk. You’re a crying, trembling mess at this point. Drool pooling out of the side of your mouth and eyes half closed.

Alejandro explodes inside of you, marking your walls with his spend. He feels powerful in that moment, rutting into you like an animal while he brands your pussy with his come. He keeps one hand on your pinned wrists and uses the other to slap and slap your jiggling ass. Your cunt pulses and massages his cock while he fucks you through your simultaneous orgasms.

He stops spanking you and lets go of your wrists, one hand moving to grip your neck. Alejandro feels the beads from your rosary press on the side of his fingers. He makes you stand slightly while he grinds his cock into you and brings your mouth to his. In the same rhythm that he fucks you, he attacks your mouth with his tongue. There’s spit and teeth and bites but it's perfect. It becomes too much for the both of you. His cock unloads the last ropes of come in your messy cunt and you begin to cry no more, please – too much.

Alejandro manages to drag you to the couch in a few steps and sink down with you in his lap. His cock stays firmly lodged inside of you, now softened but still gripped by your tight pussy. Your head leans back on his shoulder and you close your eyes. Alejandro lightly grasps your chin with his thumb and index finger and presses his lips to your mouth. It’s a soft kiss, just the press of two mouths. He moves the hair from your sweaty forehead and places a kiss on your nose.

You look like a beautiful mess to him. Your body is shiny from sweat and the anointing oil, the rosary stuck between your heaving tits. Alejandro’s body relaxes as he caresses your warm skin with one hand. Maybe it wasn’t a lie he told the others. Maybe priesthood really is his calling, if it brought you to him. He skims his nose on your temple and breathes in your scent once again.

“Hermosa, how are you feeling?” he asks.

“‘m okay, Padre–”

“Alejandro, just Alejandro.”

You eyes open slightly in confusion, “But I thought you said–”

He chuckles, ”it was just the heat of the moment. The cursing stuff too, doesn’t matter. When we’re alone, you can call me Alejandro.” He waits until you nod and repeat his name back to him before he continues speaking. “How about I run you a warm bath, yeah?”

You nod then groan as you try to move your sore limbs, ”sí, I think that’s a good idea.”

#alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro vargas smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 x female reader #alejandro vargas #cod mw2 smut #shadowlali

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