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clxja16 · 1 year

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Our Life

Pierre Gasly x Reader

Genre: established relationship, parents au!, dad Pierre

Warnings: angst, yelling, arguing

Word Count: 1.5K+

Author's Note: I realize this is probably the most I have ever posted here. and this is probably the first time I have two different 'on-going' stories out at the same time. well I had this idea for a while, except it was with Charles and I can't keep posting things with Charles man. but this concept works with Pierre so yeah. I don't think there will be a part two, unless you guys absolutely beg for a part two but there's a happy ending so yeah. also Idk if this is a fear for a lot of people or if im just being irrational, because its definitely a fear for me lol. anyway enjoy reading, pls let me know what you think.

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“If I want my son at the race then he will be at the race,” Pierre spoke loudly as he tried to get his point across to you.

“Pierre, he’s only 10 months, I don’t think a race track when cars are flying past is the best idea for him,” you matched Pierre’s volume, you couldn’t understand why he just wouldn’t get it.

“He can wear a headset, just like all the other drivers' kids do, I want my son at the race with me,” Pierre wouldn’t let it go.

“No Pierre, I don’t want him there, and I don’t want all the media with pictures of our son, we’ll be…”

“You don’t have to come this weekend, but my son will be there this weekend, nanny can come with him.”

“Pierre you’re not getting it, I don’t think that's the best environment for our son, right now, maybe when he’s a little older.”

“y/n what do you think is gonna happen to him?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head at this point, “anything could happen to him, I don’t wanna risk it.”

Pierre sighed, running his hands through his hair, “he’s coming to the race this weekend, he’s my son…”

“OUR SON,” you shouted at the top of your lungs, cutting Pierre as the tears finally escaped you, “he is our son.”

The sound of the baby crying coming through the monitor stopped you from continuing on. You and Pierre both sighed, knowing that you’re shouting at each other is what woke him. “Let me…” Pierre spoke up first.

You waved your hand to dismiss him, “I’ll get him.” You quickly exited your shared bedroom with Pierre and made your way to the nursery, wiping away the escaped tears. Down the hall, before you entered the nursery you took a deep breath, calming your racing heart.

“Hi boy,” you spoke softly to the crying baby, picking him up. You held him close to you, afraid that he would be taken away. You closed your eyes, breathing him in, your perfect son. You cradled him in your arms, rocking him back to sleep. You watched him sleepily yawn, he had his father’s eyes. Eyes you loved very much.

“Dear,” Marta called out to you. Marta was an older woman that Pierre hired as a housekeeper to help around the house. Marta didn’t have any kids, her husband had died many years ago. She became a mother to you, since your mother wasn’t anywhere near.

“Marta,” you sighed, “I’m sorry, did me and Pierre wake you?” Because it’s only Marta by herself, Pierre had her move into the downstairs bedroom, it’s especially helpful when Pierre is away during the season.

“Don’t worry about me, I can sleep plenty when I’m no longer here,” Marta smiled, taking a seat next to you in the nursery, “what’s bothering you?”

You shook your head, as you smiled at your little boy in your arms, “Pierre wants to take the boy to Monza this weekend, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“That’s not it,” Marta said, as she gave you a look. A look a mother gives when she knows her child is lying.

You felt the tears begin to well in your eyes, “he’s our son.” You whisper into the night, like the words are a sin. You look up at Marta, meeting her kind eyes, her eyes telling you to continue you on. “He’s our son,” you speak a little louder, as the tears fall, “he’s not just Pierre’s son, he’s my son too.”

“I see,” Marta hums, nodding her head, “and? Why does that bother you?”

“He’s all I have left Marta.” You pulled the baby closer to you. “He’s all I have.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You breathed him in, you burned this moment to your memories. You treat this as if it’s your last moment with your son. You opened your eyes looking at Marta, “He’s all I have. You know, when I got pregnant, it wasn’t planned. It was an accident, me and Pierre had only been together for just under two years. But we said we were gonna do this, we were gonna have this kid and raise him together. Pierre makes more money than me.” You took another deep breath, trying to gather all your thoughts. “I had a good job, a place of my own, but there was no way I could raise a child by myself, and I couldn’t expect Pierre to move. He lives in Milan because it’s best for his career, he was set up already. I gave up all that I had, so he could be in his son’s life, and maintain his career.”

“You regret that?”

“No, no, never, Pierre is so good with him. He’s such a good father,” you smiled at the thought of Pierre with the boy. “But I’m so scared Marta.” you felt guilty for even speaking your feelings aloud. “Everything belongs to Pierre. I live in Pierre’s house, I drive Pierre’s cars, I fly on Pierre’s dime, I am completely dependent on Pierre. We’re not married, I own nothing, all I have is this boy, and Pierre has all the power to take him away.”

“You think…”

“I know,” you spoke quickly, “I know Pierre wouldn’t just randomly kick me out, but that doesn’t mean I don’t fear the possibility.” You felt the hot strikes of your tears, “If Pierre doesn’t want me anymore, I won’t have anything. I have no money to my name, I have no job, no place to stay, I have nothing without Pierre. If he decides he no longer wants me, I have no way to support myself or go back home.”

“That possibility scares you?”

“It does, and everytime we argue, he reminds me of that possibility, by saying ‘my son.’ He’s not his son, he’s our son, our child. Both mine and his, our son, together.”

“Oh dear,” Marta sighed, as she stood, pulling you close to her standing figure.

“Is it wrong to be scared?” you asked as you silently sobbed, holding your son closer to you.

“No dear, it’s not wrong to be scared, it’s the world we live in.” Marta said, as she held onto you tightly, wishing she could take away your fears. She wondered where in her lifetime did she go wrong? Why do the women of today have the same fears as the women of before?

Little to your knowledge, Pierre had overheard your conversation with Marta. And he thought how could he be so stupid? How did he not realize how damaging his words were? How did he not realize the weight they carried? How could he allow this to happen? He mentally slapped himself over and over again for not realizing his mistake. Our son, the boy, was your’s and Pierre’s son.

“Pierre, where are we going?” you asked as you sat in the passenger seat, as Pierre drove.

“To do something I should’ve done a long time ago,” Pierre said, as he pulled into a parking garage.

“Isn’t this your lawyers’ law firm?” you asked, as Pierre parked the car.

“Yes,” Pierre answered, as he made his way around the car to open the door for you.

“What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see,” Pierre said, taking your arm, as the two of you walked into the building lobby. You silently followed after Pierre, as he made through the lobby, up the elevator and to his lawyer’s office. You watched him exchange a few words with the man behind the desk, before the two of you took a seat, opposite of the lawyer. “I’m sorry these changes are a bit spur of the moment, but it’s something I should have done a long time ago.”

“Since the house is paid off, it was actually really easy changes,” the lawyer spoke before setting down paperwork before you and Pierre. “I’ll just need you both to sign on the line, and initially at the tabs.”

“Pierre what is this?” you asked, picking up the paperwork before.

“I’m putting your name on the house,” Pierre said, as he signed his set of paperwork.

“What?” you asked, as you threw the papers back on the desk, as if they were burning your hands. “Pierre this is a big thing, that’s your house…”

“Our,” Pierre said, correcting your statement. The one word had you shutting your mouth.

“Huh?”

“Our house,” Pierre said, as he set his paperwork and pen down, “We have a son together, and our son needs a home. We need a home for our family. This house can be our home, together. y/n, I should have done this when you gave up everything for me, for our family together. I am sorry this is so late, too late, but I want it to be our home together. This is our life together, none of this mine anymore.”

You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face even if the devil himself appeared before you. You signed away at the line and initialed at all the tabs. You were so grateful that Pierre was willing to share his life with you. “You know, you could’ve just asked me to marry you,” you joked as you and Pierre made your way back to the car.

“I am, I’m just going to do it right,” Pierre smirked at you, “plus it actually doesn’t cost money to add someone’s name to the deed of a house, when the house is paid off.”

#formula 1 #formula 1 au #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 angst #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 au #pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly au #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly as a dad #alpine f1 #f1 2023

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katiexpunk · 30 days

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Caller Number Nine | Pairing Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're a radio host of a popular late-night segment on relationships, advice and more. After a particularly bad night of calls, your final call of the night takes you by surprise.

Warnings: Javier is a flirt. Alcohol/marijuana. Humor/Banter. Flirting. References to infidelity and a man's negative view on his wife's postpartum body (the reader puts them both in their place). Both reader and Javier are lonely. New York. Slightly dom Javier. Biting. Javier gives reader a hickey. Murphy the Cat (this cat is DEA). Bodegas and a wholesome shop owner named Carlos. Some Spanish. TUWOMT call back to Paddington 2 but in a Javier AU. Javier calls the reader a slut once (she likes it). Praise kink. Thigh riding. Use of pet names. Just a hot fuck. Creampie. Unprotected sex. Fingering. Pizza on ranch. Dave Portnoy gets mentioned (iykyk). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. For immersability, the reader has no major physical descriptions.

W/C: ~6K

A/N: Let's just say this story was inspired by the slutty mustache that has made a triumphant return. I’m also just really into pizza with ranch right now, too, idk. If you need me I’ll be internally freaking out about the fact that there are almost 1,400 of you interested in my silly little stories. Thank you. 🥹🖤

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People suck at listening. You used to, too. But over time, call after call, you have become intimately acquainted with the quiet moments—the pauses between heartbeats, the breaths taken before confessions spill forth, the silence that stretches like a canvas waiting for emotions to color it.

These moments, often overlooked in the noise of daily life, are where you find the truth that guides you through the tangled web of love and relationships you navigate every night on your show.

For you, the quiet is not emptiness but a space brimming with potential. It's in these pauses that you listen most intently, not just to the spoken words but to the ones that tremble on the edge of silence, too shy or too scared to make themselves heard. You have learned that what is not said can be just as important as what is, and you can hear those unspoken fears, dreams, and desires.

Each night, as the clock winds down and the world outside your studio window holds its breath, you lean into the quiet, inviting it into your show. You encourage your callers to do the same—to listen to the quiet within themselves, to the truths they've buried under layers of fear, doubt, or societal expectation. "In the silence," you often say, "you'll find the answers you've been too busy to hear."

Most of the time the callers are open to your feedback, their hearts open and kind.

Most of the time.

Tonight isn’t one of those times.

++++

“Have you ever had Brussels sprouts made for you at midnight by a gorgeous woman in no pants following multiple orgasms? I have, and they’re fucking delicious,” one caller said. It was obvious after minutes of talking to him that he was failing to heed your advice that if he didn’t stop sleeping with women who weren’t his wife, she would likely find out one day and leave him. God, you hope she does.

“I love her, you know? I just don’t find myself that physically attracted to her after she had the baby, it’s not my fault…” another said. Ugh, fuck off, dude. You were quick to shut that one down, to tell him that he was being a boy, to go to the store and buy his wife some goddamn flowers and apologize for being such an asshole.

Like a broken record stuck on repeat, this is how the night continues. One bad call after another, each seeming to echo or outdo the last in its what the fuck factor.

In the dimly lit recording studio, a soft hum of equipment fills the air, punctuated only by the occasional flicker of LED lights on the soundboard. You think briefly about letting out a scream before your last call, surely the foam walls would absorb the sound.

The glow of the computer screen casts a soft light on your face, accentuating the furrow of your brow and the downturn of your lips. You're a picture of frustration, a stark contrast to the empathetic persona that your listeners know and rely on. Each bad call tonight has chipped away at you. You drop your head into your hands and rub your temples for a brief moment before looking up at the clock, its hands inching their way to your liberation.

Just one more call.

The phone lines blink red. Your hand, a little steadier than you feel, reaches out and cues up the next caller, your voice finding strength as it always does when you speak into the void.

“Hi there, caller number nine. You’re on the air with Midnight Confessions. What’s on your heart tonight?”

“Ah shit – oh, uh probably shouldn’t say that on air huh – mm, wasn’t expecting to get through,” the man admits, his tone telling you he’s nervous, and probably a little drunk.

“Guess it’s your lucky night then. And it’s a late-night show, you can curse all you want to. What’s your name?” you ask, trying to ease him into the conversation.

There’s a pause, the kind that tells you the caller is weighing his options on whether he should give you his real name or not. Finally, he exhales softly, his mouth close to the receiver, enough for the exhale to cut through the static.

“I’m Javier. And you are?”

“You can call me the voice of the night,” you reply, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, the first genuine one in hours.

“Didn’t realize I called the crime fighters hotline.”

The joke catches you by surprise and you let out a little laugh.

“Can’t say I’ve gotten that one before,” you respond before eventually giving him your real name. “So tell me, Javier, what would you like to talk about tonight?”

There’s another pause, longer this time, before Javier’s voice returns softer, and you can tell the tone is about to shift.

“This is stupid, I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry for wasting your time tonight ma’am,” he says, and you can tell he’s seconds away from hanging up.

“Javier, wait –” you say, but he doesn’t respond. The line hasn’t disconnected, so you know he’s still there.

“Listen, I don’t know you – and you don’t have to tell me anything – but I can tell from the tone of your voice that it sounds like you’re carrying quite a bit on your shoulders. It’s brave of you to want to open up about it. Sometimes, talking to a stranger is easier than talking to someone you know,” you say, letting the dead air hang heavy for a second, “let me try to help.” You try not to make a habit out of convincing callers to spill their guts, but something about this call, this man, compels you to.

Javier sighs a sound that carries a world of worry. “I don’t even know where to start. My whole life, I’ve defined myself by my job, and without that, I –” his voice starts to crack, and he stops. You hear the clank of an ice cube against glass, and he continues again, “I realize how alone I am, how I don’t have anyone or anything. I feel like the only company I have these days are the ghosts of a past life.”

You don’t have the full context of his confession, but it hits you deeper than expected, echoing a sentiment that's all too familiar. You think about how most of the time, when you’re not working, you’re either turning to dust on the couch or in the company of fictional men you read about in books.

"Javier," you start, your voice softer, threading through the silence with care, "I understand more than you might think. You're not alone. It might feel that way right now, but I promise you’re not,” you say sweetly.

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue, “Losing a part of our identity, especially one that's been a cornerstone of who we are, is like losing our direction. But it's also an opportunity, a chance to rediscover yourself, to find new aspects of your life that give you meaning and joy."

You pause, giving Javier space, letting your words hopefully seep in to provide some comfort.

“What does that mean – that you understand more than I might think?” he asks, not acknowledging the rest of your statement, a curiosity in his voice.

“It means –” you start. Oh god, here we go. You’re not often like this with your callers, but this feels different. The studio, with its blinking lights and the gentle hum of the machinery, suddenly feels more intimate, as if it's just you and Javier at this moment, connecting through the airwaves.

“When I was little, my mother always knew my things, quirks, you know? Things like the fact that I’m scared of heights, that I get cranky if I don’t eat breakfast, and that I only like ranch dressing on pizza and never salad. It’s all trivial, small little details, but from this, I think I learned that being known is to be loved.

You take a deep breath, and let the silence swallow you whole for a moment before continuing.

“When I say I understand more than you might think, I mean that I’m still one of those people who’s waiting for someone to tell me how much I mean to them, still hoping for someone who will know those things about me, too,” you pause.

“Someone who will hold my hand tightly when I’m on a rooftop so I don’t somehow tumble over the edge, someone who will make sure I eat breakfast, even if it’s just a shitty granola bar, someone who will buy the fancy ranch, even if it only gets used on greasy pizza.”

You hear Javier chuckle through the line.

“Something funny?” you ask, a little confused, slightly embarrassed that this call has somehow reversed the roles and you’re the one spilling your confessions over like a broken yolk into his hand.

“No, no – it’s just ranch on pizza, that’s uh, that’s…disgusting,” he admits, a playful tone to his words, the sadness before seems to be gone, but you know his humor is likely just a mask.

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know ranch on pizza is a classic, and quite delicious. Thousands – no millions – of people like ranch on their pizza, it’s not that weird,” you quip.

“Right,” he rasps, “I’ll take your word for it, sweetheart.” You bite your lower lip and try to ignore the heat that’s risen to your cheeks, the little thrill you feel in your stomach from your banter. You’re quickly brought back to reality when you look at the clock and realize your call time is nearing an end.

“Well, Javier, you're my last call of the night and I’m afraid it’s time to wrap the show up. Is there anything else I can help you with before I let you go?”

“No,” he says, his voice a low rasp, thick like honey, “thanks for saying all of that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, the smile still on your lips like sugar from cotton candy. You slump back into your chair and the line disconnects.

++++

As the clock ticks past one, the studio lights fall to darkness, leaving only a solitary desk lamp to cast long shadows across the room. You loop the familiar weight of your backpack over your shoulder and put on your headphones.

You lock the studio door, and step into the brisk night air — it’s March, technically Spring, but the remnants of Winter are still holding tight. The city's pulse is tangible, even at this late hour, as you navigate your way to the subway. With only the Eagles in your ear to keep you company, you watch as the Graffiti-streaked walls blur past.

Once off the subway, you think about heading straight home to promptly melt into your mattress, but the rumble in your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten since lunch.

Might as well go see Murphy. He’s always happy to see you.

You round around the corner and the bodega lights come into view. The ground beneath you is damp and you’re careful not to step into any puddles as you make your way to the shop. You push open the shop door and the familiar chime of a bell alerts Murphy to your presence.

“Hi Murphy,” you coo, crouching closer to the ground so he can rub up against you. “How’s my favorite boy?” You say, scratching his favorite spot under his chin, feeling the comfort of his soft fur and rhythmic purr. If Murphy had it his way, you’d live at the Bodega, ceasing only to exist to give him love.

Your stomach growls again and you rise, “Gonna get some dinner now, okay Murph?” You walk through the tight aisles, grab a can of tuna as you pass by the canned goods, making your way to the frozen section in the back.

Chicken nuggets it is, you silently tell yourself before grabbing the frozen bag and making your way to the register.

"Hola, Carlos. ¿Cómo va tu noche?" (Hi, Carlos. How’s your night going?)

"Oh, hola.” As much as you’d love to practice your Spanish with Carlos, he needs to practice his English more and you’re more than happy to oblige.

"Good to see you. Listened to your show tonight, what a piece of work some of those people were,” he responds, using his index finger to punch numbers on the cash register.

"Tell me about it. How much do I owe you?"

"$7.50. Murphy says thank you for the donation,” he smiles, holding up the canned Tuna, and like clockwork, Murphy jumps up on the counter and starts assaulting the can with his cheek.

“Like he gave me any choice,” you respond, handing over $10. Carlos gives you your change and you give Murphy a few final loving pats on the head.

“¡Hasta mañana!"

"Buenas noches."

Back in the quiet of your apartment, the microwave fights you, its door refusing to stay closed until you jam it shut with a wooden spoon. With dinner finally spinning inside, you sink onto the couch, the night’s weight lifting off your shoulders. You feel yourself nodding off before the sound of the microwave beeping and the rumble of your stomach wake you up.

Dinner done, you smoke a joint, the smoke curling lazily in the lamplight. Your mind goes fuzzy and you stare up at the ceiling, trying to make shapes out of the popcorn on the ceiling. Your mind drifts to the thought of your last caller and you let your mind wander as you imagine what he might be up to tonight. Is he asleep? Or is he staring up at his ceiling, lost in thoughts as you are?

The only thing you know for certain is that you’re both alone tonight. At least there’s some comfort in knowing you’re not the only one.

The city outside continues its restless murmuring, but your mind goes silent as you fall asleep.

++++

You're grateful to have the next night off. Not like you have plans, but at least you don’t have to show face or wash your hair. Even if you did have to go out in public tonight, it wouldn’t matter — that’s the beauty of New York. You could look like a gutter rat and nobody would give a shit. But still, the freedom of an evening without obligations feels like a luxury, a small pocket of time where the demands of the world fade into the background.

Staring at your nearly empty fridge, its emptiness staring back at you, you sigh. Fuck. And then it hits you, unexpected but undeniable, a craving for pizza. Not just any pizza, but a pie from your favorite local spot, where the crust is always perfectly crisp and the cheese melts in a way that feels like a hug for your taste buds.

Stepping out into the evening rain, you make your way to the pizzeria that’s only a block away. The moment you open the door, a warm wave of garlic, tomato, and baked dough envelops you. The line isn’t long, but it gives you enough time to deliberate over your order, though deep down, you know you’ll end up choosing your usual — a Margherita.

You peek up from your phone and notice the man in front of you at the order counter. Broad shoulders strain against the fabric of his shirt, his tight jeans outlining a figure that speaks of strength. Dark hair and tan skin contrast strikingly under the fluorescent lighting. He orders confidently, his voice smooth, almost familiar. As he’s about to cash out, he adds “Can I get a side of ranch too, please?”

“No problem,” the cashier says, a little too happy to oblige his request. She’s flirting, you don’t know her, but you can tell. When the cashier asks for a name for the order, it confirms what you think you already know.

"Javier." The name hangs in the air, a familiar sound that sends a jolt through you.

It couldn’t possibly be.

The words escape your lips before you have a chance to second-guess it.

“I thought ranch on pizza was disgusting.”

He turns to face you and oh. You might have guessed that he was attractive from his voice, but seeing him is something else entirely. He’s strikingly handsome, with a dark mustache trimmed perfectly above his lip, his jaw stark and chiseled. The corners of his lips turn up in a smirk.

“Shit. Caught red-handed by the crime stopper herself,” he says with a wink.

Okay, so he’s handsome and charming. You’re so fucked.

As Javier steps aside, your gaze lingers for a moment longer before you place your own order. You feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you do.

“No plans tonight?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Not really, just this. Might swing by to see my boyfriend on my way home,” you say, noticing the way his expression shifts into disappointment, it’s subtle, but it’s there.

“Oh,” Javier says. He thinks for a second that maybe you were lying last night about understanding what it’s like to be alone.

“Yeah, we’ve got a hot date with a can of tuna,” you respond, smiling as you watch his very visibly confused face, the furrow of his brow. You can tell he’s not quite sure how to respond, the words a tangled knot in his brain, or perhaps conjuring up some weird kinky thoughts about what a date with a can of tuna could entail. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“I’m just messing with you,” you laugh. “He’s a bodega cat up the street, I usually swing by every night after work and I’ve developed a soft spot for the little guy. His name’s Murphy.”

“Wait, Murphy? From Carlos’ shop?” Javier asks, and you’re a little surprised.

“You know Carlos?”

“Yeah, yeah — he’s friends with my father. Great guy,” he adds, nodding to the pizzeria worker who hands him his order. You notice the blush on her cheeks when he says thank you.

You watch intently as the other worker packs up yours, placing two to-go containers of ranch on your box.

You grab your pizza and use your free hand to grab one of the containers of ranch and extend it to Javier. “For you,” you smile as you hold it out to him.

“Eat with me?” He asks, grabbing the ranch from your hand, your skin briefly touching.

How could you say no?

You smile and nod, and follow him through the restaurant. He holds the door open for you and places his hand on your lower back as he guides you out. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. He’s just being a gentleman, but something about the touch causes something in your core to run hot, a hint of arousal in its warmth.

In typical New York fashion, you find a relatively clean stoop to sit on. With the pizza boxes open on the step in front of you, the steam wafting in the cool night air, you smile at Javier.

“Are you ready to have your world rocked?” You ask, holding the pizza up long enough for the strings of cheese to disconnect from the box. He does the same.

“After you, Cariño.”

Cariño. So he’s a flirt, too.

You dip your slice into the ranch, a perfect amount clinging to the tip, before you bring it to your lips. The anticipation builds with the scent of garlic and herbs wafting up.

You barely pause to savor the moment before you declare, “Some people say the first bite of pizza is the best, but I disagree.” You dunk it back into the ranch and take another, this time bigger than the first, “The second bite is really where it’s at.” Since when did you become Dave Portnoy?

Javier watches with amusement as you delight over your dinner. “Go on now, after you,” you nod, continuing to work on your pizza like a starving dog. You watch as he delicately dunks his pizza into the ranch, and like a baby bird, takes a small bite. You study his expression, a mix of curiosity and amusement, as he carefully chews. His face gives nothing away, a poker face if you ever saw one, until he finally delivers his verdict, “Can’t say it’s my favorite.”

“What?” you gasp, half in disbelief, half in jest. You playfully nudge him, your hand reaching out to liberate the neglected ranch from his box. “Let me save this from your indifference,” you tease, claiming the ranch for your own. The banter feels easy, much like it did when he called in the other night.

“So tell me, Javier,” he stops you “You can call me Javi,” he says.

“Javi,” you smile, picking at a tomato on your second slice. “What made you want to call in the other night?”

He looks at you as you bring the tomato to your mouth, and lets his gaze linger on your lips. You notice.

“That’s a good question. Um,” he says, taking another bite before continuing, his elbows on his thighs, staring out into the street. “Truthfully, I was a little drunk, and a lot alone. I think I just wanted someone to talk to.”

“I get that,” you acknowledge.

“What? You probably talk to dozens of people every day,” he responds, turning to face you this time.

"False. I listen to dozens of people every day, but I don’t really get to talk. At least, not about things that matter, not truly." He gives you a long look, then nods, understanding etched into his features. He doesn’t pry further.

A comfortable silence settles between you as you both work on finishing your pizzas.

"What about you?" you finally break the silence.

"What about me?" he echoes, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

"I spilled my plans for the night, my glamorous date with Murphy. What's on your agenda?" you ask, leaning forward slightly. His tight bicep muscles press up against your arm.

"This," he gestures broadly to the city around you, wrapped in the open night. Then, with a sheepish grin, he adds, "Well, actually, I was planning to go home and watch Paddington 2."

You laugh hard enough to let out a little snort. He looks at you with affectionate eyes, like you’re the cutest thing he’s seen in a while.

“Paddington 2? Like, the bear movie?” you manage between chuckles.

“Yep. I cried through the entire thing the first time I saw it. It made me want to be a better man.”

“I see, well I’ll have to take your word for it, I’ve never seen it.”

"Do you want to come over and watch it?" he proposes, the question hanging in the air. It’s a bold move, especially since you've only just met, but there’s an earnestness in his invitation that makes you pause, considering.

"Only if we can swing by and say hi to Murphy on the way," you quip, bumping your shoulder against his lightly.

“Deal,” he says with a wink.

++++

As the saying goes, you make plans and god laughs.

It's almost as if you could have, perhaps even should have, anticipated this turn of events.

Paddington 2 might as well have been code for want to come over and fuck?

The energy crackling between you two is undeniable, magnetic. His blend of wit, handsomeness, and confident charm weaves an irresistible allure, drawing you in closer with every word, every glance.

It's one of those rare, electric connections that you read about or see in movies, but seldom experience in real life. Yet here it is, unfolding in real-time, a reminder that sometimes the most memorable moments are those you never see coming. You rarely see yourself as the main character, but tonight you feel like one.

In the narrow stairwell, his hips press firmly against yours, your back against the cold wall, arms pinned above your head. His lips find yours with an intensity that leaves no room for hesitation, a crash of desire against desire. You surrender to the moment, tilting your pelvis into his, a plea for more.

The world around you is a blur; it's just the two of you, enveloped in a haze of passion. His hands, desperate and eager, fumble for his keys—a brief interruption in your heated exchange as he struggles to unlock the door without breaking the heat of your gaze, the connection of your lips only momentarily severed. The anticipation builds with each fumbled attempt, heightening the intensity as you eventually enter his apartment and he has you pressed up against the door.

His lips trail from yours down the razor edge of your jaw, the hallow of your throat, over your collarbones, and down the valley of your still-clothed chest. “Javi,” you moan, and he responds with a groan into your chest. He looks up at you through his gorgeous lashes, “Can I take this off, Cariño?”

“Yes, yeah — shit, yes, please.”

He makes quick work of your shirt and assists it over your head, before returning his lips to your soft skin and working to undo your bra at the same time. “God damn” he mumbles under his breath, and you can’t help but feel the warmth rush to your chest and cheeks, “so pretty.”

You can’t even remember the last time you were touched like this, nonetheless kissed. Your skin erupts in goosebumps as he makes his tongue trail over one of your nipples, the other being teased slightly between his fingers. The sensation causes you to tilt your head back in ecstasy and you let out a soft moan. “Oh, yeah? You like it when I do that, baby?” You nod your head in response. “Use your words.”

“Yes, oh god — feels so good.”

“That’s better.”

You bring both of your hands to the waistband of his denim and pull him in closer to you, close enough to feel his hard cock, desperate to be touched. He brings his hands to grip your hair, baring your throat to him. He forces your legs apart with his knee, shoving it against your core. You begin to slowly grind on the denim.

“Want more?”

“Fuck, yes — ” you whimper with another grind against him. He kisses you again, one hand tightly gripping your hip and the other wrapped in your hair. You cling to him, arms wrapped around his middle until you drop them to find his belt buckle. His lips find yours once more, and he sucks the bottom one into his mouth before biting it and letting go.

He steps back, and you work to remove the rest of your clothing and shoes. You shimmy your pants over your thighs, taking your underwear with you. He thought you were beautiful from the moment he turned around and saw you, but seeing you standing in front of him, chest heaving, bare and perfect just for him, is another story. He slides his pants and underwear off in one go, kicking them off the side along with his boots.

He only gives you a moment to admire his form, cock hard and thick, the tip of it red and weeping, before he surges forward and kisses you with new passion. He licks the seam of your lips before forcing it open with his tongue, swallowing every one of your moans like they’re a gift just for him.

When you both can’t breathe, he pulls back and peppers kiss down your neck once more before he sucks a hickey into your neck, eliciting a breathy moan from you. He smirks against your skin and moves to the expanse of your shoulder, finding a new spot to bite and suck.

He forces his thigh between yours again, pushing the expanse of it right up against your bare pussy. You moan and cling to him, once again riding his thigh. “You gonna come on my thigh, baby?” He questions against your skin, feeling your shoulders shudder from his breath ghosting along your neck. He tightens his grip on your waist and rocks you forward, “Use me. Want to feel you soak me,” he hums, kissing your neck. You’re lost in the haze of your arousal, chasing the friction you so desperately need.

“Answer me, Cariño.”

“Y-yes.” You breathe, tightening your grip on him. You grind against him more, faster, harder. “Want it so bad.” And fuck, you do, you need it so bad but you’re not sure you can get there from just this.

“What do you want, beautiful?” He questions with another bite to your skin. “Do you want to come on my thigh like the good little slut I know you are?” You whine at the filth of his words, the warmth of his praise causing your belly to tighten. He tightens his grip on your hips and guides you faster on his leg, his fingers digging into your skin, hard enough you hope you bruise.

“Show me how pretty you are when you come, Cariño — make a mess of me,” Your body seizes up and you throw your head back and let out a guttural moan. The spot where your pussy rests against his thigh gets wetter. When you tilt your head back up, his eyes are what throws you over the edge. He holds your gaze as he watches you come for him, on him, because of him. “Fuck, that was gorgeous,” he moans, holding you steady as you come down from your orgasm.

“Bed. Now,” he demands, guiding you through the hall and to his bedroom.

You fall back onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a small oof, your breasts bouncing with the movement. He holds his heavy cock in hand by the base as he gently strokes himself, and watches as you part your legs wide open for him and finger yourself.

He continues to work himself while staring at your tight, slick hole, dripping just for him. His eyes go impossibly dark as he watches your fingers saw in and out, you’re really quite the sight.

“Shit, Cariño. Look at your little pussy,” his voice in between a whine and a whimper, as he steps forward between your legs and begins to position himself at your entrance. One hand on your knee, the other holding himself, he presses the head of his cock into you, making you moan, his tip alone is a stretch you’re unfamiliar with — it’s intense but good.

He’s not trying to taunt you, not really. “Just wanna make sure you’re nice and ready to take this fat cock,” he says, pressing just the mushroom head in and out of you. The slow drag of it is excruciating, enough for you to let out a plea of please fuck me. “Look so good like this, baby. Can feel you sucking me in, she wants it bad, doesn’t she?”

You nod, “More, Javi. Need to feel you inside of me, please,” you plead, holding your thighs behind your knees, spreading yourself wider for him, giving him full access to your cunt.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, thrusting the full length of him into you, and ohhhhmyfuck.

Your pussy walls flutter and tighten around him, and he lets out a wrecked groan. He draws his hips back and slams that back into you with enough thrust that your tits bounce. His thrusts are hard, but slow, giving you time to adjust to his size. He’s quick to pick up the pace, causing you to sob in pleasure, broken moans leaving your lips as he knocks the wind out of you with each snap of his hips.

He draws himself nearly out, his cock glistening with your slick, and he grabs both of your hips to hold you steady as he fucks into you. “Look at the mess we’re making together, Cariño. So fucking beautiful, you’re taking this cock so well.” You’re starting to realize that he’s a smooth talker both in and out of bed.

You wail as he picks up his speed, panting and grunting, groaning as he watches the thin skin of your pussy stretch around his girth. He releases one of his hands from your hips and brings the pad of his thumb to the swollen clit between your folds, and begins to rub tight circles.

“So tight, baby, little cunt’s trying to make me come, isn’t she?” He groans, his pace slowly slightly, his stomach muscles tightening and his jaw clenched shut.

“Want you to, want you to fill this hole up with all of your come. Want to feel you drip out of me, need to feel you.” Your words spur him on more, and he continues working your clit, his cock thrusting in and out of you, “oh god, please, please, please.” You’re not usually one to beg, but something about him has it pouring out of you.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up, baby? I will if you come with me,” he says, an intensity, an urgency behind his voice. You’re so close, you think you’ll be able to come with him, but before you have the chance to get there, you watch as he squeezes his eyes shut to try and collect himself, but he’s too close, nearly over the edge of his orgasm. His cock starts to swell and his movements get a little sloppy.

“Come in me, Javi. Want to feel you,” you moan, your voice a seductive whisper, and that does it.

His hips stutter, “Fuck, Cariño,” he groans, his voice a wreck, as he buries himself to the hilt inside of you and starts to throb ropes of his warm spend in you. There’s so much that it spills out of you and down your asscheek.

“Oh such a messy, pretty pussy,” he groans, admiring the way your cunt looks stuffed full of him, the glisten of your release and his on his cock, “Milking me so good.”

“Gonna make you come for me again beautiful,” he says, cock still spearing you, throbbing and pulsing as he collects some of his spend on his fingers and brings it to the needy button between your legs. It doesn’t take much to get you there, and within seconds you’re on the brink of your orgasm.

The warmth that pools in your belly grows and radiates through your limbs until your whole body feels tingly and your vision goes white.

“Oh my god, Javi, I’m coming,” you wail, a blubbering mess of pleasure, until you’re drowning in the sea of your orgasm.

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweet girl,” he groans, both out of pleasure and a little bit of over-stimulation on his already spent cock, “So. Fucking. Pretty. Such a good girl,” he says as he works you through the last of your orgasm. After you come down from your high, he gently pulls out of you, and a little trail of his come follows and spills out onto the sheets below.

“Jesus, Javi. That was something else,” you say, blissed out and thoroughly fucked. You nestle up into his chest like it’s easy, it comes naturally, a movement you don’t even question. He wraps his arm around you and plants a soft kiss on the top of your head in response.

“Can I say something?” He asks, and you look up at him a little worried. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’d buy the fancy ranch for you.”

END

If you like this, please consider a reblog. <3

Trying a thing where I don't use a tag list to see how it goes. To be notified when I post fics, follow @katiexpunkupdates

END A/N: the line she gives Javier in response to knowing what he means in the first part of the fic is adapted from a poem. I wrote it down, but forgot to name the author. So credit to the author, whoever it is.

#javier peña #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #pedrohub #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #pedrostories #narcos smut #the slutty little mustache has returned

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laurrrelise · 13 days

Text

the hutcherson multiverse™ has a horror movie night

WC: 2.1k

Tags: just a fun little blurb (i guess it’s a sort of big blurb) (also would this be considered fluff? i have no clue), slight spoilers for Scream , Toy Story 3, and La La Land (can’t believe i’m actually saying this LMAO), mentions of sexual fantasies, Derek is a freak, alcohol, cursing, horror movie mentions etc.

idk why i wrote this to be honest i guess i just love the hutcherson multiverse / jhutchverse LMAO

—————————————————————————

Josh opens his front door, a beaming smile on his face. “Hey! You guys made it!”

Derek leans against the wall outside the door. “Fuck are you surprised for? We told you we were coming.”

Mike’s overwhelming admiration for horror movies is hidden beneath his typically scruffy demeanor. “What movie are we watching?”

“I don’t know, we have to decide. Peeta and Billy are already here, we’re just waiting on Clapton.” Josh steps to the side, allowing them to walk in. Derek pushes past without hesitation, Mike politely following behind.

Derek collapses onto the sofa, flinging his legs onto Peeta’s lap. “Hey, bread boy.” Peeta gives him a half-smile while Mike takes a seat next to Billy on the other side of the couch.

Josh gets the door as Clapton arrives. “Hey, party people! We got beer?”

Mike gives him a look of confusion. “No. And even if we did, you wouldn’t get any.”

“You know what we do have?” Josh excitedly walks in front of the TV, grinning ear to ear. “Tons of food! Wolf hooked us up.”

“Who the hell is Wolf?”

Peeta sits up straight, mouth agape. “You have a pet wolf? Katniss told me she saw one of those before.”

Josh shakes his head at him. “What? No. Wolf is a retired demolitions expert who’s also a genius in the kitchen. He made us a popcorn bar and virgin cocktails, since, y’know.” He looks at Clapton and Peeta.

“Dude, you’re such a buzzkill.”

Derek pulls a bottle of whiskey out of his jacket. “That’s fine. Can’t fucking catch me unprepared.”

Josh ignores him, continuing, “Just… try not to bother Wolf when he’s cooking. He gets really… focused. And violent, if interrupted.”

They all nod, and Josh grabs the TV remote to start deciding on a movie. “Alright, what are we watching?”

Derek smiles. “You guys ever seen The Poughkeepsie Tapes? Or Megan is Missing?”

“Hell no. We are not watching those,” Billy says firmly.

Clapton stirs. “What are they?”

“Too fuckin’ scary for you, that’s what they are.”

Clapton furrows his brows. “I don’t get scared easy, asshole. I’ve watched, like, every horror movie ever. With a straight face… except for those.”

“Hereditary?” Derek grins evilly.

Mike and Josh both look at him. “Absolutely not.”

“I hope you guys realize I’ll watch these as soon as I get home.”

“Whatever, as long as we don’t have to sit through your disgusted reaction.”

Clapton looks at him, slightly offended. “They can’t be that bad! I seriously never get scared. Have you seen Cinderhella? I didn’t bat an eye.”

Josh changes the subject. “Any other ideas? Ooh, what about Toy Story 3!”

Everyone stares at him, bewildered.

“What? That movie’s scary.”

“You mean the one with the big ass purple fucking bear? That one?” Derek asks, a laugh falling out with the question.

Billy and Mike practically fall over cracking up at his genuine fear of the children’s movie.

Josh frowns as he whines, “Yeah… Lotzo.”

“You’re fucking scared of Lotzo?” Billy can barely breathe between his laughing.

“That’s not fair! The scene where they’re falling toward that big fire pit thing is terrifying!”

Clapton snickers at him. “Dude, you’re such a dumbass.” Derek fist-bumps him in agreement.

“And you guys are all bullies. Peeta, can’t you back me up?”

Peeta just stares at him, wide-eyed. “I’ve never seen it. It sounds scary.”

Josh whines at him. “It is!”

Peeta shrugs as everyone else continues to laugh at him.

“Alright, then someone else recommend something.”

Derek smiles. “How about-”

Billy cuts him off. “Derek, shut the fuck up.”

“How about we just watch some stupid 80’s slasher?”

“Like what?”

Clapton drums on his legs, clearly bored with the lengthy decision process. “I don’t know, Child’s Play.”

Peeta looks at him. “What’s that about?”

Clapton turns to him, giving him a puzzled look. “Have you never seen a movie? Like ever?”

Peeta shrugs nonchalantly and Clapton turns back to the TV. “Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Dreams are important. Shouldn’t be mocked.”

Clapton rolls his eyes. “Friday the 13th?”

Derek shakes his head. “That one’s just boring. Absolutely not.”

“… and why is it boring?”

“Because I said so.”

Josh continues to scroll through a page of endless horror movies. “What’s this one?” He clicks on one titled Tragedy Girls and watches the trailer.

“Hey, dude, that guy totally looks like you.” Billy points at a man on the TV screen, then at Josh.

“He does no- actually he kinda does.”

There’s a moment of silence. “He kinda looks like you, too.”

“You think so?”

“Wait, he looks just like Derek, too!”

“Yeah, like a clearance version.”

Josh finds the coincidence too weird and clicks off of the movie. He continues scrolling.

“Is that Vantage Point? Why is that in the horror section?”

Derek’s eyes go wide. “It uh… sounds pretty scary to me.”

“Wait, is that the one where the president gets assassinated?” Josh looks back at Mike curiously.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it’s action, not hor-”

Derek cuts him off. “We’re not watching it.”

Mike senses the sudden discomfort and changes the subject. “Blair Witch Project?”

Everyone unanimously groans in agreement.

“I give up. You guys pick.”

“Wait, I got one!”

Everyone looks at Peeta. “It’s called La La Land.”

Josh furrows his brows at him. “That’s not a horror movie, that’s just a sad romcom.”

“But they lose each other in the end. I mean, could you imagine? I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”

Billy and Clapton give him a sad look. “It doesn’t count as a horror movie.”

“Man, you’re so fuckin’ lame.”

“Detention?”

“No.”

“Five Nights at Freddy’s?”

“Nope.”

“For the love of god… Scream?”

Everyone exchanges glances before they all shrug.

“Alright, we’re watching Scream then.”

—————————————————————————

A few minutes into the movie and Mike speaks up. “Hey, that guy kinda looks familiar.”

“Who? Stu Macher?”

“Yeah, I can’t really place why, though.”

“Maybe Matthew Lillard just has one of those faces, y’know?”

“Maybe…”

Josh lights up suddenly. “We knew a guy named Stu a little while back, he was seriously crazy.”

“Who the fuck is we?”

“Oh! Me, Wolf, and Tiger. Tiger actually fell in love with Stu for a little whi-”

“Tiger?”

“Yeah. Tiger.”

Billy looks at Derek, who rolls his eyes before they both decide to drop it.

“Yeah, Stu was crazy though.”

“Well, Stu Macher is pretty crazy too, right?”

“Hey! Don’t spoil it! Peeta’s never seen this movie before.”

“It’s an obvious twist. He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t even know what’s going on so far.” Peeta looks at the TV, clearly confused by the plot.

“I think all guys named Stu must be at least a little insane.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Josh lays back on the floor in front of the TV.

—————————————————————————

A few more minutes pass. Billy stirs, readjusting himself on the couch.

A few more minutes. Billy once again readjusts.

Finally, “Alright, I’m fuckin’ bored. Let’s do shots.”

Derek fist bumps him. “Oh, hell yeah. I’m in.”

“Um, what about the two children?”

“Children?” Peeta furrows his brows at Mike.

Clapton sits up, gaping at Josh with an offended look on his face. “I’m 19!”

“Yeah, so am I.”

“You guys are the youngest. You’re going to be kids to us no matter what.”

“Fireball good with everyone?”

“Works for me.

“I got work tonight… but sure.”

Josh looks up. “Hey, how are you guys all getting home? I don’t want anyone driving under the influence.”

“It’s one shot dude.”

Derek smiles. “It’ll turn into seven. I’ll call my driver.”

“This is so unfair.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing personal, kid. You can drink all you fuckin’ want in a few years. Be patient.”

“Oh, like none of you drank before you turned 21.”

Billy shakes his head, standing up to make his way to the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later with a small tray and 6 shot glasses filled with amber-colored liquid, plus a few beers.

Clapton lights up when he gets handed one. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Peeta cringes but reluctantly takes it.

Derek, Josh, and Mike take theirs before Billy grabs the last one and they all huddle around the coffee table.

“On three, alright?”

Everyone nods. “Three… t-”

“One, bottoms up.” Derek throws his back, not even flinching.

Everyone else takes theirs, and Mike and Josh wince with the strength in the taste of the liquor. “How can you do that without even making a face?”

Derek chuckles. “Are we just fucking meeting for the first time, Mike?”

Billy watches Clapton’s face as he realizes that his shot was actually apple juice. Peeta lights up, smiling with excitement. “Dude!”

“Is that juice? We only got this stuff in the Capitol. Can I have another?”

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

Billy ignores Clapton and grabs the bottle of apple juice from the kitchen.

Peet’s takes it, sort of confused. “… where’s the… cup?”

Billy waves him off, twisting the cap off of a beer. “Knock yourself out, kid.”

Peeta smiles and throws the cap off of the bottle, chugging it eagerly. Everyone else takes their reserved spots again and continue watching the movie.

Derek squints at the screen. “’m gonna get one of those masks after this.”

Josh gives him a confused look. “…Why?”

“You planning on going on a murder spree? I can add some names to your list.”

Derek looks at Billy. “No, I’m just imagining, like, bringing someone to my room while I’m wearing all black and one of those and then sneaking up behind them and ripping-”

“Dude!”

Derek pauses. “Don’t fuckin’ interrupt me, that was a good idea.”

“There are two kids sitting next to you.”

“I’m 19! Stop calling me a kid!”

Peeta shrugs. “Y’know what? I actually don’t mind. It would be nice to be a kid again.”

“They’re not kids. They know what sex is.”

Clapton sinks into the ground slightly. “Yeah, obviously I know what it is.”

“Katniss and I are taking it slow.”

Derek looks at Mike. “See?”

“It doesn’t matter. No one wants to hear about your weird sexual fantasies.”

“I didn’t think it was weird. That sounds hot.”

Derek looks at him excitedly. “Right?”

Billy nods, taking a sip of his beer. “For sure.”

“Alright, you two talk about that stuff later. The rest of us don’t want to hear about any of that.”

“I don’t mind. I need all the tips I can get.”

Clapton furrows his eyebrows at Peeta. “I don’t think Katniss would want you to seduce her in a horror movie mask.”

“Why not?”

“Because that isn’t a normal sexual interaction. Derek is just… uh… very experienced.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Well… what is a normal sexual interaction?”

Derek smiles, sitting up and crossing his snakeskin boots in Peeta’s lap. “I’ve got so much to teach you. Alright, first, be aggressive. Girls like that. You want to alway-”

“How about we just watch the movie?”

Derek scoffs, rolling his eyes and melting back down against the couch. “How about we take another shot?”

—————————————————————————

They eventually finish the movie, but Derek and Billy are fairly intoxicated by the end of it. Derek calls a car to drive them all home.

Billy tends to forget about personal space when he’s drunk. “Thanks for having me, buddy,” he practically yells as he leans against Josh, his mouth brushing his ear.

Josh pats him on the back, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah… no problem, man.”

“See- mph. See you tomorrow, Joosh.” Derek stumbles slightly as he walks out of the house.

“What? To- tomorrow?”

Derek nods, not turning back as he walks down the driveway. “Yeah, we’ll be back tomorrow.” He gets into the dark limousine, Billy following behind him.

Peeta and Clapton stand in the doorway, Mike still putting on his boots.

“We get to ride in a limo?” Clapton grins.

“Actually, I’ll uh… I’ll call you guys an uber. There’s no way in hell that they aren’t about to go to a bar.”

“Goddamn it,” Mike appears behind them, watching as Derek’s head hangs out the window like a dog as the car drives off.

“Tomorrow, Futturman!”

Josh signs. “Goddamn it is right.”

—————————————————————————

thanks for reading! this was so stupid but it’s just fun to create the jhutchverse so let me self indulge please :)

(this is a late update but i just remembered @xcherryerim wanted to be tagged in jhutchverse stuff, here you go monica, ly <3)

also i know this is barely about the actual movie and more about the banter but that’s the fun part so i don’t care 💀 sorry if you wanted to hear me talk about scream (i’ve actually never seen it but i know the general plot don’t kill me)

have a good day babes <3

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 6 months

Text

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 5

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader, Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Oh my word guys!!! I'm so sorry this took so long but I was truly so stuck for some reason!! Anyway as always, I'm having so much fun with you guys. Idk why it sometimes feels like we're at a sleepover, anyone else? Also thank you so much to everyone who is sending in requests, I promise I'll get to them!! Have an amazing day, sending all my love!! - Mo

You could have killed him. You really could have. Truly. Truly you could have.

The ‘small apartment’ Alfie described was in fact a gorgeous row house about a block away from his own home, and two blocks away from the office. It had a beautiful garden in the back, with a dark red oak door in the front. Three stories. With enough room for each couple to have their own room, and Eli could finally have his own room instead of sleeping on the floor in the parlor. The home came fully furnished, and Alfie made sure that previous customers knew where to find your father and uncle, so the business could continue while the shop was being repaired.

And if he couldn’t have been more incorrigible, “someone” had “donated” three new dolls for Esther, which were perfectly placed on her new bed in the room you and her would share.

As your family walked around in awe of the rich space, you hung back, tight lipped. It was far too much. It was an enormous expense. And he acted as if he had nothing to do with it and it was nothing. You really could kill him.

“Alfie… how much does this cost you?”, you murmur to him, refusing to look at him.

“That’s none of your concern sweet heart.”

“It absolutely is. I balance the book.”

“And I correct your math.”

“Alfie this is far too-“

“It is exactly what is needed. I’m not about to argue with you in front of your parents.”

“We’ll never be able to repay you Alfie. It isn’t fair to you.”

“Woman the agreement is already made and it was a good agreement. Now I have someone who will fix my shirts since you refuse to.”

“Because I’m your secretary not your wife.”

Alfie scoffed and rolled his eyes, “You’re the source for every new ulcer, that’s what you are. Secretary is supposed to make my life better and she makes my life a living hell.”

You couldn’t help but smile. You let your eyes wander to him, to see that he was already staring at you, “What?”

He taps his cane against your ankle, “You like it?”

You nod, pressing your lips together. The cane touching your ankle and his body coming closer making your neck hot.

Alfie knew that he shouldn’t get closer. But your family was upstairs, no one would be a witness. He needed to be closer. You were barely whispering. He needed to get closer to you, “My house isn’t far. I’ll always be able to come. If you need me.”

“You said you would have someone outside every night.”

“They ain’t as good as me though yeah?”

“No.”

Your eyes needed to break from his gaze. It was becoming so warm in the house. His knuckles press your chin to look up at him, “I’ll always come. Understand?”

You nod again, unable to look away from his deep blue eyes, “Yes Alfie.”

The silence envelops you, and you feel something is about to be confessed, when Esther comes charging through, “Sissy! Sissy! Look at my new dollys! Mr. Solomons got me new dollys!”

She jumped into your arms, so ecstatic about her new treasures. They were beautiful, with silky hair and darling cotton dresses. She couldn’t have yearned for anything finer, “They are lovely my sweet girl! Have you thanked Mr. Solomons for the presents?”

Esther, ever the little spitfire, threw herself from your arms and into Alfie’s, causing him to drop the cane in the process to catch her, “Thank you Mr. Solomons! I really love them!”

Alfie thankfully got his footing right, boosting Esther more on his good hip, “Hush now chicken it had nothing to do with me! But I’m happy you like them. They’ll have a riot with you yeah?”

She nodded ferociously, “Mr. Solomons will you stay for our tea party?”

Your face flushed with slight embarrassment, Alfie Solomons has probably never been asked to a tea party in his life. Much less an Esther tea party. Which involved lengthy backstories and horridly torrid affairs for each doll. A party could last a whole afternoon. But Alfie Solomons merely chuckled, patting down the soft curls on Esther’s head, “Well chicken while that sounds absolutely lovely yeah, I unfortunately cannot make it today. You will have to let your guests know, and give them my apologies.”

Esther pouted, “Why not?”

He began to explain when you heard your mother call out, “Mr. Solomons! I hope you are not leaving already!”

You shut your eyes, hoping that this was a bad dream that you were going to wake up from soon. Up until this morning, you had managed to keep your life with Alfie and your life with your family separate. Both lovely and warm but incompatible in your mind. Your mother could not be seriously about to ask him to stay.

Alfie slowly set Esther down, mussing her short hair, “I’m afraid I must Mrs. Abraham. There’s business I must attend to and I don’t want to overstay.”

Your mother merely grabbed a hold of your father’s arm, “Mr. Solomons you have not eaten yet! It’s late afternoon and you must be exhausted as we are. Please let us make something, nothing too fancy but you should sit and let us make lunch for everyone.”

“Now really Mrs. Abraham I-“

“Mr. Solomons I know you are a big man but I really cannot let you leave without a meal. Now please sit down at this beautiful table you have gifted us and let us make you lunch.”

It was in that moment that Alfie noticed that you and your mother got the same look in your eyes when determined. The corner of your lip crooked the same. You surely didn’t notice, and Alfie would never tell you, but it was as though Alfie saw an image of you 20 years from now. Alfie smiled, “Alright alright if you insist. Mr. Abraham I hope I’m not inconveniencing yeah?”

Your father shook his head, “Not at all Mr. Solomons. Please, let’s get acquainted with this table together.”

Your mother said a simple lunch. But it turned into a whole affair. Alfie also failed to mention that the kitchen was stocked enough for a whole week. Your mother went above and beyond with you and your aunt and grandmother to make one of the most healing meals you had ever had. Roasted chicken and vegetables. Hot bread. Strong tea. You had even made a fresh apple tart for dessert, which Alfie helped himself to three slices.

You had never imagined this happening. But yet it was. Alfie was at your family’s dinner table. Laughing. Telling stories. Listening to others. Serving your grandmother and grandfather. If there wasn’t the base lie of you being under his employ, this would have felt so natural. Your mother sat him next to you, and your mind went miles and miles ahead. What it would be like if there wasn’t the lie there. If Alfie was there not as an employer but as a regular man. As someone who was sweet on you and wanting to be a part of this family. You yearned to reach your hand to his under the table, weaving your fingers together and feeling the callouses and scars of his knuckles.

Little did you know, Alfie’s thoughts were parallel to yours. You never noticed, but his eyes never left you. Watching the way you teased your family, doted on Esther, argued with Eli, laughing in that way that shook the walls. It made his heart race just watching you, seeing you be so free.

As the lunch turned into dinner and turned into evening, your father then asked, “Dearest, how far is your office from here do you think? Do you and Eli need to see what the walk will look like?”

Before you could answer, Alfie saved you from stammering, “Mr. Abraham, her boss is actually located right next to my bakery. If you’d permit me, I’d be happy to walk her to work and back. Just to make sure she’s safe?”

Your mother perked up,”oh would you Mr. Solomons? I hate to see her walking alone down the street.”

You raised your eyes at your mother, “Mama! Please I can walk myself to work!”

Your mother raised her hands, “This is a new neighborhood and you don’t know the way! Why would you dispose of a blessing??”

“Mama Mr. Solomons is very busy he does not need to trouble himself with me.”

You and your mother proceeded to volley back and forth. A common occurrence between you two, which no one cared to come between. It wasn’t until Alfie put his hand between the two of you that you settled, “Now now please Miss Abraham, your mother is quite right. It’s a new part of Camden for you, and you just experienced a terrible accident. I will not push it eh, you can make your own decision. But it will not be a trouble at all for me. And I’m sure your boss will be very invested in making sure that his nice secretary makes it to and from the office safely yeah?”

Alfie tried to hide his smirk as your nostrils flared, a habit that he noticed during one of your first arguments with him. He loved it almost as much as he loved your laughter. You finally relented after 3 beats, “If you believe it is best Mama, yes Mr. Solomons… I would be grateful for an escort to work.”

Alfie clapped his hands together, “Lovely. I will be here promptly at 7:30 tomorrow morning. Mr and Mrs Abraham, this was an absolute treat. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so well. Ishmael will be downstairs keeping watch over the gate tonight. Shalom everyone, sleep well!”

Everyone gave their goodbyes, until your mother spoke up, “Dear please walk Mr. Solomons to the gate.”

You gave your mother a look, which she quickly reciprocated with more fervor. Inhaling deep you acquiesce, walking Alfie out to the gate, as if he would ever get lost.

Alfie chuckled as you opened the gate, “Thank you very much sweetie, I would never have found my way out.”

“I am so sorry for their behavior Mr. Solomons. I promise you will never have to endure that again.”

“Oh yes because I would never want to endure that again. A hot meal. People surrounding me that don’t want to kill me.”

“An impromptu tea party?”

“It was lovely actually. Esther is a very gracious hostess, you could take some tips.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “oh I’m sure I could.”

You find that your eyes meet more and more now. And nothing makes you want to look away. You feel the bite of the cold wind on your shoulder, and you become keenly aware of the cold metal of the gate your rest your hand on. Alfie presses his lips together, and puts his hand on top of yours, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. You barely hear the gravely murmur, “Get inside little viper. You’ll catch cold”

“I’m not cold.”

“Well your mother will worry.”

“It’s fine.”

He chuckles, “God you’re difficult…Shalom sweet heart. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

You nod, “Shalom Alfie.”

Your hand drags away from his, as you walk backwards back into the home. His eyes never leave your form until you cross the threshold.

As you lay in bed that night, all you can think about are those dark blue eyes. Those full lips shrouded by a coarse and wild beard. Those rough hands against yours. Your mind replayed the feeling of his hands on yours, memorizing the tough callouses and tender touch of his fingers. You told yourself that you couldn’t let your mind go and explore those secret desires. Those secret desires where he wouldn’t just touch your fingers. He’d hold your hand, letting everyone know that you were his. Those imaginings where he wasn’t just your boss, but yours and yours alone. Any moment you weren’t with him, you missed him. You wish that he could stay. Stay for the night. Stay for the morning. That you wouldn’t just give tea at his desk but at his breakfast table. Where he wouldn’t just let his hand hover over your jaw, but caress it. Where you could finally feel that god awful beard on your cheek. Your heart ached terribly. Wishing and wishing that it could be that way. That you could have him. And that he could have you. You tossed and turned, watching the moon make its way across the sky from the window in your room. Your hands clasped by your heart, still feeling the tingle of where his hands were.

Alfie in fact made it to the house at 7:15 the next morning. He emphasized that it was because he just wanted to make sure you weren’t left waiting, but he looked all too smug and comfortable drinking tea with your grandmother, having some of the fresh jam she had made just that morning.

As soon as you were out of window view of your house, you felt like you could finally breathe and speak freely. You were worried to a certain extent that Alfie would treat the relationship you had differently. As if you were some sort of charity case, or if you were a helpless bird needing attending to. But those fears were unnecessary, as Alfie jumped right into the agenda for the day. Rambling and cursing the names he had to meet with today. Though you would typically scold him for inviting bad luck onto business dealings, you couldn’t help but smile and laugh along with him. This was the thing that brought back equilibrium. Alfie made things normal, and made you feel like a normal person. Not someone who had just lost a childhood home. Not someone who was being targeted.

As you walked in together, many of the men who had already begun work said their hellos, and gave their sympathies. Alfie grumbled beside you, wanting to keep walking into yours and his little corner. It shouldn’t have bothered him. He knew it shouldn’t. You really didn’t belong to him. But he found that it was all too easy for the flame of jealousy to rise when he saw you give that smile of yours to anyone else. He loved that smile. He yearned for it and saw it as a previous jewel that he coveted and aimed for. And for anyone else to gain it, it felt like a quick stab to his chest. But he kept himself relatively quiet, trying to behave in front of his men. Not letting himself appear as soft, or compromised.

Finally you are able to make it to your desk, and Alfie hands you your calendar. As you touch it, you notice that he’s definitely refiled through it.

“You went through my calendar?”

“Well it is my calendar actually.”

You put the notebook down and turn to him quickly, “well it’s my notes! And I have personal notes in there too, it’s not just about you.”

“Well don’t worry darling your handwriting is so tiny it’s not even legible. I did see your little cartoons though. Very cute that is. But seriously yeah. I bought the calendar. It’s mine. It’s my business in there. And if you hadn’t left right? If you hadn’t left I wouldn’t have had to pilfer through it.”

You just put your head down. There really wasn’t much more to say. But Alfie knows exactly how to fill the silence doesn’t he? “Darling. Come into my office real quick yeah?”

You take your seat in front of him. Alfie at his desk. Still early enough in the morning where his shirt buttons haven’t been ripped off yet in anger. And his hair is set without raking his thick fingers through yet. He considers you for a long moment. Just studying your face. Noticing how you don’t fidget under his eyes anymore. Your breathing even and your back relaxed into the back of the chair.

He sighs, leaning forward on the desk, muscular arms holding himself up. “Treacle… treacle darling I think we need to talk about your place in the business.”

Your heart stopped… did he really just bring you to the office to fire you? “Alfie you are not firing me.”

His head jerked back, “What the… what the fuck are you talking about? Just.. shh be quiet. Shit treacle just let me speak!”

You settle back as you both readjust. Shaking his head he continues, “No no treacle. Listen… I’ve been thinking about last night. How much my… way of communicating scared you. And I just want us to… communicate… expectations.”

You nod slowly. Truthfully, no man has ever talked to you like this. He nodded back, “Alright. Well… darling. Shit how do people do this.”

He rubbed his face as if scrubbing it would bring out the words to the surface, “Ugh treacle listen to me. I am… a bad man. Ok? I have killed people. I have. I have tortured men. I have knocked out half of the men in London. And I love to be on the top. My life, is violent. Ok? I don’t want us to pretend that violence is not a part of this job. Are you with me?”

After assenting, he only continued, “Now, I cannot guarantee you that you will never see violence ever. But, I can guarantee you that I will do my very best to make sure that you see as little as possible. Does that work with you?”

You nodded, “I can agree to that.”

He nodded back, brows furrowed, and letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was even holding. “Excellent. Good good.”

Leaning back, finally relaxing, Alfie continues with his racing thoughts, “I’ve also been thinking treacle… that you need to be shown the other parts of the business yeah? Give you a little more responsibility around here. Let you in more on my other dealings.”

“Other dealings?”

“Well sweetheart you didn’t think the bakery talk was just for show did you? There is in fact a bakery next door. And we got the jewelry shop upstairs. I want you in on it, familiar with everything.”

Alfie begins to rise up out of his seat again, motioning to you, “Come on. Let’s take a trip darling.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you went down to the bakery. When he mentioned bakery you pictured… a shack. Something run down with stale bread pilfered from other shops.

But it wasn’t. It was a legitimate bakery. The air warm and full with the smell of hot loaves and cinnamon and sugar. Older grandmotherly women worked behind the counter, smiling and glowing. Alfie tipped his hat towards them, “Morning ladies. Looking wonderful this morning as always.”

They jeered and laughed at their rugged boss, calling him over to test out the newest recipes created. He gave limited critique for the women, sandwiched between loving praise for their work. You were given a loaf as well, told to come in any time you wished.

You then walked into the jewelry shop above the office, and you couldn’t help but feel out of place.

Wall to wall, glass cases of absolutely finery surrounded you. Perhaps it was to keep the sin of coveting at bay, but you tried to not look at jewelry. You tried to not think of yourself as a girl who longed for jewelry. But looking at the glittering jewels and chains, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill run through you. They were beautiful.

You hear Alfie laugh before you realize that your mouth had been gaping open, “Well go on then. Take a look around.”

Your fingers danced along the glass casing, staring at the fine pieces. Like glittering flowers on delicate flower beds, you couldn’t believe it. Long thick golden chains. Silvers bracelets. A diamond tiara even. It wasn’t until the end of the line did you see something that made your heart pause in your chest.

A small golden locket. Heart shaped, with engraved ivy around the edges. Holding it along was a delicate gold chain. It looked so soft, beautiful, and something you had always wanted to wear. You were so entranced by its simple beauty, you jumped when Alfie came behind you.

“You want to try it on?”

You shook your head vigorously, “Oh no no it’s ok.”

“C’mon you want to I know you do.”

“I can’t try on the merchandise!”

“I think I decide who can try on the jewelry yeah? C’mon just try it on. It’s been waiting for someone.”

You smiled, suddenly very shy, “Well… ok. Just for a second.”

Alfie unlocked the case, pulling it out gently, carrying it as though it was the diamond tiara in the case over. He motioned for you to hold your hair away, to let him clasp it around your neck. It was so silent, you being the only two in the shop. All that could be heard was your pounding heart and the sound of Alfie’s breath brushing against your ear. You felt the cool weight against your chest, with Alfie’s warm and heavy hands on your shoulders. He gently positioned you in front a mirror, letting you see it on yourself.

You looked beautiful. It looked like it always belonged to you. As though it was made for you and you alone. The scent of your soap and perfume filled Alfie’s nose, and he wished that all the air in the world was replaced by your smell. He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He leaned into you, bringing his face to the side of yours. Cheek to cheek, letting his hands run up and down your arms. Feeling the shiver that ran up your spine. “It’s beautiful.” You whisper, suddenly feeling as though you couldn’t catch your breath.

Alfie pressed his lips to your hair, mumbling into you, “It was made for you.”

You feel yourself melt into him, your back falling into his chest, with his strong arms wrapping around you. You heart was pounding, and you could’ve sworn you felt his heart knocking into your back. Your chest was so tight, you felt like your whole body was on fire. Alfie couldn’t stop now. He pressed kisses to your temple, “Tell me to stop.”

You gave no response as you leaned into his touch, him never stopping, trying to restrain himself as he pressed his passion to your temples and cheeks, “Tell me to stop. I’ll never ask anything of you. Tell me you feel nothing for me.”

You gasped, it was too much, but you just wanted to press him closer to you. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, “Alfie..” you whispered.

He turned you around, whispering your name as he pulled you to his chest.

“Alfie?”, Ollie knocked on the door frame of the jewelry shop, concern, shame, and confusion thick in his throat.

Alfie shut his eyes tightly, and you feel the grip on your waist strengthen, “WHAT OLLIE?” He barked out, causing you to snort.

Ollie begins to stammer, “I- I’m sorry Alfie! It’s just uh… Mr. Shelby… he’s here.”

Alfie put his head onto your forehead muttering, “I’m going to fucking shoot him.”

Alfie guides you out of the door, and you can barely make out Alfie telling Ollie to start searching for another job.

Mr. Shelby looks incredibly comfortable in Alfie’s office. Before you can say hello to the man, Alfie butts in, “What the fuck do you want Tommy. You interrupted a very important meeting.”

Tommy smiled at you softly, then turning to Alfie, “Sorry Alfie, but this is about our club. I think you can make a little exception for me eh?”

Alfie just grumbled as he threw himself into his seat, using his pointer finger to direct you and Tommy to your seats. Tommy continued once he settled into his seat, “We’ve got an issue Alfie. Apparently, someone is not too happy about our little arrangement. And evidently… according to some sources… you roughed someone up last night. Which allegedly resulted in someone’s home going up in smoke.”

At this admission Tommy turned to look at you, “My condolences darling. Hope everyone is ok yeah?”

“Don’t look at my secretary. What the fuck are you talking about?” Alfie barks out.

Before turning back to Alfie, Tommy rolls his eyes and breathes in slowly, “Alfie. My men have gotten information that you, in all your wisdom, beat the living daylights out of some idiot. And that idiot, is the nephew of our good friend Mr. Sabini. Now, Mr. Sabini, was not just hurt that you nearly killed his nephew, but he was also hurt that your lovely secretary denied his nephew, and that we are working together, in direct competition with a bar he owns on the same street.”

Alfie felt his stomach drop.

He knew. He knew that it was somehow his fault. Because this is what happens isn’t it? Anytime he allows himself a small comfort or a small glimmer of a dream of something different, it hurts all those around him. It destroys them. It kills them. This time, he hoped it would have been different. That God maybe would have had mercy on him. Allowed him this tenderness. Found him worthy of you.

"Alfie?", you prodded gently. You had risen from your seat on the plush velvet couch to touch his shoulder. His whole body had tensed up at Tommy's admission of evidence. The admission was scary enough, to know that you put your family in danger for simply denying a man. But it wasn't Alfie's to feel guilt for. And you knew he was holding himself responsible. Because that's what he does. He carries the weight of everyone on his own shoulders. Under your touch you feel his muscle tighten and relax immediately. Alfie raised his eyes to stare back at Tommy, whose typically impassible face had the shadow of regret and concern underneath those cold eyes.

"Tommy. I'm not going to let this pass."

"I know you're not Alfie. I think the time has come for Sabini to be removed."

Alfie leans back into his seat, hands folded across his stomach. You removed yourself back to your seat, the real business needed air.

You had never met Mr. Sabini. But you had certainly heard of him. All the girls in your classes spoke about their own encounters with him. How he would corner them and say vulgar things, hoping to get an evening with them. You'd seen him in town on your laundry deliveries with Eli, and you always felt as though you needed to bathe after you locked eyes with him. Eli always walked in front of you, as if to announce that you weren't alone to be approached. And to know that his nephew was much of the same, and went as far as to punish those the way he did for denying him was a shock. The Sabinis had made themselves clear that they weren't above killing for disrespect.

And yet you feared more for the Sabini family than you did your own in this moment. You had seen Alfie be ruthless and loud. You had seen him scream to the point of men wetting themselves, and you had seen Alfie beat a man near death. But this Alfie... this Alfie made your blood run cold. Made you sweat underneath the lamp in the corner. He looked larger than normal. The muscles in his neck and arm twitching every so often. He was near silent. And when he did speak, it was low but rumbling. As if the plates of the earth were moving to the sound of his voice. This wasn't a meeting you took notes for. This was a meeting where the words soaked into your skin, into your bones as you listened to the methodical destruction of the Sabini company.

"Miss Abraham. Come here dear." Alfie called to you finally.

When you got to him, he brought you down to your level, whispering, "I want you to go with Ollie, and he is going to take you home. Go be with your family for the day, draw up some ideas for the gaming club for me alright?"

The way he whispered it so lowly, it was accepting no arguments, despite the fact it had not even reached lunch time yet. You nodded in assent, and he simply responded, "Good girl. I will see you tomorrow."

When you walked into the house, your mother was the only one home, placing the finishing touches on a dress to be picked up in the evening, "Oh darling! You're home early! You feeling alright? You look pale."

You shook your head, suddenly feeling a bit weak, "No mama I'm fine. My boss just heard about what happened and wanted me to go home."

"Mmm, well why don't you sit with me anyway."

You took a seat on the floor across from your mom. You had been sitting like this since you were a child. From playing dolls, to reading to her, to helping sew loose buttons on your family's shirts with her. It was where you gave your mother all your thoughts. All your fears and secrets. It was the confessional and threshing floor of all your worries.

Without looking up from her needlework your mother smoothly spoke, "That's quite a beautiful necklace darling. Did Mr. Solomons send you home with that as well?"

Your stomach dropped, and your hand flew to your chest.

You hadn't taken it off.

"Mama I-"

"My love how long did you think you were going to be able to keep up this ruse? You and I both know that lying is not your strong suit."

Your hands covered your face in embarrassment. "How long have you known?"

Your mother smiled, still not looking up from her work, "Oh since about the fourth week. You looked a little too giddy coming home the night before, so I assumed your boss was incredibly handsome. So I peeked out the window and saw him. I mean really darling did you even try?"

"Ugh... does Papa know?"

"Mmhmm. He was very cross for about two days, but I spoke with him."

"Are you still cross with me?"

It was only now that she stopped her steady work, "I'm only upset that you didn't feel as though you could trust me and your father. I understand darling, you wanted your independence and to figure things out for yourself. But we love you darling, and we want to know these things so we can just know you are ok."

You got closer to your mother, laying your head on her knees, "I just didn't want you to worry. I didn't want you to feel as though I was a burden."

"Oh hush." She said, smoothing out the hairs on your head, "You have never been a burden. And your troubles are never a burden. You need to believe that darling, you are not a burden to us. You don't need to shoulder everything on your own. Not when you have us."

You nodded, feeling the tears pool and gather on your mother's dress. The stress of the past 48 hours finally overcoming you. And you told her everything. About the day to day job. About the gaming club. About the fire. About Alfie. About what he made you feel.... you laid it all bare for your mother, who nodded and received it all. And you finally felt the weight of 1000 stones finally lift off your chest.

Back at the office, the room is full of smoke and two bottles of whiskey slowly depleting. Tommy and Alfie have drawn up a master plan of an offensive, a war to end it all. For 2 years they have dealt separately with Sabini. But to Alfie, this was a step too far. He targeted an innocent girl. His secretary. For what? To protect the 'honor' of a boy? It would not stand.

After the construction, Alfie and Tommy slumped in their chairs, mulling over the day. Thinking of everything to come.

"You love her don't you."

Alfie's eyes flicked to him, Tommy's cold eyes never shifting away , piercing him through the smokey haze. "None of your fucking business mate. She's just a good secretary. And a good girl. Doesn't deserve this."

"No. No a good secretary gets a raise every so often. A good secretary doesn't come into meetings and give advice. A good secretary doesn't get this protection Alfie."

Alfie didn't respond. Because if he did respond it would become real. It wouldn't just be something he could bury anymore. Once he said it, it would change everything. Tommy put out his cigarette, "You love that girl Alfie. That adds a whole new element to this game we are playing with."

"She is not a fucking pawn Tommy."

"Well to Sabini she is. Try as you might Alfie, that's what happens to men like us. Those we love turn into game pieces. This whole city is a fucking chess board."

"You are talking as if you're a god Tommy."

"And you are talking as if there is one to protect you, As if there is something to protect that girl."

"There is something to protect her you shit. It's me. I'll kill all of London before a single hair on her head is touched. That includes you mate, so don't talk to me about game pieces, or protection, or people dying alright? Because no matter what Sabini throws at us, not matter if this sick plan of our fails, no matter if all of London burns, I will make sure that she is safe!"

Tommy just smiles in the wake of Alfie's fury, lighting up another smoke, "And that is why I know we will not fail."

Taglist: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #Interviews for New Beginnings

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gh0vtzb1og · 9 days

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Hi, i was wondering if you could do smth with male!reader whom is a "housewife" and has this slutty body of his.. it can be anyone but I would like it to be Graves. If yes, can you add dumbification..?

I’ll show you the difference between military and me. Housewife reader au / MALE READER X GRAVES

Notes ; dumbification, America rahhh🦅🦅🦅🦅, breeding, praise, fluff, pillow humping

Cowboy military man graves to the rescue

I don’t think you guys understand how long I have been craving a graves one. Also whoever keeps suggesting dumbification I think I’m doing it right idk..

Also If anyone requests cowboy/ or country stuff what so ever. I will never write stories with fords or ram, I only do chevys and gmcs, their better trucks👍

You were standing in your husbands kitchen, cooking him dinner. Graves was a traditional man, besides the fact he was married to a man. He liked you cleaning and cooking, like a good house wife. Whenever you were on your knees scrubbing the floors, he couldn’t help but get excited, he wanted to ruin whatever you made with yours and his cum.

Graves didn’t tell anyone he was married to a man, honestly he said he was married to a woman, not like anyone would meet you. You were very quiet and reserved to outsiders, maybe that’s what he adored. He loved fucking you in public spaces, he prayed someone would find you both just so you can be embarrassed and shy away. It was always attractive when you did.

You were shy when you met him, it was at a state fair, you were in a bucking shoot, getting ready to get on some Bronc and graves made eye contact with you. Winking and going back to watching you. Maybe it was your tight shirt and jeans, you did have amazing hips for a man. But after that he immediately wrapped you around his finger and got married to you. He loved his little cowboy.

You were still in your place in the kitchen. A jingle of graves front door keys hitting together made the door unlock, a sound you loved hearing. It meant your lovely husband was home. He stepped halfway down the hallway, removing his work boots and walking into the kitchen. His arms wrapped around your waist snuggly.

You tilt your head up to look at him, graves moved his hand between your legs. He grabbed your crotch. “Philip I’m cooking, no fucking me till I’m done.” You snap back at him, graves narrowed his eyes at you, roughly using his free hand to slap your ass before moving away. Leaning against a counter.

“How was work hon?” You coo, graves took in a deep breath, he ran his finger over his wedding ring. A hum leaving his throat as he rubbed his thigh anxiously.

“Rough day, I really need you angel.” He bit his inner cheek, he did a desperate pout as you stared back at him. He was too damn desperate. Especially with that puppy dog pout? He probably had a days worth of cum waiting to be emptied into you. Graves took off his compression shirt, his body was toned with muscle, graves had a decent happy trail, nothing too much but it was definitely attractive.

Graves moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. He was trying his hardest to not rip your clothes from your body and ravage you infront of your dinner.

You were on your hands and knees, back arched as he shoved deep into your tight hole. He loved the way you squeezed and flexed around him as he used you like a fleshlight. Graves held onto your hips, his cock rocking in and out of your ass.

“Practically sucking me back in aren’t you? That’s all you know how to do isn’t it dear. You only know how to suck me back in like a good little whore hm? You love cock. This is practically your purpose isn’t it.” He growled into your ear, you quickly nodded as he continued to pound into you, your velvety walls clinging to him, making it harder and harder to pull out.

You could feel yourself loosing your mind as he rubbed against your prostate. You’d go dumb for him, just like you always did. Graves loved fucking you in like this. He’d bend you over out on the porch and fuck you dumb, your moans mixing with the songs of the coyotes, you both adored hearing their songs, but he couldn’t help but do you to the screaming songs of those feral dogs. He was a feral dog when it came to you.

When it came to being pulled back in by your perfect ass. You were the best little bimbo he could ever ask for. Something wild and free, he loved your free spirit, how confident you were; the way you crumbled for him. Graves lifted one of your legs up and to the side, hitting even deeper into you and rubbing against your prostate.

Your eyes were rolled back as he came into you, you finished against your tummy and the bedsheets. A chuckle leaving your husband as he pulled you into a loving hug.

#graves cod #graves x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #gh0vtzb1ogz #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty headcanons #phillip graves #philip graves #philip graves x reader #philip graves x you #graves smut #cod smut #cod mwii

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sugaimhome · 1 year

Text

cybersex - jm

pairing: cam boy jimin x anxious reader non idol au

genre: friends to lovers? smut, fluff, 18+ pls

warnings: ig jimin is a sex worker, smut, voyeurism, mentions of anxiety, reader is insecure, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of masturbation, he has his hand around her neck, MISSIONARY other smexy things yk, soft jimin. i love them, jimin is rough one minute then soft the next

summary: jimin's only source of income is his livestreams, when he starts loosing viewers and money he admits it to his friends, including you and secretly you agree to help him... on camera, but things are more complicated than it seems

parts: one shot (i do have an idea for a second part if this goes well! i really wanna write it ah)

words: 8.7k

as per, not proof read.

A/N: i have been working on this since november and that's the longest i have worked on something, idk how i feel about this but i love the way i wrote jimin so theres that. also i intended to post this on more like the 20th but i am posting now! ahead of schedule go me. i hope you enjoy! thank you for the support!

Jimin had arrived at your weekly group meetup 10 minutes late. He was late a lot of the time but today he was grumpy, he was only talking to Taehyung, who was looking as worried as Jimin, and he was seriously avoiding the alcohol. All of this you observed from your vantage point of your spot half way up Seokjin’s stairs. Your shoulder was pressed against Yoongi’s and as you did in most group gatherings, the two of you were trying to escape socialising. You tended to exchange a few words, then when Yoongi had drunk enough, you’d both venture down to the rest of the group. By the end of the night Yoongi would be dancing on the table with Tae, but before then he’d need at least two more cups. For a moment your attention is taken away from Jimin as Namjoon’s head appears through the wooden panels of the bannister.

“I brought you socialising juice.” he smiles, handing you up two shot glasses.

“Thanks Joon, I’m not drinking tonight” you smile back at him, he shrugs as Yoongi reaches for both glasses.

“No worries” he smirks, “I’ll drink them both”

Both Namjoon and yourself watch as Yoongi tips his head back and downs one of the drinks, his adam's-apple bobbing up and down. He pauses, not even wincing before bringing the other to his lips.

“We’ll be down in five minutes, I should imagine” you joke to Namjoon, who like you is staring wide eyed at Yoongi, not necessarily shocked, more impressed.

“I give it two minutes,” Namjoon replies,"that stuff's heavy." You giggle, and sure enough, two minutes later Yoongi is telling the rest of the group about something, or someone, he had done last night. You weren’t really listening, you’d probably hear the story again in the car as you drove him and Jungkook home later, your attention was on Jimin, who would normally be listening intently to this kind of story. He’s staring absentmindedly into Jin’s ceiling, a ceiling with no great interest. Yoongi's story ends and the attention turns to Jimin. “What’s wrong man?” Namjoon asks, with genuine care in his voice.

For a moment you don’t think Jimin will reply. He stares at Namjoon as if he’s asked the most difficult question he's ever heard, nervously rubbing his nose with his hand. Just when you think he’ll shrug it off he says “I’m losing viewers” you tilt your head, not completely understanding the context of his comment for a moment.

“I’m losing viewers” he sighs, as he does, you realise how much weight he’s lost recently. “I’m not making enough money”

It then clicks what he’s talking about, and it does with the others too as they all collectively gasp. He looks around the room, when he realises that everyones still paying attention to him he continues. “It’s been happening for months, I am barely making enough to live”

You wondered why Jimin had called off the meeting scheduled at his house the other week, if he couldn’t afford to live, he couldn't afford to buy alcohol for seven of his mates. “I applied for a job at a supermarket” his head is down, it must be pretty embarrassing to admit that in front of all his friends who, like he had up until recently, been doing very well with money. Too well.

“We’ll support you” you remind him, not caring if it insults him, because you would support him. You’d support any of them.

“I know,” he replies, smiling at you. Though the moment of eye contact doesn’t last long as he looks back down to the floor.

“Have you tried spicing it up?” Yoongi asks, Hobi actually groaning at the word “spicing”. It was funny how they swapped personalities when they were drunk, you find yourself smiling despite the heavy and weird topic.

“I’ve tried everything.” Jimin explains. “Different toys, different positions, I even tried losing weight, but apparently no one wants to watch me jerk off anymore.”

There was once, years ago, when Yoongi had dared you to log into one of Jimin's livestreams and watch it. You knew the others sometimes watched him, for whatever reasons you could not, and would not think about. The thirty seconds you had experienced were bliss though, you couldn’t imagine how anyone could stop watching it. You blush slightly at the thought of the very clear memory of Jimin rubbing his hand up and down his dick and whimpering in a way you never thought could be hot. You close your eyes, trying to block out the image as you had done countless times.

“You should have special guests” Yoongi suggests, his voice is slurred now as he leans forward in his chair. “Invite some girls on, people would like to see that.”

“I have had no hook ups in the past year that would be comfortable with doing that Yoongi. Plus it’s special to me. I wouldn't want some random pornstar screaming all over my cam like that.”

“There's nothing worse than a screaming girl.” Hobi replies, staring into the bottom of his glass, disappointed with the lack of liquid, he glances at Yoongi, as if he had stolen it, even though it had been in Hobi’s hand the whole time.

“Let’s not shame them” you say. “It’s their job and if people jerk off to them screaming and that's how they get their money, who are you to judge?”

They all stare at you a little shocked, you wonder yourself where the sudden burst of confidence came from. “Are you a screamer?” Seokjin asks. “You seem to be quite defensive of the subject”

“No! I’m not!” you exclaim suddenly, as Seokjin had suggested, very defensive of both the subject and yourself. Your exclamation earns a laugh from some of the others, cut short when Yoongi speaks.

"That's perfect then" Yoongi decides. You look at him with your head tilted to the side for a moment. What did he mean?

When it's clear both you and everyone else don't understand what he means he continues. "If Y/N isn't a screamer, and Jimin doesn't want screamers on his cams. You can join him." He's looking at you. Pointing at you.

Before Yoongi even finishes you're staring at him wide eyed with a blush high on your cheeks. All these years of friendship and this is how drunk Yoongi repays you.

No one speaks, you realise that it's your time to say something and, voice shaking, you reply to him. "You know I don't feel that way about any of you"

You see Jungkook pout out the corner of your vision. The rest of them stare at you wide eyed, as if you hadn't said that before. The fool himself opens his mouth to speak again but Jimin's there before he can start. "That's enough Yoongi" he sounds demanding, defending you and you feel your pussy pulse in response. You're so embarrassed. This whole thing, your reaction, your apparent attraction to Jimin and everyone staring at you wide eyed makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry. You'd do anything to get out of this situation.

The thing is, you realise with a startling surety, you would join Jimin on one of his cams. It had fascinated you since the day you'd learnt it was his job. You trusted Jimin, if there was anyone to do something so daring with, it would be him. There was no way, however, you'd ever admit that to him.

The conversation, as Jimin had demanded, had moved on. Now it was both you and Jimin staring into Seokjin’s ceiling. Great. Min Yoongi had really ruined your night. Having no interest in the new conversation and more interest in eating your sorrows away, you get up and head towards the kitchen to raid Seokjin’s cupboard for something.

The kitchen, like the rest of Seokjin's house, is an organised chaos, nothing seems to have a place but if you were to ask Seokjin where anything was, he'd know. However, you didn't, and when you hear footsteps behind you, for some reason you assume it's Seokjin coming to prevent you from turning the place upside down. "Do you know where the chocolate is?" you ask innocently, as if you were just wondering and didn't intend to eat your way through it all.

"No" you freeze, it's not Seokjin, it's Jimin. You could tell from his voice alone. "But I can help you find it"

"Oh, hi." you mumble "thank you." You're still feeling a little nervous around him. For no reason. He wasn’t the one who had suggested anything.

"I'm sorry about earlier" he admits, offering you a little lopsided sympathy smile. "You know no one would ever expect that of you. I don't know what's wrong with Yoongi ."

You gulp. Nodding and muttering something along the lines of "It's not your fault"

"I know but it's not something you'd ever want. You looked so embarrassed."

You want to scream at him. How can he not see that it is something you'd want and you have no idea why? How can he not see you want him?

Sighing when you reach the last cupboard you reply to him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He laughs, it's a sweet laugh, one that shows he's thankful. "Unless you're offering yourself up like Yoongi suggests, then no, but thank you."

He's kneeling on the floor now, searching through the cupboard next to you. You side eye him. Now would be your moment. If you had the guts. Your mind flashes back to Yoongi, speaking as if he knew your exact thoughts, he knew you better than any of the others and you wonder if he fabricated all this to give you this one moment. This chance.

"And what if I did" you want to slap your hand to your mouth to stop yourself talking but it's too late, you've committed now. Jimin has frozen his digging though Seokjin's cupboards and is staring at you with a mixture of confusion and shock. "What if I did want to offer myself up like Yoongi suggested?"

He looks at you speechless for a moment. "How much have you had to drink?" He asks.

"I'm driving." It's an adequate answer as his mouth drops a little.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" He whispers, looking to the door, as if to keep it from the others.

You only nod and he shoots to his feet, walking back and forth across the kitchen. All this time you'd been obsessing over wanting Jimin. You hadn’t considered that he might not want you and that causes your body to freeze up and tears to form in the corners of your eyes. You think the pacing is part of him thinking of a way to say no to you, to say you weren't attractive to him. "I'm sorry" you apologise, a reflex of yours when things seemed to be going ever so slightly wrong. "I don't mean to make it weird. Gosh I'm so sorry it is so weird. I know you don't see me like that" you put your hand to your forehead. You're still on the floor by the cupboard, Jimin turns to you, he's shaking his head.

"Are you sure?" He asks, and like an idiot you think he's asking if you're sure it's weird, but your answer is the same anyway.

"I am sure"

"And if the others saw it? How'd you know if you'd be comfortable with that"

Your eyes widen. He's considering it. Despite this being your idea you feel like your eyebrows are touching your hairline. “I don’t think I care” you reply, the thought did unsettle you a little, the thought of all the others seeing you naked, seeing you that intimate with someone. But you always tried to live by the motto of “you only live once” - at times your anxiety seriously got in the way of that, but not this time.

Jimin is pacing the room again, walking back and forth in front of you. It's making your head hurt. “What if you regret it?”

Your heart melts when you realise all the pacing back and forth isn’t about Jimin, it's about you, he's worrying about you. “I don’t think I will. Plus that would be my responsibility Jimin, not yours.”

Then, to your amazement, he stops his pacing, running a hand through his hair before saying “Okay.”

For a moment you’re too shocked to even speak then all the words start coming out at once. “You’ll have to tell me when and where, what to wear, what to say. I have no idea what I’m doing.” your hands are folded together on your lap, both them and your voice shaking as you speak. “I want to help you but I don’t want to make it worse and-”

He’s sitting on the floor in front of you now, holding your shaking hands in his. “If you’ve agreed to do this, why are you so anxious about it?” he asks, running his thumb over your hand.

“I get anxious about anything, no matter how much I want to do it.” you reply, watching him hold your hands in his, enjoying the closeness to someone for a moment. He only hums in response.

“I’ll message you later okay?” he tells you, helping you to your feet. After all of that you never found any chocolate. “If you change your mind, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know” you smile, he's still holding one of your hands as you talk. Then he's walking away, like they do in the movies. His fingers sciming yours. When you allow yourself to breathe again he's back in the living room and you’re standing in the kitchen by yourself, a little confused with all that just happened, and still very upset with your lack of chocolate.

***

After the kitchen incident earlier it had taken you 10 minutes to find the confidence to walk back into the living room. When you did no one really paid attention to you and you spent the rest of the night under one of Jungkook's arms, one of your favourite places to be, until it was time to go home. Now with Yoongi in the passenger seat and Jungkook alone in the back you finally had some silence. If you could consider whatever Yoongi was playing on your stereo silence. You see Yoongi turn it down out of the corner of your eye, then you feel him staring at you. “How did it go?” he asks, whispering as if Jungkook couldn’t hear. You blush, you don’t know what he’s on about, but he seems to know.

“I don’t know what you mean, Yoongi.” you can hear the tiredness in your voice, and how upset with him you still are.

“With Jimin” he continues, Jungkook has leant forward in the passenger seat to listen to the conversation.

“Yoongi you’re delusional” you tell him, a small blush rising on your cheeks.

“So nothing happened?” he pouts.

“No, Yoongi.”

The three sit in silence for a moment, the music impossible to hear over the sound of your car. Then, in the comedic fashion that was your life, the speaker announces “A new SMS message from Jimin”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open and all you can do is laugh. Jungkook rushes back to his little space between the two front seats, waiting to see if the rest of the message would read out; but that's something else you turned off long ago because they couldn’t keep their noses out of your business.

“Oh my goodness” Yoongi breathes. “Something did happen.”

“Nothing happened. It's completely unrelated, or it's an apology for your behaviour Min Yoongi” you take your eyes off the road for a moment to stare at him.

“What would Jimin be messaging you that's unrelated?” Jungkook asks from the back seat.

You sigh. “How many times a month do you message me to tell me you’re constipated Jungkook?” you ask him. Nodding whilst muttering a small fair enough, he sits back in his chair.

"So no Jimin x Y/N sex tape?" Jungkook sighs. "I was looking forward to that"

You sit in silence for the rest of the trip home. How did you end up with a bunch of idiotic friends? It's almost comedic how they will be getting a Jimin x Y/N sex tape if they log into one of Jimin's live streams at the right time. You're blushing and, embarrassingly, clenching your legs together as you drive along.

You only allow yourself to look at your phone once you're back in your flat, fully relaxed on one of your sofas with your legs up on the coffee table in front of you. Alone. The message is what you expected it to be.

“My place tomorrow? If you’d be more comfortable at yours I'd have to bring my setup over, but that's not a problem of course! Just wear anything you like but anything fancy underneath would probably be appreciated by the people but idm. I'll talk about the rest tomorrow, come round mine at 5? xx”

You gulp, not really sure how to reply, you settle with a simple “Okie (:” before throwing your phone down beside you. Staring at the ceiling you realise the exact scope of everything you’ve agreed to, you begin to question everything.

***

At exactly 4.55 the next day you’re sat in your car outside jimin's place, you’d been sat here for nearly half an hour, convinced that if you’d have left on time you would have chickened out. You’re sure you’re going mad.

It's your feet that lead you from your car to his front door, it's your hand that raises to press the buzzer, your mind feels absent, like you left it in the car, or maybe at your flat. When he finally opens the door it's like he’s taken half a day. He's wearing stonewash jeans and an oversized purple cardigan, you’d definitely never seen him in this before.

“Hi” he says, stepping aside so you can enter the similar hallway. It's as it always has been and somehow the familiarity of it brings you back into your senses.

“How are you?” you manage to say, a small smile covers his lips before he replies.

“Excited.”

You blush, looking down at the shoes you’re taking off to avoid his eyes “me too.”

He leads you upstairs and, with his hand on your lower back, into his bedroom. You had only been in this room once and that was so long ago that it had completely changed since. Two cameras rested on two stands and instead of a rushing feeling of dread like you’d expected your heart only beats in anticipation. You are heading towards the cameras when Jimin speaks.

“Y/N?” he's asking you to turn to you and you do. “Just promise me that if you didn’t want to do this you’d say? And if you change your mind halfway though you'd tell me?”

“I promise” you are sure about this anyways. This always happened with you, everything before the moment was terrifying but once the moment had begun things were a little less scary. When you properly look at Jimin however, he looks worried.

“Do you want to do this?” you ask him.

“Of course I do, I'm just worried about you.”

“I would tell you Jimin. Would a safeword make you happy?”

“A safeword would make me happy” he replies, a little of the worry falling from his features.

“How about Chocolate?” you suggest. He smiles before nodding and leading you to his bed. You sit on the end of it not quite sure what to do with yourself.

Then he’s kissing you. You would have gasped in shock but his lips were covering yours, he’s stood between your legs leaning over to kiss you and it's so amazing, he kisses so well. When he pulls away you’re both speechless and breathless for a moment. “The camera wasn’t on?” you ask him, a little confused.

He's messing about behind the cameras now with wires and lights, the whole setup looks less intimidating than you had imagined, he replies “I wanted a moment between just the two of us.” You stand from the bed, moving behind the cameras to watch him set it up.

Your heart rate increases, you realise there's no time for swooning over Jimin and push those feelings away. “Is there a plan?”

“I’m gonna eat you out first. Then I’m gonna fuck you. How good is your arch?” he's not looking at you as he speaks, and you are glad of it, your knees almost knocking together as they strain to hold you up. How can he say such things so absent mindedly?

“Arch is good. I think.” you reply, trying to hold the excited shake from your voice. As if you hadn't been practising in front of your mirror for the past 12 hours.

“I think I’m going to lay you sideways, like this” he is up from the floor now, gesturing towards the bed and where he will want you to lay. “This way, they'll get a good view of your pussy” he pauses to glance at you and gauge your reaction “as long as that's okay with you?”

You nod.

He continues. “And a good view of the rest of your body, but your face should be too far away for anyone to really recognise you, unless they know you really well.” you realise that he’s referencing all the others. It doesn’t phase you as much as it had before, if anything it excites you. Blushing at the level of dedication he seems to have put into keeping you comfortable and your mind wandering happily towards what was about to happen, you can feel wetness pooling in the fancy lingerie you had put on for the occasion.

“Right.” he slaps his hands together and gestures towards the cameras. “They're on. We just need enough people watching before we bring you in.”

That's when things start to get really interesting. You’re surprised at the casualty of it all as Jimin strips off his t-shirt. He sits in front of the camera and just watches as views increase, shirtless.

You’d seen them all shirtless before of course, at the beach, at pools but this was different. So so different. He’d obviously been applying oil and his abs were all shiny and slightly veiny you gulp. Jimin must notice as he gestures for you to move behind the cameras, from this angle you can see him as they see him, and you can see the comments and viewers streaming though.

“He’s hot”

“Is he gesturing towards someone?”

You look up at him, he's looking directly at you, then he winks and your knees go a little weak again. “You can strip now. If you're ready?” You can see it in his eyes, he doesn’t want to be pressured and that's why he's done it like this. It's your decision whether or not to enter the camera in a moment, and until then you can watch the increasing views. And what he’s saying on the stream seems to be working fine. Working too well for you to back out now,

“Wankerjane69 donated £20”

Your eyes widen, giving a thumbs up to Jimin. He, however, can’t see what you're putting up your thumbs too and tilts his head in confusion.

Putting your bag down that you hadn’t realised was still on your shoulder you begin to strip off your clothes, you start with your jumper, an oversized one you are pretty sure you stole from Yoongi. There was no point wearing a shirt underneath so you’re instantly in your black lacy bra. When you appear from the inside of your hoodie, Jimin is staring at you with lust in his eyes. Suddenly you want to cover up and you fold your arms over your chest. “Don’t be shy. It’s okay” he whispers, ignoring the limited intimacy you thought the camera would bring, Jimin obviously isn’t afraid to express his emotions in front of it.

Glancing over to the comments they’re coming though so quickly you can hardly read them before the next one replaces it. Adrenaline fuels every muscle in your body. You drop your arms, Jimin relaxing a little as you do. It's clear that he expected you to back out of this, but you’re so turned on you couldn’t care less if everyone watched you right now. You step out of your trousers, fighting with them and your balance without a chair to sit on, scared of tipping over the camera and everything going up into the air you try to slow down your shaky movements. Maybe you were feeling the anxiety more than you liked to admit.

Thousands of comments later you’re finally out of your clothes, standing there in front of Jimin in just the fancy lingerie you had put on for the occasion. His eyes roaming every curve and impurity of your body is scarier than the aspect of the camera recording you. You knew he wouldn’t agree to this if he didn’t find you attractive or if he thought that his viewers wouldn’t find you attractive and that does give you a little more confidence. He stands from the bed, moving closer to the camera so all that viewers can see is his crotch area, it makes you smile a little. He smiles at you in response, tilting his head to the side, it's to question if you’re ready, and in response, you nod your head, it was now or never.

Out of the view of the camera Jimin touches your bare arms, ghosting his fingers down your arm where he gently grips your hand with his, pulling you slowly in front of the camera. Every step you take in front of the viewers he gages your reaction, watching your emotions, presumably to pull you back out of the frame if you changed your mind. But despite the anxiety, the way it made your heart feel smaller, your stomach 6 feet underground, you still wanted to do this. With him.

“I’m okay” you whisper, trying to sound confident, and it must work, because he grins, walking you backwards until the bare backs of your knees are against the soft bed sheets, he leads you backwards onto the bed so your legs hang over the edge, Jimin standing between them as your back presses against the cold sheets, nipples hardening with both the arousal and the cold. Jimin stands over you for a moment, using his legs to prevent you from closing yours. Your body is placed right in front of the camera, when Jimin moves away your whole body will be on display to them.

The weight of Jimin's body on yours feels a little distant as you space out, too scared to think about the situation at hand. His kisses on your neck are what bring you back to crystal clarity. “It's okay,” he mumbles into your ear, his lips ghosting your skin. “Don’t overthink it just have fun”

When people had said this to you in the past it had sometimes made you upset, anxiety was never as easy as that, there was never a switch on or switch off button, it happened when it happened and there was really no changing that. But Jimin was right, the worst that could come of this was the others seeing you, and you had already established that you didn’t really care about that. So you pushed the anxiety away as Jimin began to kiss down your body, stopping at your breasts, peppering nippy kisses on the over-spilled area of your tits, unhooking the back of your bra and setting them free, before carrying on down your body, your stomach, then the area above your pants. As you suck in a breath of anticipation, Jimin toys with the elastic band. The sheer lace doesn’t leave much to the imagination in the first place, but the second he starts to wiggle them down your thighs everyone can see everything. Including your glittering entrance, coated in a liquid that proves your arousal. Your breathing increases, not from anxiety but from how shockingly turned on it made you that so many people were staring right at the most intimate area of you right now. You watch Jimin as he watches you, knelt between your legs. Your soul sets alight and you wish he would just bury his head into your cunt. He must read your thoughts, beginning to slowly press small kisses to the inside of your thighs. Then he’s level with your pussy, your pants long gone, disregarded somewhere across the room, your mind goes numb, feeling his breath against you, just waiting for him to touch you. “Please Jimin” you whisper, hoping the camera won’t pick up on it, but you know that microphone is designed to pick up every little noise, every little whimper.

“You like begging for my tongue?” he asks, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, you let out a little sigh of relief, but it was nowhere near enough. “Beg for me, like a good girl.”

You clench so hard, how did Jimin seem to know exactly what you liked? Were your kinks really that obvious for anyone to see? It brings a heat to your cheeks, but Jimin only chuckles, watching you clench around the air. “If you’re so desperate, beg for it slut.”

Almost crying with how good you felt, and he hadn’t even touched you yet, you allowed yourself to speak. “Please Jimin.” When he doesn’t take action you realise it's not enough. You’d need to say more. “I need your tongue, your fingers anything, please” you huff out in a single breath.

Blushing with how pathetic you felt, Jimin praises you “good girl” before diving straight into your pussy, he doesn’t even bother with little kisses or another lick, just straight to sticking his tongue into your pussy, his nose hitting your clit. You almost jolt back with the overwhelming shock of it. He's so overwhelmingly good, your legs raise and you almost turn away from him, but he catches your ankles in his hands, holding your legs above you as he presses his tongue into you harder. You hadn’t expected Jimin to be this good, your breathing laboured as he lets one of your legs drop to the floor, using his free hand to replace his tongue at your entrance. Jimin sucks on your clit as he curves his finger up into you, hitting a place you hadn’t known about until now. It hit you then, that in agreeing to this, you had agreed to the best orgasm of your life. It built with a slow surety of being unbelievable, you let out little moans, a second finger entering you. With both fingers fucking into that sensitive spot and his tongue flicking over your clit, your orgasm threatens to wash over you like a wave. “So close, Jimin” is all you can manage to say, and you regret saying it when he pulls away from you, letting your orgasm burn out like a flame. “Jimin!” you almost shout, genuinely annoyed that he’d stopped just as you were about to descend into what you knew was going to be your best orgasm ever.

“I only want you cumming when it's around my cock” he turns a half smile to you, his chin coated in your wetness, with his head still between your legs, the image is entirely erotic. The possessiveness in his tone both turns you on further and terrifies you. He certainly hadn’t seemed this concerned about where you came when you discussed this arrangement earlier. Was there something else going on here?

But there's no time to think of it when he’s standing up again, pulling down his trousers and boxers at the same time, you’re up on your elbows, making sure that Jimin's bare ass is protecting your face from the camera. It doesn’t surprise you how big he is, you’d seen him on stream before but in person it looked so much more ethereal than on camera. It rested snuggly to his stomach, his head red and pulsing slightly from his arousal, veins wound like vines up his shaft, you couldn’t wait to feel that inside you. Jimin has an undeniably male smirk on his face, one that suggested he knew well how to use his dick, and was proud of it, as you sat there open- mouthed. He turns on his feet, showing his erection to the camera as he pulls his trousers off his legs, kicking them across the room. With his back to you, you reach down to play with your clit, but he turns his head, your eyes meet. You are obviously visible from the camera, he sneers. “If you want me to fuck you stop touching yourself” its purely demanding and your hand drops from your cunt straight away. He turns back to the camera. “She's such a good girl” he's addressing the camera, telling his viewers about you and you clench around the air again. “Knows that my cock is ten times better than her fingers.”

This side of Jimin is one you had never seen before, dominating and confident, it was obvious that the confident part of his personality was a given considering he had enough guts to post his dick all over the internet, but he had always been soft, and you still felt safe. Even if it did seem he knew all your kinks and turn ons, like he had been analysing it for a while. Your praise kink was no secret, you blushed when any of your 7 friends said you’d done a good job, or the dinner you made was good, because you strived to please others and that extended into the bedroom. You’re pulled from your thoughts when Jimin turns back to you, pulling you further down the bed by your ankles, you hadn’t realised how much you’d slid up the sheets as he had eaten you out. You expect him to fuck you like this, with your ass slightly over the side of the bed, so you spread your legs in anticipation. A small chuckle falls past his lips, it's not a cute laugh, but a mocking one. “So eager” he says, gripping your waist gently and flipping you over, so your breasts press against the soft material of his bed covers. You can't see where he is at this angle and it only causes your core to tighten with anticipation. His shaft presses against the inside of your thigh, one move and he would be pushed inside of you. Jimin’s arms appear on either side of your upper body and his whole weight presses into you, his warmth is comforting. With his breath close to your ear he whispers “are you okay to continue?”

Knowing he wouldn’t expect the nodding of your head as an answer, you whisper back “yes, please.”

In response he huffs out a breath of air, laughing at your neediness, you blush. “Move up the bed a little, I want you in doggy.”

The wetness pooling between your thighs seems deeper than any ocean, you wish he’d just fill you already. Using the muscles that sculptured his stomach and arms perfectly, he pulls you up the bed, you push your ass into the air, a kind of instinct as you arch your back. You're further away from the camera now and you’re careful to look away from it instead of towards it. “Everyone can see how wet you are for me” he tells you, you shudder as he runs a finger though the juices at your pussy, climbing off the bed, presumably to show the camera how his finger glittered in the light, coated in your wetness. Letting out a little whimper that you hope will encourage Jimin back onto the bed, to bury himself into your cunt. “You’re such a good girl for waiting” he admits, the bed dipping with his weight again. Jimin's hands meet your waist, his cock brushing against your ass. You moan again, only inciting a laugh from him. He removes one of his hands from your waist to wrap around the thick base of his cock as he moves it up and down your folds. Every time it notches into your entrance, or pushes against your clit you moan, almost thinking you could orgasm like this if he kept up.

Then his head is pushing into you, it catches at your entrance, you’re stretching to accommodate him as he pushes further and further into you. Mouth open in a satisfied ‘0’ every inch he sinks into your core, you let out little sounds of pleasure. You had never felt someone sit so perfectly in you. His cock stretched you in all the places that you needed to be stretched and he just felt so good with his balls pressed against your clit. When he starts to slowly thrust into you, as if to test the water of how comfortable you felt, to test you wouldn't break before he went full pelt into you, something you had no doubt he would do, your whole frame of existence almost falls out below you. It had never felt this good. No man had ever felt this good. Clenching around him at the thought of it, Jimin lets out his own little “please” it’s more like the Jimin you’re most familiar with and you allow yourself to smile.

There's no time for your smugness as Jimin must realise you are more than ready to take his cock at a faster pace, he moves one of his legs up, allowing himself smoother and faster movements as he begins to pick up the place. Every time he pushes into you, you feel him everywhere, from his hands pulling you back against him, his cock dragging your walls, and his skin brushing against yours. It's bliss. You suppress your moans, figuring the people watching are here for Jimin, not you. Looking behind him slightly to camera, making eye contact with it as he reads some comments, Jimin continues his brutal thrusting, your moans stuck in your throat, so desperate to escape into the void of the air between the two of you. When he turns back to you he says “you don’t need to hold back, they want to hear you too. I want to hear you.”

Your whines and moans fall from your lips, everything you had suppressed coming out at once. “Good girl” he says, almost absent mindedly, but the effect it has on you is undeniable as you clench around his cock. Groaning in response Jimin removes his hands from your waist, grabbing your arms almost harshly to pull you up to his chest, his muscles contract under your skin as he continues his thrusting. You are pressed flush against him when one of his hands presses into the soft skin of your throat, the other latching onto one of your breasts, pinching and pulling it to heighten your pleasure. The hand around your neck applies a weak pressure, applying all the blood in your body into your pussy, increasing the intense feeling in your core, the building orgasm that you know will leave your body limp building undeniably fast in this new position. Jimin must be able to tell, whispering into your ear. “Do it. Come on my cock.”

It's a very tempting suggestion. “Jimin” you manage to breathe, struggling with the pressure around your neck. All you can think about is him, all you can feel is him. His dick dragging up and down your walls, his head hitting that place he found with his fingers every time he thrusts into you. His hand around your neck, his other pinching your nipple savagely.

You fall, your body almost spasming as you descend into the amazing orgasm you knew was coming. Its light floating on a cloud, then falling, tumbling as you pulse uncontrollably around his cock, your mouth open in a silent scream, hands clawing at his arm just for something to grip onto, to ground you as bliss consumes you. As the fireworks that had started in each and every muscle of your body dwindled out, Jimin continued his thrusting, his hips less smooth as he neared his release. You're so sensitive but you don’t want him to stop so you let him use you until his breathing becomes uneven and he asks, the breath from his voice hitting your hair “where should I cum?” his voice is weak, as if it used some of his energy to even speak.

The fact you hadn’t discussed this before was slightly concerning when you realised he wasn’t wearing a condom, but you didn’t care. “In me, please” you say, your core starting up with another orgasm, you doubted you could chase it before he came, but he's thrusting harder now, his head almost hitting your cervix. He thrusts two more times before burying himself to the root of his dick against your cunt, he hadn’t yet pushed this far into you and he seemed to focus his whole weight on being astronomically deep inside of you that when the strings of cum shoot from his dick into your pussy, the feeling of warmth sends you spiraling again, stars covering the corner of your eyes as you come for the second time.

When you escape from the all consuming bliss that has covered you, Jimin is soft inside of you, kissing the back of your neck sweetly. When he pulls out, and cum drips from your entrance you resist the urge to get up and show the camera, this was the art of sex, this evidence of two bodies being intertwined. But Jimin is up from the bed, looking at the camera and pressing buttons until you hear a definitive click, looking over to see the screen that had previously shown comments and donations blank. “You turned it off?” you ask, your throat a little raw from all the moaning.

When he doesn’t respond you assume you have done something wrong, maybe you said the wrong thing during the stream, something he hadn’t wanted you to say at all. Blush covers your cheeks and you instantly seek the side of Jimin's bed cover, to pull it over yourself to preserve some of your dignity, as if you could have any after that. When he turns back to you, his face drops from a smile to a frown. “Are you okay?” he asks. You must look like a mess wrapped up in his blanket like this. Nodding, you try to convince yourself that it wasn’t you that had caused Jimin to turn the camera off, but your traitorous mind told you it was your fault. Jimin stands in front of you, fully nude, his fingers pulling absently mindedly at the covers that you’d wrapped yourself in. “Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?” he pulled at the covers, as if he needed proof that you were okay underneath them. His lip pouted.

"No" you say, surprised you had the confidence to even speak. "You turned it off so quickly I thought I'd done something wrong."

"No, Y/N not at all, I just wanted you to feel comfortable" Jimin says, one corner of his lip falling down as he speaks.

"Oh" you reply, suddenly very embarrassed. "I'm sorry"

"No need to apologise." Shifting up on your elbows, you get a proper view of Jimin's lower half, something that had previously been covered by your angle. He was half hard again, your mouth fell open in shock. You'd assumed that once the camera was off, it'd all be over, but apparently not. Part of you doesn't know how to feel about this.

"Jimin?" you whisper, a bright red blush lights itself across his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I can leave if you want, you just felt so good and I was thinking about the camera more than you and" He's running through his words, they tumble over one another like water over a cliff. "Just wanted to feel you again, just you and I"

He runs a hand through his hair, taking a step back from you, he's fully erect now. Speechless, words leave you. He shuffles away from you, apologies falling from his lips as he goes. The fear on his face was unmissable. You don’t want him to go, you want him back with you. But no words fall from your mouth. With words failing you, you take the next best action you can think of, throwing the blanket from your body, leaving you stark naked in front of him.

Freezing his shuffling and apologies, Jimin accepts the hand you reach out to him as you sit up, letting you pull him on top of you again. Without the camera the whole thing feels almost too intimate, with the camera you were helping a friend out, but without it you were going against everything you had said for years.

"You know I don't feel that way about any of you"

Is what you had said only the night before, but it was obvious that you were wrong, and perhaps in saying that, you had admitted something you had always known. That you did feel something. You don’t have much time to sit in these thoughts when your eyes snap to Jimins, he is staring at you in a way that makes you feel naked beyond your lack of clothes. You fight the urge to pull the blanket over you again. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N” he smiles, hovering above you, his arms trapping you safely under him.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had called you beautiful with that much sincerity in their eyes. You’d had boyfriends in the past, but they’d been scared off by something about you, probably your closeness to the others, your comfort around them, like the way you had sat with Jungkook last night, with one arm over your shoulder, curled into his side and you thought nothing of it. It was a good enough reason to make anyone jealous. So in the past couple of years boyfriends had been a thing of the past, and so had such comments. Tears well up in your eyes. Part of you had started to believe that it wasn’t true, that anyone who had said that in the past was lying. But you know Jimin wouldn’t lie.

You close your eyes as he leans in to kiss you, something he hadn’t done when the camera was on, as if this was something he just wanted to keep for the two of you. His erection rubs against your thigh as you kiss, you’re surprised how quickly he managed to get hard again. You revel in the feeling of him against you in one of the most intimate ways, realising how much you had missed this. Letting a hand fall down your body to play with your clit, this time Jimin didn’t tell you to stop, you don’t touch yourself to reach orgasm, but just to tease yourself. This doesn’t have to be rushed, but when Jimin finally pulls away, lips swollen, and presses a kiss to your forehead, his cock rubs against your folds and you open your legs in anticipation. Huffing out a little laugh Jimin smiles, “I take it that's a yes.”

You nod, appreciating that he asked you again, having sex once did not mean consent for the second round, “yes” you say, feeling a wave of affection for Jimin and his consideration. Jimin reaches down between your bodies, using his hand to drive his shaft to your entrance that was lubricated by his cum and your wetness, as he had done before. This time he seats himself into you faster, his length sitting snugly in your walls, but unlike last time, he takes longer to move again. The feeling of him pressing into you, his head flopped down to your neck, as if he had accepted defeat, kissing gently over your skin, trading the sloppy and teethy kisses for soft and considerate ones. His whole body is pressed against you, his skin suffocating you in such a pleasuring way. And he wasn’t even moving yet.

He feels so good inside of you, as if you fitted together, two pieces of a puzzle that were crafted to interlink so perfectly. He stretched you enough for you to feel immense pleasurable shocks through your body every time he moved, but not enough to make you feel that uncomfortable burning feeling that happened when a dick was just a little two big. He was perfect.

He shifts back a little, nearly pulling out before slowly plunging back into you, and staying there as you run a hand through his hair affectionately and he sucks into a place on your neck that you knew would be bruised and red now. Out. In. A pause. Out. In. A pause. Out. In. A pause. No one had put this much time into you before, this much care and not broken half way through, an orgasm was already burning low in your stomach. “Jimin” you say, his voice coming out though the little whimpers you had been letting out periodically.

“Mmh?” he hums, his face pulling away from the artwork of bruises he had created on your neck. “You okay?” and the look he gives you is one full of such concern that you almost cry again.

“Close again” you manage to breathe as he pulls out and pushes back in again.

“Me too” he replies, dipping to kiss your cheek, then he latches his lips to yours again, as if this was the only correct way to end this. “Let go” he says, not changing his method, continuing his periodic but hard thrusting. You could feel him so deep.

And as he pulls out one last time, pushing back into you again cum. It's a blinding orgasm that filters out anything that isn’t your pussy pulsing, Jimin or the fireworks that go along every muscle in your stomach, washing over your body from your core like waves. His eyes go wide, as if you had done something he hadn’t expected before he pulls out one more time, your pussy clenching around the space he leaves and then plunging back in one more time, his load shooting out into you, warming you from the inside. “Y/N” he mutters. You shudder, loving the feeling you get so full of cum. Jimin doesn’t move from inside of you, but flips you over so that your whole weight is against him, his dick soft inside you. You let him run a hand through your hair as you lean on his chest, hoping that he'll never pull out of you. “I think you squirted a little” he says, you can’t see his face from where you’re resting but you can feel the rumble through his chest. “I have never made a girl squirt in missionary before.”

You have never squirted before, but you didn’t want to inflate his ego by telling him that. “I was happy to be your first” you mumble back, still a little out of it from your orgasms. He chuckles, your head moving up and down with the movement. The fact he had made other women squirt before did make you feel a small prickle of jealousy you had no right to feel, but you push it away and just enjoy the skin to skin contact and the way he felt, still soft inside of you.

You feel him suck in a breath, as if going to say something but changing his mind. “What is it Jimin?” you ask, hoping you’re not suffocating him with all your weight on him. You're relieved when he says “Would you stay the night?”

Nodding, you feel enthusiastic about it. Having sex again does worry you a little, you are so tired, but he’s still soft so you assume he just means to cuddle, and you can’t help but agree, it's been so long since you’d been held properly. So you stay, letting him caress your skin, pulling the covers over the two of you so you don’t go cold, all thoughts of the camera gone from your mind, apart from one thing…

How would the others react to this?

#jimin #jimin smut #park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #bts smut #smut #bts #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts jm #jm #bts fic

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

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fic rec friday 5

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

You and I were Fireworks by percyspandapillowpet

“Eleven fifty-eight,” he said, and when he tilted his head back up, his eyes were sparkling. “There’s still enough time to go see the fireworks,” Nico realized aloud. “Do you want to…” Will shook his head, expression unchanging. “Nah. Fireworks are overrated. I’d rather stay here with you.”

look one thing this author can nail is SWEET. also will with his seltzer made me smile idk why but it did. im just a huge fan of slice of life stories and this is such a cute one!!

2. Love Wins by percysandapillowpet

“I’ll be right there!” he shouted, and the knocking stopped. On a count of three, he managed to push the duvet off his arms and legs and let his feet fall to the floor. He glanced down at what he was wearing—a black t-shirt and flannel pants, that would have to do—and walked over to the door. “What do you want, Solace?” he asked, pulling it open. Will was all smiles and sunshine. “Did you hear?” Nico narrowed his eyes. “Hear what? If this is some big event, then no, because I’ve been asleep like a normal person.” Will might as well have been jumping up and down, he looked so excited. “Nico, they did it! The Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage for the entire country! This morning!”

i read this fic in 2017 actually. and i REMEMBER how huge 2015 was; i'm canadian but it was massive. i was 12/13ish so i was in percy jackson back then too, and i remember reading DOZENS of fics that came out right after. this was so huge and this fic captures that :)

3. I Think You're My Best Friend by percyspandapillowpet

“You know what always makes cleaning more fun?” Will asked, sweeping a pile of dust and dirt into the center of the room. “What?” Nico replied, trying to hold back a smile. He found himself doing that a lot these days, too. Will set his broom down against one of the cots that lined the wall. “Music!”

this one made me melt bc personally....if someone called me their favourite i would never ever recover. never ever. and i love short & sweet fics about specific interactions/moments!! and this author nails that!!

4. Darkness by percyspandapillowpet

“So,” Will says, slightly awkwardly, making Nico realize that he forgot to respond to whatever he last said. “Um, you wanted something to take your mind off things?” He pulls back from the hug just enough to see his face, holding him at arms length. “I’ve, uh, got an idea.” He’s not used to Will looking so unsure of himself. He’s always acting so overly cocky. Kiss me, Nico thinks. “What?” he asks. Will smiles, then, his confidence restored. “Let’s go for a hike.”

sweet kisses in nature....the big three boys truly know how it's done bc the way i would SWOON and crumble. also i love it when nico is so so bad at like talking to people lol. hes so real.

5. Past, Present, Future by percyspandapillowpet

“We’ll help her, okay?” Will continues. “We’ll do the best that we can. You and I both know what this feels like. We need to give her support and take care of her for a while.” He nods again, glancing at her sleeping form in the cot. She looks a little less pained, and a little more peaceful. Nico is already dreading how she might react when she wakes again. “We’ll take care of her,” he repeats.

first of all proposal fics get me literally every time. second of all i do love fics where ppl explore what theyre future might look like!!! what they might be when theyre older!! theyre so careful with each other u know.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

#sorry its all fromt he same author 💀💀#i read fics by author always and im doing my bookmarks in order #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #fic rec #FRF #fic rec friday #longpost

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gyqru · 5 months

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pls do a Sejanus hurt no comfort where he finds out both the reader and coryo betrayed him

something like this - ‘this hurts so much’ as he lets the silent sobs escape his mouth, the silent tears roll down his cheeks as his back slides down his wall, face in hands weeping for those who broke his heart, longing for their comfort and embrace (idk something like that)

miserable lie — [drabble]

sejanus plinth: district scum with the wealth of a capitol brat.

sejanus finally thought he found someone who accepted him, someone who didn't see him as different because of his past. you were kind to him, treating him like a human being – a refreshing change. soon, you and sejanus were seen together everywhere: in the library, during dinner, and even visiting the capitol zoo together.

however, sejanus noticed how you whispered with coriolanus, keeping your conversations secret, never speaking above a murmur.

sejanus considered both you and coriolanus his best friends, so it confused him whenever your whisper would silence whenever he came around.

though he didn’t let on, deciding to give the both of you the benefit of the doubt. you were his best friend, you wouldn’t ever betray him. would you?

everything unraveled when both you and coriolanus were overheard talking about sejanus in a secluded hallway. your back against a large pillar, leaning on it, you expressed frustration and disdain for the charade.

"can we stop this now?" you grumbled, finding it increasingly difficult to maintain up a fake facade.

coriolanus, immersed in his inner thoughts, stayed silent. rolling your eyes, you sensed he was in another inner monologue.

"your songbird won; you don't need me anymore. we also don't need to 'tolerate' sejanus anymore – can't believe you admitted to that," you continued, joking about the situation.

"could you be quiet for a second? i don't care about that right now," coriolanus interjected, irritated by your interruption, his mind preoccupied with the lingering expression gaul had when the snakes spared lucy.

unbeknownst to both of you, sejanus stood hidden, overhearing your conversation. he heard everything, understanding why you and coriolanus spoke in whispers. the two people he thought he could trust were using him. hearing you speak differently about him made his stomach turn; everything he believed about your friendship was shattered.

sorrow clouded sejanus' mind, head hung low. rethinking every interaction, he let a single tear escape before walking away quietly. sejanus plinth would always be district dirt, even to you – one of the only people he trusted.

alice talks ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

can you tell this is my first time writing angst. nonnie hope i did your request justice, love you bad for requesting. i’ll try to make longer sejanus angst stories!!

#songbirds.com 𐙚☆⋆｡𖦹°‧#sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus x reader #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus deserved better #sejanus my beloved #gyqru #fanfic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #writing

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v3nusxsky · 6 months

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for the smut prompts number 3 pls i’ll love you forever🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Wildest dreams 18+

*Authors note~ happy Halloween guys! I would like to thank you all for following along with my first ever Kinktober! Enjoy guys, also @prettybuckybaby you should love me forever bc I added Bucky :)*

Trigger warnings~ Mistress kink daddy kink mommy kink sir kink? Oral sex sex toys Bucky x r, Larissa x r, lesso x r, Natasha x r, lesso x Wanda (punishment only) bondage blindfolds humiliation? Praise kink degrading kink Voyeurism, r getting shared around um smut ? Idk if it’s in need of anymore warnings

Prompt~ see ask

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

“Leo! I’m sorry” you whined as the fiery red head continued to fix your bindings and place the extra thick blindfold over your eyes. “I simply don’t care Kitten, you earned this so you’ll shut up and take it like a pretty Kitty for your Mistress, or I’ll just cancel your surprise” she threatened making sure to attach the little vibe to your aching clit. “I’m sorry please, Leo I’ll be a good girl” you promised, but you both knew that it was an empty promise. When you get bored you tend to become bratty, and that was something Lesso loved. Putting her pretty Kitten back in her place was great stress relief. However, it being Halloween the Dean had a surprise lined up, but you’d have to take the punishment first.

Flicking the vibe on Lesso just watched as you thrashed against the bindings, “oh dear! I must have set it to high, my mistake” she taunted watching how your body was forced to be still. Your pleas and empty promises flowing from your mouth like a river had the red head desperately dipping a hand into her underwear to tease herself. “Quiet kitten, or you’ll not get to hear how turned on your Mistress is for you” was all that was needed to have you biting your lower lip to try and silence yourself. Being rewarded with her whimpers and groans of pleasure had your poor core practically leaking with need.

Leonora must have took pity on you as she turned the vibe off throwing it somewhere around the room before straddling your thigh. “You don’t mind if Mistress uses you kitten do you? You’ve got me awfully turned on, and it’s only right you fix it isn’t it? You wanna make me feel good right?” Her words we murmured right down your ear as you immediately agreed begging her to use you and take what she wants. Anything for her pleasure. “I just want to be a good Kitten for you, please let me help” you whined as the redhead began to rut her hips against your thigh, her panties adding the extra stimulation, aiding her to get to that edge faster, after all she is on a time crunch.

“I wanna hear your beg, beg for your Mistress to cover you in my cum, beg for me sweet girl” she groaned coming closer to the edge, but wanting to hear you say how badly you need her to cum. And that you did, like a good kitten you begged and pleaded until her warm cum was spread over your thigh. Moving off your thigh the red head informed you your guests of honour had arrived. “Leo? Guests? What’s happening Leo?” You whimpered only to be silenced with a kiss. “Ahh sweet girl, I read your book, and decided as a special treat to find these people. You took your punishment now here’s the next part. Let’s great them shall we?”

You lost count of how many people had now joined the room but by the gasps of want and desire you could tell this would be interesting. Your body bound and littered in your lovers marks was on full display now leaving your curiosity to run absolutely wild. “She’s a free slut for you all, nothing is off limits apart from her cumming. Her safe words is the traffic light system and a fist if she can’t freely talk, have fun” the red head command before growling “You however know what to do.”

Lesso had found your note book of pure porn without plot, a book featuring a variety of people that you knew didn’t even know of your existence. It was flattering really, you included her in every single story you wrote and she just knew she had to treat you to this. Something not even your wildest dreams would comprehend. After all it wasn’t hard to locate the Realms of these people.

Larissa was first, The schools for Goof and Evil having worked together recently meant she was already familiar with Lesso’s pet and was more than happy to play along, she found you rather adorable and well fuckable. Lesso explained your stories and Larissa immediately recognised what her students were calling “fanficton” that she had confiscated from some of the older students of Nevermore.

It was decided Larissa would play with you first, after all she has Nevermore to run. So it was no surprise to anyone really that Larissa crawled up your body to litter it with kisses of her own, praises flowing freely as she took in your body. “Such a pretty girl, mommy wants to sit on your face darling” she murmured before nipping at your neck. “Mistress?” You whimpered looking for the okay only to be treated with a harsh smack to your thigh, “do as your told kitten, don’t keep mommy waiting little slut.”

Larissa’s pillow like thighs settled either side of your head as she lowered her now exposed cunt to your awaiting tongue. “Oh good girl, such a good little girl” Larissa murmured as she began to grind her hips down against your mouth. “Pretty girl, they are all watching your pretty pussy flutter around nothing, you’re so good darling” Larissa mewled as you sucked on her clit forcing her to her orgasm quicker than she would’ve liked. “Fuck! Good fucking girl, right there Y/n. Oh fuck Leo she’s so perfect” Larissa complimented as she drenched your face in her juices. You carefully brought the woman back down so she could climb off your face and steal a kiss. She immediately took control and forced her tongue into your mouth effectively tasting herself on your tongue. “Mm so fucking sweet pretty girl, until the next time” she murmured leaving a kiss on your cheek before finding her original spot.

“Mistress, thank you-“ you whimpered but were cut off by the bed dipping by your bound foot. “Gonna be good doll?” A male voice sounded the room and you instantly knew who it was. “B-buck?” You whimpered causing Leonora to laugh, “oh kitten, you weren’t this shy in your stories, go ahead Bucky, fuck her.” See there was no need to get you ready, Larissa and lesso had done a good enough job of that and well, Bucky would be lying if he said he hadn’t been lazily stroking her hard cock to the sight of you being a whore. It was a massive turn on. Making quick work of applying a condom he settled himself between your spread legs. “Ready for me dolly?”

Lining himself up with your awaiting core he immediately slipped in, you letting out whimpers, a mix of pain and pleasure, at the stretch. “God Dolly you’re so tight! Does Mistress not fuck you well enough? Hmm?” He taunted setting a slow and steady rhythm. “You just needed Sir’s cock hmm? Lesso, look how cock dumb she is for me, might want to be carful or I’ll take the slut back with me.”

“Watch it Barnes” lesso growled, she was all for it, watching you be shared around, but you are hers. And that was clear. “Mistress is best- fuck oh god I - at fucking me” you attempted to get out amongst the moans he was pulling from you, the bulbous head of his dick bumping against your cervix, “Mistress, close please! Can I” you whimpered hoping she would take pity on you. “Pull out Bucky, she isn’t to cum” Lesso damned only to be met with a disgruntled noise from Bucky as he did as he was asked. There he stripped the rubber from his painful hard dick before crawling up the bed.

From there he got a good look at you, desperate and pouting at the denial. The feeling of his cock rubbing at your lips had you gasping in shock, just before he thrusted himself down your throat. “Suck on it dolly” he demanded as he fucked your face, forcing you to swallow every last drop of cum. Tears now leaked from the blindfold as you coughed and spluttered around his pulsating member. “Fucking whore likes choking on cock, I wonder” he panted pulling out from your swollen lips to place his large hands around your throat, “you look so much better with my hands around your throat doll.”

Bucky soon left the room leaving you so fucking desperate and yet no clue what would happen to you now. That’s when you heard the Russian accent. “Oh she’s so pretty, wands what are you doing” the Russian spat causing Wanda to whimper, fuck she’d been caught. Although they were here to play with you she was still very much Natasha’s submissive and this was her reward. One that she’d just lost. “Leonora, could you deal with that needy bitch of mine while I fuck this sweetheart to high heaven?” Oh fuck no, you struggled to free yourself from the bindings, Leonora is yours and you couldn’t get to her, Wanda being free and touchable had lesso agreeing knowing she was setting off your jealous rage.

Natasha’s black widow skills came in use as she skilfully undid the bindings to reposition you and quickly tied you back up. This time the blind fold was removed and you had full access to watch Wanda being caned by your lover as Natasha slotted herself underneath you and quickly entered you with one swift thrust of her faux cock. “Oh Dekta you’re still so tight even after all of that? Oh you poor girl, must wanna cum for daddy hmm?” The redheads taunting combined with the speed her thrusts and the hits Wanda was receiving was dizzying, you could see the other avenger beg for mercy and you knew how that would fall on deaf ears. “Daddy” Wanda sobbed causing Leonora to growl, “daddy is busy, it’s Mistress you should be focused on or are you that much of a slut all you can think about is daddy fucking my Kitten over there” lesso was never one to mince her words and it was clear that she was getting just as much power from punishing Wanda as Natasha was from punishing you. “Mistress. I’m close please please let me cum” you whimpered taking Natasha’s brutal thrusts. “So sensitive no more please.”

“Oh you’ll fucking take what daddy gives you my precious girl” she grunted giving you one harsh thrust before pulling you off her strap and calling over Wanda, “come here pup, she made a mess of my cock.” Wanda immediately crawling over to her lover and taking the strap deep in her throat moaning at the taste of your slick that was covering it. You were too far gone into your sub space to even register the rest, the need to have an orgasm being painfully obvious now.

Somehow, somewhere Natasha and Wanda left, Lesso informing you everyone but Larissa was staying over at the school for Evil tonight, but you weren’t leaving this room, they’d had their fun and she had hers, that was all that mattered. Undoing you from the bindings, the red head laid you on to the bed and subtly grabbed the small vibe from earlier and attached it to your overly sensitive clit. From there she decided to change her plan, the tears stained on your face were enough of a punishment so she situated herself so that she too could rut against the small vibrating toy.

“Mistress please please i need” you whined in coherently only to be silenced by a deep hungry kiss and the command to cum over her cunt. And that’s exactly what you did. You’d never came so hard in your life, drenching Lesso in cum as you squirted so hard you passed out from the pure pleasure. Seeing that had Lesso over the edge, she was now sensitive from teasing her self while the others fucked you, and truly she could see you all being friends. Maybe a repeat in the near future but for now she settled on cleaning you up and magically changing the sheets before bringing your unconscious body to lay on her chest.

Hands trailing through your hair as she cooed words of love and praise waiting for you to come back to her. “Come on sweet girl, come back to me my love.” You whimpered as the first thing you registered was your overstimulated pussy and the second being Leo. “Mmm did okay?” You mumbled, she knew the ways you were after a particularly fun night so she had everything ready. “So good sweetheart, come on have some water and then we can cuddle okay? You did so good and I’m so proud of how you handled your treat.” Drinking your water with simple encouragement and lots of praise you soon found yourself snuggled into your lover and sleepily mumbling, “m sorry you found the book and tonight but im only yours. I love you Leo” before promptly slipping back into the land of slumber

Word count 2252

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theconstantsidekick · 10 months

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Tony Stark Is Like A Painting

Pairings: Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: I literally have no idea what genre this qualifies as and I personally have a wide range of what I consider genre

Summary: Tony's being rejected from the Avengers Initiative. FUN!

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Very little Swearing (idk how that happened)

a/n: read Age Of Ultron for more information on Y/n's backstory

sidenote: if ya'll know about the rabbit in a snowstorm, HIT ME UP.

“I don’t think I want you looking at that,” Fury says in a scolding tone as he enters the room and takes a seat opposite Tony. There are guards surrounding them and behind their table are holographic screens lit up showcasing footage of the… let’s call it recent peculiar events. “I’m not sure it pertains to you anymore.” Fury pulls the file titled, “Avengers Initiative” out of Tony’s hands.

Ooof, she thinks. That’s gotta hurt.

“Now this, on the other hand, is Agent Romanoff’s assessment of you.” Fury hands Tony another file. “Read it,” He urges him.

Tony does as he’s told. “Aaaah—‘Personality overview—Mr. Stark displays compulsive behavior.’” Tony looks straight at Fury, “In my own defense, that was last week.” When Fury does nothing but stares at him unimpressed, he realizes his joke has not landed. Moving on, he adds, “‘Prone to self-destructive tendencies.’ I was dying. I mean, please. Aren’t we all? ‘Textbook narcissism’?” He seems a little shocked at the observation. There is a pause. He even looks at Fury… who remains unmoving. So Tony says, “Agreed. Okay, here it is… aaaaah—‘Recruitment assessment for Avenger Initiative. Iron Man? Yes.’” He closes the file. “I gotta think about it.”

Fury commands, as unimpressed as ever, “Read on.”

So once again, Tony does as he’s asked, he opens the file and reads, “‘Tony Stark not—? Not recommended’? That doesn’t make any sense. How can you approve—me but not approve me? I got a new ticker.” Fury gets off his seat. “I’m trying to—uh—do right by—uh—Pepper. I—I’m in uh—a stable-ish relationship.”

Fury walks around and rests against the table by Tony’s chair, “Which leads us to believe at this juncture we’d only like to use you as a consultant.”

And you have to know, a man does not dress up in a flashing red suit of armor if he isn’t at least a little bit of an egomaniac. If S.H.I.E.L.D. does not want him, he doesn’t need to pretend to need them. He’s a little petty that way.

Tony stands and offers his hand. Both men shake hands.

Clasping his other hand on top of Fury’s, “You can’t afford me.” He smiles.

He goes to leave, but then he turns around again. “Then again, I will waive my customary retainer in exchange for a small favor.” Fury looks a little skeptical, so he continues, “Rhodey and I are being honored in Washington and we need a presenter.”

Yeah… see? Real fucking petty that way.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Fury answers.

Tony smiles, triumphant in his upcoming revenge.

Then he whistles, “You coming?”

Y/n steps out of the shadow where she had been leaning on the wall, “You head out, I’ll be right behind you. The Director and I have a few things to square out.”

Tony rushes over, drops a kiss on her cheek, and heads out.

Both she and Fury take a seat.

“So?” Fury begins. “What is your assessment of Tony Stark?”

Y/n pushes her chair back so it’s balancing only on the hind legs. “My assessment is that whether you like it or not, he is going to be an Avenger.”

Fury raises an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

His tone is so apprehensive that it makes Y/n smile. “There’s this painting I like. It’s called ‘Rabbit In A Snowstorm’. You heard of it?”

“That all white piece of canvas that you fancy folk like to call art? Yes. I’ve heard of it,” Fury replies, clearly interested.

Y/n smile some more. “You don’t like it, I take it…”

Fury looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world to dislike it. “It is literally all white. Now, I might not be the artsiest fucker out there, but come on, calling that blank canvas a painting is a stretch.”

Nodding in mild assent, Y/n shoves her hands in her pocket and throws her head back. “See, the thing about that ‘blank canvas’ is that it takes time. The more time you spend looking at the painting, the more of yourself that you invest into it, the more you see. You spend a couple minutes you see the texture, a more and you see the different shades of white and a couple hours in you can even see the brush strokes.”

“So, you’re saying Tony is like that painting?” Fury asks, mildly annoyed.

Y/n sits up. “I’m saying all the people around him have stuck around for a reason. And no matter how—unstable you think he might be, you have to admit the people around him are beyond trustworthy.”

“I cannot pick him to be on my team because I like his friends. This is not a game of charades in a shitty little house party,” Fury argues.

Shrugging, Y/n says. “Look, this isn’t me trying to convince you. I don’t really care if you put him on the roster. I just know he’ll find his way there.” Fury looks at her with a challenge in his eye. “What? You think the council will let you call in these so-called ‘Avengers’—” she picks up the file titles, ‘Avengers Initiative’, “—unless the world is on fire?” She scoffs. “No, right? So here’s my follow-up question; if the world is on fire do you think my brother, Tony ‘I am Iron Man’ Stark will just sit on his ass and watch it happen?”

“So you’re saying it’s inevitable?” Fury questions, brow raised in discontent.

Standing up, Y/n replies in indispensable nonchalance, “No, come on! I’m saying neither of us knows what’s gonna happen in the future.”

“Except for the part where Tony will be on the team,” Fury counters.

“Yeah, except for that,” Y/n answers, fixing her suit.

“How do you know that the rest of them will accept him?”

“I know because of the ‘Rabbit In The Snowstorm’,” she tells him and begins walking out. “It’ll happen sooner than you think. You’ll wake up one day and realize Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark are the best of friends.” She shakes her head, “It’ll be hilarious.”

“You’ve got yourself a bet, Agent Stark,” Fury challenges with a small smile in his voice.

“It’s Ms. Stark.” She puts on her sunglasses. “And you’re on, Nick.” With that she steps out, rushing over to her brother, who’s waiting patiently in his car.

“I’m craving donuts, you want some donuts? I think we should get some donuts,” Tony says as she gets in the car.

“I think Randy’s is open.”

With that, they drive off.

Find the series masterlist here. Find the Static Verse Masterlist here. Read The Avengers (ft. Static) here.

tag list :@aryksworld @freeflyingphoenix @arikarapli @just-anotherstan @justab-eautifulmess @ceo-of-daichi @liketearsintherainn @paintballkid711 @starkleila @heyitsmereading @fairlygothparents @euphoria-svt @sidepartskinnyjeans @mini-kunoichi @third-broparcelicito @siwiecola @haleybutnotthecomet @mvaldez7821 @rockybutmakeitlame @romanoffswoman @ashpeace888 @hopeofwinter @percabethfangirl987

hit me up if you wanna be added to the tag list.

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pinkchrissysposts · 20 days

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hey chrissy! I’ve been doing the ROE technique and the 3DOL it’s day 4 and I haven’t gotten anything. Today I woke up and I feel like shit since I’m still here living this life. I tried saturating my mind for the past few days idk if I failed because when I’d affirm I’d lose focus then after a few minutes I’d remember then I’d affirm again and the pattern continues. I was so confident yesterday that I’d wake up in the void but I didn’t and I will persist but it just hurts to affirm. I’m starting to feel like I don’t deserve this or something but I’ll keep persisting. Idk if it’s my affirmations or if my intrusive thoughts impressed my subconscious because whenever I unintentionally think about school and my deadline and just this life as a whole and “what if nothing happens?” “What if this is all fake?” “What if I wake up here again?” I literally feel my stomach turn and my heart sink and it’s so annoying but I keep affirming. My question is if my intrusive thoughts are impressing mu subconscious which is why I keep failing because if it is then I’m fucked💀 because I feel nice when I visualise my life afterwards and affirm waking up in the void but I always feel the most whenever I think the opposite. Normally I manifest small things I don’t give a shit about but it’s normally me affirming not feeling anything at all and then I imagine the idea of that thing happening and then I forget about it. But i feel like if I forget about the void I’ll never ever achieve it and my life is falling apart. I’ve been reading success stories that have to do with affirming and they were lucky enough to do it in a short span and I’m just scared for myself overall and idk if I will be able to as well. Because of how lucky they are I even question if this is all real😭😭 like I’ll be feeling content and a little confident (some anxiety is still there) when I affirm and I’m like okay I’ll wake up in it tonight then I wake up and feel my chest ache to see the same thing again🗿 do I have to affirm every minute without stopping or something? because my attention span is short and I lose focus easily or is it my affirmations?

I affirm “roe i wake up in the void aware every time I fall asleep” and then I say “roe i always manifest/ my affirmations instantly manifest/materialise in 3 days or less”

I think you just lose focus😭but it's fine I had an anon who was also was suffering with the same issue because she have adhd and anxiety but after a month she dm me again saying she entered void. What helped her is doing a 3 minute breathwork before her her saturation session and doing eft tapping whenever negative thoughts start to distract her,it took her a week but she never no matter what or how much anxiety she had let 3D lead her. If you felt like it's not gonna work then take at 15 minutes and let yourself feel those emotions,then take a deep breath and go for affirming or deciding. I read a post by a blogger saying that.

And never ever think that you don't deserve void then you are absolutely wrong,because you are void,when we sleep we're in void it's just we are not aware of it. You are literally sinning if you ere not letting yourself have the desire. You must remember that desire or thing or void didn't have any meaning to it until you decided to give it all the power and keeping it in pedestal,if you didn't know about void it wouldn't even exist in your reality. So never let those thoughts lead you to an u desirable state.

#affirmations #law of manifestation #law of assumption #void #desired reality #manifesting

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adrianasunderworld · 2 years

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I just had an idea for story- Riddles mom come for like a PTA Meeting or family day and despises Crowley and worries for her precious little boy’s future if continues to be headmaster and for the plot just has Crowley arrested or removed as headmaster and replaces him.

She’s like Umbrige level of bad. She is in every class that Riddles in. Riddle is internally praying that this is just a bad dream. Trey is getting grey hairs. Confiscated Caiter’s phone. Probably installs alarms that makes a noise only cats can hear in the botanical garden so Leon can’t nap in there.

Like I’m just picturing an alchemy class where Adeuce and Grimm mess up a potion or cause an accident and it’s just … Bad.

Drags deuces mother, saying she can’t wait to meet her so she see what a laizy and horrible parent she is if her son can’t do basic spells and potions. After all Riddle master this when he was still in elementary school. Deuce is trying not to get mad, but when asks what his father would thinks and he mentions it’s just them Mama rosehearts would make a snide remark about how his mother being loose would explain her sons many short comings.

Ace might fight back- bad idea. “Do you think the real world be any different ? Who would ever hire a slob like you? I wonder where your parents went wrong if your brother was a model student.”

Then she turns to us, “I understand the previous headmasters decision to enroll you. Even with out magic you do manage to keep up better then your moronic friends. “ but she smiles at Yuu as says “control the beast or I’ll make sure that it won’t be a problem. If you can’t take care of something then you don’t deserve to have it.” Basicly says keep Grim under control or she’s sending him to shelter.

Big show down between Mama Rosehearts and Lilia. Calls him a horrible father and down right neglectful because of silvers narcolepsy. Idk came to but I’m curious what you think?

I love this concept. But also fuck this bitch.

Yuu tries to argue with her. "I don't have, Grim. He's a person and student just like everyone else!"

"That thing," the woman said glaring, "Is a mongrel. The only reason I'll allow it here is because it's admission is tied with yours and technically has not earned expulsion. Now I suggest you do as you're told and don't give me a reason to expel you both."

Despite the previous deal with Crowley, she won't make any agreement with Azul and forces him to shut down Mostro Lounge. She made a policy so Sam would stop selling certain items in his shop. She micro manages everything to the point where the Housewardens have no power over their dorms.

Pretty much everyone who is not Riddles friend takes it out on him. Everyone avoids him. He can't even rely on Trey or Cater anymore, because his mother kept them separate at all times. She even moved him out of the dorm and made him live with her in the headmages quarters.

Yuu is stuck. They're a ward of the school,and with Crowley gone, Ms. Rosehearts is technically their guardian now. If they outright fight back, she may just turn over them over to the system and Yuu can kiss any chance of going home goodbye.

However, she mostly only cares about Riddle. So late at night, everyone sneaks out of their dorms to hold secret meetings late at night at Ramshackle and discuss what to do. Everyone debates on the matter. Maybe they can get all the families like the Asims or Kingscholars to push for her removal. Maybe get Idia to dig up dirt and have her fired. Regardless of how, the Wicked Witch must go.

#twisted wonderland #headmistress rosehearts au

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mbakuetshurisprincess · 1 year

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The Only Logical Thing to Do

AN: Hey y’all! This is the scandal based fic I teased in this post. This ended up actually being wayyyyy longer than I expected like offically takes the crown as the longest fic I’ve ever written so go me lol. This part I just wanted to establish a few things yk start us out slow before we get into the real scandlous events of this story. Next part will be the developing countries ball, so stay tuned. Hope you all enjoy!

Summary: Sometimes the US Constitution applies to your love life. Separation of Church and State was a good thing, right?

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, political talk, idk

Word count: 4,707

Suggested listening: Love and Happiness - Al Green

“Love and happiness, yeah Something that can make you do wrong Make you do right Yeah, hmm Love... Love and happiness”

You poured over your notes for the fifth time after your press conference, looking for something that indicated the mistake had been on your part. This was your third year working for the Kane Presidency. You were originally on the President's campaign staff as a Public Opinion Specialist and upon his election, you were employed as a Data and Intel Specialist.

Your job title was vague on purpose, it was hard to explain to the American people what exactly you did. In simplest terms, you were a girl who knew things. You read situations well and were able to predict how events were going to play out with killer accuracy. It also helped that you happened to know more ways than one to dig up dirt. This gave you access to the inner circle of the White House, becoming an integral part of everyday function with an opinion valued by the president only second to his chief of staff.

For the past week however you had been filling a different role, one of the press secretaries. When the previous one came down with pneumonia last minute the president turned to you to fill the role. And reluctantly you did. You put on your most respectable suit, straightened your hair, and wore your highest heels; ensuring you were digestible enough for the American people. Despite not enjoying being in the public eye, you did the work well and maintained order.

This is why when you were caught off guard by a question today, even one as nonmemorable as this; you were concerned. You replayed the moment in your head as you continued digging in your notes.

“I’ll take one more question before I go.” You spoke from behind the podium, you had been up there for the past forty-five minutes and the questions you started getting were beginning to dwindle in relevancy.

Hands shot up from reporters everywhere and your name was being called from all directions. You looked out into the crowd and nodded at one, Ashley Richardson. She cleared her throat before standing and speaking.

“France’s president has reaffirmed their statement that the attacks on Wakanda’s outreach centers, where vibranium is held, were not perpetrated by them. However, he has commented and said that the country will continue its legal efforts to gain vibranium. Doubling down and saying that the US has pledged its support of France in these efforts. Are these comments true, does President Kane support France in these endeavors?”

As her words registered in your head, you racked your brain to remember if in any of your briefings you had heard any news of this. Nope. Not a word about France or vibranium as far as you knew. This left you with two options, be on the offensive or be on the defensive. Her words caught you off guard but this is what you’d been trained for, you allowed yourself just enough time to blink to be internally baffled before turning back on your personality.

“France is an ally of the United States, as is Wakanda. The President is committed to maintaining a peaceful relationship between the two countries.” You spoke as if your words were fact despite not knowing a thing about what she was talking about. “That’s all for today, thank you.”

The sound of your work phone buzzing pulled you out of your trance, you flipped it over and read the caller ID.

Unknown Caller

The anonymity of the call didn’t surprise you, this was DC, after all, people weren’t too keen on sharing information.

“You have two minutes before I hang up the phone, go.” You spoke coolly, you didn’t have time to waste time on your phone, especially not today.

“You haven’t been answering my calls.”

You threw your head back and let out a sigh, who else would be calling you?

“I have told you a thousand times. You cannot call my work phone.” That was all you said before hanging up on the person. You reached into the back of your desk drawer and pulled out your kimoyo beads. As you got them on your wrist you scrolled through your contacts and pressed Shuri’s name. The call rang for a few seconds before Shuri picked up, her holographic body appearing in front of you.

“Hanging up on the Queen of a nation is an interesting move on the part of the White House I must admit,” Shuri spoke with a smirk.

You didn’t even give her the satisfaction of looking up from your notes that were spread in front of you. “Shuri, I do not have time for your games today.”

She rolled her eyes at your words, unsatisfied with the amount of attention you were giving her. She watched you flip through your notes a few times before curiosity got the best of her and she spoke. “What are you doing?”

Strands of your hair fell in front of your face and you tucked them behind your ear as you shook your head and laughed slightly. “My job, I’m doing my job right now. As one tends to do when they’re at their place of work. Shouldn’t you be doing the same?”

Shuri took that as a cue to continue with what she had called you about. “Ahh yes your job right, I forgot. The same job that made you lie to me?”

That caught your attention, momentarily bringing your focus away from your notes. “Shuri, what are you talking about?” You looked up, meeting her eyes.

“When I called you last week and asked you if your country,” She emphasized the ‘your’ “was going to continue their support of France, knowing they’re the ones carrying out attacks on our outreach centers. You told me no.”

You pushed your eyes back down to the papers in front of you, of course, this is what Shuri wanted to discuss. It seemed you couldn’t escape the conversation surrounding Wakanda and France.

“That is not what I said.”

“Really? Because that’s what I took from our conversation. And then imagine my surprise when I’m made aware that my Y/N is on American television saying the opposite!” She spoke the last part almost comically but you could hear the twinge of irritation in her voice.

You rolled your eyes and placed your palms flat on your desk, attempting to calm yourself down. You were already stressed about this topic and her berating isn’t what you needed right now.

“The relationship between France and the United States is one with a long history of mutual support dating back to the formation of the United States-”

“Oh don’t give me that Y/N!” Shuri threw her hands up in protest. “Don’t give me your politically correct answer!”

“Then don’t twist my words!” You raised your voice and mimicked her by throwing your hands up. You quickly remembered you were at work, and while yelling was commonplace in the White House, you didn't want to draw any attention to yourself while you were communicating with Shuri. Something you weren't supposed to be doing.

“I told you last week I didn't know and that’s the truth, nothing about it has come up in my notes.”

“But today you said-”

You put your hand up to stop Shuri from finishing. “Church and state.” That was all you had to say and Shuri knew to stop speaking.

A year and a half ago when you two first started the entanglement you find yourself in, the number one problem between you two was work. One of you would pry information from the other one and you two would stay up all night bickering over policy. It got to the point where you spent the very little time you two had together due to busy schedules arguing over work. Thus the Church and State policy was created.

You two joked that it was weird that you were applying the constitution to your relationship, but it was clear it was needed. The words were intended to be a reminder to keep your personal life and work life separate. Whenever someone said it the current conversation had to be dropped, no questions asked.

Shuri took a deep breath and nodded knowing the rule had been created for the betterment of your relationship. You returned your eyes to the notes in front of you, desperate to find your mistake. Shuri watched you, sensing something was off but not being able to put her finger on it. It only took a few moments before it dawned on her.

“You didn’t know, did you?”

“Gonna need a little bit more clarification than that.” You said flipping over the page that currently had your attention.

“About Wakanda and France, you didn’t know.” Shuri continued to speak confidently, sitting up further in her chair. “When I was shown the video of your press conference today I thought when the reporter asked the question you paused. I swore to Bast that you did but Okoye said I was crazy. I told her that I saw your tell but she couldn’t see it. You really had no idea about any of this.”

You put your head in your hands and let out a groan. You hated how Shuri was able to read you so well. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Shuri once again nodded, sure in her realization that you didn’t know anything by your response. She debated hanging up and letting you continue looking at whatever had your attention but she didn’t want to end the conversation like that. The time you two had to speak was often brief, ruling a country didn’t yield much free time and your White House work always kept you busy. She wanted to at least leave you with something positive.

Shuri watched you for a little bit longer, as you sat with your head in your hands. Deciding now was the perfect time to reveal her surprise. “I will be in your country tomorrow.”

You picked your head up out of your hands swiftly. “What did you just say?”

“I will be in your country tomorrow,” Shuri repeated cooly as if you and her being on the same side of the world let alone in the same country was normal.

You moved the papers that were in front of you away revealing your desk calendar, hoping you weren't too busy. You found today's date and then moved over to tomorrow where a big red X lay. That was an indicator that told you your whole day was blocked out, not free until the early hours of the next morning. You sighed knowing your chances of seeing her were slim anyway, even if you weren't busy, you had no idea what she was doing in the States.“What are you doing over here tomorrow?”

“Good question, I should clarify when I say your country I do mean DC. I’ll be in town for the Developing Countries Ball that your boy is hosting.”

You grimaced at her nickname for the President but quickly snapped out of it. Your hands went to open your laptop and you found the file named DCB, containing all of the information about tomorrow's event.

“I knew something was off.” You muttered to yourself checking the guest list once again. “Wakanda didn’t RSVP Shuri. We don’t have you listed as coming.” Maybe it had slipped her mind but you remembered having to break it to the President that Wakanda wouldn’t be coming. And the guest list in front of you supported it.

Shuri just smiled her million-dollar smile at you. “Oh, I know we didn’t.”

You blinked twice at her, willing yourself to believe what she was implying wasn’t true.

“So you plan to just show up and what? There'll be no table, no planned greeting, it’ll be a mess!” You rambled on and Shuri sat quietly listening to you. Her silence was unnerving, so you thought about what you were saying.

“There’ll be no table.”

“There’ll be no table. Shuri repeated with a chuckle.

Your eyes bore holes into Shuri’s holographic body as realization further sank in. “It’ll be a mess.”

“Yeah won’t look too good, will it? Not being prepared in his own backyard, I don't think voters will like that so much.”

You let out yet another groan and threw your head back against the plush office chair behind you. “You know when you do this you only make my job harder right? It only makes me have to work double time to cover his ass.”

Shuri sat back in her chair, interlacing her fingers behind her head. “So don’t.”

You rolled your eyes and spoke. “You forget I have a job, Shuri? The thing that pays my bills, makes sure I can eat and sleep comfortably at night. The job that practically says “cover the president's ass'' in its description.”

“You don’t have to work for him and you know that. There's a job here for you whenever you want it.” The words flowed out of her mouth with immeasurable self-assuredness. This was a point she was familiar with making, insisting that the Kane Presidency, rather the United States, wasn't good enough for you.

Asserting that your skills could be used for more than covering up the sins of politicians. “And even if you didn’t want to work, I could always use a Queen to rule with.”

“Making me a Queen before even making me your girlfriend, bold I must admit.” You retorted back quickly, immediately regretting it. You knew Shuri hated when you brought up the conversation surrounding your relationship, especially because there had always been an unspoken rule between the two of you. Titles weren’t needed, what was just what was. Simple as that.

“Y/N-” Shuri sat up out of her relaxed position as she tried to defend herself but the sound of the alarm on your phone stopped her.

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath, stopping the alarm. “I have my roundtable in five and I haven’t prepped my report yet.” You pulled another file up on your computer and began typing quickly.

Shuri knew that meant her time with you was over for now. As much as she wanted to continue the conversation she respected your dedication to the job.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay sthandwa? Maybe I can come over since I’ll only be in town for a day and a half?.”

You nodded, if you had been paying attention to what Shuri was saying you would have stopped her idea right then and there but your laptop had too much of your attention. But, “Mhm we can talk about it later.” was all you could say.

Shuri took one last look at you before hanging up the phone, knowing you didn’t mean to be short, you were just clearly a little stressed.

Your roundtable went well despite your lack of preparedness. Nobody spoke about the press conference from earlier and Wakanda nor France was even mentioned. Most of the evening was dedicated to talks of trade negotiations with Qatar and the developing countries ball.

“One last thing while we’re still on the topic of the ball Mr.President?” You spoke up as the meeting was coming to a close.

Despite the president's insistence that you call him by his first name, Jackson, you never could bring yourself to it. You liked to maintain a certain distance in your closeness with him, he was your boss after all.

You looked at him as he sat at The Resolute Desk, the same place every president had sat dating back to 1879, him only the second black man to sit there. He wore a black suit with a navy tie that complimented his skin tone well, with his American flag pin on his left side. He looked presidential, just as you had helped design him to be.

“You know it’s never just one last thing with Y/N.” The President said with a smile earning a laugh from the others in the Oval Office.

“Just doing what you pay me for.” You said back with a smile and a nod.

“Always appreciated Y/N. Please let’s hear what you have to say.”

You looked around the room, generally, your opinion was trusted without question but this one was going to be a bit of a hard sell and you knew it. “We’re going to need one more table for tomorrow.”

“And why would that be?” The president had a confused look on his face. “I thought we already finalized the guest list, who did we forget?”

“I have reason to believe Wakanda will be in attendance tomorrow.” You said confidently.

The president's chief of staff, Michael was the first to speak “Wakanda…Wakanda…Wakanda.” He said as he flipped through his notes. “No Wakanda is not coming, not only is Wakanda not coming they’re giving us a middle finger by not responding.”

The president turned his attention back to you, awaiting your response. You could feel the pressure in the room as everyone else wondered where your claim was coming from.

“Based on the intel I’ve gathered I have reason to believe that Wakanda plans to attend tomorrow. Queen Shuri and a few Dora Milaje members if I had to guess.”

The president took a deep breath in. “Well your intel hasn’t failed us yet Y/N, no reason to believe it will now. Michael, talk to the events coordinator, and let’s set up a table with, what do you say, 8 chairs Y/N?”

You nodded in response as you started packing your things up, not as bad as you thought it was going to be.

“Yeah, let’s get a table with eight chairs set up for Wakanda.” He looked around the room. “Well everyone I see no need to hold you all here too late given what we’ve got in store for tomorrow. Everyone go home, I don’t want to see any of you in your office after an hour!”

The people in the room all laughed at the president's comment, you were happy knowing you could take your work and finish it at home. Everyone slowly filed out of the room and you were one of the last, bidding your farewell to those still there as you left. You made it out of the oval and down the hallway that led to your office before you felt someone walking beside you.

“You ever gonna tell me how you do it 007?” The voice asked, you looked up and were met with Michael’s face. He was older than you and had been in the political sphere for longer but there was mutual respect shared between the two of you. It had even developed into a friendly rivalry.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me 007?” You laughed before turning your face serious. “At least not in public.”

You both paused walking and stared at each other sternly for a few seconds before cracking up in a fit of laughter.

“I’m serious Y/N how do you do it!” Michael exclaimed when you reached the door to your office. He stood there as you unlocked it and walked in behind you once it was open.

“If I gave you all my secrets Michael, I wouldn’t have a job would I?” You walked around to your desk and kicked off your heels, happy to be done with them for the day.

Michael plopped down in one of the chairs opposite your desk. “Just tell me this once how you do it 007, tell me one thing and I won’t ask again!”

Sliding the comfortable slippers on your feet you spoke. “Nobody really wants to know how the sausage is made. Just be happy I saved your ass hmm?”

The older man rolled his eyes at your words, watching as you packed your bag up with the things you would need to work from home. “Oh, you’re actually listening to him and going home? Didn’t expect that from you, I must admit.”

You look up from your bag. “You’re not?”

Michael shook his head as he rose from the chair. “I live here Y/N, you know this. Someone has to be here to ensure liberty is protected and our nation is secure, blah blah blah.” By the time he had finished, he had made it to the door of your office.

“Have a good night Michael.” You said with a chuckle, he always did have a certain determination about work that you appreciated. While you let your work dictate your life, work was his entire life.

He put his hand up to wave goodbye and walked out of your office before turning around and poking just his head back in. “I’m gonna figure you out, I will figure out how you know these things.”

You cocked your eyebrows at him and smiled. “Figure me out or die trying, that’s the saying right?”

He returned your smile and turned back around. “Night night 007.”

You finished packing your bags and made your way out of the White House, making sure to say goodbye to Morris as you walked out of the front gates. You made your way to your car and drove the 15 minutes it took to get back to your place.

Pulling into your garage you made a mental note to call your gardener and have them do a refresh of your small front yard, your flowers were starting to wilt. You entered your house through the garage door and kicked off your work slippers and put on your house shoes. Setting your bag down on the couch you made your way into the kitchen, stomach hungry for something to eat.

You browsed through your fridge, there was food you could cook but that was going to require something you were running low on at the moment, energy. Moving over to your cabinet the bag of popcorn caught your eye, you had promised Shuri you would stop just eating wine and popcorn as meals but desperate times called for desperate measures. You pulled the popcorn and a bottle of red wine along with a cup down from various cabinets and laid them out on the counter, ready for you when you came back.

You made it into your bedroom where you stripped and took a long hot shower. Allowing the steam to rinse away the stress from today. After getting out you moisturized with the shea butter Shuri had bought you and dressed in a pair of shorts and one of her sweatshirts. The smell had started to fade from this one and it made you sad to know that meant the last time you saw her was further and further away.

You grabbed your water bottle from your nightstand and made your way back to the kitchen. As you waited for the popcorn to finish in the microwave you popped the cork on the wine bottle and poured a hefty glass for yourself. You savored the full-bodied taste of the red wine, the one you had chosen was one of your favorites, first introduced to you by your mother.

The popcorn finished and you held the bag in one hand with the bottle of wine tucked into the crook of your arm and your glass in the other hand. You walked into your living room and sat everything in your hands on the coffee table in front of you before reaching into your bag and pulling out your laptop, kimoyo beads, and both your personal and work phone.

Opening your laptop you threw back a couple of pieces of popcorn and got to work. While the developing countries' ball was at the forefront of most upper cabinet members' minds, you had moved past it. Knowing that Michael and the events coordinators would take care of the table and greeting, your job concerning that was now done. Now you were focused on your next big project, re-election.

You tapped through a few files that served as decoys and entered the passcode that let you into what you were looking for. The file that held every ounce of dirt you and the US government could find on the presidential rival candidates. You reached for your glass and took a sip of wine, holding the glass in your hand as you picked up where you left off, digging through one candidate's fiscal records. That were obtained 100% legally…maybe.

“Donated to pro-life fundraiser, not very left wing of you.” You said to yourself adding that new information into the file, sometimes it was too easy.

Something buzzed next to you and you looked down to see a call from Shuri on your kimoyo beads. You slid them on your wrist and picked up, now that you were more calm seeing her call felt more like a relief than a stressor.

“Hello, my love.” You said sweetly smiling at her as her holographic body popped up from your wrist. You could tell she was in her lab by the background, more specifically in her corner station. She had a turtleneck underneath her lab coat and you could see her black slacks just peeking into the frame.

“Oh, now I am my love?” Shuri asked with a chuckle, she knew your attitude earlier wasn’t intentional but she enjoyed messing with you about it anyway.

“I’m sorry, earlier I was just stressed with work, you know how I get.” You said apologetically.

“I am just teasing you sthandwa, I know you didn’t mean to be rude.” Shuri smiled at you and you returned one to her before grabbing a handful of popcorn and munching on it.

“Are you eating popcorn?” She asked as she watched you throw another handful back.

“Mayh-be.” You responded hesitantly through a mouth of popcorn.

“And I see that wine glass in the corner, Y/N we talked about this!” Shuri exclaimed. “Real food, you promised you would eat real food.”

You finished chewing before speaking. “This is real food!” You held up the bag of popcorn. “Popcorn is just corn, that's a vegetable.” You put the popcorn down and picked up the glass of wine. “And wine is just grapes, that's a fruit.” You accentuated your point by taking a sip of wine.

“HA!” Shuri let out a hearty laugh. “That’s wrong and you know it.”

“My points would hold up in a court of law.” You said matter of factly letting a smile crack on your face. Moments like these you loved, when the both of you were just being you, making each other smile.

“Bull shi-” Shuri went to cry out but the sound of ringing from your end stopped her. You recognized the sound of the ringing and knew it meant someone was calling your personal phone. Not many people had your personal number anymore and you didn’t use the phone for much of anything these days. Normally you would have immediately checked who it was but you didn’t move your eyes from Shuri.

“Aren't you going to get that?” She asked.

You shook your head no and reached down to silence your phone without looking at who was calling. “Whoever it is can wait, I’m talking to a pretty girl right now.”

Shuri smiled again and began speaking. “Anyway so I was thinking since I’ll be in town tomorrow, maybe I could come ove-”

The sound of your phone ringing once again cut her off.

“Mrs.popular today aren't we,” Shuri said smartly. “You should get that, it must be important if they're calling you twice.”

“Shuri-” You wanted to stop her but before you could she said “We’ll talk later Y/N.” and ended the call. Your phone next to you had stopped ringing and you let out a groan. Shuri being irritated with you right before she came into town was the last thing you wanted.

Your phone beside you rang for the third time and it confirmed your suspicions. Aside from Shuri, there was only one person in your life who felt entitled enough over you to blow up your phone. You took a deep breath and flipped it over before picking it up.

“Hello, mother.”

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